Conversation with the grumpy pig: is Rosie blossoming?

As some of you already know, The-World's-Grumpiest-But_I-AM-FIne-the-Way-I-Am-Pig, aka Rosie came to us many years ago when I was at that time piglets-a state to be in I will tell you.  I really wanted a pig and began a search for one to adopt. That's how I discovered Sanctuary One, and they happened to have a pig, a grumpy pig they told me...but she came with her own goat...a very crippled goat. I had many goats-old and crippled-so asked if i could just adopt the pig. "No, she has to go with that goat, it's her only friend."

The rest is Apifera history. Stevie-and are we ever glad he came to Apifera-was the only animal that would tolerate Rosie's grumpiness, and for the first year or so, Rosie slept only near Stevie. But like often happen when animals get more confidence in a new environment, Rosie began to sleep on her own, and eventually, she had her very own suite in Old Barn, which was just fine with her, it seems. I tried to get her to come outside again, but she stayed in that barn for a couple years, content with animals nearby, but not in her private bedroom chamber. But then we moved to Maine, and Rosie came with us in a private suite made of wood that Martyn made for her, which fit securely in the truck bed, away from any other animals. Upon arriving, we once again made sure Rosie had her own suite, except eventually I had to put some young chickens in with her. She was not pleased, and the suite was rather dank, so I made a new one in the new barn we built. Anything for Rosie. And Rosie seemed very happy, and her skin cleared up and in the past weeks, low and behold, she has decided to come outside again. In fact, she has come out every morning to greet me, just like she used to many, many years ago. 

And now, one of the piglets, a barrow [castrated male] seems to be interested in her...for her food, for fun, or for friendship? Who knows, but he visits her at the gate. Rosie is still on her own, but sleeps next tot he sheep and is very much part of the barnyard, but has her own suite and turnout. Could it be, Rosie is blossoming?

"Rosie! Are we outside today?" I asked as I found the pig at the gate, outside of her stall.

"Hrumpf um aha!" she said, not quite as grumpy as usual.

"It's a beautiful autumn day, Rosie!" I replied.

"Humrrumph!" she agreed.

Wait, she agreed?

And so, we have begun to wonder...could it be all those universal forces and guides I felt pulling us East to Maine was all for the sake of...a grumpy pig? Then again, why wouldn't Rosie have her own guides at work?

Will she make a friend, again? Perhaps Stevie is also guiding her.

{A gentle reminder, Kickstarter going on now to help birth the new book-do you love cats, or itty things?}

Help birth the new book!

A poetic illustrated tale of a brave kitten who had wings all along and no matter the consequences, chose to be her ownself.

The link to the funding page is http://kck.st/2dBkAFF

We have thirty days to work together to get another little illustrated book into the world. I am in love with the animated video we made [thank you to Angella Kussabe for her talent on this one!].

Please take time to watch the video and visit the Kickstarter page to help me get this story into the world. I will be sharing it a lot through the next thirty days but if we can get a strong showing this first week it always keeps my blood pressure down, and helps generate interest from the Kickstarter staff.

Do it for me. Do it for Itty.

Do it for all the creatures both animal and human you know that dare to be "their ownselves".

"Chipmunk! Winter is coming! Do you know it will be cold?"

We took down a dead Alder this summer that has about two cords of good, long boring wood for us and it has taken up most of Martyn's hours these past few days. We have about four cords ready maybe six. We have a furnace too so I think we are ready....for It.

We are not ones to have a warm house anyway, and the size of this place is easy to heat and keep pipes working. Yesterday I spent the afternoon stacking while Martyn took the tractor and retrieved the wood. He took great pleasure in driving back with yet another load, and dumping it near my feet, just as I had finished stacking the last load.

But there is something really therapeutic and rewarding about stacking wood. It is similar to getting the hay in the barn each year. You feel you are getting the nest all hunkered down for you and yours.

