With death, it starts as a solo journey, but then....

Sophie on the top with her dear companion, Victor, who died at the old farm

Many of you follow us on social media so you already know that old Sophie died yesterday. I knew the day before she was entering the final days or weeks, as she could hardly walk and she just had a light go out in her eyes. By morning, she was almost in her deep sleep, and only revived once, for a final little talk with me, which I'm grateful for. It was a peaceful death–I've seen the opposite and am so grateful she could go on her own not only for her, but for me.

When we are born, we know we come from a little seed. Spiritually, we all have our own beliefs of where we were as souls [or not] before the seed and egg even came together. It's a mystery. But once human, we come out into the world with others to assist in our beginning journey. A doctor or midwife grasps us as we emerge, our mothers [if we are so blessed] hold us and makes utterances we will learn to follow and respond to. We watch others as role models as we grow and learn, and explore. We might go off on a day trip, or a long trek across the desert alone, but we always come back to share the journey through story. We share our human experiences with other human experienced creatures through all of life.

But with death, we journey alone–at least the first stages after we leave our bodies. Even if you believe that when we die, that's it, you cease to be anything except a carcass, even then you are alone in the instant you cease to be. We can be there for someone or a creature in the throws of death, but we can't accompanying them on the next stages. The great mystery. But I love a mystery, even though sometimes they are a bit scary.

The morning Sophie was dying, I returned to the house at some point and sat with classical music playing. I closed my eyes and imagined her up in the yonder, rolling about in air like an acrobat without a mat-just floating and rolling, with her sweet smile. I pictured Victor coming to be with her and then I watched them float off.

I opened my eyes and was hopeful that might help her fully release. I had told her the night before that maybe it was time to let go of her body, and to look for Victor as he would help her on the next stage of her journey. I asked her to look for me when my time comes.

As someone who likes to share story through words, art and image, I have thought many times that on the moment I die, I won't be able to share it, it will be only known to me. Maybe that is a good thing. Maybe what I experience will be completely unique to me, and each of you will have completely different after death seconds. Our births aren't the same, after all.

And then again, it dawned on me–the fact I do live my life so much out in the open with story and images, the idea that none of you will be privy to what happens the seconds after I'm dead is really rather...a relief. It will be all mine, those first post death seconds.

I think there are seconds of post death that will pack all sorts of things into them, and then...I'll know which way to turn or go and I will see and feel what I need. I desire to see all the animals I've cared for and my parents. I desire to truly feel what pure soul is.

Sophie shortly after she died

When a goose and an old goat come knocking and sometimes we fall and tinkle

The Goose and old goat come knocking

“I think you should knock,” I heard a whispering voice say as I stood near the front door getting ready to put on my coat.

“I’m crippled, you do it,” another voice said. I recognized it as Sophie’s voice, the very old goat. Which led me to think she was most likely with The Goose who tended to chaperone her, or any needy animals.

I peeked out the side window. I considered crawling on my hands and knees under the window to get back to the kitchen, but the intrigue of what they wanted got the best of me.

The Goose and the goat, and any barn animals to be clear are not supposed to be at the front door. It is the domain of the humans, and the house dogs. So when they crossed that gate line, it usually was for a reason and I learned over the years not to ignore them.

“What is going on?” I asked, as I opened the door.

“We have an issue,” said The Goose.

“Yes, we need issue advice,” said the old goat.

I sat down on the stoop and shut the door. It was chilly but I enjoyed the winter’s crisp air and I could smell the wafts from the cove.

“I’m listening,” I said.

“Do you have any crackers or perhaps toast in your pocket?” asked the old goat.

“No, is that the issue?”

“Heavens no, that is not an issue, I’m just hungry, you have not given me breakfast yet,” she said.

“I haven’t fed you because I just got up and I’m sitting here waiting to help with your issue!” I snapped.

The Goose took over.

“I have asked Sophie here to be my valentine. There is a dance on Saturday night,” he said.

A dance, I thought. I have not been invited.

“And I’ve been asked by Ollie the goat,” said Sophie. “I accepted both invitations, but I want to go with The Goose.”

Hussy, I thought.

“Why not just all go together, as friends. I used to do that in college and it was more fun than a date,” I said.

“Was that in the World War? I saw a movie on that,” said The Goose.

“No, I was not in a World War, thank you very much,” I said.

Then old Sophie leaned into The Goose and whispered to him.

