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.

Flock of gratitude

If you follow along over the past 14 years you know I put a lot of thought into names, but also, into listening for the right name over time. Some animals come on board and their names just scream out at me, others are quieter but clear. And then some are very guarded, or perhaps not ready to have a more long term relationship with me [or maybe vice versa at times]. I imagine naming a newborn baby must be really hard-you have ideas on what to call him or her, but then you meet them and they just don't fit that name. I was to be named either Mary or Bridget. I am not a Mary. Bridget is actually my other self that lurks in me-she is a tough cookie. But then my father's mother died the day I was born, and I became Katherine.

I'm so grateful I found this breed. I knew nothing about them, or most wool breeds since we raised Katahdins, a hair breed. I loved the Katahdins, but raising wool just makes sense to me here. I'm so excited to share the fiber with you next year. I plan to add to the flock and am unsure if I'll breed, but want to get through a winter first before I make that commitment. This breed is regarded in critical status, so breeding does appeal to me. When we started with Katahdins, they were near critical status, and we happy to be part of bringing back such a great breed even in a small way.

Assumpta and Calla -the elder matriarchs of the flock-came with their names. They are fitting to both of them. Little Sylvia Pettini's name came pretty quickly. But the other three were stuck. Part of it was they do look similar, and I had to get to know them enough so I could tell them apart in the field, and see their personalities emerge, which they have. These are very personable sheep-as was my old flock-but for lambs these girls are really calm and people oriented.

Of course Lillian has the most striking markings. I kept thinking of names of women who had such strong features and none of them did her calm demeanor justice. But Lillian seemed strong and bold. The yearling ewe I named Velma, after a woman I knew in my childhood who lived in North Dakota up by my mother's clan-we would go see her every time we went up there and she lived in what to me was a doll house, out in the country, where cookies and breads were always baking. Louisa has a beautiful face too, and it has been a name I return to over and over-my father's middle name was Lois, my old terrier was Louie...it just has a light and happy sound to me, somewhat harking back to another time when fresh pies were sent along in school lunch baskets.

I'm very happy with my flock. And they are happy here, with Benedetto and Birdie to watch over them. I love being a shepherdess, all of it, from trimming feet to herding to...just sitting around with them as they graze. And wait until we get some of that fiber.

"Don't mess with Moose," she says.

She doesn't miss much, this dog. She often is sitting just like this when I do nighttime feedings, calm, alert, always happy to see me but also ready to bark at the bird that just flew overhead. I mean, it could have been a flying saucer.

Last night we heard coyotes for the first time. Marcella was calm, but Benedetto, took up his rallying bark. Benedetto has been with the flock in the new barn and fields, Marcella is in charge of the smaller barnyard. Somebody has to keep Moose and Goose in line.

The mystery of Apifera begins

I am beginning to return to the living, versus seeing faces of the past. The move was tumultuous to me, I underestimated its impact. I even have had anger and I wasn't sure exactly what I was angry about. I realized over time that I had suffered the loss of one dream, and also suffered the loss of something Martyn and I built together-the place we called Apifera. I thought Apifera would simply come with us to Maine, as it was, and we would start where we left off. But the old farm is not Apifera anymore, it will never exist the way it did when we lived there. I liken it to Brigadoon, a place that only existed every 100 years for one day, and if anyone in the town left, it would cease to exist forever.

But as I wrote once before, Apifera is not as a much a place, as it is my intention in this world. Apifera is me trying to put my best parts out into the realms-through art, service and words.

We have had a lot of loss of late. Huck's death was huge. But, as strange as it sounds, it somehow released me from some thoughts I was stuck in. I had to let those thoughts go before I could feel my land feet again. I had to acknowledge exactly what I was letting go of, which meant digging into that anger and realizing what it was. At first I thought I was angry because we moved-could it have all been a mistake, I thought? Had I convinced myself that all the strings that had to be cut and loose ends that had to be tied to get us here were just...by chance...and had nothing to do with my muses pulling us here?

I had to walk through it. I wasn't angry because we moved, I was angry because I had to acknowledge that Apifera will never be what it was in Oregon. Ever. It's gone. Cats aren't falling from trees here, roosters have not wandered on my property after I invited them on a chance introduction, there is not a clan of cats to care for, the barn is not old and The Head Troll is now semi retired.

I told Martyn this the other night, that the word that described the old Apifera, for me, was magic. But I asked him what he thought the word to describe the new Apifera was.

"I think it is still magic," he said.

I told him I thought the new word might be mystery.

Mystery is magic, he surmised.

The thing is, all these faces I show you today–the White Dog, the smiles of a llama and an old goat, the calm of the sheep–they are helping me create the mystery of the new Apifera. The old one was magnificent and took years to build, so the new one is forming. We don't know the exact form it will take. But that is the beauty of the mystery-our imaginations will be exercised and surprises await around every corner-perhaps even a cat falling out of a tree into my arms.

The book: Itty Bitty & Big Etta

I love getting photos of people reading their Itty books with their cats! Scroll to the bottom of this page to see them, and please email me your photos too and I will add them here!

"Itty Bitty & Big Etta" {A Tale of Acceptance} is a 48 page illustrated hard cover book inspired by real events at Apifera Farm. It is a reminder that we must let any creature in our life be true to its core, even if the consequences can be unsettling. It's a story of loss but acceptance, and the fact that we are not in charge all the time, especially of another creature's individual will.

The book is a tiny gem, 4.5 x 6" and has a quiet, poetic feel to it.

Below you have the option to buy one or multiple copies. Any amount over 3 copies is $12.50/per book [plus shipping]. $7.50 is added on for USA shipping. Please NOTE: Int'l buyers will pay more for shipping. Please contact me before buying if you are overseas. I only ship Priority.

Itty Bitty Dolls! You can buy at a higher level and get one book and a handmade one-of-a-kind Itty Bitty Doll.

Choices

1 book $15.50 USD 2 books $29.00 USD 3 books $37.50 USD Donation to Apifera Press $10.00 USD Itty Doll & 1 book $225.00 USD

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