Post pie plethora

The Pie Day was absolutely wonderful! I want to thank everyone who made it so successful, including the people who brought pies, those of you who sent aprons [I'll do a separate post later this week on that], and my friend Annie for being my equine side kick. Thanks also to Deborah for manning the booth, and the effervescent Dandy Dan and Mlle. Loup.

We estimated about 100 or 150 people came. The flow was perfect, never too many, never too few. People were good natured about the heat, and the donkeys were just stars!
I was able to meet some of my loyal blog readers, one coming from Tacoma, others from Portland areas. Some carried in pies, some brought aprons. I tried to take time with each guest, but it was hard - if you were here and didn't introduce yourself to me, please write! Some people came with aprons, and I didn't get to thank them.

So much to say. I wrote a post on the main blog. It's sort of like the day after all the wedding guests leave. I am just full of love right now, really. And pie. I will write more later. For the moment, this photo of the first guests should make you smile.

The day was very hectic! If anyone who attended the event has good pictures, please, please email them to me. I would love to share them. I was only able to take about 15 pictures, it was just too busy.

Pie day energy transference

The farm and Pino thank Annie, equine helper of the day, Ms. Loup for flying all the way from NYC to help, and Dandyland who came all the way from his magical kingdom in Kentucky ["you're alive!"], and Deborah for sitting under a hot tent and not complaining.

My head is spinning, my heart is full, my feet are worn. The Pie Day was so fabulous, despite the 95 degree day. This photo captures the reality of the day. I know it sounds corny, but the event had an energy about it that was pure "Pino" - warm, honest, and kind.

My head is still digesting it all. The whole weekend was magical, thanks to our absolutely wonderful house guests all the way from Kentucky and NYC - but that is a whole entity of it's own that I won't write about...yet.

Our farm is a living, breathing entity, bringing things and people into it. Apifera Farm is a story book that one steps into and plays a role in. I get to have a recurring role, and the characters evolve around me. I am sort of overwhelmed as I'm typing here - perhaps from too much pie, or heat, but I am busting with love for my farm and my life and my husband and friends I am gathering here. It is as if the farm is now my skin. I breathe, it breathes.It breathes, I breathe. A chicken dies, a part of me dies. A seed is planted, and a new creative idea coincides. People are drawn into our farm for a reason, and some of those reasons I don't know. It's not necessarily important for me to know the reason. But after this pie event, I know that Apifera has purpose beyond me.

I can see Pino's face as the older woman's crumpled up hands petted him, and I can here the story of the woman with MS who came and told me she was just 'taking it all in'...I can see my friend Annie, birth mother to Pino and Lucia, in her hat and apron, arriving with a basket of cherry pies...I can see the little girls in a gaggle on their picnic in the shade, making pictures for Pino of the fairy ships...I can hear the voice of the 87 year old woman telling me about her husband who passed away not long ago, and how they had lived down the road for 50 years...

Homage to a rooster

Ward Schumacher the rooster is like a part of the landscape. He can look like a noble tree of some ind, at certain perspectives. He deserves many portraits, but this one came to me this week.

I have become attached. Of all the barn yard animals, I find it most dangerous emotionally to become attached to the chickens, as they seem to die on a regular basis. Although we seem to be in 'chicken death reprieve'. Someone told me if you can get them to about 3 years old they seem to live forever.

So I relish seeing Ward anytime of day. He's independent, brought on by the fact he is bottom in pecking order to Papa Roo. He still sneaks in a quick "fertlie" [my word for chicken sex, as in 'fertilize'] and he has a special place on top of the roost that I feed him in the morning, allowing him to stay clear of Papa Roo. No fights really occur, but Ward really gets run out of town often, and a quiet morning breakfast seems okay to provide. At night, he often is still out, and he generally waddles back in the roost if I walk slowly with him, clucking. He's the first out of the hen house in the morning, and the last one in at night.

Sneak peeks...

Just some of the many sites if you can make it to our Pino Pie Day this Saturday. The garden is looking quite wonderful, if I may say so. The lavender field is lovely, and the purple haze is there in one third of the 3 acres. The third full season is the charm in this draught tolerant perennial bed. The weather appears to cooperating. I might not eat pie for a while after this Saturday, and I might be as big as Boone, but hey, you only live within earthly delights once.