And The Goose explained, first clearing his long throat. “Ahem. Sophie fell when we practiced the box step. And that made her tinkle in her dance dress. She likes the dances because they bring her warm memories of being at her grandparents’ dances, she likes the music, especially the fiddle.” Goose said.

There’s going to be a fiddle? I thought.

He went on, “She wants me to be her jealous suitor so nobody will dance with her, so she doesn’t tinkle in her pants.”

I held Sophie’s old head, and said, “Ah, lass, we all tinkle in our pants when we fall. I can be Ollie’s date.”

The Goose practices his two step

Leaves let go so must we

"Getting old isn't for sissies", my mother used to say. But, like my mother, Sophie puts one foot in front of the other and keeps going, keeps doing what her body wants to do even if it is limited.

A day go, I went to feed the goats in the front stall area, nine of them varying in health and age. Sophie is the oldest in that group and despite the condition she was born with and crippling effects of it, she is not a pushover. But a few days ago I noticed Sophie seemed a bit weaker than her normal state, and yesterday as I walked into the stall, and all the goats circle around and tried to position themselves, Sophie was unable to lift herself up.

I helped her and she seemed fine, but I knew this is a new stage of her elder years.

After my chores were down at the outer barn, I came back to find Sophie cast, outside her barn, laying in wait for me to help her. I got her up and held her and she seemed okay, but she also seemed tired.

I assumed that the slight incline of the terrain there, and the other goats rushing about and bumping into her, caused her fall. So I moved her out to the area where Opie lives with his few chickens, The Goose, and the very elder and frail Else the goat. I was pleased to see Sophie out in the sun this morning, The Goose escorting her around. The Goose and Sophie have a fragile relationship in that The Goose over care takes her sometimes, and then Sophie grabs at his feathers. If I find a clump of feathers, and then find The Goose hiding in the hay room, sullen, I know they have had a slight encounter. It is actually both funny and heartbreaking, as he looks like he really has hurt feelings, and I pick him up and tuck his head into my coat [geese love this swanning position]. No harm is ever done and when I put him down, he waddles off back to his happy Goose self, like a little child who cried over spilled milk but cheers up the instant Mom dries his tears.

You know we have no control of death, or much else. And you know my rule is to not ask any creature to 'not die on me', {note: I have failed at this on occasion} but I have to say I don't want her to die, not yet. But someday she will. They all will. You take the old ones on and you know this. You take the young ones on too and know this but it isn't presented to you on arrival. But you still have to talk yourself down sometimes, reminding yourself what you already know, that there are signs she is transitioning. And even though it might not be this week, or this month, I don't get to pick the date when I say, "Okay, I am prepared now, take her if you must."

Nature is not interested in us being ready for anything. Nature is Nature and allows herself to just be. She doesn't judge us but she doesn't listen to our needs, she is just Nature, there to teach us that leaves let go, and fall, and die, and feed worms and dirt.

The queen of the manure heap

You can usually find old Sophie sitting on the manure heap, soaking up it's heat. She is as regal as ever. And look at her beard-it was accidentally sheared off in last spring's sheep sheering. I forget to tell our shearer to leave it...I am surprised at how fast it grew back.

Hail to the Queen of the Manure Pile!

Wilbur gets his wings and Ollie plays in snow

Sophie was his designated hospice nurse

"Wilbur got his wings!" 
Old Sophie told the goats as she came out of Wilbur's convalescing suite. Sophia had been designated as Wilbur's roommate as he lay in his suite, unable to rise, for the past two weeks.

"Will I get wings too?" asked little Ollie.

"Someday, Ollie, but not now, it is not your time for wings, you have to earn them in your own way," said Sophie.

After two weeks of effort, Wilbur is free of his body.

Wilbur began to show signs of his age this past summer, but nothing alarming. Right around when we learned that Birdie had suffered from the brain worm-something that was new to us- I think it was about this time I noticed Wilbur lay down more, but that in and of itself is nothing to be alarmed by with an older goat. He was not lame, he was not showing any signs of the same worm that crippled Birdie for weeks and damaged her nerves. We fortunately got to Birdie quickly, and learned from our vets the protocol and were able to treat Wilbur for the brain worm too. It could be other things. It could be a tumor or wasting disease/cancer, it could be some other diseases my vet said, or a combination, and it could be old age combined with all those things.

