I am a beginner, and today I made my first simple joints. It is a learning curve but it is fun.
I have so much to learn!
I have a crude set but am going to make a better one so i can sit or stand behind it with light in front of me. I have been researching others including a master Richard Bradshaw as well as younger and newer puppeteers.
It is simply another way to share short stories.
It was a cold blustery day. I had planned to bring Captain Sparkle in the house for the meeting, but balked at the last minute-I felt it was unfair to bring him like that without any prep work, he is after all not as experienced as Harry. I didn't want him to have a bad experience. I will work with him in coming weeks.
So in came Harry. He entered the house like a gentleman, and stood like one for over an hour. I placed a thick covering on the floor so his feet would not slip. He did just fine. Of course, Officer Mittens was the first on the scene, but all was well. Bear was in his pen but everyone could see him. I even walked Harry around the rooms at the end and he did just fine. I just love Harry.
The Facetime Fridays are turning into a weekly gathering of our elders at Cove's Edge and I'm so lucky to have Abbey, my activity director there. She really is wonderful with everyone and game for all my ideas. She works so hard, they all do. While I'd rather be there in person, I began to realize that I can look at Facetime Friday's as a talk show-who will be the guest next week?
My animal therapy work, and my elder care work are meshed with my life now. Part of the reason I am frustrated with the pandemic is I can't due the work that was just taking off -but I can be outside and my life has always been one of happy hermit on the farm. I go to the feed store, and the store once a week so Martyn doesn't have to go in [he has asthma]. I think it will be some time before we can be there in person, but am heartend they are about to get their second shots. I am far from getting one since I am well below the age limits. So is Martyn.
So when I was feeling down about not being able to make in person visits with the elders, I realized I had to tweak my thoughts-and now, Facetime Fridays is a show, something to percolate and plan.
Every Friday, I'll try to put on a show.
This piece is part of the Wisdom series on the shop-art printed on maple panels.
“It hurts to love something. I am not going to love anyone new,” said Pickles.
“Love does’t work that way, Pickles, you can’t run away from love, it will find you,” said Earnest the pig.
Two days earlier, Opie the goat had died. He was only four years old and had been diagnosed with an incurable disease. Opie was the first therapy goat of the farm and many people loved him-he visited many of the elder homes in the area.
Pickles started to cry. Everyone in the barnyard gathered around her.
Ollie the goat came over and said, “I know what it’s like to lose someone too, Pickles. I lost my mama, she died having me.”
Pickles cried even more.
“Opie was my friend. If love means hurting, I won’t do it anymore,” Pickles said.
Mrs. Dunn was cleaning stalls and said, “But Pickles, what will you do every day if you choose not to love?”
“I will run and leap all by myself,” Pickles said.
“But you love to run and leap” Mrs. Dunn asked. “And when you do, others are watching you run and leap and they smile and laugh and they feel love for you,” Mrs. Dunn said.
“Well, I’m not going to introduce myself to any new goats that come here, then I won’t be hurt if they die,” said Pickles.
“Before you came Pickles, I lost many creatures I loved and I hurt too, and I still miss each one. But I can’t imagine a barnyard without a Pickles. If I had chosen not to love another, we would not have you,” Mrs. Dunn said.
“I guess I’m kind of important then,” said little Pickles.
“Did we stop loving trees after our favorite maple tree was struck down from a storm?” asked Earnest the pig.
“No!!!” the barnyard said in unison.
“There are a lot of maple trees, there was only one Opie,” said Pickles.
“That’s right,” said Mrs. Dunn. “And that little maple sapling over there will grow up and be a favorite tree to someone some day. And somewhere a little goat is being born just like you or Opie and they will be loved by someone. Love is being born every minute, even when someone is dying.”
“Love is not your body, Pickles, it is all the stuff inside you that can’t be seen, but it can be felt,” said Henneth the blind chicken.
“Like my intestines?” asked Pickles.
“Well, like your heart,” said Auntie Bea, one of the elder goats.
“I wished things didn’t die,” said Pickles.
The moon was coming up, and Earnest the pig put his arm around Pickles and said, “When you go to bed at night, do you mourn the loss of the sun?”
“No, because the sun is somewhere,” said Pickles.
“So is Opie,” said Earnest.
The stars were now out, filling the sky.
“I think Opie is a star in the sky,” said Ollie.
Pickles intently watched the night sky, and said,
“I think he is all of the stars.”
