The pleasure of early moring waffles

I awoke about 4 am thinking about homemade waffles with a side of bacon. Actually, I think I first thought about it the night before. The kind of waffles my dad would make me, whipped up really well, with extra butter in them, and on them. Some Saturdays, one must indulge in one's hankering. So as Martyn slept, I indulged, with Huck, Billy, and Big Tony, at my feet. I was up early enough to catch the rising of the sun, coming in over fog clothed forests above the farm. Sky was already up having her pre-breakfast grass hor d'oeuvre. The farm in early morning is special, especially on these fall days. One must savor them, so, with a belly full of waffles I set out to enjoy the morning, simply by doing my routine barn chores.

Mr. Pumpkin Head was once again sleeping with what he thinks are his
brothers. Like I explained in a previous post, Mr. Pumpkin Head does not understand he is actually just named after a pumpkin, he truly believes he is a pumpkin. Why ruin such a harmless belief. As I set out from the house, the barn cats met me at the center gate area, and porch cat posse follows close behind me. Some nose rubbing, some jostling ensues, but mostly the tails are raised high in greeting. We greet all the boys - rams and donkeys - and head to the barn. It is a strict order of giving hay out - set in stone. If I, God forbid, step out of line once and feed out of order, a symphony of displeased goats, sheep, horse and cats rings out. So, all within about 1 minute, I open the stall for Mr. T and his 3 ladies to go out, throw cat food out for cats, give Sky a flake of hay, let goats out, and two young ewes not being bred, carry out hay for Joe Pye Weed, Rosie and Daisy, throw hay precisely in the right spot for goats so they don't try to go over fence for Joe's hay, run hay over to donkeys and other rams. Clock work. Everyone is content.

By the time I was done cleaning out a stall or two, Sky was done with her flake of hay, and I took her to the corral for a light workout. A perfect morning. With all the waffles in me, it seemed ironic she was the one running in circles, but
someone has to keep heir figure around here. It is the last weekend for deer season, and as I walked back to the house, I was relieved to see Ethel and her twins. The last weekend and the first weekend of deer season are sort of the same, a lot of the imbeciles come out for one last try. Like the guy who stopped across the private property across from us about a mile, got out of his pickup, shot towards three private properties - all with horses, livestock, children and pets, shot his gun, then jumped in and sped off, dust flying. Yelling was heard right before and after the shot. I was walking with Sky at the time, the rams scattered nearby. One always sort of looks around to count toes, sheep and pets. But the look of the fog lifting over the oaks reminded me - imbeciles with guns are everywhere - better off here with all this to look at.

Country ride for the soul

Our neighboring farmer up the road has 6 Percherons that he employs for all his field work. He also does a lot of educational events where he takes his team to historical events and fairs to demonstrate how our ancestors worked a team. He takes people on overnight wagon rides, following the historical journeys or settlers. So, he thought it would be nice to gather neighboring farms and properties and invite us all on a 14-mile hay ride up to a local lodge on the mountain. The day was perfect. We rose just as the sun was rising to feed all the animals and get to the wagon for the 8AM departure. Frida and Betsy were the chosen Percherons to take us on our journey, and the weather could not have been more perfect. All sun, but crisp, glove and sweater weather. The temp decreased as we rose in elevation, but we were all prepared and it was just wonderful seeing the beauty of the leaves and forests, and hearing the clip-clop of the team. All the people on board were participating in the fighting of the near-by sub development mentioned in the previous post, and we actually drove by the property line at one point, noticing the survey stakes.

But it was a nice way to gather, and being with horses makes one remember, there are still wonderful things to surround oneself with, developers or no developers. They can't take that from a person.

After all the little children had departed, I sat up front with Joe who drove the wagon. We talked about the horses, and how all their tack worked. We both agreed, it's a much nicer view - that of a horse's rear and tail - than the tail lights of a car.

The nearby development possibility had me thinking of the land around us, how it might change. It made me think about how the arial view of the whole area will change over time, and already has, and how the birds and leaves see that before we do. That is where "If I Were a Leaf Falling" came from, a new little painting that is a love letter to the land.

Surround your animals with prayer flags

We are fighting a sub-development up the road, thanks to the sad passing of Measure 37 two years ago. Having come from Minnesota, land of beautiful farm lands and small river towns eaten up by developers, I was pleased when I moved here in 2002 that Oregon set such a good example for land use. Two years later I was shocked and saddened by the passing of Measure 37, an amendment so poorly explained to the voting public, so pushed by a small, wealthy group of opportunists, that it divided Oregon, and still does. I knew it's passing was a road that Oregon would not be able to do a U-turn on. We felt when we moved to Yamhill [at that time, the Measure 37 had not even come up for voting] we were somewhat safe for about 20 years from any hint of large executive type McMansions , or worst yet, sub-developments. Sadly, we are now faced with a forested 50-acre parcel being turned into 12 small lots. This is 1/4 mile up our road. Traffic from the development would go up our road, traffic that would include the usual number of cars, and off-road vehicles the the 'average' family building a 5,000 SF home costing over $700,000 usually require for their chosen lifestyle. A sub-development is completely out of place for this rural/agricultural area, and all we can do is voice our opinions and see it through. I have written 3 letters, we've taken part, as have other neighboring farms and properties, in the local county process. I won't go into details on this specific case, but visit 1000 Friends of Oregon to read about the impact of this Measure 37, and learn about land use issues. And on a national level, this update site is invaluable.

So as I worked in the studio the other day listening to a new Greg Brown CD, the words "feels like the wind, and trees and stars are on trial", caused me to pause and write them down.

The farm felt different. I feel unsettled because of what will happen in the area. It is, I guess, becoming what they said it would, another Napa. It took me over 40 years to find a farm, live a dream, and the dream never had a sub-development in the middle of it. Two nearby properties of long time residents have now sold their places, not wanting to deal with it all. I don't blame them. On the upside, their places sold for very good amounts, and our property's equity will profit down the road.

So, I turn to things that give me joy, and comfort. Pino Blangiforti's face is like a stuffed animal. When you see it, you want to hold it, and squeeze it, cry into if you are feeling blue. He was very patient with me when I sat with him in a pile of hay, and shed some tears into his neck. I came in and drew this portrait of him, and I decided to add little prayer flags for him, and all the animals, and our farm. For we all need prayers these days - all living things - even the wind, the trees and the stars.

If I were a bird

If I were a bird this is how the farm would look today. One of three new abstracts just completed.

It's grey out, it's comforting. I turned the fireplace on in the studio for the first time yesterday. I worked all day in the studio, then we did a burn outside and had a glass of wine while sitting on the bench watching the fire. The donkeys sat nearby, enjoying it, it appeared.

This morning, I worked with Sky Flower for a change. She was sleepy, but attentive. I asked her if she was feeling blue, her eyes shut as I rubbed her forehead.

Contrasts

One must notice the yellow in the trees and hills today, seen everywhere against the silver and grey sky. It's jolting. As were the red roses at the nearby nursery's test gardens - all the red roses lined up in rows in the middle of farm fields with the coastal range and grey skies as a backdrop.

