Who knows what dreams mean, many of the metaphors are personal I suppose, but some might be universal. Paintings and art are like that too. I think my weekend had me thinking about many things-spring, for one. The pregnant sheep are starting to get big, due in early March. But it was wet, soaking wet-which came as sort of shock. I know, it's Oregon. But we have had a dry winter-cold, yes-but the temps are rising and the rains are back. Nothing like usual, but it's funny how two days of straight rain and wind gives one a case of the
"Spring will come"
sighs.
So much is going on with the Misfit book, and the upcoming book, ideas, projects in the house and farm-and then there is this sensation that I must get so much done before the real spring comes and carries me out to the barnyard for lambing and all that goes with it.
The main pig pen, where Doris and June live...wait...
I must tell you, "June" is actually "Pearl" but I keep calling her "June" for some reason, so I guess I will now officially commit and make a grand announcement that her name has changed to "June".
So, back to my thought on their pig pen. It is mud. They love it, and they have an island of hog fuel to get them off the mud, plus their sleeping hut. They have terrorized the hog fuel by digging into it in their piggie way, digging for worms and such so it is quite a mess. But that's pigdom for you. The rains mean it is always require the worst of my mud attire to go out and hang with them. They love to be belly rubbed and ear scratched, and I like sitting with them in their hut. So spring will mean more time with Doris and June.
I think maybe that is part of this piece of art–it's a pig dream, my pig dream.
