Ears in the Wind

Pleasant arrangements...and can we say "triplets"?

Some things arranged casually just seem so pleasing. The baking area of the renovated kitchen makes me happy each time I work at it. Four years the basement has held some simple but cherished items - like that apron hook, a gift from a woman friend in my old homeland. I miss her, but it reminds me of her.

Much has been happening. In one word...TRIPLETS!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, just the other day, my mother asked if we'd had triplets, "No, and I hope we don't have any." This set my universe guides into a meeting no doubt - "She's at it again, thinking she has a say in natural occurrences, let us teach her gently, with triplets, but all will survive and appear healthy." Our wonderful head ewe, Rosemary lambed yesterday, on Martyn's birthday. She pawed at the ground at noon, I put her in her stall, she lambed one female 30 minutes later; I went and did errands, and 45 minutes later she had had all three beauties. All appear ok, although one female is quite small, and last nite I was worried about her, she seemed less active. But Rosie hadn't rejected her, and she was drinking. Today all three appear pretty good - the boy is awesome. He might have to be sold for breeding.

One more ewe to go, Lilly, who I was sure was going last nite [ok, the universe thing again]. Lewisia Pinkie lambed unexpectedly on Saturday in the field, and brought her lamb in - a real beauty of a white girl,good size. I'm relieved she singled, she's a bit of a scattered mom.

As for the illness that has kept me under a rock, covered in blankets, kleenex and occasional pug or Labradors...14 days...no fever, still coughing. But so much better.
Like someone else said, you start to feel like a broken record. So unless I drop over, I shall not write about my illness again. However I do so appreciate the kind wishes from all of you!!!!

Stay tuned for triplet pictures! Hail to Rosemary!

New work for LA Times

I was so excited to get my first project with the LA Times through my reps. And the subject matter could not have been more up my current alley - home health care for our elderly. The article, for the Health section, talks about the trend and desire to keep our elderly in their own homes as they age. Finding community networks that reach out for these in home elders to help with simple every day tasks, like opening up the caps on prescriptions, or just providing a 'check in and hello" over tea. We really wanted to emphasize the helping hands of the community, and I was please with the way that worked. Intertwined, the help of others is like a healthy vine, it keeps intertwining, and reconnecting. I think it's always a challenge to do an elderly face and allow it to be pretty, without it looking to young - or adding too many 'old' lines and losing the beauty of an old face. Old people are so beautiful. I think I showed her dignity.
Anyway, I'm grateful for a great job and hope for more.

First Sun

I took advantage of the sun and warm air to let the four new lambs out in their first sun. Vitamin D works wonders, for all of us. It's an ordeal getting them to the orchard, but the ewes do well to get some sun too. The lambies pretty much stumble around, sleep, get up, quick nip from the mom bottle, stumble, sleep...then do it all over again. Their little ears are still wacky at this stage. I'm hoping I can find a home for this white boy, he's got knees on him that says he's going to be a big guy.

Thanks to all for the get well wishes. I'm better, but not 100%. I did break the fever though, and that alone makes me feel like a million clams. Yesterday I napped, watched a french film, and napped. Tortured myself by watching the Oprah show which was so stupid, I turned it off and napped again.

Blurry eyed fever sighting

Last nite I was so pleased when my fever subsided, and by bedtime I was sure this morning I'd be tip top. I awoke feeling lousy again, and my fever was back to 101+. I slept in some, and made it out to do barn feedings. I casually fed cats, horse, donks, goats, and then went to open the ewe stall. "Oh...my.....goodness." I said . There was Daisy, afterbirth still coming out, and what I thought was one lamb. But wait, there's two, and...wait...Coral Bell has two.

I was so caught off guard. End of next week was due day, and there weren't any real heavy signs of lambing yesterday. I think it's so nice they had them early this morning in the stall, or I would have had a real time if they had gone down in the field. I'm greatful none of the other ewes trampled any babies.