I take the time to notice, not stop and notice. I never stop. I have realized, at the age of 48, I am more intense in what needs to get done, what needs to be said, than I ever was. And perhaps less afraid to do it, or say it. Less afraid to be part of a group of anything that I need to feel likes me. One moves to a farm but life really doesn't 'slow down', it just gets played out differently. Where my head and heart are, that is where the intensity and speed are, farm or no farm. I might die tomorrow, there are things to do, now. Life happens in the middle of all that. Donkeys get walked, kind words are expressed, transitions are realized. TV is watched. Pies are baked. People come and go. Trees fall over. And young girls evolve and grow into middle aged women.

And so, perhaps that is why, this painting came out of me yesterday. A red headed woman sitting, arms crossed, mute - not trying to stick out, but how could she not with her black rubber boots and her intense yellow dress against the grey background in which she find herself sitting in front of.

Donkey ears, and the boys are ready

I went out the studio door this morning to a beautiful fall day - crisp, sun, fall color, air, no human noise makers, just the distant
rumbling of Joe Pye Weed letting me know it was time for some breakfast. The donkeys were laying down, facing each other soaking up the sun. If you have never seen a mini donkey laying down, legs all curled in, eyes half shut, well, you must put it on your ' list of things to see in my lifetime'. The sun on their bodies must have been too hard to give up, as they usually greet me at the fence line, but today, the sun beat out my affections.

Yesterday was about 70 degrees, but windy. It reminded me of when I was little, and I loved to go into the many sumac groves we had on our property in Minnesota. I was protected from the wind, but could hear it. The barn is like that. I had my new canvas on the wall ready to start it, and did prep it, but the weather was too perfect. I took a sketch book and a chair and went out and sat with the donkeys. I have a long list of animals to paint, and it takes time to soak in the characteristics of a being, for me anyway, before I can paint them. There are always certain attributes to an animal that catch my eye and heart - and I want to capture them in spirit. I don't consider myself a good draftsperson, but I do feel when I am ready, and have filled up my well properly, I can capture something's essence, even if crudely drawn. I am not a 'take the sketch book out and sketch something' person. I guess it works for me to just be with something over time, and eventually I can capture it - in my style anyway. I'm not quite there with the donkeys. But it was enjoyable to sit with them, and soak up the weather as much as possible before the winter rain comes. I've been running 100 miles a minute, we both have, and taking time to sit and sketch, and just watch them in a sitting position was a luxury. The ears on these beings are so special, and their eyes have a very unique glance, like a being that has had many travels, many lives, and knows what came before them.

Most of the flock is wormed now, and this weekend we will rearrange ewes to be with either Joe Pye or Mr. T [who buy the way is "Turtleweed' because he chortles and that reminds me of a turtle for some reason]. The boys are READY for some female companionship. You shepherds know what I mean. And the ewes have been restless at times as well.

I'm looking forward in a way to the gentle winter rains. I paint much more proactively in winter through May. I have many feelings to get out. But I am not worried about timing. My well only has so much energy in it, and I think I've earned the right to slow down a bit. Is 100 paintings or more a year too little or too many? Many experts out there no doubt have answers. But I am merging into myself, in my own time, and the things that occupy on the farm may take time and energy, but they also fed me and keep my days full of wonderful activities and encounters. Life is juicy.

Market lore, and the donkey gets a gig

We had another another fun day at the Farmer's Market in McMinnville. We lucked out with absolutely perfect fall weather, not to mention we had a prime spot this time. Being right next to the cheese booth had its perks too. We had an increase in sales from last week, I think because we made some slight changes to our booth, and we had a better location. Martyn made me a display rack for my greeting cards, which sold well. He took an old levlor door from the barn and we painted it, and voila, instant 6' card holder. Many nice encounters with customers, many seemed excited about our Open Farm Day events for next year, so our mailing list is growing. Perhaps the best thing about a market for the farmer is just getting recognition with local customers, and allowing them to see our personalities and product. I think it takes time for customers to trust you, and know you. If you are genuine, and genuinely believe and love your product and life, it comes through. If you are a copy cat, or don't seem enthused about your life and product, that too comes through.

I'm learning a lot about displays. I've had quite a bit of experience with it over the years, and understand a lot about how the customer thinks, but I have learned even more in the last two markets. I will be constantly learning, I know. I came home with many new ideas about better ways to display and how to make the customer 'get' the product quickly.

Our sculpture pumpkins were a hit, [except to the 4 year old, who declared, "I don't like them"] as were the art cards. But my favorite thing was that many children, and adults, liked my ragdolls. One little girl picked one up and squeezed it for the lavender scent, and just held it tightly, smiling. That just made my day. Another young girl of about 10, who did art herself, just loved our booth and all the lavender and art. She stayed in there for the longest time, just being so enthusiastic about everything, and inspired about the art. She wondered if she could sell her art there someday, and I encouraged her to get a booth and keep making art.

We are also making contacts for our lamb meat sales. It is making the transition to raising some of the sheep for harvesting easier for me. Knowing we are raising a quality product, and raising the animals with care, love and compassion from start to finish, is a satisfying thing. It makes sense to me more and more. A rich land such as America, we could feed all our people if the consumer demanded it.

We ended the day with what might become a tradition. Trading some of our product for some of Oakhill Organics vegetables. I like eating food from people I like, after all, their fingers touch the land and the food, so if I like their energy, it certainly ends up in their vegetables. Who wants to eat vegetables grown by a grumpy farmer? We are hooked on their shallots right now, and tonight I think I will make a stew from some of their produce. It is chilly for the first time, and a glass of red wine with a stew sounds perfect.

And just when I thought the day couldn't get better, I got a donkey gig for Pino Blangiforti who has been invited to be part of the McMinnville Halloween Parade. He insists on going as an apple, which are his absolute favorite thing in the world, but I keep telling him he has to go as a donkey.

Stopping for that hot dog

I listened intently to a 2 hour interview with John Prine yesterday [as Billy the pug slept], who I have followed and loved since the early '70's. He said that he is one of the most non-committed song writers he knows and that if he is in the middle of writing a song and someone offers him a hot dog, he'll drop that song to take the hot dog.

I am 'supposed" to be painting. Instead, I am doing all sorts of important things, but painting. So, is this ok? I am also playing the 'artist-kicking" game. It is a game I see all artists play, even really well known ones. Here's how you play. Become a full time artist and make your sole income on art. Sell the art over the years, gain a following. Feel good, make more art. Sell more of the art. Feel even better. On the very first day you do not sell anything, or even get an email or inquiry, say to yourself, "Well, let's see, the fact that no one bought even $5 of art today means that I am done as an artist, and perhaps, even, my art is done, it is no longer something anyone wants to buy. " This will then allow you to NOT want to make art, and the more art you don't make, the more you repeat the above statement, over and over.

Eventually, if you hang in there as an artist for a long time, you will learn to play this game at times, but then kick yourself in the butt and get on with it, and eventually, something does sell, or better yet, you make a great piece of art and just appreciate it for what it is. But it is very easy to fall into a hole of self defeating thoughts when sales are not coming in. I've been doing this 10+ years. Somehow, I always am presented with what I need the most at a given time, it is a fact that I calmly hang onto and remind myself of in lean times.