I've been working so hard pulling it all together. I just hope I have one or two moments where I can sit down with a piece of pie, look in Pino's eyes, and remember why we are doing this. I have to run, Pino's toes need daisies on them, and I have to buy the pounds of butter for pie - local of course.

Art moment

I was somewhat shocked, if not pleased, to have the sudden urge to paint a new canvas yesterday. I had given myself a break from painting to focus on the upcoming Pino Pie day and have been madly making folk dolls, lavender items, etc. But I've been missing my art.

I do think being away from it from time to time is good. I paint all year, but summer is a time to fill the well, and I store it all up for outbursts in fall through spring. There was a time when I would feet guilty if I wasn't painting every day. No more. I am a dedicated artist, but I'm not a faucet. If the right project came in, I'd snap it up with zest. But the times are so s..l.o.w...one must work hard at other things, and not bang one's head up against a wall too much. It feels like the whole world is on vacation. Is anyone out there?

So this was enjoyable to make, and see the next day.

The wisdom of sleep

Martyn is a light sleeper. I on the other hand fall into deep dream states pretty quickly the minute I go to bed. I have vivid dreams, and am known to carry on conversations while asleep. Martyn awoke the other night to hear me say this, and he said he actually got up out of bed to write it down. I thought that was so cool, to get to hear something out of my dream state. We have no cows, but have them near by.

Horse confessional

As the Big House still sleeps in the pre-sunrise day, Boone the horse is already being awakened in the barn, and encounters a lump on his gate - which brings pleasure to the horse, and tears to his human...


I awoke to the small grunter near my stall. She awakes me most mornings, just when I am about to have my third deep sleep dream of pre-sun rise. I was driven for some reason to walk to the nearby corral, to which I have free access. This is pleasing, as it is dirt, and I can dust and roll without the nuisance of rock or thistle. But this morning, I noticed She had left her apparel on my gate in the corral. Why? Is it a message, a sign or some kind of command she is teaching me? It is that coat that looks like my old sweat rag she uses to wash off my back and belly after a ride. She always has it on.

The day is just peaking. My favorite time here. No silliness from the chickens. No small equines making noise, the neighbor farm dogs are still asleep. The tractors are in neutral, shut off. I can not hear anything except the nearby river, and birds. And my breathing, which I admire and like.

I take a roll, ahhh, yes, this feels good. My belly itches from where the saddle girth cinched me yesterday on our ride. As I roll, my right eye catches sight of that coat again, hanging in a lump on my gate. I know I mustn't, this is a boundary, I think. People think we equines don't reason. Nonsense, We reason when necessary, but don't need to over reason as humans do. But the coat has presented itself to me, and when I turn around, it is still there.

I must bring the coat into my corral and examine it. Perhaps see what the inside is really like, since I never get to really see the inside when she wears it. And perhaps, just perhaps, she has left some alfalfa treats in the one pocket. Or carrot tips long forgotten.

The coat is amazingly light weight, considering how bulky she looks in it. Oh, dear, my teeth sink right in. Perhaps I can toss it up and back over to the gate, let's see.
No, it didn't make it, I'll try again. Ah, tossing it up and around my head is much like a self fulfilling game, like child tossing a ball all alone. Over and over, as the times ticks away. Ah...well, that was good fun. Thank you, coat, for playing along.

..........My, I wonder how much time has passed. The donkeys are braying, I hear hens. Yes, I hear her front door, sing song voice, barn feedings. What? What is this, she is coming towards me, here, in my corral. This is not right, She always enters the barn first, to feed the smaller beasts first. I am last. This is not right. What can she be so upset about, I see it in her arm movements. I am just standing here. I have not missed a command. She is not urging me forward with a clucking sound...what can possibly....be wrong....Oh, the coat. She is standing over the coat. It does look different, a bit more tattered than when I first found it on the gate. What? "I've ruined it.' she repeats, over and over, louder. She uses the 'hate' word...I feel horribly. It was just there, the coat. If she had been in the coat, I would have known not to play with it. What? No, no, I would NOT eat anything...that's not true. Ah no, she's crying a little. It's a coat! Now look, the goat got my saddle pad, remember, I did not fret....She's coming over to me, and she's...still crying. Much fuss for a coat...What? the coat is your last connection to your life years ago when your old dog Louie was alive, and so many things were young and free. Your skin was pretty then......You've been to both oceans in that coat? You collect shells and eggs better in the coat...You'll never find a coat like it and your life is changed without that coat...