But then they told me they had honored Opie. When someone dies at the residence, they put a photo on the front entry table so everyone can see and honor their life and passing ...and they chose to put Opie there. I’m so honored...so is Opie. I have to tell you it made me stop in my tracks. I was so touched and honored. I think I hit a wall. Opie was my partner, he was young, he was a natural. I am mad he was taken. The question,
"Why?" can only be answered with 'Because."
The sadness is piled on with the sadness I have for the country. If you can not acknowledge that there are hate filled whites that want nothing more than to see people of color gone, you are not seeing clearly. It is not about politics. It is about 20% or more of the country truly fearful that their white privlidge is being taken. We've been here before, we in fact never left it behind. If one thing comes of this four years I hope it is that people, white people, will begin to acknowledge this. And it is not all a bunch of neanderthalls that went to the Capital, it was your Uncle, your pastor [I know one who was there], your doctor, your neighbor...the people that went about their lives...until a leader stepped in and gave them a megaphone, and helped choose their mantras for them, they fed off each other.
So that is part of the real hurt of losing Opie. He was pure love. He wasn't inciting anything. He was just giving his time and love to old people, and to me. And now he was taken.
That is why this gesture of acknowledgment form the elders at Cove's means so much. It was and is a blessing that they ackowledged him, and in so doing ackowledged my therapy work.
So, there she was, right at the door, outside the bag I'd left her sleeping in. Tommy and Yume were there, sitting, waiting for me. I wasn't surprised, but wasn't completely expecting it this morning.
Anna did me a huge healing service on arrival. We had just moved here in 2016 and some of you might remember the traumatic even where Itty Bitty Etta jumped out of the trailer, just as we were setting out on our journey. We could not find her, and she clearly stated she wanted to stay on her land to roam as she had since her birth in a culvert on the highway. She would have been miserable inside all day and to this writing she still lives at the old farm. But it was so upsetting for me. On arrival we brought in three elders from the shelter–Anna, Sir Tigger and Yume. I thought Anna sort of resembled Itty, but in time I realized she really didn't, but what mattered is I thought she did, and it helped me get over that difficult episode.
Anna was 15, not that old in my terms of what old is since we take on the really old ones. I know she helped me, and I helped her. She had four+ years in which she might have lingered at the shelter. I gave her that space and atmosphere and that is all I set out to do-give them a place to be themselves and not be stressed.
Why she died I don't know. As I've stated before, often we ask "Why?" and the answer is, "Because."
Thank you for helping me, Anna. I will miss seeing you in your window.
The shop is loaded with art and books and creations.
Opie died this morning minutes after this video.
I got to the barn about an hour later than normal and I heard him crying when I entered. He was lying down. I got him up but he collapsed. I ran and got a pain shot and he cried when I left. On my return, Goose was at his side. I sat with and repositioned him in a safer spot and added more blankets. I got up after about five minutes and he calmed but I got up to quickly feed in the elder cat suite-and he cried. I quickly fed the cats and heard him cry once, then I heard The Goose honking. I stepped back out of the cat room and The Goose left Opie’s side. That’s when I took this video. I really believe he waited for me. That might sound egotistical but Opie and I were a working team. Last night he fell on his side and I knew it was probably days and would need to call the vet this week. I didn’t think it would be this fast but the CAE had effected his spine and the wasting was rapid.
I am so glad I got to the barn when I did. It was so like Opie to wait for me. I am very very sad and upset.
It doesn't seem fair when youth is taken. But it is taken all the time. I think he was one more comet in the sky moving pretty fast for his size. He did more in his four years than some people do in a lifetime. He was a natural healer, just like Pino, and Birdie, and The Goose. I have seen it a million times with him, so have my activity directors at the various elder homes.
I have been crying all day. Usually I am very stoic about the deaths, especially when I know they are coming. But some of them just knock you to your knees. On the one hand, the fact he died so quickly this morning is a blessing for both of us-he is out of stress and I was able to be with him in his home and there were no vets available today. I might have been able to get him up to Warren to the emergency small animal clinic but they might not have wanted to help due to license issues. To hear his cries was very hard. I have been with so many dying animals. Some cry quite a bit right near the end. I feel in many cases it is is fear, they don't understand what they are experiencing. That is why I'm so glad I got there. I wish I had been there sooner but he might have lingered anyway I don't know.
When he was diagnosed with CAE, I knew little about it. I've tried to learn as much as I can. It's a horrible non curable disease. I do know that he was very sensitive in his spine in the last days, and he had become so thin.
