Sun break

The weather has been abysmal. The grounds are saturated and the paths are mud.

When there is a sun break, no mater how brief, one must takes advantage of it even if it only means a quick cat nap, um, that is a pig nap, or goat nap.

Another Lucia Levitiy

Little Lucia reminded me that even in the constant, driving, never ending, mud inducing rains for the past week, one can put a daisy in their hair and leave their grumpleoposous and doom and gloom behind just to sit with the old goat - and invite the rain to come! And since the rains are supposed to last for more days, I would like to say, "Thank you, Lucia, you have levitated me, even if for a moment."

Last week for sale

The art sale ends this week. Many of these older prints are not coming back and I will be creating new prints for the season. The sale is one of two a year that helps me offset costs to care for the many Apifera adoptees in the barnyard.

Old and elderly mingle at lambie daycare

It's raining girls

It's been the year of the girl with Fern popping out two beautiful ladies early this morning. It was a shepherd's dream to arrive at the barn for morning feedings and find new lambs healthy, strong and all cleaned up, ready for life. Thank you, Fern.

And we wait

Betty stands in all her motherhood, waiting. Fern is nearby, belly full. Every day it seems their movements indicate impending labor. But like a watched pot, they don't simmer. Stay tuned.

Approval of the pig

One of Apifera's loyal supporters - she and Old Man Guinnias have a cookie exchange going on, oh wait, a one way cookie exchange going on - sent me a surprise package recently. She's notorious for brightening up gloomy, rainy days with little somethings. Her mom is an avid sewer [and a good sewer, I might add, no raggedy messes on her work table]and loves to make things and share them.

So these two little sneaks went to my Spoonflower shop and bought some of my fabric designs and whipped up this lovely bag for carrying eggs, hay twine, meds, sick chickens, or little lambies that might need a lift through the mud.

If the pig smiles, you know it's a hit.

Matilda shines in "Misfits of Love"

I am busy working on "Misfits of Love" and finished the section on our old donkey, Matilda. This portrait will grace her chapter.

I have a higher resolution format of the introduction and first chapter so it's easy to ready [versus the low resolution presentation listed above], but I haven't decided on a comfortable way to share that yet.

The Head Troll crossing guard

The Head Troll is of course in charge of rules and regulations in the barnyard - and with the temporary lambie playground invading her space, she of course put herself in charge of all playground activities. As you might already know, she takes her position very seriously.

"They don't have name tags, they need name tags," she said in frustration as she rushed one small lamb out of the duck puddle.

I rolled my eyes out of her sight.

"And they need helmets! Get me some helmets!" she ordered as she ran to the barn looking for rope. I have no idea what the rope was for, and I decided not to ask.

Lambie playground now open

We finally have had some sun, a bit chilly, but sun. The regular lambie area is still a bit soaked, so with permission from the Head Troll I have relocated the lambie play ground to the barnyard. This provides my little charges with lots of rocks to leap off of, ducks to watch and the warmth of the concrete.

A happy tail

One of Audrey's triplets at the Mama Milk Bar. This boy can eat. He's 4 days old here.

Sometimes you have to sit in a bucket

This little ewe lamb is a twin out of Edith - another first time mama that did her job on her own like a pro. She was 2 days old when I took this a few days ago. She loves that darn dinner dish to sleep in.

When your mom is a couch

Elida Ruth has taken on the role of new mother with the patience of Mary Poppins. Here she is with her four day old ewe lambs and like all good mothers, she multi tasks as milk bar, couch and jungle gym.

Wet goats and Paco writes the sun

The weather is beyond miserable. It's a soaker, but even that can not adequately describe the rains since Sunday, forecast says it will last through the week. We are all disgusted with it, even if it is a natural occurrence and causes all sorts of good things for our Earth ship. It makes the farmer's head wet, as well as the old goat's beard. To make it even sadder, Lambie Outdoor Kindergarten Playground has been temporarily closed. Paco even handed me a letter, addressed to,

"Sun, c/o Sky, Universe, zip code unknown" and asked me to put a stamp on it and post it for him. I couldn't help myself, I held it up to the light and read the contents:

Dear Sun,

Where are you Sun? Please, come out, come to us, we need you. I have gathered a bucket of Fig Newtons to share, but they got very wet because of the naughty, greedy Rain, so they are gone. 

