We swoon every day over her

I am so enjoying spring this year, and all the crab apples are blooming together. It is spectacular. So every day I can't help but take as many photos as I can. The bees are buzzing! 

I am watching out for two mother birds who are roosting-one is the mother dove outside my office window, the other is a robin in the rafters above the pony area. The five chicks are feathering out but sill under heat for now. The garden is popping! The vegetable bed is planted. The sheep are being sheered and the llamas were sheered last week. Spring is so full of work, but hope, and beauty and reemergence.

Everyday of spring I am aware that winter is coming, every day of being 63 I know that 80 is right around the corner. It all goes in a flash. It goes fast every year, just like our wise mothers told us. And that is why I will be outside most of this week, just looking, smelling, gardening, brushing horses...because there will most likely be a day when I can't. We work hard and we rest easy.

Do you like Maine, they ask, would you do it all again?

M'Lady Apple from my studio

We have been here exactly two years now. In 2016, we loaded up 33 animals and headed from our first farm in Oregon to make the 6 day journey to mid coast Maine. One of the first beauties we met was an old crabapple on the property, always in my view...I call her M'Lady. She is in full bloom now and simply stuns me every spring.

I can say that as we go into our third summer here, I am more grounded than the first two. Part of that is...logistics and getting through the upheaval any move has on a household, and in our case, a farm. We had to build a barn, and are about to start the third one. We had little or no fencing here. We created our gardens and stone walls and privacy areas. The house needed little attention in the beginning, it felt perfect in many ways, small but quite open for it's size. I have since done painting mainly and have slowly been recreating the rooms to our needs. We left a lot of furniture behind. I knew it would not fit in this little house. I sadly left all my father's studio teak work tables behind but I really had no choice. I left the couches too. In fact, the one thing I can say I would do differently is the personal property we left behind, for free. At the time, we were under the gun. The first buyer, who we grew to see as not the buyer we wanted for the farm, fell through. Even though we were relieved, we had many reasons we had to scramble and do as we did. I did my best. But...the only option would have been to possibly lose the house we are now in, and lose the $3000 downpayment we had on the equine hauler, slow down the sale of the new buyers and stay put and hope for the best in finding another place that fit our needs. It was either rush around and try to sell things, or move. But...I would have insisted on a separate payment for the probably $10,000 or more of personal property, including the 10 year old Kubota. That is one thing that I still get angry about, that I didn't do that. There were other things in the sale I can't think about because they make me mad, so I don't. I can't tell you how stressful the sale was...and all the logistics of the move I had to handle with the animals.

So, it took time to resettle, emotionally and physically. But we have.

And yes, we like Maine. I hate the bugs and flies, but you could put me anywhere and I would tell you summer, despite all it's pluses, is not my season. I love the winter here, really I do. So does Martyn, he gets to be on the farm working, the summer people are gone, it gets beautiful and quiet. Back West, Martyn was driving a total of four hours a day just to get from the farm to his landscaping clients. He was home by 7:30 on a good day. He was running out of steam after running his own crew and business for 20+ years. Keeping up with his estimating and billing was really getting problematic. I sensed at some point we weren't going to be able to sustain ourselves emotionally for another 15 years when the mortgage would be paid off, and we would have been 70 by then. And then what? We saw a lot of people wait too long to sell their land and farms as they grew older, and they would get into trouble.

The hardest transition, for me, was losing the more rural feel. But now we live in what I describe as a postcard New England village setting. Old houses from the 1700's dot the roads in midcoast, the sea cove is in view, old apple trees, the smell of the sea...it's all different than the Wilamette Valley. Oddly, I've met quite a few Oregonians who moved here, some who are small farms. The appeal of paying 1/2 for a piece of property [versus what it would cost out West] here is what first intrigued us. As freelancers, especially for Martyn, at some point you might not be able to put in the hours to feed a mortgage. So we don't have one now. We live simply, and hope our health holds out, but who knows.

