How could a shepherd painter not be filled with comfort when this is the face I see first when I walk in my studio? The head on that dog, I want to touch it - certain things of beauty I want to touch, experience deeper than is physically possible, and this is when one is inspired to paint, or write, or create perhaps, when the physical just can't be consumed by simply sitting in awe.
The weekend was filled with a bustle of farm activities, not to mention my matey's birthday [spent having a lovely dinner at french restaurant Cuveé with chef fantastique, Gilbert Henry in our own little Carlton, Oregon - a gem in the middle of farm/wine land. We are so lucky to have it]. We spent most of Saturday gathering materials from Wilco for our vegetable garden, and more posts for the orchard area to keep out Fred and Ethel, and Fred and Ethel's many relatives. We went a little more in debt by buying a new compressor and super dooper framer nail gun, which I am afraid to load or touch because it's the size of my head. But the best part of the weekend perhaps was building another....monkey house, or in this case, a monkey cage. Yes, I know some of you have been waiting for more, and now you have one. This bamboo cage is just one of 5 that I'll make for a some scattered fruit trees we planted, that aren't part of the other little orchard area. I don't think I can bear another spring of seeing their little leaves chewed down. The beauty of these cages is that when Fred and Ethel see them, I think they will appreciate them as unique sculptures, and leave them alone. If they do venture their head in, they will get their head stuck in part of the interior monkey frame, and it will be so confounding, they will back out nicely and move on to grass and weeds. There is, I suppose, a chance they will become entangled in the cage, and carry the entire monkey cage with them when they run off. I am also going to hang little poems and windchimes on them to bless the little trees and give them instrumental music to go with the bee and bird sounds.The only downer of the weekend was we left Huck in one of many pastures while we worked. Huck lives for three things, 1]food; 2]us; and last but not least, 3]poop. In fact, I think he would re-arrange the order of that list and put the latter in first place. I do not worry about poop-eating beasts, it is what it is. But after three hours eating mud and sheep/goat droppings, well, you know the rest. Fortunately, we own 3 shop-vacs, and fortunately the poor old guy was saavy enough to do the deed in the studio and not the living room. Lesson, do not put poop-eating beasts in poop infested pastures of other beasts for three hours.