For a good two weeks we have fought together, and his eyes and attitude were with me, he had not given up. Until a couple days ago, I could tell he was just plain tired and uncomfortable. I kept thinking of the story of the llama who was downed for one year, and the couple kept trying, and wouldn't give up, and one day, she rose. But Wilbur could not even put weight on his feet, and they were curved now. Since he was downed, I went in morning noon and night and got him up, cleaned his bedding, sat with him, gave hm water and food. The last two days, his body could not swallow, and when the vet came today, we immediately put him down because he was in clear discomfort. I have found a vet I truly love, and I've been working with her now about a year and have learned so much. There is so much to understand about deworming, not deworming, when to deworm or not to, learning your area, etc-and I've learned this year many things that make me a better caretaker, even after 15+ years you can always learn and grow. I don't think any of it would have saved Wilbur, in fact it probably would have just prolonged his life slightly, if that.

I have spent so much time with him, and I have been putting Sophie with him too at night and during the day. While chores are being done, I let the other Misfits come by and visit, and eat together. The animals already know, except Ollie, what is to come. They say their goodbyes in such a different way. They come and sniff a dying member, and there is no drama, just recognition. It is always beautiful and sad too to be part of these intimate herd moments.

With each passing of one of the Misfits that came to us long ago, and lived out West with us, it is like another string to that floating farm in the sky being cut. I will miss this sweet goat. Once a brilliant acrobat, he could fly through the air with the greatest of ease, and once even had a trapeze-it is said in the barnyard but I never got to see it. To watch an athlete's body disown him, it is hard.

This morning, when I knew the vet was coming, I told him his wings were ready for him, they were right with me for whenever he needed them.

And sometime around ten this morning, he put those wings on and took one last look at me. We all stood together and watched the light of the sky change and the shadows on earth were magnified for seconds.

"Will he come back?" Ollie asked Sophie.

"No," she said.

And Ollie ran outside to play on the snowy compost pile.

Once a day, The Misfits were allowed in to eat and commune with Wilbur

In his younger days-he had the sweetest smile

One of my favorite photos of him in his youth

Wilbur aka The Acrobat Goat...now you know why

New elders come visit...we plan

Eleanor give a final kiss to Birdie

We had a sweet visit with some 'new' elders that came to visit the farm on Friday. Some I had met on visits with Opie, but one woman, Eleanor, came from one of the homes I have been meaning to visit with Opie and hope to soon.

I was also happy that Birdie was part of it. She was fine and I was feeling good about our treatment she and I have been working through, and she needed some love herself. She did stumble that night, so her recovery-and I hope there is one-will take a month or more to see if she is permanently damaged. But she is walking, grazing and able to get up-although be it a bit wobbly at times. her hind end can be a bit off. But I am holding hope that worst is what we are seeing and she won't decline further.

Eleanor was the sweetest woman and she is 96. She was very appreciative that we have a pig named Eleanor. It's always good to meet people that know it is an honor to have a pig with your name.

This will probably be our last outside visit this season, but who knows. I am excited to get thinking about the indoor shelter we want so elders can sit out of the elements, but now I'm thinking we should go a bit bigger, with a structure that the animals can walk into too, and we could do winter visits with a heated area. I'm thinking about outreach too, and having drawing sessions amongst animals and elders as models, story telling hours where elders can share their stories, cross generational visits with the animals...stay tuned.

I will see as I percolate. We have lots of ideas to consider, and this year we have come so far, so fast in some ways,that I need to sit with my thoughts.

I am really so pleased with how we've come along with these elder visits. I realize too that we are building a community for ourselves, and I never really had that out West.

I'm also finding I need to learn to say 'no' better. I need more studio time, and of course, winter is my best stdio percolating time. I've never been great at making art in the summer. No pressure on myself, I just know that working with the elders takes creative vision too, and I need to not abandon my other passion-painting and story.

Life is very full. Life is rich. Life is a challenge, but it is juicy and I'm dancing as fast as I can.

The Two Great Whites

The blessing of daily faces

It's a blessing to live amongst such a diversity of souls with faces that express their own peace each day, because they just get to be.

Misfit faces...for you

We are $1138 away from making up for the cost of the hay we brought in that will get us through next spring. Hay is probably our most important thing, besides love...and water...and care...and loyalty....and time....and pasture maintenance....and fence maintenance...and hoof and feet trims....vacinations....did I mention time?

But it is time well spent.