The hardest part of mixing art with commerce, I feel, is the constant nagging in one's head of - 'what can I do to increase sales, why did that sell and not this one, how do I get more people to the site"....on and on....If I were rich, would I paint in this same rhythm I am in now? Or would I cease all together to care about producing, and simply make a few respectable canvases a year and be content? I don't know. I know I would always be busy, never resting, and creating 'something', like monkey houses, or bad knitting, or pickles.



I also know that making a living on art is a grind. But not the life itself. My daily moments and my life are NOT a grind. I am very lucky. I love being outside, being able to breathe and be surrounded by animals and nature. The grind comes in the constant nagging fact that one MUST make money to live, even if living as simply as we do. The grind is where's the next job, where's the next sale, when, where, how, why not faster, what am I doing wrong? Everyone faces the same feeling of 'grind', no matter the income level, I assume - The surgeon in the ER, the CEO's, the lawyers, the guy that bravely lays tar on the highway, and the millions that loyally go to a little cubicle with their little pencil holders.

I guess, what I mean is, making money to sustain oneself, usually involves a grind in some way. But one's life, if one chooses consciously, does not have to be a grind.

I was interested that the architect Frank Gehry, in the recent PBS documentary on his work, stated that the one thing he always wanted to be was a painter - but that he had never tried. He said that the thought of a flat, blank space terrified him. He also said that each time he started a new project, he would have moments of wondering if this was it, if this was the project he would not be able to find a solution for, that he would 'lose it' and this would be the end of his career as he knew it. That gave me comfort - to know he had those thoughts even at his stage. I look at architects, such as my own father, and am so in awe of their ability to clearly see and think spatially in 3 dimensions. It is a gift, and I will never have it. Physicists and engineers too - very admirable.

I am in some sort of stage where the 'creating' I am doing more of, at this particular moment, is not on a 2D piece of material. Rather it is a of little creations that are bringing me fulfillment, even though they might be considered silly or wasting my true talent by some. I did a wonderful canvas 2 weeks ago, and have another blank piece on the wall. I will do it - I am just slowing down maybe. Today I wanted to make my pumpkin sculptures. Last night I made my donkey doll. They will not sell, and if they did, not for much. But the muse took me there.

I guess, it's like this. Right now, today, if I was working on a painting and someone offered me a hot dog, I'd stop to take that hot dog.

Whimsical little messes

Our first day at the market was fun, a lot of work, but worth the effort. We pulled together a booth that had Apifera's personality, whim and eclectic flavor. Martyn made a bunch of cool wood stands for me, I bought wonderful fabrics to hang and of course, I had plenty of old buckets. I took my camera and then never got around to taking a picture, so next week...Our banner turned out nice - some people just don't get the art/lavender/sheep colliding thing, but that's okay. There are plenty of other vendors there to fill everyone's different personalities and tastes. People were coming around all day saying the lavender was wafting through the market, and that was nice - I, however, could not smell it! Still can't, I guess because I was immersed in it all week prepping bundles. Huck was a huge help during prep time, and was always at my side, helping to chew any droppings on the floor, which were abundant. My current whimsy is anything braided, including my pigtails, so I have been making 'ragdoll bundles'. They are my current favorite thing - I take vintage or old scrap fabrics and create little whimsical messes. They aren't for everyone's taste, but they bring me great pleasure - and if one is going to make about $2 an hour as lavender growers do, then why not have enjoyment in all the long hours. I haven't put them on our store yet, but if you want to buy some, just email me for now.

We have become acquainted with a few of the other vendors at the market, and it is so cool to see other couples growing things and making it a lifestyle together. Like Oakhill Organics, a sweet couple who grow wonderful organic vegetables and also offer CSA's. I'll be happy for Martyn when he gets his greenhouse up and working, so he can bring some of his plants to market. Right now my art and the bundles that I enhance take center stage, and he needs to have his 'gig' in there too so he can sit and pontificate with passers-by. That is one of the enjoyable things of going to market, pontificating with others! And eating stuff you normally don't eat.

We drove to the market in separate cars because we had so much stuff and by the time we loaded up and were on the road back home
it was 8 PM and dark. What a gorgeous night, a quarter moon, and still about 75 degrees. I drove home by the moon, the coastal range on my left the entire way with a deep purple-black sky slightly lit from behind by the already set sun. I had my window all the way down, and I put a Tom Petty on really loud [thank you Heinz!], and danced with my head and sang. I was really tired, like after a gallery opening, but I felt really 'real'. You know, one of those 20 minute spans in one's day where you know you are definitely alive, and everything is going to be okay, somehow.

Please wish on the stars for Miss Penny

A friend of mine that I have come to know over the last few years through my art, and our shared love of animals, has a friend that is a bit sick right now. Penny is one of our dignified elders, and her owner used to work at a shelter, where she adopted Penny. She also has many other adoptees, all elderly, all abandoned for elderly issues - misfits. I have much compassion for her stories of her animals and her efforts- and plan to paint some portraits of some in time with the hopes of gathering images for a set of cards that can be published and used to raise money and awareness for animals.

But, back to Penny. It is quite simple. I'd like to ask any of you that live under the sky, to take a few minutes, one will do, and visit with the stars tonite. You see, Penny and her owner would often sit and talk together under the stars, and sort out the days adventures or challenges. I am quite certain if many of us asked the stars to send some strength and compassion on to Penny while she is in the hospital, that Penny will benefit in many ways we humans can't even know.

Misfit amongst us

Every night for the past week the starlings have been gathering in the old Doug Fir in the back of the studio. They begin singing at full strength in a group around 6pm. It goes on for about an hour, then, it abruptly ends all at once. Not one or two birds at a time, just boom over. Martyn thinks it is tied to the exact timing of the sun totally setting. I want to paint it , or the sound of it, but am too caught up in some other things right now. But I will, when I least expect it. I have always had a fondness for crows, and starlings too, blackbirds. Most people hate starlings, but I like them. If you look closely at their feathers, they are quite beautiful. I know they do some bad birdie things, but it is survival of the fittest.

We went into Portland to a birthday party the other night. When we first moved here and we would occasionally go into Portland for some event, I would usually get a few pangs of, 'Gee, I hardly got to live there before moving out here, and it's such a lovely place, so much I didn't discover." Now, I have no real thought like that. For the first time, I felt how attached we have become to our life here, and unattached to the one there. The discussions at the party were somewhat superficial, and no one really understood what we were doing out here. They didn't understand why we bought sheep, so we talked about sustainable living and eating local, which no one had heard of or seemed interested in. [I'm sure there are many people in Portland that understand local eating and such, please note, just not the particular people I talked to this nite]. One person felt that the Oregon farm land should all be vineyards, as it is 'the best use of the land". I told him I disagreed, and that if more people valued eating local, and spoke up to large grocery chains, a shift could begin, even if slowly. I changed the talk back to TV and people's new haircuts. We left about 11pm, and we both noticed how we couldn't see many stars. Back home at the farm around midnite, the air was so fresh smelling, and the sky was just loaded with stars. Neither of us said anything, we just stood looking at the sky for awhile before heading for bed.