Love, Paco

c/o Apifera Farm

Waiting with Blue

Update: We induced Blue Wednesday afternoon since she began to prolapse moderately. No fever, and no sign of ketosis, the vet confirmed. But she needs to get those babies out. Stay tuned - hopefully by Friday morning I will be holding healthy lambs.


I am hoping Blue has her lambs today. She is very large and uncomfortable. I've been giving her spine massages and she looks at me longingly when I stop. Every day since Sunday I think she's going to lamb. While I fretted over her time line, Edith quietly popped two healthy lambs out Sunday, a girl and boy, while I slept soundly in my bed with the Dirt Farmer, Itty Bitty and Bog Tony. That was easy - I think as I enter the barn.

"Still not ready, Blue?" I ask, holding her beautiful Roman nosed face in my hands.

She looks at me in a plea, "I hope it's soon."

There is a warm light in the barn specific only to lambing time - a warm yellow radiates off the honey colored hair of the sheep, sinks, then absorbs into the hay leaving strands of light to warm any new arrivals...and the shepherdess.

Full circle 1958 -2012

I celebrated my 54th birthday yesterday. It was a day complete with Audrey giving birth to healthy triplets, a huge relief since she was so huge and we figured she was carrying three. Two beautiful boys and a little black-brown girl with a white cap on her head popped out one by one.

I don't usually name ewe lambs until a few weeks, just to make sure they survive but also to get to know them a little bit. But when these triplets were born on my birthday, I immediately thought of my grandmother, Katherine, who died at age 57 two hours before I was born. I was named in her honor, but she went by the nickname "Kappie".

Smiling of lambs

The stress of Rosa's delivery on Tuesday overshadowed the joy of Elida Ruth's twins born without incident on Sunday night. There is nothing a shepherd likes more than arriving at the barn to two healthy lambs. She hadn't even gone off feed and her udder wasn't that big, so I was bit surprised. I find the first time mom's do not show all the same signs of pre-labor as the seasoned ewes.

With not a cloud in the sky, they got to sun all day in the orchard, along with Nellie Moser and her lambs. Audrey joined them since she is lame and carrying quite the load. Close your eyes, imagine that first day you felt the sun and your toes met the grass. I'm sure you leaped a little too, and wiggled, and smiled just like these little creatures.

Loss and light

Rosa lost her two lambs. While I remained calm and fulfilled my role as helper, nurse, confidant and mother, I failed to be able to help her fully and had to finally call a vet around noon yesterday.

She went into visible labor around 7 am and the lamb's mouth and toe were visible. A half hour later she had made little progress. I've learned not to jump in too soon, as more damage can be done [I learned this the hard way a few years ago]. I felt as a new mom she might not have known what to do, so gave her an hour. Then I stepped in, but she was so tight, and my small lubricated hand could hardly feel my way around. I did manage to get the whole head out, but it was clearly a dead lamb, and a big one. I tried my best, and so did Rosa.

He gave her an epidermal and had to tube lubricant into her. He got the first lamb out - a huge ram lamb of 15# [about twice the normal size for us]. The twin had never fully formed and was about a pound, a little girl. I felt better when the vet assured me I never would have gotten the ram out on my own, nor would Rosa, mainly due to the size but also because she was bone dry inside - probably because the lambs might have been dead awhile [he could tell from the fluid, I guess].

It was a traumatic day, mainly because Rosa was suffering. I did notice that each time I came in the stall, she tried so hard to push it out, as if I could help her. No pulling worked, we both needed help.

I was dead tired yesterday afternoon after all the chores but felt compelled to put something, anything on paper to honor the lambs, and me. I thought what a gift to have the ability to purge, heal and emote through a drawing to myself - and then turn around a day later and share it with others.