This morning I sat in the barn, a light misty rain falling, sitting with Old Sophie, and the pig nearby covered in hay and snoring. It was so peaceful. I have found I am really settling in with the barns and land here, and I am taking more ten minute moments like this. I am scheduling myself so that, well, I don't have to rush, or rarely have to rush. I've done my rushing and am still capable of it if I have to be, but when you are rushed with animals, it always leads to chaos-because, well, they are not rushed.

I hope these images might bring you a momentary smile, and sense of peace, to help you along in your day.

I'll be giving away another print in the coming week-so anyone donating at least $20 will have their name put in a hat.

Ladies, your beard will grow back

When we did shearing back in March, I neglected to tell our wonderful shearer not to shave Sophie's beard. To be honest, I was so absorbed in dealing with the wool, that I didn't notice Sophie's beard was gone for a couple days!

So I am pleased to announce, The Beard is returning!

When you're naked, best to just smile and enjoy it

Sophie, and the sheep, all got sheered yesterday

Pre sheering smile

Touch someone, really touch them

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Apr 5, 2018 at 7:28am PDT

Touch is important to all of us. I had times in my life when I was without touch...and I am not talking about sex, I'm referring to the simple touch of another's hand on my arm...and times without that kind of intimacy are hurtful to the soul, I think.

I remember once sitting in my mother's couch with her, I was probably in my early forties, and she reached over and stroked my hair. I remember thinking how good it made me feel, and how little in some ways, and I suppose for her it made her feel like a mother, a caretaker thinking,

How did she grow up so fast?

Once I was in a church, I am not religious, though love the gathering of a church, the pomp of it at times, the chorus, the cathedral setting, the light. I was there because I had recently been dumped by the guy I really wanted to marry. I'm now grateful he dumped me, my wings were always clipped when we were together, he was raised in a strict reformed religion. But I was there because it was Sunday and I usually was with him, so I got myself out of bed and dragged myself to church. I sat in a pew next to an older woman, in her 70's or older. And then I started to cough, something was in my throat. I tried to contain it. She reached over to me, gently touched my hand, and gave me a cough drop, and smiled. Because I was in such a raw state, her touch meant so much to me,

She cared enough to touch me, I thought.

I've never forgotten that simple act.

I touch the animals all the time of course. Sometimes we sit quietly, like here with old Sophie, and I stroke them. I know how it makes me feel when someone I love and feel safe with stokes my face, even one time.

Go touch someone today, just a light tap on their arm, to say,

Hello, I see you, I know how life is.

When whiskers freeze, Sophie has a slumber party and Matilda gets a coat

Old Matilda with frosted whiskers

It is really cold. Not just a 'tad chilly', it is dangerously cold. But we are fine. It's one thing to have this weather for a few days, but we will have it for over a week, maybe even two weeks. As much as I love the winter, I'll be honest, it adds a lot onto the daily chores-ice buckets, and making sure everyone has extra hay so an additional trip tot h barn in mid day is necessary.

I put out a request this morning to Apifera Angels for another horse blanket for Matilda, and bam, one was purchased. Oh the power of the village of love. Thank you!!Don't worry, Matilda is not in danger, she has one winter coat but I'd like a 300 gram weight one for her to give additional warmth. Matilda went into winter with good weight and is getting 6# of senior feed daily plus hay. It's all about the hay in this arctic weather. And we are going through double the bales but I will not worry about that now. The minute they get their hay, the shaking stops even in below 10 degrees.

All the equines had frosting whiskers and clumps of ice on their nostrils this morning. Boone had frosted eyelashes. I have a 300gram blanket coming today for Boone who never wears a coat but he is going on twenty and has always had a thinner coat. Last winter did help him develop a slightly thicker coat. He is also notorious for ripping off blankets, so I hope he doesn't destroy it. I'll put it on at night in these frigid temps. A horse needs 1-2% of his body weight in hay, and he is getting that and probably double that...so all is well.

I gave Boone a rubdown while he ate hay this morning to invigorate the heat in his body. he seems to like it.

"It's better than flies, Boone," I told him.

So...it's cold. What are you going to do? It does get tiresome after a few days. After the initial onslaught of everyone sharing photos on Instagram of their temperature gauges you are faced with the reality of...

It's %4##@&%$$ cold.