It was a nice evening and all, but it felt better here. I've always been a misfit anyway. But I do feel like I 'fit' when I'm on our farm.

Pumpkins, and a place to bark

The pumpkins are here. The pumpkins are here. The pumpkins are here.

Pumpkins deserve a parade, so I will gather all our pumpkins in the next two weeks. I will wait until Pino Blangiforti is a week mended from his surgery, for I know he loves pumpkins and will want to participate. We will parade down Tupper Road to our nearby farm friends and deliver a pie - not pumpkin - that would be just too ironic for the pumpkins. I believe pumpkins should be honored for their peaceful cohabitation - all lying all over one another in a heap, getting along in all shapes and sizes. I beg people not to smash the pumpkins, or throw them - rather, let then live out their lives until it is naturally over, then they will gladly give themselves to you for a pie or soup.

SO... I put some new Cafe Press products online to honor our pumpkins.

I have also created Apifera-store.blogspot that highlights new products on the store, price changes, special sales and store related news. I hope it will help buyers take note of certain things, and will allow this blog to stay as farm related as possible. So please visit it, bookmark it, and check back weekly. In between all the fun relationship building with the animals and helping the farm grow, I still need to make a living, and it ain't for sissies, as we all know. I appreciate everyone who buys my art and our products!

Speaking of honoring, I was told about a site this week that I must let all my animal loving readers in on. A Place to Bark is a private shelter where a woman and her family helps different animal shelters by bringing home dogs and cats and helping them back to physical and mental health so that they can be better placed in loving, permanant homes. I was impressed with what I saw and read, and I must admit, felt that 'ping'. A 'ping' for me is when I see a person who's art, or life, or actions or words, make me want to more in my efforts and causes. This woman made me doubt I am doing enough for the animals. It inspired me to do more. I know it is not her intention to make others feel they are not doing enough, but I must do more. And I will do it through my art, as always. Please visit her site and you can see for yourself if you want to help her cause. Or maybe it will inspire you to take action in your own area. She is also having an art auction [she is an artist] and has a call for artists and donations - so visit her site for more information...Hats off from all of us at Apifera to Bernie and her endeavors.

Once, a mother kissed him gently

One archival, framed print is now available for sale on the store. "Joe Pye as a Young Lamb Standing in the Lavender Field" harkens back to simpler times when we had just Joe and two ewes. He was such an angel. Kisses in the morning, kisses at nite. Now I still sneak in a kiss to him, but usually through the fence. I only printed artist proofs of this piece, meaning there are only a few of them out there, and this is the only one left. The frame is a simple 1" maple. Visit the print section to purchase.

On a farm note, Pino Blangiforti put on a brave face and became a real donkey this morning. The vet came out to the farm and performed his castration. With Paco nearby, little Pino took it like a man. I will not go into graphic details - and I stood behind Pino so as not to see the actual surgery - but Martyn watched. I did learn quite a bit about donkey testicles, if anyone has questions. He is recovering well, and has a week or so to be back in true Pino form, but there does not appear to be any problems as of this writing. The worst part are the flies, and the yellow jackets ["terrorists" as we call them] flying near his wound . There is only so much I can about that, but fortunately it is cool today.

Pino loves apples and carrots, and while get well gifts are in order here, he prefers you take your fruits and share them locally with your food shelters or other families, or donkeys, rather than sending them to him as a get well gift. He is always thinking globally - one does not benefit from finding the jewell in the forest until one brings it back to his or her own village. And Miss Apple So Full, the little apple tree up the road, has generously given me bags of fallen apples for our animals, and I will share them with Pino tonite.

Protected somehow

This canvas came to me in my head, over time. This isn't usually how it works for me with canvases. I usually just paint and explore what is underneath my skin at that time. It can change from start to finish, day to day. But this 'idea', for lack of a better word, was a vision that kept coming, the three divisions, the shape in the middle. It kept coming back as I would drive, or as I lay down for the night.

Afterwards, I sat for a long time looking at it. What was it? It is one I think that in a year, or much longer, I'll see the underneath meaning. But the word "Protected" kept coming to me. So that is what I called it. At 48", it has a presence. I sent it down to the Atlanta gallery already, and feel it has a destiny that I won't understand or know.

I just ordered more canvas, and am jazzed, anxious, and needing to do more on this line. I don't know why.

The skies turned silver yesterday, and we had rain - a relief for humans, animals and earth. It has been so dry, the barn well has run dry 3x this month, even though we are very conservative with all our water. I spent yesterday in the studio, but also took time to stew tomatoes and bake more zucchini bread. I felt the need to tidy the nest for fall, and bake. As the night came, I put on my favorite nubby sweater and got under the quilt on the couch with my boys in their nightly order - Billy on my lap, Huck in the middle and Martyn on the end, but within hand holding distance.

Big Tony the cat sat looking out the large living room window, the black cows up on the nearby hills stuck out against the burnt hayfields, and the sky was all silver, with one strip of blue at the top.

Pino meet Paco, Paco meet Pino

No, you are not seeing double. Yes, we brought home two more animals. No, we are not crazy, nor have we gone over the deep end. We enjoy each animal and what they bring to our life and farm.

The consensus was, get a buddy of the Equus Asinus species for Pino Blangiforti. I thought the sheep would be companions enough for the little lad, but it appears I was naive in that thought. Would he have survived without a donkey mate? Yes. Would he be more content over the next 30 odd years of his life with a donkey mate? Yes. Donkeys get very lonely without a donkey mate, and cans tart to do some naughty little things out of boredom and depression. So, Paco arrived yesterday, along with the lovely little lady Pygmy goat you see here.

The Pygmy came with the name Tasmania Dirt Devil [all the former owner's goats were named after vacuum cleaners, a wonderful thing!] and they called her Taz. It's not that I don't like her name, but I just can't keep from calling her other things, like Bee Bee, or Meggie as in Nutmeg, or Ruthie [the name of a friend's Pygmy and I have that stuck in my head]. So where her name will fall, I do not know. I just know she is very cute, and when I went to look at Paco, I swooned over her - the owner was willing to trade a small sheep for her, as one of her Shetland sheep had lost its sheep companion. I immediately thought of our Little Rue, our bottle baby of last spring. Little Rue was never fully welcomed into the herd after being bottle fed. She held her own, but no one would snuggle up to her at nite, she was always a few paces behind all in the flock. I felt in a new group of animals Rue would bond with the only sheep, and perhaps it would be better for her in the long run. She can't be bred as she will always be too small, and there was no way I could butcher her for meat. So, we sent her off to her new home, and little Taz-Ruthie-Meggie-whatever now lives with the donkeys and rams. She is a pistol, not afraid of anything. Her little ears had their tips frozen off as the two-owners-ago had neglected to bring her in from their cold climate; they also lopped her horns off instead of taking the entire set off. And, she needs to lose some weight as she was allowed to eat grain from other animals dishes.