The entire population from all over the country is letting us know the winter is coming, as if we don't know. I just watch the little chipmunk outside by bedroom each morning-now there is a busy little chap. Funny, you don't hear anyone saying,

"Chipmunk! Winter is coming! Do you know it will be cold?"

Anyway...we know winter is coming. We see it in the beginning wooly coats of the equines, and early evenings, the wind sounds different because leaves are crisper and some have fallen making the forest sound...like winter.

We have a plan for keeping paths open to the barns in the snow months, and keeping the areas near the house manageable for the dogs. Our new frost free pumps we put in for water are ready for action. We will get my all weather tires this month and I need to get some more deicers for water buckets for barns. I'm sure we will learn what part of our infrastructure needs improving, but we can't do it all in the first summer/fall. We need more wood sheds, which will happen soon.

To be honest, I feel I need a nice cold winter with lots of snow. I wrote a list the other day of all the change and loss at the old farm, right up until this month with Huck and Raggedy's death. I shared it on Facebook not to seek sympathy, but to express that as I looked at the long list, I was overwhelmed. I think that by being in the thick of it all for those years, I really didn't have time to grieve long. I just kept moving on to the next death. I didn't shun it, I didn't get jaded, I felt it and did what had to be done, I expressed and homaged it through writing and art, but I also did not stop..not once.

I think this winter especially is the universe's way of letting me stop, crumble like the beautiful leaves all around me underfoot, hibernate in my little 1760 house and lick my skin and hold my heart. There is much percolating under the ground all winter, and spring will bring so many new things...new surprises...new creatures...and I will be rested.

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!"

Rosie goes outside! Tripod hurts his nose! The Head Troll lines them up!

I sometimes wonder if our pull to Maine had nothing to do with our guides, it had to do with guides for the well being of The- World's-Grumpiest-Pig-I-Am-Fine-As-I-Am-Pig, aka Rosie. A couple years ago, I found Rosie shivering in a light rain. This was very unusual as she hates rain, and hates to be chilled. And she was nowhere near the barn stall she liked to sleep in. She was closer to Old Barn so I got her in there and bedded her down in an old lambing pen.

She never left. In fact, even in the new spring warmth, she refused to go outside. She had always loved the warm sun baths she took in her first years at Apifera. It saddened me, but she just was content in her large suite, bathed in Old Barn's light.
I suspect it had something to do with the arrival of Eleanor, who had come to mate with Earnest. And Rosie is no match for Eleanor.

Well, fast forward to Maine. Rosie again has her private suite, but it is next to the sheep pens. She is uninterested in being friends with anyone. You all know her only friend long ago was Stevie the goat, but he even started sleeping in another area as Rosie grew to like being alone. She likes to sleep, that is about it these days.

So I was really happy that in the last three days, she has been outside waiting for me for breakfast. And she eats outside. She goes right back to bed, but...she seems very content with her new sleeping arrangement. I suspect she is getting arthritic in her hind end too, which might be part of it.

Sir Tripod Goat's Nose: The oddest cut I've seen in awhile. You try your best to keep any dangerous object or fencing out of animal areas, but any farm is loaded with lurking dangers for all of us. I first thought it was just a scratch, but after I started treating it realized he'd sliced it somehow. He spends most of his time in his stall and pen, so I can't figure it out. But he is on penicillin and will be fine.

The Head Troll is aging. You can see it in her body and loss of muscle, thinning hair and one of her eyes is cloudy. She also has started to like getting scratched and petted, only by me, but this is unheard of. Our entire relationship has been built on a delicate balance of respect, hands-off care taking and love-hate day to day. Hate is a strong word, love-irritation? This is a goat that can get stuck in anything, I'm sure always for a good reason in her thinking. But she is now living out with the sheep, and Benedetto and Birdie, near the equines and Rosie. She is about 30 pounds I'd say, but is no pussy cat around the very large and dominant Assumpta, or Calla, the two matriarch ewes. The Head Troll makes it clear at feeding time what side of the hay you need to be on if you are a sheep, she somehow gets them all over there on the opposite side of her in one swoop, and watches for any transgression of boundaries to her side of the hay. If that happens, pow, head butt.