Daisy had a beautiful brown girl, and brown boy. Both have her signature white cap on their head. And Coral had a strapping big white boy, and a gorgeous black girl.

Life goes on, fever or not. It certainly took some worry out of at least 2 lambings. This flu has taken my life away for 5 days and I'm more than ready to be back to normal. But having the lambs reminded me certain things just have to be played out by nature. You don't get to set the rules.

New Work

I had a rgood time last week working on this piece for a University of Minnesota publication, illustrating the short fiction winner, "Kalispel".
A rather dowdy gentleman is traveling from NYC to the West, falls ill in a small town of Kalispel, and takes up residence at the local hotel to recover. He becomes enamored with a local woman, who is also being swooned by a WWII pilot [the story is set in the '20's]. The pilot goes out everyday and skywrites messages to the woman, but she carries on with the NYC man. He convinces her to return to NYC with him, but the woman knows she will leave him and go back to the skywriter. He never really had her, and the small town and the skywriter were no match for him.

Get a fever, chase a goat, rest with equines

I'm always so shocked when I get sick. I don't get sick that much, so on Friday when I suddenly felt ill, I ignored it. By the time I went to the barn to do nightly feedings, my entire body was shaking, and my teeth were chattering. The animals were not sure what to make of my groans, but I made it through chores so I could land on the couch. By Sunday, I was pretty sick, and had a 101+ fever.

And why is it, when you get a fever, that is the day the goats get out of the new fence you spent hours and money to put up just last week? And of course they took the rams with them. So with your fever, and a broken rake, you 'encourage' the rams to go up the road. It all works out, but with a fever, even a 10 minute goat round-up can kill a person.

I tried to help Martyn with the new fence, but after 10 minutes, admitted defeat. I was useless, and didn't feel right at all. Back in the house my fever was over 101, so I slept. Later in the day, uncomfortable in bed, I carried a blanket out to a bench in the orchard, with the donkeys grazing around me. I have rarely had a day since moving to the farm where I just rested.

As the sun went down, I retreated in, feeling slightly better, and had a cup of tea in the studio, communing with the horse outside the door. Earlier this week, Martyn added an extension off Boone's pasture, so he can walk right up to one of my studio doors. He knickers outside the window sometimes, knowing I'm there, hoping for apples.

More mail for Pino

It's always so heartwarming to get these little surprises in the post! Last weekend, as Martyn and I sat down by the fire for our evening glass of wine, I asked if there had been any mail. "None for us, but Pino got a package." Such it is when one lives with Pino Blangiforti.

Sugar cubes and the most adorable, tiny, hand made felted pie! I was so charmed anyone would do this. And everyone knows how I love felt and have wanted to do some of my own felt dolls - someday. I'm thrilled this artist lives in Oregon and plans to come to Pino Pie Day, in fact she might be making some more felt animal creations which I will sell on Pino Pie Day. Stay posted - but for now you can visit a sampling at her new Etsy store.

Thank you Deborah! Pino is even sweeter now with his sugar cubes.

Where did that rooster go?

Rooster seeks love, no qualifications needed

Ward Schumacher the rooster, not to be confused with Ward Schumacher the artist, is busy looking for valentines. The Spring like air in the past two days has sent him calling on a variety of the barn yard ladies. I admire Ward, he is not afraid to be spurned by any of them. For any of us who have suffered through past Valentine Day rejections, this is inspiring. And anyone who dares to win the heart of Franklinia, aka Frankie, really has hutzpah.

The first legend of Valentine's Day, and perhaps the best known, began in Rome, when Emperor Claudius II was involved in many bloody and unpopular campaigns. “Claudius the Cruel” as he was called, was having a difficult time getting soldiers to join his military due to the belief that Roman men did not want to leave their loved ones. So he cancelled all marriages and engagements in Rome. The good Saint Valentine, a priest in Rome at the time, defied Claudius and continued to perform secret marriages for young lovers. When Valentine's actions were discovered, he was sentenced to be beaten to death with clubs and to have his head cut off. But while in prison, it is believed that Valentine fell in love with a young girl said to be his jailer's daughter, who visited him during his confinement. Before his death on February 14, it is alleged that he wrote her a letter signed, " From your Valentine". In 496 A.D., Pope Gelasius set aside February 14 to honor St. Valentine.