She is walking away, with the coat...or the coats, it's many pieces now.

I have no regrets. I was never taught that eating lumps on my gate is incorrect. I sure had fun with that coat.

--The End--

If you value my writing and illustration presented on this blog, consider making a small $1-$5 donation to Donkey Dreams to help my animals causes, and to help defer the data transfer fees of this blog. Thank you.

Earthly

In honor of Flag Day and Father's Day, I share this photograph with you. The little child is my father, circa 1927.

It is my first father's day without a father. He's here, of course, in many other forms. My face, my profile, my artistic heart. But he is gone.'Letting go' is an individual project. Sometimes we are challenged to do it in an instant, like the family of the Boy Scouts whose young sons were recently killed by a tornado. Sometimes we are asked to do it in a manner that just doesn't make sense, like when a mother dies too young. And sometimes we have time to prepare, we think, as when an older person finally leaves the earth. But there is no preparation. No matter how it goes down, death presents the living with a new perspective on their own life.

My life is richer because of the life of my father, but also because of his death. The death of a parent leaves a space, and the grown child -adult must fill it from within. And filling from within without any one's approval is the essence of maturity, and from it comes deep satisfaction, peace and gratitude.

I get comfort in the most unexpected moments. The smell of Old Spice deodorant, which he wore when I was a child, and which I still wear to this day. There are two small flecks of him still left in the front garden. He had a stubborn side, and perhaps he too is not quite ready to 'let go' of earthly delights. The latter musing is something I doubt in my heart. I truly believe he is on to a huge place, where he is working at new things. Earthly delights are just that - earthly.

Trying not to freak out the mail carrier

The mail woman asked me today, "Do you have a guest staying with you?" "Guest, no guest, why?" I asked. "Because this 'Pino Blangiforti' is getting so much mail." I explained who Pino was, which was greeted with a scoffing glance - she can be moody. She wondered what so many were sending to a donkey. "Aprons." I responded. Well, let's just say, some people just have to learn to expand a little, imagine, relax...Anyway, she offered to bring me some rhubarb for a pie if she has it.

Today the sky was blue, and it got bluer in a azure sea way as several packages for Pino arrived. I open all items, as Pino is scissor challenged. We have been getting so many wonderful aprons, I just can't tell you! I am behind in my photos of them all - some are handmade, some are relics, some are just so funny. All are loved. One had a $20 bill tucked in it...

And this package arrived to Pino, with original art by Mlle.Thelma. Oh! C'est jolie!. Inside, was like a treasure chest, a selection of vintage and some new aprons, all from France! Each apron had a real story about the apron written by Thelma's mom. I am not doing the package justice, but it made my day, my week. Paris flea market aprons came all the way to Yamhill for a little donkey. One of the aprons is made of Thelma's old pajama bottoms - and we all know by now that Thelma seems to prefer au naturel 'in the belly' attire. So cool. So fabu, so bella. So Thelma.

Upcoming worlds

She loved the morning best. She felt free in her night gown, standing still
in her garden, just a part of the world she had created.

A very rough idea for upcoming 'sets' I want to create to go with my felted animals.
I am going to paint the sets, and maybe add some items. But this is just a very quick and crude form. Maybe she is standing on moss, with leaves nearby. I want the background set to be able to be folded and shipped so a person can easily set it up on a table.

There are not enough hours in the day for my mind's activities.

Bird for a bark

I just did this teeny little illustration spot for the Bark magazine. The articles was about a fledging baby that falls from its nest and a dog and its owner watch over it. All ends well. It was fun to do something for the Bark again even it was 1.7" square! Anytime I'm asked to paint a bird, well, I say, "of course". If you don't know the magazine and you love dogs, it's a fun read, and has great artists to. Thank you,Bark!