Bringing in new animals is always traumatic on farmer and herd. The balanced pecking order must be re-configured. The initial introductions can be ugly to watch, and yesterday's initial introduction of Pino and Paco did not go smoothly. Paco has not been gelded [the deed will occur, thankfully, on Monday] so this added to the unrest. Paco is a bit smaller than Pino, very docile, and gelded. He had been a trio of two other donkeys, and I knew he would bond with Pino fast. Pino on the other hand, saw one thing - another donkey to make love to. I won't go into graphic details, but let's just say yesterday was a bit of a bad John Holmes movie - 'farm porn' as Martyn refers to it. I let the two run in adjoining pastures at first, then put them together - which resulted in non-stop stud activity by Pino, and Paco kicking non-stop. Pino took it like a boxer. Just stayed standing, kept at it. It went on for 20 minutes or so, and I finally separated them for the nite. No scrapes or cuts on either, amazingly. This morning, I had all sorts of back up plans, but decided after a night of sleeping side by side in separate stalls, that Pino might have calmed somewhat. When I put them together, it took a about 10 minutes for the two to settle in more - Pino still has a one track mind, but they have worked it out. There has not been one lonely bray out of little Pino today - a sure sign of good things for him. I spent time with both of them, and our little many named Pygmy, brushing, comforting all with lots of grooming and reassuring songs and words.

So, yes, we let one friend go, and brought home two more. And it's all good.

Oh, my little Buttercup

Buttercup needs a home. I have had this framed painting from old illustration days for a long time and have almost sold it a couple times, but never seem to quite do it for one reason or another. Perhaps now that I am surrounded by my own animals, I feel it is time to really find Buttercup a permanant home to live in, and bring joy for someone else. So, if you are a city dweller with a yearning for a cow, here's your chance. No manure, no annual vaccinations, no flies.

Later, when I have a clear head about it, I will perhaps write about my feelings over my near death encounter on my horse on Sunday. Everyone, including my riding companion and our horses survived, but it was one of those examples of how a situation can go from bad to worse in seconds, and when 1300# animals are involved - well, as my friend said, it is the risk we take as riders to enjoy these magnificant, yet powerful animals.

I am painting and focusing on art as much as possible for 8 hours straight - as it is a big week here on Apifera. The new ram arrives Wednesday, and Tuesday, well, besides the farrier visit, we have a, well....I won't tell you. You will have to wait and see.

Send a message to our dear friend far away!

Today is a special day in Mie-Ken, Japan and Yamhill, Oregon.

For today is the 5th birthday of our comrade Nonoka. Nonoka lives with my art-loving, art-supporting, Japanese friend from a far.

Nonoka loves food. Her main love is food. Her real love is food. She understands the subtle nuances of fresh bananas and tomatoes. If only she were here today, as we have so many tomatoes off the vine to eat, surely we could share some with her - unless Billy Baker was in on the decision. She also loves pastries. So today, she is being treated to such favorites, Japanese style.

So, dear readers, it would be nice, and very United Nations like, if all of you would ask your dogs, or cats, goats, donkeys, horses, guinea fowl, chickens, sheep, whatever, to write a message here to our dear friend Nonoka. I know she would appreciate it, especially as she will get them the day after her birthday - and you know what a let down the day after can be, especially at age five when you got pastries the day before. So write a note, animals! Those of you who don't yet have computer privledges, ask your human mates to help out - Donkey Dan, that means you. Come on, let's see how many species we can get!

Nonoka, eat well, and then rest well and care well for your human companion.

And the cows got to listen to Neil

Picasso did that painting of his young son, Pablo on a donkey...he must have had a donkey, I mused...I suspect he was the type of person that let his donkey roam free in his studio...

There's something nice about painting with a donkey looking through the studio door.

I broke down and let him in for a few minutes - after all it is a cement floor, and it is MY studio. But, I now have a donkey that wants to come in and STAY in the studio. Hmmm.

Oddly, as I am typing, I am listening to Mark Knopfler and Emmy Lou singing "I've been around in donkey town, too long, baby too long..." Hmmm...ironic, yes?

I put up a 48" piece of clean white canvas today. Why not just staple some Queen Anne's Lace on it and call it a day? It's actually lovely, and I sat with donkey on the right, lab on the left, pug in distance, music loud - this is a nice day. I'm percolating with a new canvas and animals and music all around.

Yesterday I had to drive into town, got in the car and put on an old Neil cd. Window down, I started down the gravel drive and all the cows were in our side pasture, laying down, taking a respite from the sun, taking an afternoon chew. It was Neil singing 'Keep on Rockin' in the Free World", and I stopped for a moment to watch the cows, only 10 feet or so from me. Of course, I had Neil playing really LOUDLY, and I thought, I wonder how many cows have heard Neil Young? It seemed so cool, that these cows got to share in that song. I believe animals should have music in their lives.

As we speak, Pino is leaning in, listening to more Knopfler&Emmy..." here's a rabbit foot, take it when you go, so you'll always know you're safe from harm, wear your ruby shoes when you're far away, so you'll always stay home in your heart..."

Muses say "paint' and the donkey gets randy

It's time. The muses have told me. Revvings to get a canvas on the wall again. My motives for getting up in the morning change slightly. Instead of only thinking about farm chores, how to make pickles, ram buying and horse training, I can reclaim my other role, as artist. The break I took from canvases and painting in late July is coming to an end, as I have more and more daily longings to be in my studio solely to paint.

I have also been seeing a certain canvas direction in my head, and it is there for longer each day. Next week, I'll be back at it. The break was necessary. I grudgingly have to admit, I can't do all things at all times. I do things intensely. The intense 2 months working with my horse allowed us to take leaps we wouldn't have. I worked intensely on getting lavender products going, getting the online stores going, finding new sales for the farm. Oh yes, bought a donkey in there and started a started a pie service with him...Then there was and is the farm peace movement. Perhaps it is good that no one from DC has answered Stella and Iris' letters, as I might have to somehow get them out east for public appearances.

But now, I am ready. I think art is really the one thing I do best. I do okay in other things. But somewhere in another realm I was given an ability to feel intensly, and translate those intense feelings, happy or sad or whatever, onto a piece of art. It won't translate for everyone, but just enough to make the art a conduit for some. I have no idea what it does for them or perhaps helps them with, but I take it very seriously, that gift. I do not consider making art 'play' as some suggest it should - "be a child again, play, paint, draw..." - Bunk, it's a hard exploration each time, a struggle to start but once in it I can't stop. Play is skipping down the road with Huck at my side. Nothing else matters on the human ground while painting - and that is why the farm is so important as a balance. Because what is on the human ground does matter, and adds value to my life and heart. Before the farm, I floated in my head a lot, I would trance at the drop of a hat. The farm, its dirt, the need for me to always connect my hands to physical things and animals that are rooted on the physical earth - keeps me a spirt having a human experience, not the other way around.