I have a huge ripped out heart. I have much to smile about, but combined with the chaos of the Capital mob, the hate emanating from many people-some in my own community-I will continue to weep as much as I need. Feel free to join in, let it out, and then remember that once upon a time a little goat made people happy in his own little natural way.
He really put on a show ...zipping and zooming all over the house. Omar and Oscar and Bear (who was a pup when they last saw him) were also hits. We also visited the front barn. Brought such a break from reality for them. They’ve had their first vaccinations though! One of the residents loved walking around the house with me, and at one point when she saw the cats and blankets all over -she said it was just like her old house was. A bittersweet comment. I wondered if the visit would linger with her as a nice memory or make her more sad about missing an old life of independence?
Next Friday we will Facetime again, starting in the house. I hope to bring Harry in on this one. And, I thought it would be fun to introduce them to my puppets! I've been wanting to let my puppets get involved with our elder visits. My activity director at the facility is game for anything so it is a lot of fun working with her. We really had fun.
Even though the animals are a hit with them, I know too just sitting and letting them see something, anything, from the outside world is good for them. We looked at photos on my wall and paintings. We laughed at a dried up cat barf on the wood floor. They noticed the open wine bottle in the kitchen from last night and we laughed.
We have to just keep showing up. We enjoy them, I hope they know that, I hope they feel that. And Bear made me proud. He was so calm, just like in the days of his first visits back in January. We talked about that, how long ago it seems, how little Opie and his Opie Love Mobile would come and we remembered some of the elders that loved Bear but have passed this year.
We talked about how cats sometimes wonder off to die. We all commented that might be nice if we could do that.
I'm snapping out of it though.
I think part of it was the expectation that everything is going to change this year and the virus will be reduced with vaccines and we'll be gathering in nursing homes again and [for many of us] the current commander will be removed. But I think the first day of the year felt like the last day of the last year.
But, I got back in the studio, worked on a new raggedy creature [it went from being a llama to a goat to now I think it is the Teapot's mother], am percolating ideas for projects, scheduled a Facetime with an elder resident at Cove's Edge who is blue...gotta just keep moving.
Everything is going to keep moving around us. Seeds are percolating under us. All of us. Keep moving, even if it means sitting in your chair and moving your arms. The latter will let you feel the air on your body.
A couple weeks ago I posted Letters to Santa from the barnyard, over on Facebook and Instagram. The Teapot had asked Santa for a cape because she thought she would look fabulous running in it.
Well, last night after chores, and I was in a very down mood, I checked the delivery box and a follower had read about Teapot's letter. And she made a little cape. I mean, how cute! Now, I told The Teapot it was Santa, the delivery delayed like many packages this year, and she had no doubt.
I just hope nobody sends Pickles that chemistry set she wanted [do not send Pickles a chemistry set].
I don't know. I am an optimist and I believe everything is a teaching moment in some way. I use this thought with my animals too, creating little interactive lessons when I'm doing basic chores.
I think more than anything, I'm just...excited to move on. But I think it might also be a let down because when January 1 rolls in, we are still in this mess of the pandemic. The optimist in me knows it is fluid and it is going to get better, in time. But I have no real words of wisdom, except to always look at sad, bad, good or not so good times as a way to learn something, even if it is a tiny thing. So I guess we all have to do that for ourselves.
I already know that I love my life, that it took time to build what I have in this life, that I am grateful, that I work hard to maintain what I have...I think all those feelings are intensified because of this year, and because of my work with the elders. Someday, I might be alone in a nursing home. I hope not but I could. A young volunteer will come in and tell me about her farm animals. And the inside of me will think about my animals. It can happen in a breath, to lose what you have. So my love of life, the farm, my art and writing, story telling, my animals, my husband, have all been intensified this year.
To say, "Happy New Year' this year seems trite.
My wish for you is health and the hope that your life gets out of neutral.
My wish for the country is that we wake up and realize we need to learn, or relearn, or practice, active listening. And not listening to another person just so you can answer them, or defend your position, but that we all practice listening so we can begin to understand why that person feels or acts in a way that is different than what we like or believe. That is empathy. Being empathetic does not mean you have to like someone, or be their friend, it means you try to walk in their shoes and think, "Oh, I understand why you feel this way." That is what I tried to practice all year, and the past four of constant barage of noise. I failed a lot. But I'm going to keep trying. Social media is not the place to heal the divide. People need to to partake quietly in active listening, one person at a time. It is a skill to be practiced , we aren't born with it–it takes constant practice, for a lifetime. And it is hard work. Our heads-or mine anyway-is often zooming around thinking of how I want to answer, or it reminds me of something else and I want to bring it up...so it is a challenge. But imagine if we all got better at really listening and trying to understand why a person has the feelings they do-what happened in their life that gave them those feelings?