Rosa is in the sun today, letting the earth and medicines help her heal. I have other mothers to be to help and reassure. And a beautiful big chocolate lamb is in the pumpkin patch, with a tiny little sister nestled at his side.

And Audrey waits...

"Audrey is as big as a boat," the Dirt Farmer announced as he walked in from the barn.

I try not to use this phrase around any of the pregnant ewes, but it is statement I can get behind when it comes to Audrey. I feel for her. She also has a swollen ankle and I gave her a pain med but she still can't put weight on it. Someone suggested Epsom salts so I'll try that I guess.

Rosalita went into early labor this morning, so it might be a long night. I asked all the ladies to only have day births, but no one ever listens to me around here.

Apifera gives us new life

The first lambs of the season were born early Saturday morning to Nellie Moser. Two beautiful, chocolate girls, almost identical. The proud papa is Little Walter who definitely put his color gene in the mix. Things can go south in lambs their first few days, so I'll be relieved in a couple days.

I arrived to do barn chores knowing Nellie had gone into labor. She's a seasoned mother which always helps, and there in her stall was a little girl still wrapped in womb gel. I made sure she was breathing right, and let Nellie do her job. Nellie is not the most personable of ewes but mothers very well. She much prefers her privacy and still stomps her foot around people [a sign of anxiety and warning to the flock]. So I let her be.

As I prepped all the lambing stalls on Thursday, I had a movie in my head starring every mother sheep of the past eight years of my time here at Apifera. Each stall had a memory - the birth of the very first lambs, the place where Rosie lay dying surrounded by her daughters and grand daughters, and the thrill mixed with fear of our first triplets. Each year, something is learned, gained, and often something is lost. This year feels more precious in a way because my flock and I are in a transition, a transition I haven't quite put down on paper or into words - but a a change is in the wind with a settling down the road. I vowed to take it all in, slow down [as much as I can] and merge with each nuance of the season, and so I have.

It's a miracle, life. So is death. It's all so big, so complex - but then again, it's pretty simple when you come right down to what makes a good day - breath, air, warmth, a safe spot, food - and an innate sense you're okay standing in the spot you woke up in.

My copyrights

There has been a lot of confusion about reposting and sharing of images flying around the cyber world of late.

Please take time to read about my copyrights and what things might get my legal dander flying. I appreciate your understanding, and if you ever have a question, just email me.

It's all going "duckily"

The art/print sale is going duckily - I have made this word up to replace saying "it's going swimmingly" when it's raining. The Bottomtums inspire a lot of new vocabulary for me.

I am putting 3-5 new images up a day. Most are priced at 18.50 plus s/h. I will be shipping 1x a week from now on, that way, you can purchase one or two, and if you find some later in week I can add them to your shipment and not charge extra s/h. {You'd have to email me to let me know which ones you want].

Here's an old portrait of a young, dignified JoePye Weed, our first ram who gave us many lambs over the years. In some ways, I miss him, in other ways, not so much. I think I get wispy thinking of him because I was so full of eager abandon that first year or two - no one had died, no graves had been dug - I was an innocent in many ways.

I have two art/print sales a year to offset the cost of maintaining Apifera's adopted barnyard animals. All have been adopted from New Moon Goat Farm, Sanctuary One and Lavender Dream Donkey Rescue - others have been brought in as strays or through special needs situations, like Priscilla the old goose and the many semi feral cats.

R.I.P., dear Clara

Chickens really get under your skin. And when you have a flock there are always certain ones that entwine with you more than others. Such was Clara. Along with the other two Buff Orpingtons, Florence and Golda, she was a charming, friendly and personable chicken. She had wonderful buff undergarments. The Buffs are such a wonderful breed, more like dogs as they follow along and are very personable. Golda doesn't run, she skips and it makes me so happy. Florence is more like the big sister.

I caught Clara looking listless two days ago and suspected Cocci. If you've ever had chickens and one goes sick - and chickens do go sick - and you've Googled the symptoms, you will be bombarded with so many possibilities that you never really know what took them out. But I treated her for Cocci with Sulfa, gave her Probiotics and vitamin liquids. She ate well for me and was still walking, but more in a drunk stagger. Her eyes and balance seemed better the next day and I treated her again. By night she seemed like she might pull through, but...I just knew.