I also brought old Sophie up to the front barn to be with Sir Tripod Goat and Opie. That barn is a tish warmer. She just seemed a bit...off....last night when I did feeding, went to lay down instead of walking around getting into trouble, her eyes seemed dopey. She has water, but I wondered if she had not been drinking. Animals actually tend to drink more in cold weather [in my experience] and I do take care to replenish buckets and chip ice-which is about 2" each morning. SO I took her out last night and she was not thrilled to walk on the cold path with me, but she seemed fine once we got to barn. She has a very good wool coat, and I am pleased I've put a lot of weight on her this year since she has separate quarters. I left them last night and aid,

"Think of it like a slumber party."

They chewed their cud and seemed unimpressed,

"Will their marshmallow treats later, and movies?" they asked.

The donkeys don't have a lot of room to roam in. Last year we plowed but in these temps they sort of hunker down. I was amused that they went out to the paddock, and clearly made a beeline for the barn.

Old Sophie joins Sir Tripod for the winter arctic freeze

The equines went out this morning and did an about face

Sophie's warm...year end love

Old Sophie has plenty of wool, but a little help in this cold, why not?

We are having extreme cold after all the snow but it is crisp and beautiful. Crisp is a bit of an optimistic word to use. The cold does not bother me this time of year [it does make me cranky if it is April] but it does have its challenges with the animal care. I probably spend an extra hour at chores twice a day dealing with frozen water buckets. I have to chip out all the many buckets, and carry water, but not too far, only about 20 feet. We have water in both barns, frost free, but despite the many ways I've tried, there is no other way except hauling water in buckets. Hoses freeze even if you drain them, the plastic or metal splitters freeze up too even if you have a cleaned out hose; I've tried bringing in the splitters but, it only takes minutes in this kind of cold. We have electrified water heaters the worked well in Oregon when I simply had to keep one huge bucket in the hay barn for water...but there is too much danger to have one around pigs, equines, and Marcella. She ate through an electrical cord once.

The equines are rascals in the cold. If the water bucket freezes in the night, which it does, they start playing with it. I'm sure they first test it and realize it is frozen, and sometimes if it is a light freeze they break through and are content, or they dump the water and it all freezes to the ground making it an ice rink. The pigs can easily break through water but I change it twice a day for them. It is not good to have an animal without water, and they tend to drink more in the cold.

My abs and arms get a good workout.

I heard a broadcast this morning on NPR that gave me pause. I fretted a bit, but then decided to 'let it go'. I will take the Earnest approach, "what ever happens happens". The report was on the fact that many non profits are fretting about the new tax code, fearing that many people that donate in the $1000 and under, or make small donations throughout the year when they can, will no longer be doing this since they might not be filing Schedule A now that the exception is increasing. Wealthy people and those making many deductions will still be filing an A, but it made me feel angry...another way the needy people will not benefit and will most likely suffer. It took me until now to take the challenge of starting a non profit, and what dos the future hold?

But as I mulled it in my brain...I realized what is really important-to just keep up the work I've chosen, with a smile and occasional sore back, just keep looking at these faces, knowing how they rely on me for care, and appreciate it [usually]...and knowing by caring for them, eventually they will wind there into the eyesight of an elder person who will get a sense of peace, calm and enjoyment out of meeting that animal.

A perfect lead-in to a request for you to give a year end donation to Apifera - we have big plans for growing and spreading more love next year to the elders, and of course we have another barn we need to build. You can learn about ways to donate to us at this page. And thank you to all who have, are thinking of it, and also to those of you who can't but follow along in spirit.

Christmas faces-our feelings get worn on our sleeves

It's really like any other day here, the routine is the same no matter the occasion. It's the routine the animals come to expect, the routine that keeps them feeling secure in knowing food is on the table morning and night and water buckets that iced over are replenished.

We are in the middle of another big storm. I'm grateful we aren't traveling or even driving a short distance. Just getting to the barn in the winds and hard pellet snow was a nippy endeavor, and there are slick spots [but thanks to some loyal Apiferians I have really good boot cleats that work wonderfully].

As I came back from the barn this morning, I took time to just stand in the field, the wind howling, the tree limbs bending with a light layer of ice from yesterday's morning rain. I breathed in deep, I felt it all, I left myself in it all. It was seconds, but is part of the wonderful time between Christmas and New Year's, like I said in my post yesterday-it is full of hope, and plans. I have a personal challenge I am determined to face, and I told the sky realm keepers I was going to do it. I felt strong.

