Itty Bitty Etta

She now has a name. She is 1 pound 2 oz., so Itty Bitty Etta is now part of Apifera.

I was minding my own business...

Driving on one of the county highways, a small brown dot rushed across the highway, barely missing the wheels of the truck ahead of me. I was busy, on my way to a nearby farm, Huck in the back seat, many errands ahead of me.

But there she was, that tiny wet face, alone. I pulled over about 10 feet from where she darted out. She was still in the same spot, at the ditch, squeeking. I squeeked back, and she came running.

"For God's sake, help me! I'm only 1 pound! My mother is dead, my siblings have vanished!"

I took her in my lap as I drove, but realized it was dangerous. She was quite calm, and sweet, but I drove a few miles back to the vet to borrow a cage for the ride home.

All the way I was thinking, "Lord, I do not need another cat, where will I put her, she's not ready to be on her own?"

Huck is a nursemaid, licking her at her command when she squeaks. She squeaks, she does not meow. She appears to have a sore on her bottom, but nothing serious. She was hungry. She will live in the studio, in Tucker's old triple decker condo cage for now, with a fire to warm her, a blind pug at her side, two chocolate labs at her command.

It felt rewarding to save her from sure death. As much as we don't need another cat in the barn, or the porch, or the house, she already has warmed my heart on a rainy day. And Huck's.

Boone and me

"Boo---o--o--o--ne, Boonie!"

I had just said this to him tonight, I say it every night, he knickers, he waits for the sheep to be cared for, then the goats, then chickens, then barn cats....then it's him, ready for hay. He's pleased he comes before the donkeys. Tonight I went to him first though, and took time to notice the grey forming on lower lip, a winter fuzz appearing, and spontaneously arranged mud spots of the season.

In honor of Ethel

Deer season is almost over, and it appears that Ethel has lived another season. Martyn thinks it's my own wishful thinking that the deer I see each spring, summer, and then fall, always with young, is always Ethel- but he never bothers to take time to talk with her. Yesterday she came right up to the studio area, and I looked right at her ans said,

"Ethel?"

And she acknowledged me with her blinks. We communicated without words for several minutes.

You can read the story of Ethel here . And if you like that story you can buy my new chapbook called Mice That Lovewhich includes the Ethel story along with others.

Perspective on weeds

I learned a wonderful lesson years ago, that you can't always change a person or a situation, but you can change your perspective on it. This is a handy skill and attitude for getting through life, so full of things we have no control over, be it a crappy neighbor or a lost love.

Perhaps then, some people might change their perspective on weeds. I wondered why some living plants are designated weeds, and some are cultivated and given the term 'flower'. And if weeds have a bad rap, those labeled 'invasive' have it even worse.

Martyn begrudgedly allowed me to interweave Queen Anne's Lace into our front perennial bed. Oh I can hear some of you purists smirking. Keep in mind we have a water free garden, except for getting new starts going the first year. And yes, they do take over, but they look so lovely mixed in with the grasses and the Globe Thistle. I think if I were to be a weed, I might be a Queen Anne's Lace - they have various shapes and colors as they go through the season, are unafraid to stand up and be seen, but also fit in in a field of fallen grasses, surrounded by cats.

The weeds don't need our sympathy- they are much stronger than that, or they wouldn't be so dreaded by so many people, and they wouldn't still be living on earth. They are the plant form of the rat.

And rats are just big mice, but that's whole 'nother post.

One needs little to be happy

Muddy reminds us that while one can through life yearning for the newest gadget or bigger house to house those gadgets, we can choose to relish what life presents us- such as a denuded brussel sprout stalk. Huck also approaches life with calm joy, a less exuberant joy than Muddy, but a very wise joy.

Secret tail

He delights in being nothing, or everything, all at once. With eyes wide open, he appears to be gazing at the autumnal splendor of oak and burnt sienna tones, and as eyes blink closed, perhaps he is savoring the feeling of a dry coat before winter rains.

But in truth, he's internally reciting his 60,000 word memoir, "Tail: why it matters". There is no reason to publish it, or share it with others, it is his, all his.

Mice That Love...and more

Mice That Love by Katherine Dunn | Make Your Own Book

I wanted to try out self publishing at Blurb now have a little illustrated chapbook called "Mice That Love". You can preview part of it here and purchase it at the link. The quality of printing is wonderful and I hope to do a series of these.

Net gains from sales will help senior animals in need.

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum

Little Orange and Mr. Plum enjoying an autumn afternoon. They are part of the last remaining porch cat gang and have always been bonded.

More prints coming

I continue to pull art out of the Bottomless Pit of Prints, comprised of digital and archive art that has been sitting, mulling, yearning to be set free on walls. But it's much easier to quickly post one at a time over at the Facebook Page, keeping the blog less cluttered, leaving more room for stories about my animal and farm interactions and pictures of donkey ears.

So stop by the Facebook Page to keep up to date on spontaneous print offerings. If you'd like this print "Woman Holding cat", 5x7" on 8.5x11, $48.50 [includes USA s/h] just let me know.

A humble spot

Last night Martyn came in and told me to go to Giacomo's grave. He had created a beautiful sitting area for me directly on the burial site. Its simple design also functions beautifully, for when I sit on the stones, arranged in a circle, the three donkeys naturally surround me. I had casually mentioned putting a bench there of some kind, but a straight bench would have the donkeys in front of me. This circular sculpture allows us to be one form.

I was so moved by the humble quality of it. I consider it a place of peace, and life, and hope.

The donkeys have been taking their dust baths there, which also pleases me.

"Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing." 

Camille Pissarro

Tomentosa thoughts

Tomentosa likes to lie on Manure Hill and soak up the heat of hay and decomposing energies. His thoughts are random, noticing the fly out of the corner of his eye. It's not necessary to catch it though, as this is his time to ruminate about air.