This morning she was very weak and her eyes were shut. I tried to get water in her, but she was failing and couldn't stand. I had her in the chicken hospice unit in the chicken coop, covered in a hay blanket and held her several times throughout the day but she was really out of it. She died around four p.m. surrounded by the sounds of her flock. She is buried under the shade of the bamboo.

It's never a delight to bury an animal, but there's something so humbling about the life of a chicken. They are such busy creatures, busy, busy, busy! And they provide one of the earth's most perfect packaged foods - an egg. I always thank my hens for their eggs, and when I know one is dying, I repeat my appreciation over and over.

Clara never shied away from hanging out in the barnyard where the action was - which meant where I was. I love the picture at the bottom of this post, as you can see Clara comin' on over to check out the scene.

Clara was a working chicken. She provided eggs...and companionship.

Black Elk, Campbell, Jesus and me

I often speak about Old Barn as if she is a creature in and of herself, because she is.

While I spend enormous amounts of time in Old Barn it is often to fulfill my daily duties as shepherd or animal caretaker. But I do stop, more and more since I am aging and I need to take breaks more between walking loads of hay or water to and from stalls. These moments of rest give me the opportunity to really be of her, not just in her or with her, but of her.

I did not grow up in a church going family and I searched in my early adult hood for what my faith was. I had some ideas, no doubt. When I moved to New York City in my mid twenties I was very alone and began going to a high Episcopal church of an old friend. I found it comforting - the hymns, and the feeling of community. The history of such an old building intrigued me - who had sat in the pew I was in, I wondered? I never felt anger or judgment from the stones, brick and beautiful light emanating from the stained glass windows, but eventually I did feel like a misfit and the sermons began to feel like one man telling me his fears, twisted into a sermon.

I could always walk into a church - in New York, in Minneapolis, in Paris or Zurich - and take shelter and comfort, knowing the walls would engulf me, the light would warm me and room itself would silence me into clarity. I would not be judged by the building itself.

That's what Old Barn is for me, my church, where I worship with pitch fork and donkey breath over my shoulder. When I am in her care on a windy or rainy day with only whisperings of straw fluttering about, or a hen scratching, I am of her.

If I could meet Jesus, and I would love to have him out, especially if I could have Joseph Campbell on the same visit, and maybe Black Elk, I would take him to Old Barn and we would break pie there, and just sit.

Lesson of the hen

If the ground below you swells and all around they are rushing, squacking, pushing you to go right or left...then stop.

Stop yourself and think, "What do I need right now?"

If all you need is a dry brick then you are in a good position. A position that does not elevate you in rank, but gives you perspective on the others rushing about. There you can ponder, "I was younger once too, I rushed more, but now I have this dry brick all to myself."

Art sale - helps adopted animals

The sale goes on through March.

Twice a year I do a real push to help offset the costs of nurturing our adopted barnyard animals. The animals here will always receive what they need in vet care and nutrition and water- and love and attention from me - but my art sales not only help us make a living, they help the Apifera misfits thrive here. Feed and hay costs continue to rise. We've added more pasture and more fencing to give more land a rest for longer periods. We've worked hard on mud control to help keep foot rot and other bacterias down. Twice a year I do water treatments to prevent Cocci. Worming, vaccines and topical nutrition for old dry skin of goats and pigs...it all adds up. I always tell people that $10 helps buy a bag of 40# feed and $5 buys Probiotic to have on hand - always- for ruminants. Matilda gets a hoof trim every two months since her feet were neglected.

So buy some art- prints are reduced in price to as little as $10 and larger archives are down to $75. There is some original art too- I might add more. I will be adding more "onesies" - prints that have only one left and won't be reprinted.

A good day for a pig

It's that time of year where I put the animals to work to help me pre-till the vegetable garden. They root and fertilize, making my late March work easier. It's a beautiful relationship, woman feeds animal, animal gives her companionship but also works in the garden, contributing their own little nutritious packages to spread about the dirt - and the worms sing. I used to give this job to the mini donkeys, but they treated the garden as a giant dust play pen, and ended up compacting the soil - and giving me lots of entertainment.