Morning walk with BW

Have overalls, can haul anything

Somethings just go together...such as eggs and overalls. We've had chickens now going on two summers, and I still relish getting the fresh eggs out of the roost.
I have some egg baskets strewn all over the farm, and have yet to find a perfect system that will help me remember to take the egg basket with me on barn duties so I can collect the eggs. So I often stuff them in my pockets. Hence, my all time favorite overalls are perfect for my egg duties.

I bought these overalls back in Minneapolis, maybe 12 years ago now, from Oilily, the Dutch clothing company known for the exquisite children's clothes [expensive, but so creative, charming, and incredibly well sewn and long lasting]. I receive a variety of comments on my overalls...some comments barely pass as compliments. But I love these pants. When Billy the one eyed pug was 8 weeks old he weighed 1.2 pounds and fit in my hand. I used to carry put him in my overall pocket and he'd sleep all day while I worked in the studio. Usually, if I reach in to my pocket, I find something in there I have forgotten about - nails, hay twine, horse treats, feathers.

This week I did a hunt on ebay for Oilily overalls, alas, there were none, for women anyway. I will continue searching for more though, perhaps even writing Oilily president, explaining to him how my overalls have lasted all these years, are worn in sheep fields, donkey parades and lavender mud, and still, not one hole. And if I show them my egg gathering abilities in these overalls, surely they will find an old sample pair in the vaults and ship them to me.

A story of two Thelmas

As a freelance artist living in a rural area, I can feel isolated, like I am not connecting with anyone. This can feel especially depressing when one is not reaping the rewards of new projects and art sales.But right about when I feel at the peek of disappointment in the universe, something magical happens as a reminder that one is always connecting, it just is not always visible at the moment. And sometimes it's presented in a slightly different package. Such was the situation when I got an email from a young mother in France, who wanted to buy a little painting for her daughter, Thelma. This purchase started a correspondence, and very soon, I realized the universe had introduced me to young Mlle. Thelma as a reminder - my art is here for many reasons, and one is that there are people out there ready to embrace it.

After Mlle. Thelma's mother bought one painting, I showed her another I had done years earlier. A very special piece I created to honor a woman named Thelma, who loved flowers, picnics. pies and life. I took Thelma's picture and collaged it into one of the flowers on the painting. Over the years it almost sold a million times, but always seem to stay here with me. Well, I just thought I had to show it to Mlle. Thelma's mother, just for fun. She wrote back that she simply had to have it for her own Thelma's room, as it reminder her so much of her daughter.

Well, it seems Mlle. Thelma had to have a small garage sale to earn some money to pay for the painting, and she sold off many of her old baby items. Within a month, she had enough money to buy the painting.I packaged it up the art with little images of singing cats and French greetings to Thelma all over the wrapping, and placed other little goodies inside. I knew Thelma had a hankering for cats and knew she would love opening the many layers.


Her mother wrote about the package's arrival: " I wish I had filmed the arrival of your package - it caused us to be a half an hour late to Thelma's playschool ! We were heading out the door when the postman delivered it - we did a quick U turn back inside bubbling with excitement. Thelma knew immediately that it was for her - the cats, I'm sure! She examined each one very, very carefully and we read their greetings to her. She was absolutely over the moon and kept repeating " Regarde daddy , bonjour Thelma, bonjour les chats". She was delighted. We were dying to look inside but she wouldn't let go of the box for us to open it - it was hers and she was keeping it! After many minutes of coaxing and telling her that there might be another cat inside she let it go. There was another cat inside and she claimed it before we could say or do anything. Thelma has spent the past two weeks deciding where to hang it but still hasn't found the "right" spot!(see photo below of her trying a spot).Pino and all the cats from the package are now hanging on her notice board in her room." The other thing I just love is Mlle. Thelma's mother framed the painting surrounded in Thelma's first princess dress, now too small, sprinkled with silver stars and hearts, a ruby and some straw from the Apifera package. She thought it looked heavenly, with magic and theatrics tossed in - very much like Mlle. Thelma.

Mlle. Thelma thinks that the painting "Thelma's Heaven" is really about her, which is fine with me. I wrote a story on the back of the painting, so when she grows, she can read it. I think somehow, the now long gone woman named Thelma, honored in the painting, was meant to be in Mlle. Thelma's magical world.