That motherly glance

With two weeks until due day, the ewes tolerate my 'udder checks', but this morning Coral Bell looked at me as if to say, "You just checked my udder yesterday."

The weather is drying out, and warming to 50's this week. I'm hoping for 2 weeks of dry sun and I have all lambing stalls ready. The grassy orchard area is all lamb proof for the new arrivals. Ah, spring. Newness. Starting over with deeper roots.

Proper proposals

Donkeys are very loving. I have seen Pino Blangiforti quietly swoon little Lucia, but she is much to young for dating. And, well, they are related, I'll have to give her the talk soon. Paco Giovanetti is a much bolder amoureuse, a bit pushy, but some gals like that type.

I did this piece in honor of the upcoming love holiday. I imagined what Pino's father, Angelo, must have done to persuade Gabriella to breed with him. Gabriella is polite and I imagined she required some kind of proposal. Angelo is quite the lady's man, I can attest to this.I'm sure he put out all the stops.

Or perhaps I was trying to recreate my own fantasy proposal. Six years ago or so, my dearest was sitting in the kitchen, in torn jeans, eating cheese - we had just returned from grocery shopping. I remember being very grumpy that night. I'm not sure what he witnessed or experienced at the grocery store to inspire him, but he sat in that kitchen, eating cheese, and quietly, but firmly, said, "I'm going to marry you." It was one of those proposals where the recipient has to stop and say, "Are you proposing?". Martyn has his own very unique, subtle, romantic way, much like Pino Blangiforti. It's charming.


Anyway, so many people have asked me if there are originals or prints of recent donkey art, that I finally did test prints of some choice pieces, and have added some to the store. These are archival inks printed on 13x19" fine art archival paper. The colors are stunning.

In me

"Imagination is my best friend, gotta' watch out for the greedy hand", so wrote Neil. The greedy hand can come in many forms - from the outside world of bosses, big brother, clients, family, pollsters...Or it can come from within - pushing ourselves too far, questioning ourselves, trying to get into the jeans you wore in 1999. So when I feel these greedy hands, I have a variety of ways to conquer them. Call them life skills, that I'm finely tuning.

One way is to create my own special band, perhaps with BW on drums. Kissing birds would arrive and further entertain me. There are many horrible things that us in life, some horrific, some passing nuisances. Some can't be wiped out with one little excursion into the imagination. But, it helps level the playing field. I'm very graced to have figured that out years ago. It's so important to recognize the one thing one has in life that can't be taken away - even if I were blinded, crushed by hospital bills, left in the woods. I'd still have my own unique imagination.

Motherly signs

The anticipation of lambing season hit me this morning, perhaps because the weather has lifted some and it smelled a bit like spring today. Or perhaps because Rosemary's belly has expanded to motherly size, and her udder has developed. Even her teats are huge. Yes, we pay close attention to teats around this time of year. With our fourth lambing upon us, I don't get quite as panicked over lambing time, but I never let my guard down either. I usually pull out my sheep books, and read all the bad things that can happen. Last year I even bought a scalpel, what I was going to do with it, I'm not sure, but it seemed like a good tool to have around. {We found it indispensable when we had to butcher the roosters however.}

I am a bit concerned that Rosie is going to lamb much earlier than her 150 day term, which is 4 weeks off. Usually her 'bag' hasn't developed to this extant, and her hips are sunken too, another sign lambing can be near. But when I saw those teats this morning, all big and shiny, I just had to ask her, "Do you know something I don't know?" Rosie is our head ewe, I depend on her to lead the others when they become rattled. She is an excellent mother. If Rosie could talk, and she told me, "Ba ra ram, we must move to higher ground, now. " I would immediately get the gang going.