I took extra time in the cat room too, grooming Maxine, sitting with the new arrivals, talking to them all, or not, just sitting. When I came in it was already lunchtime and I had a cup of Martyn's homemade soup he left for me.

I am loved.

The dogs were watching me. Time for some more Christmas Garland festivity and I wrapped The Old Blind One Eyed Pug in it. The way Mud looked at me, the way the pug looked at him...it's Christmas, every feel gets worn on our sleeves.

We are back to the living

Around eight post meridian last night we were sitting by the fire, and the power came on. I nearly cried. We knew there were poles down on our road and we watched the workmen all week for any sign of progress after the big storm ripped, literally, up midcoast. We had hoped for power yesterday as they were making progress, but I had given up once again when it wasn't on by nightfall.

What a haul it's been. It's mainly two things for us: water for the animals, and keeping the food and freezer alive. We are lucky to have Mrs. Revere, our old Garland gas stove/oven so we are never without a way to cook or bake. Ironically, the generator is due in next week-finally, so we will have an easier time next storm with the well and other things.

The romance of an outage is palpable that first night- but it becomes old pretty fast-including one's patience and stamina. I was horribly grumpy. I'd message Martyn during the day-something I really never do unless there is a real reason-but I was saying things like, "I put the house on the market" which of course was a joke. I guess I entertained him and the crew for awhile though.

I was able to get drinking water-barely-the first day-but the shelves were depleted quickly until the next day. Ice galore kept the freezer cold and by the next day I was going the 12 miles one way to a local spring where I could get drinking water. Martyn went and filled 50 gallon containers one night for the animals and that got us though a day and a half. As one woman at the grocery store said on day three, "I'm trying to be a good girl scout but am failing."

By Wednesday I had relinquished my anger and just melted into the situation. Funny how we humans fight circumstances-which takes so much energy-but it's the denial turned to reality that allowed me to move on in a healthier way. I should also mention, the storm that caused all this on Sunday night was probably the fiercest one I've lived though. It was not just a 60 MPH gust followed by heavy wind, it was a constant 60MPH gust through the night. We began to hear things falling and breaking and it went on and on. I lay in bed and would grab Martyn's arm every now and then- I thought of my animals, all tucked into the barns hoping a tree didn't fall. We lost one huge tree that needed to come down anyway and we had put it off since it would cost about $600. That tree politely fell in a way to let us cut it for firewood without doing too much damage to the fence.

Each night there was no television or radio, or checking emails or hearing outside news. We sat by the fire and talked, going to bed early one night, and making puppet shadows another-that was so fun. We all know we are too tied to social media and outer sources, living rurally it is imperative for me as an artist/freelancer to have internet, so I admit I don't like being without it, it is where my money comes from and I'm anxious without it. But a power outage of more than a couple days opens up fresh perspectives on what needs to be done on a normal day. Last week I finally got back into my mojo for painting, but this week was all about collecting water, not at making or writing and I missed both. So now I will reboot.

As I was coming from getting water yesterday, I pulled off one of our roads and stopped to visit one of the many historical cemeteries. I love cemeteries and like to read the names and ages, and say hello to them. Those bodies deeply buried were walking around once, probably went through a lot of Maine storms too. I have been wanting to start visiting cemeteries, so not having powered shifted my perspective enough to simply pull over and take a walk in one I drive by all the time and think, I have to stop in there.

This morning I got up before sunrise to get out to the barns, I wanted to fill large containers with water in case we lost power again, which we still could because so many poles are down. The animals were sleeping. I always feed the pigs first because they are so loud before they get fed, and I opened the stall and I started them out of deep pig sleep,

"Hrumpf? What is going on, it's too early!Who the hell are you, it's dark in here!"

I ventured out in the dark to the outer barn and the sheep were out, but looked at me like I was nuts. I called for Benedetto and he came sheepishly out, is body language told me he at first he might have wondered who I was. He came so slowly up to me, I stood and let him make all the moves as I sensed he really wanted to make sure it was me.

The morning was beautiful. I didn't have my camera and wished I had. But again, getting up at dawn is something I've been wanting to do more of, for photos and just the feeling of seeing the sun rise over the ocean. A pain in the neck experience of living without power reminded me of that, forcing me one morning to finally do it. The conflict is, I really love my bed, and do a lot of thinking in the wee hours after Martyn leaves at 5:30 AM.

The Puppet will be pulling names out of his hat soon-sty tuned!