"Once there was a little girl named Thelma who grew up to be
a woman named Thelma. She loved pie and picnics and all things
that walked on four legs, or many legs, like bugs.

Thelma loved flowers and she liked to pick them while she ate pie.
She would sit with her flowers and think how lucky she was
to sit in such a beautiful garden and have a picnic all to herself.

Thelma lived a long and happy life. She lives on in the flowers, and
when you see a flower at a picnic, you should say,
“Bonjour Thelma! I see you in the flowers today!”

Years after Thelma the woman became a flower, a little girl came
to the earth. Her name was Thelma too! And she lived in France.
She loved bugs and cats and she slept in her belly.

The little girl named Thelma loved to pick flowers, and when she did,
the flowers smiled."

Thelma is an avid artiste and painter in her own right. Her mother sent me a short video of her painting with her little sing-song voice as she works away, "painting in her belly" [this is how Mlle. Thelma states she is naked without pajamas].

So, I have been charmed by a two year old. Not a surprise, really. But I feel really lucky to have met her, and to also meet a mother encouraging her artistic bent, and reveling in it. I hope I will watch her grow, if only from a distance. My art brought joy to a little house in France, and the reverberations have traveled across oceans and mountains to rest in my heart.

Tractor therapy

It was a perfect day. I started with farm fresh eggs. Had coffee with Phinias T. Barnum in the barn. Brushed Boone. Trimmed some sheep feet. And then, I got down to business...on the tractor in the lavender field. I have been given the field master's blessing to till, and till I did. I got on the Kubota and tilled from noon to 7 pm. Martyn insisted I get the camera and take pictures of my dusted body. I had on my favorite overalls- flattering, heh? I just don't care, they are Dutch, with the words 'rodeo - yippy-i-oh"" printed on the inside bib. They make me happy. I'd like to point out the front pocket is full of stuff, I'm not quite as pie filled as the picture lets on.

Riding on the mower made me think of being young when we lived on a small 5 acre spread and my job was to mow the field with our little John Deere. I loved to mow the field, I was about 10. I would sing, and sing, and sing. My parents were always amused when they looked out and saw me singing. I used to get my brother to give up his lawn mowing duties for the week so I could mow for him. There's a freedom in being on a little tractor. Today I could see nearby farms with their horses, our sheep were in the lower fields, all that I cared for was near by. The lavender is just starting to get stem, and smells nice. I thought of my father, and how he might be visiting me over my shoulder, while I tilled today, and he might also remember how I used to sing out in the fields, way back when.

There are many stories from the week I want to share, but they will have to wait....the most memorable was yesterday, when I held a wild, 3 day old fawn for about 10 seconds...the story needs my attention to be told properly. And then there is Mlle. Thelma - now there is a charming story you will like...Stay tuned. And as for my Billy Baker - he had some issues come up in his surgery. He has an enlarged heart, but there is not anything to do at the moment. We will pay attention to any signs of distress. When I asked how many teeth they took, the doctor said, "A pile"... He is fine though, eating, passing gas, just like normal.

So, I must go drink now. One of the best things about a dusty day in the field is coming back to the house, cleaning up, and breaking out that cold beer and a lime. Then some good Pinot. Then a good nap on the couch before I go to bed. A chocolate chip cookie awaits me too. And Martyn will make us grilled lamb chops, Apifera's finest.

One eye, a few less teeth, lots of gas

What has one eye, a punched in face and smells...that's right, it's our little gassy one-eyed pug, Billy Baker. One of the many horrors of in-breeding to get the pug breed is they tend to have teeth issues. Billy is now living proof of this.


Our gas producer will be heading into the vet on Friday for major teeth removal [I have suggested they get the fans running]. Due to the fact that Billy likes to chew on tiny pepples like gum - a hobby he acquired as a young pup - one of the rotting teeth fell out. Looks like our one eyed pug will now be a 'one-eyed three-toothed" pug.


I cringe to have the final invoice handed to me...but such is pet ownership. I considered dressing him up as a ferel cat to get donations, but that would be very un-Apifera. So Billy has a special message for you..."If you buy this sale item [done when I had both eyes!] it will help pay for maybe 1/2 of the bill."