So this week has been full of tying up loose ends, cleaning the studio, preparing my pencils - just like I did before heading off to a new school year. There is something wonderful about the turning of summer to fall. The week has also been full of animal angst. It started with me taking a trip to urgent car to get a tetanus shot after I rescued Mr. Pumpkin Head from something he got stuck in - his sweet little face was capable of latching on to my calf with all teeth sunk in like a boa constrictor. If you've ever had a cat do this, you know the anguish bleats that came out of my medium build body. He was scared, I don't blame him, but he's the biggest trouble maker on the farm, a little bully really. Later in the week I kept finding curved marks on the goat's backs where hair was missing. I suspected Pino might be kicking out at them over feeding time, but the marks were on their backs, not where a kick would occur. The hair was totally gone, but no raw bleeding area. Perhaps being ripped out by blackberry bushes, which can do that. They are after all covered in berry stains at day's end. But I still suspected Pino. Stella was in heat this week, and yesterday I heard heard yelp in pain and saw her running away from a sheepish looking Pino. There on her back was a new mark, no hair, but also a slight gash made by a sharp tooth - he had been biting her, perhaps trying to mount her. Some other hints that our dear Pino needs...well...female companionship: he has taken a real fondness to my mare, Sky, looking longingly at her and trotting with his lips curled up as we ride by; and the little lady killer has become quite fond of...ahem...me - running behind me a bit too, well, let's just say in a 'randy' manner. Not aggressive, just with that 'gotta get me some of that" look. We had thought we'd keep Pino 'intact' in case we wanted to breed him, unless he gave us problems. But with Joe Pye Weed and Mr. T on the way, and 3 breeding rams to sell, there's enough testosterone in the field for now. He is a nice donkey, and a baby would be so precious. But adding more donkeys would mean growing my pie delivery service to new heights, and much too much toe painting....

So, Pino has a date with the doctor for a - you know. They will come to the farm and do it while he is put under. I told him not to worry, that after it's over, we will be much more able to focus on his pie service, and he will still have the same heart. He blinked, and leaned into me. One must be brave in facing changes, even when you are just a little donkey.

Buckets! Buckets! Buckets!

Like I said in an earlier posts, one just can't have enough buckets!
I was so excited to get our Bunny Buckets! They are now available on the store and we thought they make a wonderful, sweet way to welcome a little baby into the world. One should start a baby out with a baby bucket, yes? Filled with our Hidcote lavender and a little gift note attached, any baby would coo-coo I think.


And, I have started Bucket of the Month on the store. I found these old maple syrup collecting buckets from a woman who collects them in the forests out east. Then I embellish them with layered color acrylic washes and varnish. Each bucket has a different image varnished on - this one is a Parisian postcard, also hand scouted by a woman that collects and sells vintage postcards.

Blue Ribbon in My Heart

I awoke with great excitement on Monday, as we were off to the state fair to see Pokeweed compete in the yearling ram class. When I did barn chores, I told everyone I was off to see Pokeweed, and I told Rosemary his mother I would greet him. We sold Pokeweed a year ago to Schulson Ranch at 6 months, and I was so pleased to see how he had filled out. I have to admit, I was so proud! And there in one stall were 4 little Pokers [seen here], all created by Pokeweed, which means they are grandchildren of our Mr. Joe Pye Weed. Pokeweed's personality is still sweet and calm. He came in 3rd out of 5, but in my heart, he has a blue ribbon.

I used to go to the Minnesota State Fair [and, I must admit, the Oregon Fair ranks 1 out of 10 in quality, exhibits, livestock shows, fair site, animal shows, barns, etc]; the Minnesota State fair gets a 10] and I would buy the usual corn dog, mini doughnuts, maybe some lousy little piece of crap that caught my eye, like a bracelet made out of corn seeds [I miss the seed art building!]. But now I know just how much my life has changed, as the only thing I bought was...a sheep. A ram to be exact. This fine 1 year old ram will be coming to Apifera this fall to help keep our line from being too inbred. Some people just get rid of their ram after two years, but I am devoted to Joe. After much hair tearing and consults with my patient sheep crowd sprinkled through out the country, I decided two rams was the way to go. This fine gentleman is gentle and I think we will all be fine. One year he will breed with Rosemary, and Joe can then breed with those lambs a year or so later. He was named Mr. T, and we will adjust it to a weed name, to keep in line with the fact that all our rams are named after weeds. If you have a favorite weed, leave a comment. I just haven't had time to think. It would be nice if it started with a T. Can't do 'teasel'. Thistle is a possibility.

We walked through the horse barn which was disappointing as hardly any horses were in. The next day was mini donkeys,so we did see some mini donkeys that would have ripped Pino's heart out. Saw a few Palominos that had been shown that morning. I was really tempted to buy a floppy eared bunny but one ram seemed like a good day's investment. When we got home, I looked over our flock at feeding time and felt like we are doing pretty good with breeding good stock even though we were total novices in 2004. We are not experts, nor do we have that as a goal. I also was really glad to see all our animals, and I don't know why. It was just really nice to be in the barn. Sky looked especially beautiful to me. Perhaps because she is mine, and walking around the fair, I remember how many fairs I'd been to where I saw the horses and thought "someday, somehow'...

Twists and turns of friendship

Why is braiding my horse's main so soothing? Why does wearing a braid or pigtails feel different than wearing your hair down? I pondered these the other day as I was making little twine braids, playing around with the lavender, trying to come up with a new way to bundle it for higher end sales. I get so tired of organza violet ribbon and it's just not my style. Martyn came home and said, 'Oh, you're making friendship braids." Oh, my dear sweet man, he hit it right on the head. Of course, these were friendship bundles I was making. Now, the braids aren't all girly and perfect, ok, so don't come buying one and returning it because the braids are all crooked and sometimes they stick up and sometimes they stick out. That is just the way I do them, OK? They are each uniquely crafted bundle braid sculptures. By the time I am done with them, I make about negative $50.00 since they are rather time consuming. However, they make me happy, and I hope they make you happy too, and perhaps one of your friend's happy too. Buy them on the online store 24 hours a day, 7 days a week...

Each bundle comes with a little poem that I penned, but I had one of the garden fairies write it for me in his little fairy handwriting. You also get a 5x7" card/envelope for a note if you are giving it as a gift - or leave it blank for your friend to enjoy. [Archival Inks] And of course, I'm happy to write a note in the card for you if you want me to mail it directly as a gift.

I made peanut butter cookies today. I had been yearning for something home baked. The weather turned fall like, the sky had a gray cast over the range. I had some upsetting family news that reminded me that one minute you're perky as you sit making braids, and the next minute you can get some sad news in a phone call. Yin yang. The braid is like that, little twists and turns, just like life. And peanut butter cookies are like a mother's arms sometimes.

Dreaming

There once was a young girl who loved to go to sleep at night because she could be alone with her dreams and thoughts. Sometimes she would go into her bedroom before it was dark, and lie in bed and make up stories about people she would be with. At that time, she was a big fan of the Monkees, so often her dream life included outings with Davy, or Davy would adopt her after she was found wandering alone on the beach. She had puppets and dolls that seemed real, carvings of horses and animals that she would imagine were real. She wanted to be with the Cartrights on Bonanza.

I still love to get in my bed. I like to shut my eyes and just let dreams tell me things, help me with things, or just prod me about things. Someone once told me, let your dreams give you what you need to have them give you at that time. I knew that the wood carved animals and puppets would come to life someday.

I have all the lavender bud processed. I look forward to having our real drying room in the barn next season. Each day, a fine layer of spent lavender flowers would fall from the ceiling in the kitchen where we had the bundles hanging to dry. Our harvest looks really good, and I'm getting our first national accounts going - we're going to make it. Now I can say that.