The Head troll still has it. I'm glad. I want her to live out her life as herself as much as possible. She has a pretty good stash of handbags too since arriving.

My little fan Madden

Love getting photos like this, of my fans, showing me their appreciation for my work and products. This is madden, a very wise three year old that understands the Misfits are special creatures and their postcards seemed to make her happy-which makes me happy.

Thank you to her grand ma-ma for sharing these with me. Maybe someday madden can come meet us all in the real....that would be special.

In which I acknowledge The Not Knowing

This morning I felt very calm, but there was part of the quiet that felt like a veil of sadness. I lay in bed for a long time and just let the thoughts and images in my head play out. I listened to them, and watched them, sometimes rewinding certain images to see them again.

I don't know why sadness is here today, I thought.

And then I got up and went out to the barns and got on with it. The rhythms of morning feeding include sounds and moving images. The horse chews his hay and the donkeys in the background chew more slowly–and together it is almost like a musical beat The sheep chew faster and the llama observes in-between bites of her breakfast. The pig snores. The leaves are getting crispier and I could here them all around. The air and sky are darker this morning, but in a beautiful Payne's Gray way, and their weight feels lighter to me with the cooler air.

I wasn't in a hurry. More and more, I find I am not in a hurry. It seemed in the old farm, I was more hurried. What exactly is different here that makes this so? I don't know. I sense I am here to do something, and I am formulating and pondering it all-what animals I'd like to help and how; what community I want to form and not form; why was I pulled here.

Why?

And then I had stumbled on a blog when I saw it in my stat count. And there was a video about the poet W.S.Merwin. I was mesmerized and I also found it akin to what I am going through. Actually, I am not going through anything, I am right in the middle of something and it is not about getting to the end of anything, it is simply...something.

I heard something in the video that struck me, and resonated with how I can now describe to you what this something I am in feels like. It is all about being comfortable with the not knowing. I don't know so many things right now, but they are all here-hidden in coming days, perhaps waiting for me to take a walk in the woods to hear an answer through the rustling trees. I know The Wood has many things for me. It has a very significant presence when I am in the barns. I can't say it is scary, but it feels powerful, strong, perhaps a protector of something, a large natural room of mystery. And maybe I won't ever know all of it.

At a certain stage of his life, Merwin recognized a need to live someplace that was immersed in history-as in really old history of many centuries ago and he found it in France. I felt this too when we were still in Oregon–a physical need to be here in Maine, not New York [where I've lived both city and upstate], not Vermont [which I love and thought about], but Maine.

So that's it. I'm in the not knowing. I don't know what I'm doing but I'm going to just keep on doing it all, one hour at a time. I'm listening. I have sadness for many reasons but it's my sadness, it is just part of my day right now. It hovers while I stroke the cheek of Calla, or hold Little Sylvia Pettini, or run with Benne. It has an energy and needs to be part of me right now.

Pino's mother is going to make a scramble for him

Gabriella received a note from her son, Pino.

Dear Mother,

I will be on the eve train and hope to stay a week.

Love, your son

She has just gathered eggs in her basket. She knows how much Pino loves her scrambled eggs. She is not sure why he thinks they are so special, there is nothing unusual in them, just salt and pepper, and a dash of butter.

Perhaps it is how I flip them only once and still leave them with a slightly soft inside, she thinks.

She looks at the note one more time, and clutching it in her hand, decides to make a a sturdy white cake too.

He'll be hungry after his trip, she thought.

Livin' now

I've been swept up this weekend with a wonderful visit with my brother and his wife from Oregon. I am getting ready to eat fresh lobster after three days of tootleing around the mid coat showing off the beauty, visiting historical sites and learning and...eating. It feels like Sunday but it's almost Tuesday so I'm woefully out of sorts until tomorrow mid day when I can regroup.

I have no photos to show of our weekend, it was all just living in the moment and enjoying each other. So why not post a pic of Marcella and her charges, I thought.