Sale ends 6/8

All art that was unsold in the Sale Section has been reduced for one more week. So take a look, sale prices end 6/8. I deleted out all the sold pieces [thank you buyers!] but there are still many nice pieces I really like. Also, if you see a piece on the store site you just have to have, let me know, I can look at the price - but only through 6/8.

Times are tight for everyone I thin. I know many fellow artists seeing a real slow down, myself included. I appreciate the fact that buying art is a commitment, it's not a necessity. SO it is always appreciated when people support my art. Thank you.

We were watching Antique Road SHow the other night and a sketch for a children's book, just a sketch, was valued at $10,000. We mused that, fast forward 100 years, someone will show up at Antique Roadshow with a box of donkey sketches in the form of manuscript/children's book mock-ups. "Do you know anything about the artist?" the host/appraiser will ask. "No, except there is a picture of her in an apron with a donkey." The appraiser will tell her he had to really research to find a woman artist, long dead, who began writing stories about her farm and her donkeys. "She never was published in her lifetime, and she lived out her life continuing to try to get someone to publish her donkey stories." They'll go onto say how charming the stories are, and the woman will share that "my children and grand children have enjoyed them immensely."

The glance of a king

She can not seem to understand my true qualities, my kingliness. For 4 years I have helped in the equation that brings food to her table, to her barbecue. I feed her. I nurture her with my genetic make-up, providing meat to her liking. I give up my prodigy without a fuss, I accept that fate. I do my part willingly - I eat and graze to keep up my strength. I even allow myself to live in a mixed herd of lower gentleman, and two goats for heaven's sake. I am a saint for that. And when the season changes, when I smell a hint of drying leaves in the forest, I know it is once again my duty to service my flock. I go willingly, I do not balk at her. I go to the field of ladies, reintroduce myself quickly - for their is no reason to doddle, they know it too, the job must be done. The grass and foraging I have done all summer to keep me fit for the job pays off, for I spread my seed over and over without tiring, just to make sure the job is thorough. I am a professional that way.

Yet, she seems to put herself in the herd master role, when it is really I that am in charge of this herd. That is why, from time to time, I must come to the fence line and stare out at her. Surely my expression will explain clearly, "Excuse me, you! You the woman with the bucket, I am the greatest! I am Joe Pye Weed. And this herd is mine."

Cat contemplates the day...

Good evening

One of the nicest things I get to do here on the farm is sit at the end of a hot day and look out at this. One hand is petting a cat in my lap, the other is holding a glass of wine. I can hear the snorkels of the one eyed pug behind me on the deck, and the panting of Huck.


The lord of the manor house sits beside me, dressed in Apifera Farm attire. This time of year we watch the mating couples who have flown in, like the Western Tanager - spectacular! We revel at the cedar siding we just put on the pump house, and discuss the many ideas for other little projects. We share our day with each other, and 95% of the time are at peace. Each day, something happens in the garden bed in front of us, and we enjoy pointing them out to each other.

These simple things happen every day in my life and marriage.

I do not have to go
To sacred places in far off lands.
The ground I stand on is holy.

Here in this little garden I tend
My pilgrimage ends.
The wild honeybees
The hummingbird moths
Are a microcosm of the earth.
Each seed that grows is full of miracles.

And I toil and sweat and watch and wonder
And am full of love
Living in place
In this place.
For truth and beauty dwell here.
[Mary de La Valette]

Another apron from afar!

Friederike!, Pino's true blue friend in Germany is sending us this FABULOUS apron for Pino Pie day. If you haven't gone to her blog, you must. Her master artist, Sandra Monat, makes wonderful softie dolls and magical creations. We are lucky to have one of her charming Viking dolls on our guest bed to protect visitors that sleep there [and me when I sneak in their to have a 'girl alone night'].

I am so excited, Pino can't wait to show it to Rosemary the head ewe. We told Sandra the ewes will be so envious. Don't you love the greens in the photo? We adore blue sheep! and the goodies she surprises us with - like the donkey cookie cutters she sent. I use the cookie cutter all the time to cut out donkeys in the pie crust.

Thank you, Sandra and Friederike. The Pino Pie Day is going to be so fun. We only wish our German friends could be there - but they will be in our hearts!