We spent our 3rd anniversary drinking a good bottle of Pinot in the dark with one candle, watching a PBS show on Willie Nelson, lavender scent wafting around us. Martyn had stopped on the way home off a main highway to pick me rose hips mixed with goldenrod. I spent a few minutes earlier looking at old wedding pictures, which made me yearn for the day again - it was beautiful weather, my family and friends were there, I was so clean and girlie looking, and the cake was really good. It made me miss my family and friends - everyone is scattered, some to the wind. "We ain't got a barrel of money, our clothes may be ragged and funny, but we're rollin' along, singin' our song, side by side."

Painted toes, pickles on the side please

Pino's first venture out as a birthday-party-surprise-guest was a huge hit. He stood patiently while I put the finishing touches on his party toenails, and finally, with pink balloons attached loosely to his neck, Black Eyed Susans tucked in his halter, and his gift tucked under a rope, he eventually made it to the river side where the party was being held. Once at the party, he was greeted by a bevy of squealing little girls - hugs followed, petting, more squealing. He handed over his little gift to the birthday girl, wrapped in pink paper to match his pink balloons. He had brought her a set of fabulous shiny, gaudy gem stone rings set in fluorescent plastic settings - fit for a queen, or a five year old. The food served included a vegetable tray of carrots, which the little party goers quickly discovered were a huge favorite of mini donkeys. Eventually, Pino was also sampling hot dogs and cupcakes. Before anyone writes me letters of reprimand, may I say that Pino is on a strictly donkey diet of natural roughage and hay - but one birthday party and a few cupcake bites washed down with a hot dog end seemed OK. About the only thing I felt bad about was when they brought out the donkey Pinata - everyone apologized, and Pino stood quietly by my side taking it like a man. The head finally flew off, candy flew around, more squealing, and Pino had had enough. He yawned and I took the little party animal home. Not long after, I saw him in the field, laying in the shade.

As if taking a donkey to a party of five year olds wasn't enough excitement, I made my first batch of pickles and pickled beets. Yes, yes, I can hear the pickle snickers now, I did not know how to make pickles or can. So I was quite pleased with the end results, and I must say, I found the whole process really satisfying. I now have wild thoughts in my head of canning everything - or at least making jam this week as the blackberries are at peak.

We were finally getting ready for the evening relaxation time, ie wine drinking, when the fire trucks began roaring down the road heading up a nearby farm's road. There were at least 10 trucks. We ran to our side field where the our ewes and horse are, and could see the smoke in the very close hillside. All the area people were out in their fields. Some trucks had to use our neighbor farm's water well to fill their reserve truck - the trucks were there for about four hours making sure the small forest fire was out, and all was well - but it gave us pause. We had just been talking about improving our water situation this winter in a variety of ways, not only for our nursery, but for a possible fire emergency. Martyn went back to start dinner, and I tucked the horse and goats and ewes in their stalls for the nite. I told Sky not to worry, that I was in charge of protecting her from fires, and Martyn was in charge of protecting me from fires.

Turning the color of horse and field

I think I am revving up to paint before September. My hiatus from August painting might not last, as I am yearning for the companionship of my art. As I drove from town errands today, I was surrounded in 360 degrees with the color of August hay. On the ground, in hay bales stacked, in burnt out trees and weeds, in the dust blowing in huge cloud formations as farmers worked the dry fields. I thought of recent pieces and missed them. I want to honor the square bales I see all over right now, but mostly the color of August. If I wait until September it might pass, and then how will the fields feel? My strawberry blond locks are more blonde than strawberry this month; I am now the color of my horse, and we are both blending into the earth of August. I tried to take a picture of her as she grazed in the burnt out fields, looking so beautiful and glistening in the afternoon sun. But I couldn't capture it. You never can. That's why you have to get out in nature and breathe with it. Art can only do so much.


On the way home, I saw a dead cat in the middle of a 4 lane highway. It was an orange tabby, like Angustofolia or Little Orange of our farm. I slowed for a second from 55MPH with cars behind me, thinking I could stop and pull it off the highway. But it was way too dangerous for me. Still, the image of its little body was burned in my head all the way home - perhaps some child is searching for it, and will drive the highway with their mother looking for it, only to come upon it on the highway. I felt horrible.

I grabbed the first cat that came to me and held it tight and cried for a second.

Then Pino brayed, and Huck greeted me, Billy awoke from his 5 hour nap - and I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window - my hair so blonde with a slight curl, like Sky's mane. It inspired me to go see her.

I live with a donkey and a real Christopher Robin

This is what I saw yesterday morning as I left the house to go to the barn.

Perhaps everyone is tired of my donkey. I am as annoying, I suppose, as people that talk too much about their toddler's first steps, or new couples that put the name of their brand new boyfriend's or girlfriend's name in every sentence as if they were
all mashed together as one entity. Yuck. Sorry, but I'm just not quite done with the initial infatuation with bringing home a new farm animal. It should subside sometime, maybe. Probably not before Saturday, when Pino will attend a birthday party down the road for a five year old friend, who doesn't know he's coming yet. We will have to leave plenty early to get there on time, as Pino walks......v...e..r....y.....slllloooowwwllllllllyyyyy.

As with all my past August's, I am thinking on low drive, in little spurts, writing in chops, not as fluid as usual. I see things and I want to remember them, or honor them but since I'm trying not to paint this month, I write a note, or take photos.

For example, this morning Martyn appeared in front of me in this outfit. Yes, I am married to Christopher Robin. This outfit is almost as good as his rubber suit, but perhaps even more endearing. I complimented him on his attire, and as he walked out the door, he said, "I picked it out my ownself"...

Have donkey, will deliver pies

I have completely revamped my main site. I yearned for whiter pages, and for a site that combined my art and farm muses and life more seamlessly than the last. I also have been wanting to showcase more of my drawing and charcoals such as this image, and plan to keep adding these. Where the idea of this "Girl Yearning for Mother's Red Shoes" came from, I don't know. I just did it one day. Perhaps it is a throwback to a time in my life when I yearned for new red shoes, I don't know, but it pleases me, especially the orange.




I am looking forward to September and to focus on art again - and the weather change - the best time of year in my book. But until then, I amindulging this August with daily rides with my horse and working on the lavender field. And with the donkey's help, I have begun "Pino's Pie Club". As I write, I have a homemade blackberry pie baking and when it is done, I will put it in a little basket and Pino and I will hand deliver it to our nearby farm friends down the road. I love to bake, and I always had a romantic notion that when one moves to the country, one must bake pies and deliver them in little baskets. I never would have dreamed I'd get to do it with a donkey, but that shows you how magical the universe works. Pino has become such a hit on Tupper Road, that I walk him to visit with people. And I just thought baking pies is just about the darn golliest farm friendly thing one can do. I make little cards to go with each pie. I figure I get to test the pie crust cookies, and leave the pie to the neighbors, helping me to keep from looking like Hoss in Bonaza by winter.

I am researching a little wagon for Pino to pull - a mini donkey pulling a wagon with lavender and pies - oh, man, I gotta have it. Perhaps the drawing above is representative for me of a simpler life, a life of just simply wanting new red shoes seems sometimes easier than the life we are now living by choice. My shoes are always dirty, and I never dress up much anymore. I still paint peace signs on my jeans and girl up my riding attire with daisies in the horse bridal and one for my hat. But a young girl with braids yearning for a mother's red shoes - this seems so far away. Maybe that's all it was. A nice memory.