I can tell you this: Rosie has buried herself for the first time in straw with the colder nights; Sir Tripod Goat banged his nose open perhaps on a ...pig...but he is fine; the horribly busy road in front of the farm is now quieting, finally, after the summer ground has died down; Litlle Sylvia Pettini stood up to Lillian at the food line; Earnest is very excited about pumpkin season as is Paco.

I promise to be back in full force this week. The weather is magnificent. There is much to talk about.

We go to the Common Ground Fair...and learn

For the past year anytime I talk to anyone who knew we were moving to Maine, or had moved to Maine, invariably I would hear,

"And you must go to the Common Ground Fair."

And we did. We were not disappointed. Despite the fact it was a rainy, sometimes down pouring day, we learned so much and got so much out of it-both with new knowledge, but also in an emotional sense- it was one more string we could tie to our belts to help ground us here.

Before we even got into the fair, we stopped at various forestry booths outside the gates to talk to foresters about our goals with out woods. We made good contacts, and learned some basic procedures for our next steps. We then ventured inside, and there were moments I felt like I was in Eugene, Oregon-it had a mix of 1960's hippies energy with earth conscious souls. But all around me were Maine accents, so I had to repeat,

You are here now. Take what it gives you and be grateful.

And I did. We breezed through the animal barns and I really loved the beautiful oxen. There was one goat, seen here smiling, who melted me, she reminded me so much of Iris who I had to put down before we left the old farm. It was almost like she was there though, saying hello. I scratched her throat through the pen for a long time, she was a very content soul.

But it was the fiber barn that I learned so much. I have been reading and asking questions for weeks, as a new wool sheep owner-versus hair sheep which we raised in Oregon. The volunteers were so knowledgeable. At first as I went around looking at various fiber from various sheep varieties, I would eavesdrop on the volunteers helping other people. Then I tagged along with one buyer as she took a raw fleece out on the table to examine it before buying. I asked a million questions, and each one was answered and had me asking more. Then I apologized as another woman was listening on and I had dominated the time, but she said,

"Keep asking, I'm learning too."

I met a retired gent standing by a Babydoll sheep and a Merino. I really would love a babydoll, just because and hope to find an elder to take on. Anyway, his weren't for sale. He explained to me that his wife had just died and she was the shepherd and fiber expert, but he and his daughter were taking it on. He told me he just loved those sheep. I wanted to take them both home.

I am super excited for spring sheering. And I looked at fiber of other breeds I am interested in adding into the flock.

We also had a long conversation with a man a little older than us, a woodworker, who happens to live right near us, and he knows our house and area. We talked a long time about the Maine culture. He has lived here 30 years. We found out about some great things just down the road-music nights, a use group for starters-but as we were departing, he said something like,

"If I could tell you one thing...it would be, give it time here. It takes some time. Keep working on your place and digging in the dirt. That is what builds your reputation."

We knew this, but it was important to hear it from someone who never left here once he came. We built our reputation the same way out West. Maine is a mysterious place at this point, for me, but it's like a wise person once said about any new encounter-

"Be like a dog-sniff it out, watch and listen."

Paco does a squishy poop and writes a poem

"I told you, I saw the bag," said Paco, the resident worrier. "Oh no, I feel it coming...I can't hold it in," he continued, worried.

"Paco! Not again, stand away, he is going to blow!" said Pino.

And with that, Paco had the runny poops. Happens every time the people with the bags come.

"I told you, she has the needles," Paco lamented.

"It's never as bad as you imagine, Paco, just repeat one of your poems, that will make you less worried," consoled Lucia.

"There once was doctor without shots,

Who came to me in my dream lots,

Instead of sharp tips,

She kissed my lips,

And we flew off to eat cookies."

"Not your best poem, but that's okay, Paco," said Boone. "Be a man, little chap, I'll go first."