The cat that became an elephant

The transformation of any creation is the fuel for keeping magic in one's day. Like all my rag dolls, I can't seem to work from any set plan, but this is the signature of all my work really.

So, I set out to make a cat, but it turned into this little elephant. Ella Elephant likes to wear short dresses but no pants. This helps her go swimming like elephants like. She wears a pink ribbon to attract boy elephants. Her little tail is the sweetest little tail imaginable!

Ella Elephant is a one of a kind creatures, full of personality, and like any creature, can not be duplicated. I am working on other felted creatures, and want to do some 3D sets to place them in, like mini theater stories. It's still in my head.
It will most likely be a gigantic 3D mess, much like my monkey houses of past, but I will forge ahead with hammer, saw and nails. Martyn will cringe and step in. Soon perhaps he will build me a stage of some kind for theatrical performances with felt puppets and guest appearances from Phinias T. Barnum and others. [I have convinced him to make a special magic door to the "Pino's Pie Place" where the donkeys will be for the June 28th Pie Day].

Lady's lament

Backwards or not...

I am working on a new children's story. This time I am trying something a bit different. I worked on the illustrations as a whole before I even began writing the copy.

When I was working on my new felted dolls [to appear later] the feeling of the character started coming out of the doll. And as I felted away, I was telling stories in my head about the doll. So it gave me the notion that perhaps I should try creating a visual storyline first, and create the words around that. In my last stories I wrote all the copy first.

So far, I've done all the first draft b/w visual spreads. I had the story idea in my head before starting, but really let the art help me develop the details of the story/plot. I'm finding it is helping me not rush as much, and I feel like I am taking more time to try and develop the characters.

The main character is an artist donkey that leaves the city life for country life, and the challenge she faces as an outsider, and as being seen as a bit 'strange' to the country folk. The other main character is an old mouse who acts as her friend and mentor.

It's a completely true story.

Natural tendencies

The May madness of planting the vegetable garden and prepping the perennial beds for summer have been in full swing. Basically I am 5 inches shorter, from bending over so much. But at least I can still bend. I do often require two hands to get back up. Not too pretty from the rear, I guess. I definitely notice my body reacting differently to manual labor, no matter how enjoyable. I just can't handle intense manual labor like we did our first couple years here. I actually was so stiff last week that I convinced myself I had some strange joint disease. When we were really little, my brother used to warn me I'd get worms someday from giving dogs kisses on the mouth. I scoffed. Perhaps that scoffing has come back to haunt my joints.

I did this piece a couple years ago, and many of the pieces from then had a kneeling woman, all bent up. I was tired - hanging on to a plant to try and get back up on my two feet.

I don't read blogs daily, but lately many I visit are taking hiatus for one reason or another, some really seeming in angst over it.To me, it seems the bodies natural tendency is to want to be outside in the days of warm weather. The desire to switch from creating on a canvas, versus creating with mud and dirt and seed seems perfectly acceptable and logical. Our ancestors probably busted out of caves on a spring day - perhaps the cave paintings were only done in the winter.

Business is slow. I always stress the first of the month if jobs aren't coming in or things aren't selling. But at a certain point, I have to remember I got here from art, I am allowed to stay here through art - so why do I think after 10+ years the universe would kick me out of this place due to a lack of art? So, I continue to work, and each day let the powers to be work behind the scenes... "Hmmm, let's let her work in the fields and play with the horse for a good month, and then let's give her that huge illustration job..." . That might sound egotistical, but I just have to believe in slow times that I am not always the one to be privy as to what the heck is really going on.

It's National Wear Your Apron Day!

I've spent a good part of the morning trying to get Pino's apron on him, but alas, it's spring, there's grass, there's dust to roll in, and he is out doing his thing like a donkey should be.

I don't know where I heard about National Wear Your Apron Day, to be honest, or who started it, so forgive me for lack of details. I just know it's a day to celebrate the apron, by wearing it with glee. All the handy things about an apron - I can attest to here in my own life. I gather eggs in the pockets, I wipe my dirty garden hands all over the front to spare my already dirty pants, why just this week I wiped goop out of cat eye with my apron. Very handy in deed. And, as I've stated many a time, aprons help cover my somewhat expanded waistline. It's a wonderful way to feel like I'm wearing a dress when a dress just isn't always practical. Don't want to bending over in the barnyard in a dress, ladies!