If you follow along on my other social platforms, IG and FB, you know about the beautiful roo I took on for someone. This was a risk, and I knew it. My little Seabright roo that came from the shelter last year, lives with the working girls, The Secret Sisters, in the main chicken coop. I thought another roo could be with the front semi-retired-lay-an-egg-twice-a-year elder hens...that would be Henneth the blind hen, Victoria, Marta, Mary and Mo. The Goose lives there too and I was a bit worried about that. But after one day of the two working it out, all is well. He is a gentleman and hopefully he will remain so. I do not handle him even though he was held in his former home. I've learned that works out fine until the two year old body kicks in and they can turn. He's lovely and I really love looking at him.
He came with a name, but I couldn't keep it. There was nothing wrong with his name but for many reasons it had to be changed. No offense if anyone is reading this who knew him in his former life.
So he is now R. Rhoades. The first family that homesteaded here in our 1760 house were Rhoades and many generations lived here after that. The ducks are referred to as The Rhoades Boys - all the boys in this house in the Civil War were in various battles. Four out of five died, one in Gettysburg. I've been to their graves. The mother went on to outlive them all and died at 101!
So I call him Roo alot. I had a Papa Roo out west, my first roo and he was a papa since he serviced all the ladies. He was a wonderful Bantie roo that gave me no trouble and lived a very long life, dying naturally.
But I like R. Rhoades. We'll stick to that.
I'm so glad we brought Officer Mittens into our world. It could have been a disaster, a kitten roaming the small home built for elves, with a decorated tree and two other cats and a large dog. The only kitten we had in our home was out West when we found Itty Bitty on the rural road side and she became a fixture-that all worked out, I thought, why not this kitten. But we had a bigger house then, with more of a flow.
Sometimes you have to jump in with faith and it worked with Officer Mittens. It didn't work with Uncle Wally but I know he is in a better fitting home for his personality and needs. I have to admit that, I think our life here, in this smaller house with more cats inside, is more suited for the labs, and I love my labs and I miss having two. I suppose that might seem odd, a smaller house more suited to labs, you say? Bear is a year now and I do feel he grew up a bit quickly when the pug came for a week. I've been working with Bear on short training things-like sitting at my side and staying before I kick his soccar ball, or sitting by my side while I get ready for the day...just boundary and manners things. Bear wanted a pup of his own for Christmas, but the timing isn't right and I told him he has a bit more maturing to do so he can be a teacher to the new puppy, just like Huck was to Mud, and then Mud was to Huck. And I need time with him too, he needs me right now.
Officer Mittens makes me joyful. He is a muse. I miss Mister Mosely of course, what a cat he was, my dream cat, as I've said repeatedly. And one should never try to replace a pet, but be open to the new personality of the new one. Sometimes we fail at that, or we get a new pup or cat and it takes awhile to accept their true personality, versus what we had before.
Mister Mittens is funny. He likes to nibble my toes at night if I stick them out of the covers, which I do. He likes to come sleep right by me. He likes to be loved, but he is independant-most Officers are.
I did this portrait of him, my first of him and think I somewhat captured him. Black animals are always hard to do, for me anyway.
We are doing tonight what we do most nights, sitting together with the fire and good food and some spirits. I truly acknowledge every moment of it, with Martyn, and the animals because I know it will not always be here, this life, and I see couples apart due to age or illness, or death. While that fact is sobering it is also a gift as it keeps the perspective healthy-what we have this minute is what is to be acknowldeged.
The animals are sharing songs on Facebook and IG, so stop over there and enjoy the festivities. The week after Christmas is always my time to reflect on what I envision for the next year, as in goals and dreams, and improvements.
I delivered Harry's newspaper to the elders yesterday. I wish it could have been with Harry but it was too crazy over there and my activity director was too crazy-when I arrived at the front door, there were people with signs standing in front of their family's window to share some love. It is so hard.