And with that, a new vet came to give the donkeys and equines, and the llama, rabies shots. We never had to give them in Oregon, except to the dogs. I liked this vet, she is young but she answered my questions and was also understanding with me about not 'over vetting' which I won't tolerate in any vet. She also helped me with the elder Matilda-who I have been diligently applying Swat to each day, twice a day, to keep the biting flies at bay. But the flies are winning and her leg swelled up a little. So we shaved her legs and cleaned them more thoroughly and applied new treatment, and gave her antibiotics. I learned about a new topical treatment too that is very helpful.

Carrying for these creatures is a wonderful part of my life. I hope to do it until..well, I can't. I do know that here in Maine, I might have to adjust the quantity of creatures I take on. This is not a sad thing, it is a practical thing. The hay here is much less reliable, more expensive, and harder to find; there are fewer vets for sheep and goats and pigs; the climate will mean more food is required for the elders. Many people say they will help with finances, they mean well, but I can't rely on that anymore and never really did. In fact, if anyone out there thinks I ever broke even on donations in and food/vet costs out, think again. I am not complaining, but I have to be realistic, financially.

I am thinking of taking on elderly wool sheep that can't be bred and still have viable wool. It's hard for farmers to keep elder sheep, they have to separate them often from the working flock/ram, and many don't have the space for this. It is not that they don't care. I am so happy that I could take Calla and Assumpta. They are wonderful old girls and have beautiful fiber to give the world. I just like that as elders, they still have something to give.

I think the number of goats I'm caring for is a realistic head count-that would be seven mouths to feed and 28 feet to keep healthy. I would like some ducks, and an old goose, again. I miss them. I hope some come to me, somehow, but I have not officially sent this request out to the universe until we get through a winter. Who knows, we might all move to Spain after this. After all, all the animals are microchipped-required for international travel.

Just another piece of Apifera that is evolving...into what it needs to be and wants to be at this stage in our existence.

{Hay Fund is still open to donations. Thanks to all who have given!}

Fatherly, motherly energies...and The Other

I worry that we are a people in a process of great transition and we are forgetting what we are connected to. We are losing our frame of reference. Pelicans pass by and we hardly know who they are, we don't know their stories. Again, at what price? I think it's leading us to a place of inconsolable loneliness. That's what I mean by "An Unspoken Hunger." It's a hunger that cannot be quelled by material things. It's a hunger that cannot be quelled by the constant denial. I think that the only thing that can bring us into a place of fullness is being out in the land with other. Then we remember where the source of our power lies. 
{From an interview with 
Terry Tempest Williams}

I went for my morning walk today with Muddy, and at some point, I stopped...and just stared at the many trees in the roadside forest. I looked and looked...and realized, I did not know them, yet, any of them. And they are just waiting for me, patiently, to notice them more closely. So I did, I breathed them in, as many as I could, and walked on.

My friend who has lived on both the west and east coasts was explaining how she always thought of the Pacific Ocean as a mothering energy, and the Atlantic ocean as a Fathering energy. It came up because I was trying to verbalize how and why if felt different here, the energy. I liked what she said, it made sense to me. The coastline is rockier and the waves are different. We are a state of granite and ledge stone. There is ice and snow. The culture here harkens back to ancestral ways-patriotic type ways-that are not in the midwest or west. There is a wild renegade quality to the fisherman and many lifers here, just as there is a real renegade climate out west, but it is different, and until my friend mentioned this, I had no words to explain it. A male energy, versus female. Interesting. Just the other day this 20 something called me 'dear'...

It is something I will explore within me as the months go by.

So I am out in the land with Other, as I was in my old home. I have always resonated with her, even as a child in the city, even as a young woman in New York City. Other is my consolation during upheaval, and a sip of hot tea in calm times. I am where I should be , need to be at this time in my life. I just don't know why...such a mystery to let unfold.

The new book! Watch the teaser video!

ANNOUNCING! Here is a 'teaser' video for my new book launch. On October 4, you can see the extended video, and the Kickstarter will launch that day. I am so excited about this little story, and the animated video [thanks to Angella Kussabe]. This book is about love, acceptance, and letting each creature be true to itself. It is for all ages. We have money to raise before it go to the world. All that begins Oct. 4. Stay tuned!