So I thought Rosie would be delighted with this job. But first she had to enter the vegetable garden. This became an impossible task for her, even though the elevation drop at the entrance was a mere inch. I tried everything to coax her in, even cookie parties.

"Nope. Not gonna down that scary step, said the pig. It must have been a depth perception issue. So I made a variety of steps out of bricks.

"Is this better, Pig?" I asked.

"Nope, not gonna down that scary step," said the pig.

Farmer thinks, ponders. In minutes she returns with a black stall mat.

"Pig! Surely this will be perfect for your pretty little piggie toes and help you get to the mecca of dirt and roots!" I say with enthusiasm.

"Hmmm..." says the pig. "Hrumph. That wasn't so bad."

"Thank you dear, Pig."

Rosie the pig was adopted from Sanctuary One, along with Stevie the handicapped goat. Sanctuary One is a 'care farm' in southern Oregon where animals, land and people work together to heal, nurture and inspire.

"Misfits of Love" presentation

I'm very pleased with how things are flowing in "Misfits of Love" and now I have an online presentation of the working Table of Contents, the introduction and chapter one. Each chapter will begin with a narrative about the animal, followed with a 'conversation' with that animal in a fable style, for lack of a better word.

The first chapter is - of course - about the first old animal to be adopted by Apifera, our almost 19 year old goat, Old Man Guinnias. I felt this piece of art just captured his soul entwined with mine. I really sat back and just soared when it was finished - I hit the sweet.

The intention

Thanks to "Misfits of Love" being funded by my generous pledgers via Kickstarter, I've been able to focus on shaping the initial parts of the book. I don't know if all artist-writers go through this, but I have to see spreads on paper at an early stage so when I'm writing and painting, I can see it in my head. All of this might evolve, but this is my process in making an illustrated book.

I found writing the 'Introduction' a challenge. I wanted to explain how I got here, but I didn't want to simply regurgitate from my memoir, "Raggedy Love" [currently looking for a publisher]. I also thought a lot about why this book is worthy of being sent out to the world. While the animals are beautiful even in there old, twisted bodies and bring me companionship, smiles and an outlet to nurture, write and paint, I kept coming back to my "intention" - the same intention I was born with.

Just as I tried to help a wounded moth as a child, it was not the act itself that is so touching to people, it is that I actually believed I could help. I never lost hope for the moth's survival in my child's heart. It is that hope I carry with me when I'm nursing a starving goat like little Aunt Bea or feeding a wounded rooster. No matter what the outcome, I try, and so do the animals. We work together until as caretaker I must rest and acknowledge the facts giving the animal my blessing to move on if it must, with or without my help.

The Head Troll nuances

Frankie, also known as The Head Troll, always reminds me that in one second - the time it takes to click a new photo - life has moved on to the next moment. Each photo encased the many nuances of her being. Sit back, and enjoy some moments of Frankie.

New writing for "Life with Dogs"

I wanted to let you know I am writing some articles for a really wonderful online magazine called Life with Dogs. The site has a huge following and posts articles about health, news, humor and much more about, well, dogs.

My pieces tend to be more about my experiences living with dogs, including my last post about my old friend, Louie Louie, the fox terrier who was my companion for 14 years, and accompanied to Oregon where I eventually met the Dirt Farmer. In fact, the first two post I did require handkerchiefs, but crying is cathartic.

So please visit the site and enjoy!

Conversing with chickens

"Good morning, Jane!" I said.

"Greetings," Jane replied.

"What are doing up there?" I asked.

"Over time I've learned it's helpful to start my day on top of a ramp so as to see the view from all angles. It brings me perspective of what's to come."

That nose

The nose of Itty Bitty never ceases to capture me, or maybe I should say enrapture me. The result of gazing on it for even seconds makes me want to try to capture it in a painting, but I haven't tried, at lest not yet. Why try to do it justice with colors from a tube when I can just gaze on the real thing and reach over and touch it.