Pre-lambing time also means a bit of extra caring for the mothers to be. Like a bit of special mother food [we feed only pasture, and winter hay, but for 4 weeks prior to lambing, and 4 weeks after, we give them a helping hand with supplemental feed]. I have taken to spending more time in the morning with the ewes, rubbing the mothers-to-be- between their front legs which they swoon over. It also allows me to touch and work with the younger ewes which helps immensely in calming the flock when you need to handle them. Keeping the flock under 20 really allows this interaction, and it definitely makes lambing more enjoyable, and makes shots and medical attention much better for all.

I asked Rosie for girls, but, this is not up to us. She will provide us with what we need to survive here. We have not bought any meat since harvest time. We eat vegetarian about 50% of the time, and it is very important to us that we can live like this. It is hard for some people to understand how I can eat lambs, especially since I am an animal lover. I didn't get here overnight, but I have thought about this for many years, and I'm at peace with it. Anyone who raise livestock will tell you, the boys come out cute, but very quickly, the testosterone kicks in, and the farm can fall into chaos quickly. The boys must go. But we thank them for what they give us, and how they sustain us, so we can sustain the farm.

Exhibit Opening

I am participating in a group show, “What’s Inside-Exploring the Potential for Change”, at Mary Lou Zeek Gallery in Salem during February. All sales will benefit the Poyama Treatment Center in Independence, Oregon, a non profit that helps children of abuse and neglect.

Participating artists received a wooden box through the mail and were asked to use this as their starting point . Each 8" x 8" box was sent “as is”, and was not packaged, but rather processed directly by the postal service firsthand. Each artist was asked to involve a young child and ask them one of four questions concerning their feelings of what makes them feel safe. The answers for these questions are inside the finished boxes for the viewer to see and read.

The child I collaborated with said that being with her mother made her feel safe. This sounds simplistic, but it is such a universal need and desire for all of us, that I wanted to honor that. The inside of my box [the image here is of the front] is like a keepsake to my mother, but also, can be a keepsake for any mother. Or maybe a keepsake for the mother one never had. Little surprises are inside the box. The children of Poyama, and many others through out the world, aren't as graced with this mother aura as I or my collaborating child are. So I am glad that my art will help a child in some unknown way down the road.

The exhibit will open on Tuesday, February 6th at 10:00 am pacific time. The public will be able to bid on the box art, with beginning bids at $50.00 and $5.00 increments. This year there is a maximum bid of $200. This week, the entire show will be posted online at www.zeekgallery.com. Calls can be made to the gallery to place bids: 503-581-3229. The bidding ends February 29th, 2008 at 6:00 pm pacific time.

Poyama Day Treatment Center works with children who are caught in the crossfire of abusive and neglectful domestic environments, educational settings ill prepared to meet mental health needs and the bewildering bureaucracies of social service agencies. They are a small not-for-profit psychiatric day program dedicated to serving up to 23 emotionally disturbed children between the ages of 3 and 12. They provide individual and group therapy, grief counseling, social skills and self-awareness, anger management and parent support groups. With a staffing ratio of one adult for every 3 children, they have used art therapy, ceramics, drawing, painting and a variety of individually crafted approaches to help children look more deeply into themselves and their lives and to explore the potential for change and healing that lies within.

Thanks to the ever wonderful Mary Lou for inviting me to participate.

Morning Donkey Parade

Pino, being the gentleman of the herd, takes up the rear. Lucia, the little light bearer, is always in front. The ladies are always permitted to goes first. Paco, must be in the middle, so he can watch Lucia, and be better than Pino. And of course, Pino doesn't care - but the expression on his face tells me, "Did I do okay in the parade today?".

The return of Ethel

If you've been reading my blog for awhile, you might remember Ethel, the deer that lives on our land, and returns every year with new family members. All are given the secret handshake in order to enter our fields. Ethel and children are welcome around house, now that the vegetable area and young orchard are protected. How do I know it's the same deer, you ask. Because I gave her a protective moon. You'll have to read the story I wrote to understand.