[That's me playing my uke!]

We three crones- a successful workshop

The Emerging Crone Workshop was a wonderful day for us all. We had a very intimate day, a quiet day with perfect weather, and the group was small due to some last minute emergency type cancels. At first I was bummed about that thinking the other attendees might feel let down, but I knew from experience that things usually happen for a reason, and that was the case yesterday.

Because of the small size the gathered crones were able to really share some intimate details of their lives, and it turned out, they had a shared experience of one being an adoptive mother, and another being a mother that gave her child up for adoption years ago. This shared experience allowed them to really help each other with their wisdoms in ways that never would have happened had it ben a bigger group. I felt like a conduit for them! It was really special-and we also just had wonderful conversation about family, death, aging, life....moving, changing, and finding sense of place and the importance of that.

And we sewed dolls. And laughed. One of the guests had a dream the night before about prickly throne turning to wings, so she brought rose stems and feathers for her doll. I loved that.

And as usual the backdrop of farm and Misfits was soothing and the weather could not have been better. Birdie the llama was a hit with guests, the flock was admired by the knitter in the group, and Rosie the pig was...well not that grumpy! People really love seeing the donkeys, Boone and all the other creatures in the real, after reading about them on the blog for a long time. I have to remind myself, this life is a storybook for many, including me-it's just I live within it, others get to jump on the pages from time to time and experience it.

I learned a lot too since this was the first small gathering here. I have logistics to work on, that is true of any event no matter how big. I remember that after each Pino Pie Day in Oregon I learned something to make it better the next year. That will happen here.

I also got got grounding from my guests, and it brought even closer to the realization...all is well, all is as it should be now, I am where I need to be now, all is well, all is well.

The clouds came in over White Dog

Nothing more beautiful than white creatures against a Payne's gray sky. Last night around dusk the clouds started swirling and the wind was blowing as we sat on the deck. Leaves falling and blowing, and it was so beautiful, so autumnal.

Autumn brings out a lot of emotion in people I think. It does in me. I think of all the seasons autumn encompasses an equal balance of life and death. The sounds and smells remind me of being little, running home from school knowing it would be safe and warm; it brings up memories of my family and friends now gone-which is sad, but comforting. It enlivens me creatively. It is always the most hopeful season for me too as far as work and creativity goes.

It is the time to prepare the nest, with firewood and harvests, a time to get the hay stacked and know the animals will have water and food as winter comes down hard on us.

So autumn is full of contradictions, I guess.

Bluebirds singing to a baby tree

I added this old favorite to the print section on the shop and already have sold a few in a day. Everyone, including me, always love this piece, so I decided to bring it back, and am glad I did!

I can do most any of the prints in larger sizes, so if you see one that you'd like larger, let me know and i can give you a cost.

I also added a very old cat, who has a blue face because she believes she is related to the full moon, and an old donkey.

The importance of rituals...even with donkeys

A video posted by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Sep 13, 2016 at 7:54am PDT

Almost every morning I have been getting up and going immediately for a three mile walk with Muddy. We walk the main road over to a quiet side road that leads to one of the many bays, and at the end of that road is an apple tree I have come to know and love. She produces these tiny little apples and they are just the right combination of tart and sweet.

Even as a little girl, the act of pulling of an apple inspired me to thank the tree. They are individual and some apple trees just cry out to me more,

Hello there, come by, take my apples, please, the wasps and worms get so many, take some for yourself, or your animals, I can feel her say.

I stuff my pockets and we walk back to the farm and I begin my feeding routine. Boone always gets the most apples, Rosie gets one in her dish too, and then I bring Old Matilda out of the pasture so she can eat her senior feed on her own. The pigs have their own fruits that fall off of Old Apple, and the flock have M'Lady's tiny fruits they can graze on. We also have found some old apple trees on the edges of The Wood that we will hope to nurture back to better health.