But we do plan after the holiday to get Harry over there to hold court in the front outdoor atrium. It is better than no Harry. For now, he has shared his ornaments, puzzles, newspapers and Harry pin ups with them. We also will start doing more Facetime with some of the biggest animal lovers there.
So be safe. Look for the silver lining. There is always something invisible percolating.
"Yes, I agree," his donkey ears said. Even though I don't rank days by perfection, they are all worthy of something, Pino thought to himself.
We set off into The Wood. December had been warm, but crisp, leaving the ground perfect for walking without slipping. I saw a perfect tree-tall, full at the base and formed well, with no real gaping holes at its side.
"It's too tall," Mr. Dunn said from behind us, holding his saw. It was the first time I had rigged up a makeshift hay twine harness on Pino, nothing fancy, so I didn't want to go very far this first time out. Suddenly, Pino stopped. When Pino stops it can be for many reasons, but I could tell by his ears pricking forward, his stopping had meaning to our mission.
"Do you see one?" I asked him. His ears pricked backwards to me, then forward again as he stared at a tree. I walked to a little mishapen, crooked tree, one that would never be in a Christmas pagent.
"It's the right height," Mr. Dunn said. “ But it's not very full, should we look a bit longer?"
We started walking again, but Pino didn’t budge. I turned again to look at the little tree, and with a fresh perspective could see the charm of her crooked, sparse branches. Pino was quiet, and we both stood looking at the little tree.
"We want this one," I told Mr. Dunn, and we tied the tree to Pino’s harness. Donkey hauling Christmas trees is not something one does in a rush. And when we finally made it to the house, I leaned the tree up against the porch, leaving Pino there too while I ran inside to get something. I returned to find Pino staring into the little Misfit tree, his ears pricked towards it, he was clearly deep in conversation with her.
"You are a beautiful little tree," Pino said.
"I'm surprised you picked me. I'm crooked and ill kept," the tree said.
"You are as a perfect as an old Redwood," Pino said. "You had a purpose to hold the birds, and now you will hold the Christmas lights. We will see them from the barn on clear nights. Thank you."
I led Pino back to his mates. When I returned, Mr. Dunn had the tree up and was hanging the lights. I placed white doves at her top and hung glistening fruit on her branches. The little tree spoke clearly to me as I finished,
Thank you for noticing me.
Most of us are all like this little tree, not necessarily the tallest or the prettiest, or the most perfect. We little trees are outshined at any dance, or feel invisible as we just try to our best even if we are surrounded by taller, and louder trees.
We turned on the tree lights and they sparkled inside, and outside to the barn.
And I heard the donkeys bray.
{This is the latest edition of Tails & Tales published monthly in the Lincoln County News.}
I was minding my own business, working in my office, when I got a call from a friend. She knows my love of pugs, and she knew Hughie [the second Old One Eyed Pug, the first Old One Eyed Pug being Billy Baker], and knew how sad his loss was to me last July. She had heard me say that the universe would bring me a pug. I’ll also point out I had just written the Harry Chronicle Christmas newspaper [that goes to our elder shut in friends] and in this issue we had Letters to Santa, from all the animals. And I also sent Santa a letter asking if he could find me an old pug.
I'm not sure if Santa found the pug first, or my friend did. The pug came from out of state, from neglect, I won't go into the story, it is hard to hear, but suffice it to say he was living in a undesirable situation. My friend brought the pug to her vet and he had a couple different surgeries including eye removal.
She wondered if I wanted him. Um...an old, one eyed pug? Of course!
He could be as young as 9 or he could be more like 12. I think the latter. I tell you that because I have no idea how much time I’ll have with him, but each day with a pug is worth it the tears after they leave.
When the pug got here [I have been hiding this from all of you] we had a scare, his eye reopened. It was unpleasant but not painful. But I just picked him up from the emergency vet clinic [we have a clinic open all weekend and after 5 on weeknights for emergencies, it is a god send] and he has a nice new purple stitched eye now. He is the Million Dollar One Eyed Pug.
I named him Uncle Wally. Uncle Wally was an old family friend from Minnesota. I was five when I met him and looked up to him, I knew him until he died at 90. His wife was my kindergarten teacher. I told Bear that the pug is not your brother like Mud was, he is your Uncle.
I want to thank my friend for all the effort it took. And I want to thank Santa for bringing me this Christmas miracle. Uncle Wally has been through so much. If you’d like to donate to the $700 emergency bill, please do.
But I have a pug...a beautiful, old, one eyed pug.