Envision Peace

With peaceful conditions all over the world deteriorating daily, the farm animals have pumped up their peace efforts.What started with the goats, has grown now to include the donkey, Big Tony, pugsand a lab, fawns running towards peace, and more. If a conversation about peace and peaceful resolutions can begin between people simply because one person notices your 'goats for peace' button, well, that's a start. One of my customers and friend in Japan was wearing her Goats for Peace button, and when someone asked her what it meant, she proudly told them it was 'her friend in America who lives on a farm and is an artist and has a peace movement with her animals". I thought that was so cool. The goats are in Japan spreading their message.

What happens to the gardens in war? Or the bees, flowers, fields of hay, pets, birds, sheep? People and children are hurt, killed, but so is nature and the animals. Just last week I heard about a shepherd tending his flock in Iraq who went to check on a dead person in his field, and the body was booby trapped with a bomb, and the shepherd died. Killed tending your flock....

So, if you believe in peaceful resolutions, no matter how diverse the flock or herd, no matter what color the lab, no matter how different the language or religion or culture, show it in your actions and words. Keep peace in your heart and wear a button with a peaceful donkey or goat. [BUMPER STICKERS COMING NEXT WEEK]

And may all animals, farmers, children, crops, fields, flowers, trees and people suffering in heat waves find relief soon.

Never taken lightly

I have set the date for the 3 meat lambs to be butchered in November. They will die on the same patch of pasture they spent their first days on. Somehow, it makes sense. I would much rather they go this way then be sent off to a butcher - even if it was a humane operation, as it is so stressful for the animals, especially sheep, to be transported. The butcher we have coming is well known and respected, and I am confidant he will do a quick and humane job, or we wouldn't be hiring him. Part of me wants to watch, perhaps hoping if I see the process enacted, it will help me somehow be more at ease with raising an animal and then, by choice, slaughtering it for meat. Being 'at ease' with it is unlikely, but perhaps I can reach a place where it doesn't feel like an impending trauma. Most seasoned farmers will say the animals have no idea of their role of becoming food, but I disagree. I feel that they do know their purpose, but unlike me, are at peace with it. I am with those animals and handle them much of the day, I know the slight differences in each of our small flock, and I can tell you those three weathers are calmer than the others, move with a slower pace, they just have an air about them. Perhaps, you might say, I just choose to fool myself with that idea to make it easier - but while in their presence, I sense it to be true. This is why I now call them 'chosen ones'.

I am not painting this month, but I am doing some new drawings. I quickly named this one 'dying woman', perhaps because a relative is dying of cancer, or perhaps because the shepherd artist is recognizing she too is slowly dying, as we all are, and this too might help her resolve her ongoing conflict with the upcoming butchering.

The cloth of heat that came on Thursday has now added a small bucket of humidity to it's fabric, so just walking to the barn has one wet and sticky. Having spent most of my former life on the east and Midwest, I am well aware of what high humidity does to a 100+ degree day. This Oregon "humidity" is nothing, but, it still makes me slur my words and step.

Last nite the heat was overwhelming, and nearby farm friends who have river front next to ours called to tell us to come down to the river and barbecue and go swimming. We shuffled like drunks to the car, and it was a relief the instant my feet went in the river. What a treat to have river front. Thank you. Thank you.

I am planning to paint the small little hooves of Pino Blangiforti next week. I know how happy it makes me to look down at my red toenails, so why not pass this joy on to a little donkey by daisy-izing his little feet.

He sleeps under stars

I awoke on Saturday morning with the same feeling I remember as a child when I knew it was Christmas morning. It is nice to know that through one's life, the same feeling of anticipation can make one get out of bed with a hop and skip. Only this time the present would come to me slowly, as he walked down the gravel road from about 2 miles from our farm up Mt. Richmond. I knew the great package would arrive sometime in the afternoon, which was perfect, as it allowed us to get field work done do barn chores. But as the afternoon wore on, and 2 turned to 3 turned to 4, I had another feeling I remember as a child - fear that Christmas would really never come, or that somehow I would not get what I wanted. I went up to the house at 4 and checked messages - there were non indicating the package deliverers had changed their plans. I was tired from the field work and sun, so lay down to rest in the fan's breeze - but every few minutes I would jump, sure that I heard unusual sounds coming up the driveway. At about 5, Martyn and I sat in the shade and it was then we heard a clip, then a clop, in a slow rhythmic pattern coming up our gravel drive. It was at this precise moment that Pino Blangeforti entered my life, and both our lives are destined to change. For from this day forward, I will have yet another wonderful thing to do with freshly picked daisies - for what face is not just slightly more lovely than when framed in some daisies?

Pino Blangeforti's ancestors hail from Sicily, and his Mediterranean tastes are apparent. He relishes thorny weeds and is not jaded by hot and dry conditions. On his first full night with us, he calmly walked his pasture, and ran the fence line just as he should when he heard strange dogs barking. He had a sky of stars that he chose to sleep under, and he brayed at 2 am, and 4 am, and then again at dawn - and each time I heard it, I couldn't wait for morning to see him again. When I greeted him around 7, he smelled a bit skunky, and I praised him for keeping the skunk form entering the barn. Today after working with Sky all morning, I took Pino Blangiforti for a long walk down the road where we stopped often to admire the wind in weeds, and he tasted his new surroundings. We returned to watch Martyn working on the old barn, and sat in shade where Pino leaned on me and fell asleep standing as I brushed him.

Being a loyal creature by nature, I love my husband and am committed to him and always will be. But I must admit this, both to myself and now you, kind readers - I am also in love with a donkey.

Friday night gala in Atlanta

If you happen to be in or near Atlanta, you can visit Dalton Cowan Gallerie in Tula Art Center on Friday night, July 14th from 6 PM to 10 PM to see some of my large abstract canvases and also view the featured works by Atlanta artist Laura Bowman. Her series of textural landscapes entitled Moments in Nature will accompany new works by Stephanie Dalton, myself, Craig LaRotonda and Kim Maria. Also featuring custom designed boxes and frame samples created by frame designer and gallery director: Robert Cowan. This Friday Gallery Walk at Tula Art Center coincides with the Atlanta Gallery Association Introductions [06]. At Lowe Gallery, (just a few doors down from Dalton Cowan Gallerie), there will be a featured exhibit of Chihuly Glass Sculptures. An artist of this nature draws in an eclectic and serious crowd of Art + Gallery enthusiasts. Every gallery at Tula will be participating in the Open House and a full crowd is expected. Wine, chocolates and specialty drinks will be served throughout the gallery spaces.

I wish I could be there, in a clean dress, sans-manure boots, but I will most likely be lying on the couch, sipping Pinot, trying to get the dirt out of my nails. I'll be there in spirit, as will all the weeds and dirt of my land which grace the paintings currently hanging there. Cheers to Stephanie and Rob for doing so much in such a short time with their space - it is beautiful with an energy that will draw people to them, around them and back again.