But it's the ritual of feeding the donkeys apples that makes me smile the most. They tease and probe with their camelid like lips. They take apple feeding very seriously, and to them it is sometimes a competition. For if you have an apple already in your mouth, that doesn't mean you can't try to stuff another one in, even if you take somebody else's apple.

Rituals are important on so many levels. They bring us consistency. Animals like consistency, and speaking as a creature myself, it is important, especially after a huge change like a move. The animals have had consistency for the entire transition-because I knew how important it was for them. But I was thinking that consistency in activities-be it walking, drinking your tea with the sunset, yoga, practicing music at a certain time-is slightly different than a ritual.

By going for my walk each morning [the consistency] I make it a focused goal to see the apple tree. I am focused on her, her leaves and bounty as I gather apples [ritual]. The key word is focus, on the now. The ritual of picking the apples makes me focus on the life that is right there, with me, now. I am not distracted. It brings me closer to the good things within me, and simple, but important things in my life. In that way, it is like communing with my higher power.

And it is also a gift sharing my bounty with my donkeys.

Oceans, and....

The flash of a distant camera

reconnecting

thoughts and actions,

Fragments of our missing dreams,

Pieces from here and there

fall in place along the line,

Disappearing between you and me.

Life is changing everywhere I go,

New things and old both disappear.

If life is a photograph,

Fading in the mirror....

All I want is a song of love
{Neil Young}

We took time to visit the Pemequid Lighthouse area only about twenty minutes away. It was the first time we had ventured to the more open coastline since arriving, and it felt so important to see her...the ocean.

I have been to the Atlantic many times, and then I was blessed to live an hour from the Pacific while in Oregon. We didn't get there that much due to our farm responsibilities, but we got there enough to feel her. I needed to see her again, her eastern side. Both sides of the ocean are beautiful. I like the rocky coastline here, it somehow fits the stage I am in in my life. The ledge stone is so beautiful, and when you experience in the real you understand why they call it 'ledge' stone, as it makes large steps and tables to step and sit on.

The ocean reminded me of the constant change we all go through, sometimes at rapid speed. She was very calm yesterday, but we witnessed her waves crashing down on and over the ledge. Years later, where the waves hit will have smoothed a nice spot to sit.

The lighthouse was commissioned by John Quincy Adams. The history in every building here is so...mind boggling. While many buildings in the West have rotted [in the northwest that is] here they stand to remind us of lives that came before us. We came across the country, in what would be considered a luxury travel unit, and they came in ships across the sea, losing family and friends, or leaving them behind for good. We are surrounded everywhere by old cemeteries. We stopped at one near the bay. Some of the bodies there were from the late 1700's. Just think, many of them weren't alive when our house here was built. I have yet to sink my head into the history that is all around me. But I will.

When we got home, I felt like a ride. Boone and I are searching for safe rides, since the forest could have nearby hunters. I took him for a quick fifteen minute spin, to see the nearby view of the bay, and ride up and down the gravel road.

More emerging

I worked all afternoon on the doll I posted a day ago. As you can see, she evolved. Like an attempt, there was struggle involved. I layered and layered her face, with scraps. As I worked I thought,

Oh, so this is how it is going to be, she is made of pieces all put together, but still is whole.

As the day went on, I reworked the eyes and mouth a million times. As I added more layering, I realized her eyes had become wings. I like that. I felt the young soul in this doll, is part of my emerging crone self. She reminded me yesterday she is still here, still whole, although bits that might have felt loose or scattered are being sewn back in, to stay.

And her eyes see and create, and expand-like any functioning wings.

It is my time to recreate myself once again.

{Visit the workshop blog to read about the September 17th doll making day here at Apifera}

Emerging Crones

There is still plenty of time to sign up for the workshop. I am keeping enrollment open until the 15th. Today I started creating some forms just to loosen up and get ready for the class. I plan to have some beginning forms for students so they aren't intimidated by the blank slate.

The class explores our intuitive natures, strengths, wisdoms -through communing and doll making. There is no sewing experience necessary.

Read more at the workshop blog.