Faces I know you love...so do I

White Dog gives you his nose...with love

Little Sylvia Pettini still acts like a bottle baby, yay!

"If I stand very still she won't know I'm in the hay barn"

BIG NEWS! It's official!

I am so excited to tell you that yesterday we received our letter of determination from the IRS. In explaining this to the Misfits, I simply told them people can now donate and get tax deductions.

But then they wanted to know about tax deductions...so it became a long drawn out barnyard discussion.

Anyway, I'm so happy that I can now go full steam ahead. As I left the barnyard they were having bit of a squabble about who would represent them at important meetings. This could be problematic, without The Head Troll to step in. I suspect, and can only hope, that Paco the Poet has had enough experience this last year that he might step in.

I have also had a conversation, at long last, with The Puppet, who has been sadly sitting alone on a shelf-with a good view, I'll point out. The poor chap. He is lonely and feeling undervalued, and since one of the reasons we want to work with elders is so they don't feel undervalued, and there was my dear Puppet feeling just this way.

So I told him I am putting him in charge of Porta Potties for any events as well as Puppet Ponderings...the latter I think we might all agree the world needs more of, especially now. He was very excited there might be a port potty in his future. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you can catch up here.

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.

Finding comfort in faces and life

It has been a hard week for many Americans. There is an outpouring of sadness from many, including me. It's palpable. There is also slightly less than the half of the voters who are content with the outcome. But Americans just showed that a woman won the popular vote total-this is progress we must not forget.

But I'm not going to rehash the why's of this outcome-there are plenty of people doing that. I am going to write about what I do in times of darkness. I did feel so much darkness that election night, many of us did, some did not. I felt very alone even though I had Martyn and many friends who were upset. I felt a heaviness in the air, and in my lungs and my body was physically agitated. I really did not want to go outside the next day. But I did, because I knew who was waiting for me out there-the faces.

And it helped. The beautiful routine I get to have with my animals in feedings and chores. The Wood behind the barn sent me reassurance,

I am still here.

There is a frenzy on social media. Panic, really. People are passing around probabilities and non factual scary possibilities all over the place. People are rabidly agreeing and disagreeing. Many are desperate for someone to give them hope and comfort. Martyn and I have fears too, for our health care, global security, our funds and our brothers and sisters who work so hard for this country that are now in fear of so many things.

I wrote a post at the end of Wednesday on Facebook of how I was going to handle my grief, shock and fear-by finding light, seeking light. It may sound woo-woo to some, but it is how I get through darkness like this. I find the light right here, in the farm, but also by reaching within and coming back to ideas of how I can share light with the community, both local and global. I can share light by sharing ideas of hope in writing and in my art; I can show through action the importance of communing and helping Mother Earth; I can continue to be of service, to both animal, elder and people and provide a place here that will evolve into a healing place.

I just decided pretty quickly after Wednesday morning's sun did rise,

I am not going to let this man take away my light, joy, talent, hope and ability to act.

So I look to these faces, and their non judgment of me and others, as solace. I am glad they don't have to ponder what we in America must now ponder, still even in 2016-racism, sexism, classicism, the fear and frustration of the working class that helped put this man in the White House. These faces just help me, and I share them with you here too, to help you. They won't solve our problems but maybe inspire you to seek out faces in your own local communities-be it animal, elder person, child in need, or someone needing a lift- and sharing your smile or hand. That is what can get us through this, to feeling our own light, and then to mobilize for the things we need to do to ensure all Americans are treated fairly in this country.

I think a lot of work is in the making for our country. Working on these issues is an ongoing skill for all of us, and for our past ancestors and future generations. I think the outcome of this election -as scared as many are and rightly so-will have powerful things of good coming out of it as the coming months and years go by.

Well, I guess it is pretty magical here too

After stacking wood all afternoon, we stopped at four and I looked out and saw all the animals in their fields, with the reds and ochres just beginning. It is a light gray today-both the air and sky-contrasting beautifully with the many white animals and autumn colors.

I was driven to go stand under M'Lady Apple, whose little tiny red fruits are falling abundantly, feeding sheep and goat and wandering dogs and llama. It was all very beautiful.

"I guess it is pretty magical here too. It's just taking me a little bit of time to always see it," I admitted tot the sky.

But when a mix of llama, goat, horse, sheep and donkey passed by, I could hear someone, or something, say...

"Look! A walking magical place!"