I miss my vets. I was warned by one of my vets out West who had hands on knowledge and experience with the situation in Maine of the large animal vet care, or lack there of. I believed him, but thought, well, that was 20 years ago, surely it is better now. It's not. Equine vets a plenty. But farm vets? Nope. I have not found a clinic yet that I can I say I honor and trust. I started working with a highly regarded place, but just to get them to the farm is $100, anything they do here, such as coming to examine a goat, has a $150 minimum. I talked to them about this, that they are treating small farms like people with pets versus herds and flocks. She understood, and I really liked her. But, that's the way they choose to operate, it's their business, not mine. I feel sorry for both new farmers and the animals in their care-the vets I had in Oregon taught me so much, over time. And they weren't cheap, no vet is. But what would have cost about $375 total the other day was almost $800 here. So I'm grateful I had 15 years under my belt and know the basic treatments and do most of my own vetting thanks to the vets I had out West.

Would I do the move again? I always find this question odd. It's like asking, "Would you be born again if I had a choice?" Hindsight is 20/20. I would do it again, but I wouldn't want to, and I would do a couple things differently. It was hard leaving my farm. That farm was my dream, a dream I'd had since my first encounter with my Uncle's farm in North Dakota. I write about that dream in "Donkey Dream". But it was not a question of should we leave or not. I felt we had to leave. I felt compelled to move, as fast as we could really, and I felt it had to be Maine. I will live by that and swear by that. There were invisible reasons we had to get out of there at that moment, and get here at this moment. I just went with that, i believed and let that internally. Martyn is so happy here. I knew his work schedule was killing him back West. Mistakes were being made too that were effecting our finances, he was just...spent. He gets up at 5:30 now and goes to work 15 minutes away, for a small landscape company. He is treated well and works with a great boss and crew. He has no ego about not having his own company, or not being the boss. He works on beautiful ocean properties and doesn't have to think about the logistics of the job, he just shows up and does what he loves-landscaping. He doesn't have to worry about billing. And I know exactly what money is coming in and it's easier on me too. It feels much more manageable.

When I had my riding accident last year, I asked Martyn, "Would you stay in Maine if I died?". He didn't hesitate, he said, really in a positive happy tone, "Oh yea, I love it here."

Martyn gave us so much over the years, and still does. I think more than anything, I love Maine because Martyn does. He deserves so much.

And I have people here, and creatures, I love now. I love them. I wouldn't want to have not met them, including my elder friends, and including M'Lady.

M'Lady

I never tire of M'Lady Apple, never. She seems to grow more distinctive every day. In fog, sun, full moon or snow she stands strong, gracefully reaching out, like a mother seeking the child.

Dreary day...stuff yourself into a dog bed

It is a dreary day. The beautiful snows we've had this week are now being rained on, and it is grey. I have been in a quiet little funk all day, but...take heart, I say to myself, I will have soup tonight after a hot bath, some tea, and to bed early. I really just want to get in bed today, I don't usually feel like that, but today the relentlessness of the rain and grey is getting to me, plus I'm tired.

I should just follow Muddy's lead and try to squish myself into a pug bed!

M'Lady returns

I have waited patiently, full of anticipation. I will never tire her. Last year when we arrived, almost a year ago today, she was in bloom but due to the dry winter and spring last year, the other apple trees around her [there is Little Lady, Little Apple and Old Apple at the outer barn] were not as full of flower. This year we had lots of rain and they are all so beautiful.

I see her from my studio and from many of the vistas from the house. When the sea blows in dark, brooding clouds, she stands firm, her color pops out even more boldly, and in the the sunny days with deep, blue windows behind her, she sings, literally, with hummingbirds and cardinals.

She is a confidant of sorts when I sit under her to give myself shade.

I realized this weekend how much I love it here, how this location is a blessing-despite my initial mistrust of the front road, that road will also bring me what Apifera needs. I started planting the vegetable garden this year and thought when people drive by they will see my sunflowers at the barn and it will make many of them happy.

The land is old here, who walked her in 1760? It also means it has seen and felt trauma of many kinds, struggles of our first Native Americans and their struggle with the Europeans that would come and push them out, killing and judging. I was on the fence during a lot of our first year, about opening up-truly opening up-to our land. But as I plant the vegetables, as we shape the front gardens this year and give it our touch, our covenant, I can feel it now-the land is reciprocating and recognizing we are committed to her.

This is when the magic really starts.