Pumpkinhead found dead

I opened the door to the pump house, and gasped. At first I thought he was alive - his body all curled up in a typical cat sleeping
pose, his tail twined tight around his body like a scarf. He was in clear sight, tucked into the corner of the 10 x 10 shed, snuggled down in some fallen insulation mixed with hay. I guess I knew he was dead, but as I got closer, he looked so peaceful...maybe...no. He was dead.

There were no signs of stress or trauma really. His little orange head was tucked in between his paws. I examined his body, and the only sign of distress was right around one side of his nose, which looked liked the skin had rubbed off. His eyes were still there, no other creatures or maggots had started their work on him. I examined his body for wounds or bullets, nothing, except a few drops of red blood exiting his rear end. I thought maybe he had fallen and died of trauma, but, it didn't add up.

Pumpkinhead disappeared on January 4th - there is no way his body would have looked as it did when I found it if he had died that long ago. In fact, I've dealt with enough dead animals now in various stages out here, and we think he might have been dead only a day at most. He just wasn't that stiff, and animals stiffen up very fast. Why didn't he come back to the porch? To add to the mystery, Martyn had entered the pump shed two times last week, and there was no Pumpkinhead in the corner. If he had been alive, and able, he would have fled from Martyn, as he is more acclimated to me. This means he crawled into the pump house shortly before I found his body.

I'm only happy I found him, and then he did actually die in a safe spot. I carried him to the front porch, where Mama and Little Orange were. Orange is the only one of that litter left. He sat with the body like a dutiful brother for a minute or two, then went off to the garden. It was I who was pushing my human emotions onto the scene. The animals had already moved on. I buried him at the side garden, under lilacs and quince, a favorite cat hang out, especially in rain or hot weather. I will paint or engrave his tombstone in spring.

A tail, and more...

I did a little series about Huck and his tail this week, intended as a promo to a select group of past clients. I've been wanting to write a story about Huck's tail, but it's still just one of a myriad of ideas mushed in my head.

For those of you who haven't met Huck, you can read about his 'Guide to Happiness" here - and it's completely free.

I also want to mention two upcoming shows of artists I love and admire.
One is Dan Dutton, who I am just coming to know. This man has whim, incredible drawing ability, is a musician, a story teller, and he lives in a magical cabin in the woods of Kentucky. He has an upcoming performance "The Faun" in historical Louisville, Kentucky at the 21C Museum [Jan 31-Feb 1].

Then there is the upcoming show of Ward Schumaker's books and drawings at the Meridian Gallery in San Francisco [Jan 24 - March 1]. I only wish I could be there. I've loved his work for a long time. Ward is married to my all time favorite Vivienne Flesher. I broke the news to them that I named one of my new hens Vivienne, and it seemed only logical to name the new rooster Ward. They took the news well. Not everyone would, but in our family, having any animal named after you is considered an honor. If I could just teach Ward Schumaker the rooster to draw like Ward Schumaker the artist, I'd be on to something.

Water is a gift

I think I'm much more aware about our resources since moving to the farm. How can I not be? When the well goes dry there are more consequences than not having water for our own use - but a whole barnyard of thirsty beings will suffer.

We have much more work to do before we are the land stewards we want to be. But putting the holding tank in was a big project, and it is a good start. We can water all the animals now, and keep our struggling cedar trees alive we planted [of which 30% died due to lack of water. We can use the river water more efficiently, and though we won't water our field regularly, we can without being wasteful. We can also help the 400 seedlings to be planted this spring on the riverfront - intended to bring the acreage there back to native plants, which will help the river.

We need to do better with our gray water, but have some mickey-mouse systems in play until we get the energy and money to complete those tasks.

So I was inspired to do some portfolio pieces on living green. I just hope it's not one more fad for the masses. It's should be a life commitment, not a Target trend - or I hope it is. The earth hopes too.