Some animals that die leave bigger markings. They all leave some dent in the landscape, and all are to be remembered, but some leave much bigger heart prints.
Stella was one of the latter.
I see her grave as I drive up the road. She is buried in the lavender field, and I don't see it as depressing at all to see the fresh dirt mound knowing what lies beneath. I just think,
"There's Stella."
She had such a good life. Someone noted that there are many changes rumbling through the farm. It is true. We have been here 11+ years now, and there are bound to be shifts in Apifera's life. I'm okay with all that, excited too, now that I've announced this will be the last Pino Pie Day. Losing one event will free me up to create another, another that will be more in tune with the current Misfits, my writing/books and art, and my new hopes and ideas-and new muses I haven't met.
Stella's death, the passing of the farm's matriarch cat, the new barn, the shifting of the lavender fields, the opening of upper pastures, all of it signals change which means new stories, adventures, art and dreams. I remember when my mother died, as drastic as it felt, a voice came inside me and said,
From this will come huge things.
I've lived within one part of a dream for many years now-the dream of finding a mate, a sense of place, a horse and farm-and I will continue to admire where I've landed, and not take it for granted. But unlike some people I see who get stuck in their dream, hoping it continues to bring them glory, comfort, more book deals or continued public adoration, I'm going to stretch and allow myself to jump off some tall trees knowing I might scuff up my knees at times.
I have loved being within this current dream, but my wings aren't clipped.
Several months ago, maybe even last year, I began titling paintings with "Calling All Wings". My titles come to be subconsciously after a piece is done and I knew these had a many layered muse behind it, and that muse is now coming to the forefront.