Awaiting M'Lady with Lady Birdie

We are anxiously awaiting the arrival of M'Lady Apple's spring frock of deep red pink blossoms. It will most likely be my go-to photo shot of this particular land. I can not tire of her beautiful bows standing naked in winter, and then transforming into sight red dust this time of year. Soon she will be in her full glory.

I like to imagine all the various people and animals that she has met under her tangle of arms. Considering the house is from 1760, I don't know when she might have been planted. I think she is at least 100 years old, but I'm not sure.

Has she ever met a llama? I have not heard her answer.

She is so crucial to my heart that every time anything new is planned in the garden or near the house, I always state matter-of-factly,

"As long as it doesn't block my view of M'Lady."

I have always had strong relationship with specific trees in any place I've lived. While I believe that trees are a global clan and are connected by the dirt, reverberating language we humans don't appreciate [or many of us], some in that clan take on more prominent communications with me, or you. When I was leaving trees I loved in Minneapolis, for Oregon, I was reminded of this by a wise teacher-the trees there are a clan with the trees you will meet.

Trees have helped me get up in the morning, soothed me in frayed times, brought light and beauty after the dusk when the moon shines on them and sheltered me in hot weather. They are the symbol of being rooted, even in a storm. They break limbs but go on. And at some point, they will succumb to age and their life will return to the Earth underneath, or above., just like yours will and mine will.

I can only hope that in the next realms I venture to, I will see many old friends in one form or another-and I imagine that M'Lady and many of the trees I've communed with will be there.

I will share M'Lady with you as time goes on-a gift for recipient and sharer.

M'Lady

M'Lady Apple sits below my studio and she is a great creature to wake to, and work with, as I sit up and look out on her, and look at the animals in the field. She was the first creature here that brought me comfort when we arrived. She is over 75 years old.

{Available at the shop}

We are all together

I get much comfort in the light of the barns, and at late dawn and early dusk. The light and the animals, and me, we are together, although some we knew and loved aren't here physically. But they once rubbed noses with each other, or greeted me with hooves or paws on my legs as I sat on a warm rock. They–the animals and rocks-know me in ways you don't. Even Martyn doesn't really know me in the same way.

Is this our place to stay for 10 or fifteen years? I asked the back Wood, and paddocks now shorn down by sheep.

I did not feel an answer...today.

I cracked my ribs this week. A mishap when a farrier walked into the barn isle, and Boone, behaving like a gentleman, backed up, as I had turned to close a gate. I immediately knew I was wounded but kept it inside, for various reason I won't go into. It makes my chores difficult, but I have had cracked ribs before and will heal. If I squat to pick up buckets [which is wise anyway] it hurts less.

This morning I entered the barn with feed buckets. I always feed Boone first, he is the most vocal. I told him I hurt, and I was walking especially slow. Usually he is over excited for his senior food to be placed in his bucket. I looked at him dead on and said firmly,

"I am hurt."

He stood. He waited, seconds-enough for my retreat-then ate.

I finished my chores and went to one of my favorite rocks, warmed by the sun. The sheep stood with me for a minute or two. They like rub downs, even Assumpta has figured out I am the one who leads and feeds, and rubs. I get up and we meander over to the under boughs of M'Lady Apple, her red bounties dripping off her arms. She has layered the ground too with her harvest so the animals may graze their all through the day for a tart fruit snack.  I say 'Hello," to Huck's grave, and Raggedy Man's. And the day is underway.

{All month the Kickstarter is raising money to publish my new illustrated book, "Itty Bitty & Big Etta". Please visit and watch the very special animated video, I think it will melt your heart.}

Getting to know M'Lady Apple and other newness

M'Lady Apple is by far one of the most striking creatures on our new farm. She is old but holds the grace of wisdom in her curved trunk and arms. I went out and explored the ground around her and decided I will create a healing perch near her trunk. There is a huge slab of granite, I believe, that is the perfect resting spot. It sits under M'Lady's arms and one can look out at  the fields where the sheep and equines will be.

Did you catch that? I said the word...sheep.

I bought three ewes from a close by farm. She had nice stock and we will pick them up Thursday. I can't wait. Just being with those sheep made me enormously happy, content and grounded in a way I haven't been since arriving. I have been without sheep for 2 months and four days and I wanted to give myself a teeny bit of time to reflect before jumping into sheep. I thought 'teeny" bit of time would be a year. Oh the tricks we play on ourselves. I asked myself,

Am I wanting sheep because I miss them, want them, need them, or because it was what I was used to and I need time to be without them to adjust.

In time, I realized I was actually very sad without my old flock, or without my role as shepherdess. I underestimated how much it was ingrained in me, how much I learned about sheep over the years and how much more I can learn. I like animal husbandry. And I find them graceful and beautiful. The three ewes I'm starting with were exposed to a ram so if they are bred we will have lambs in September, something I'm not used too. But I decided if we had fall lambs this year, fine, we won't breed until next fall. But if we don't have fall lambs, I will find a ram for breeding this fall.

I am finding many things very different here. The hay selection is almost zip [so feel free to help with our Misfit hay fund!}. I had heard that, knew it, and now it is the reality. Many buy Canadian at some point in the year. I am having a mobile vet coming out just to meet her and have heard good things about her. But the vet selection is also nothing of what I had in Oregon-for farm animals anyway. I am grateful I have 12 years under my belt with sheep and Misfits and do most of my own vetting....but it is rather sobering.

And I brought home 5 Buff Orpington feathered out pullets and one mixed rooster. Because, a day without chickens is not as happy as a day with chickens. Overload of chicken pictures to come. Chicken underpants included!

Basically, I am rebuilding myself. I am feeling good and very excited about some plans I have for Apifera-which I'll share as they develop.

Apifera lands and all is well

My studio view from second floor- I especially love this old crabapple- there is another to the left and a vet good eating apple to the right

A photo posted by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on May 21, 2016 at 4:29am PDT

We have landed. We are intact and safe and happy. And there is much to tell you about the trip and our new place here in Maine. Despite a major surprise goodbye on the day we left-I will write about it this week-we had no trouble on the road with the trailer or The Misfits. All the horrible things that could and can happen hauling animals, did not. We nearly ran out of gas in the middle of Wyoming, but chugged into a one tank stop and survived.Other than that, we did just fine. All the worry about The White Dogs barking all night did not happen, the piglets thrived and grew, and Birdie bonded with little Tripod who now shares a space with her in the new barn. No flat tires, no run tickets, no drama. Just lots of road in front of us for five days. I can honestly tell you, I was happy to get past the West, and into the Midwest which felt like home. As we headed into eastern Ohio and then New England, I felt like I was coming home. I hadn't been to Vermont or NY since the eighties when I went to college. The houses and architecture just made me blissful.

In a way, it seems like years ago we set out from the old farm in Yamhill, just one week ago. {Visit Instagram to see photos of the trip} So much has happened, so many sites have been seen, feelings felt-goodbyes, hellos and the wonder of America as we drove for five very long days. Every night we landed at a different barn where I had pre-arranged lodging for us and the Misfits. The Misfits stayed in the trailer and we slept on an air mattress with Huck, Mud, and Hughie on their pads- always in a barn stall. It worked out great as I could throw the dogs in another stall to feed them while I attended The Misfits, and Martyn set up camp. It was a lot of work and by day two our routine was pretty streamlined. We drove about 12 hours a day and the final day we landed in Maine around seven, with a three hour drive to the new place. That final three hours nearly killed us! As we got to the house at ten, we made a wrong turn and in turning around, got the trailer stuck briefly, and a very nice man helped guide us out of what could have been a serious pickle.

When we arrived it was dark, but all the lights were on in the empty house. We found sunflowers at our door step and inside a food basket with goodies to eat, soaps, coffee, breakfast rolls and a bottle of wine. We were dead tired, so tired, but we took time to look around the house and loved it even more than we thought we would. I could hardly keep my eyes open, but we opened the wine and shared it in the empty old house.

We decided it was like right out of a fairy tale, the scene we found ourselves in. It was as if we had wandered a long time in the dark woods, looking for a place to rest, and we found a little elf house inviting us in by the light. That's what it truly felt like.

So for now, I will share some photos, and I have many things to write about.

Martyn has landed. I said to him last night it is as if he was born in this house- he agreed-we were up early to explore in the daylight- oh my, so much to share in coming days (copyright Apifera Farm)

A photo posted by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on May 17, 2016 at 6:45am PDT