So that I am. I'm attempting to document all the aprons I ham collecting for Pino's Pie Day Apron Clothesline...It's quite an amusing way to spend time. How lucky I am, yes?

We're thrilled with the generosity of people. And we hope all these efforts will help bring awareness to caregivers who want to share donkey therapy, and farm therapy, with their patients and friends in need.

For the mothers...

Gallery Event

I'm participating in a group show at Mary Lou Zeek Gallery in Salem. The show promotes biking as an alternative form of transportation, as well as a way to see nature, get out and exercise, and just enjoy the qualities of biking. The opening is Wednesday, May 7th.

My piece is called "Bird Bike" and can be purchased through the gallery. I bought a bike back in Minneapolis and named her Bella, as she was taking me places of beauty I wouldn't have seen without a bike. One is as close to flying while on a bike I think.

Bella has been hanging, dust and cobweb covered, in the barn for 4 years. I'm going to clean her up and take her out again. Maybe get a basket and deliver eggs on occasion. It would do me good, and I think she deserves to full fill her purpose again - to help me fly.

Yes

Ladies and Gentleman, presenting...

There is a crow that lives near our farm. I see him flying from the place in the sky where the main county road touches the horizon line - if you're standing in the right spot on our land. He seems to canvas the area and then always retreats to the area where he begins his circling maneuvers. I now realize that his purpose is to guide particular cats to our farm. The conversation between crow and cat can not be relayed to my readers here in typed words, as the computer wizards have not found a way to make symbols that represent the animal language - and I doubt they are anxiously trying.

So I can only assume what the human translation might be - "You, cat, who just got thrown from the car - over here. Come this way. Up that hill. Watch the curve, log trucks. Inside dogs. Don't be afraid of the small goat like creature - strange but harmless. Head for red barn in the back. Wait for sing song woman sounds. She's the one you want."

And so, this giant, beautiful, regal creature has walked onto the farm. By the way he presented himself to me, I could tell immediately he had at one time worked in the theater, and not on a small scale. He also had been loved, and within literally 2 minutes, he was in my arms. He looked a bit thin yesterday when I fist saw him. But after 3 meals looks better. His wounds are minimal, a few scratches, a small hole that is healing. He is definitely part Siamese, as he cries out as only one of that kind can.

As theatrical and noble as he is, this cat was humbled from whatever journey he had just been on. The back woods is one riveting sound after another in the night time - and the sensitivity of the feline ear, together with his sense of smell, must be exhausting for this fellow, who probably sat on a pillow most of his life earning lines for his next off-off-Broadway play. Normally, when a new cat arrives, I let it be for some time. They come to me on their terms. I feed them, waiting at least two weeks of feeding them before I attempt a tramping to spay/neuter them. As he clung to my shoulders, humming, I swear I heard him thinking,"Go ahead, take my manly pearls off, I don't need them and I'll do anything, anything if you just don't send me back to the outback." His name is not apparant yet, as we humans must wait to allow the cat's true name to come properly to the surface. This can take weeks, sometimes months.

Excited to get to the barn this morning, I was disappointed the new theater cat was not waiting for me in the hay bales. I was sure I had expressed my intentions properly and clearly. As I was almost done cleaning the sheep stall, I heard him calling from the outback. He was standing at the edge, with just two front paws into the small paddock, in the same spot I found him in yesterday. A friend mused he might have been a gift from above - this morning I remembered my father had a Siamese when he met my mother. He had to give the cat away shortly after that.

All I know is, I've known him one day, and he is a significant part of the farm.

I didn't steal him...yet

One of the good things about our farm is that it is 2 miles down the road from another farm where many lovely donkeys live. One of the BAD things about our farm is that it is 2 miles down the road from another farm where many lovely donkeys live.

This young fellow was born to Gabriella and Angelo, parents to my beloved Pino Blangifroti and Lucia. He is as charming as any small ass can be. And at this tender age [4 days] his hair is as soft as a bunny. And he leaps, and jumps, like a bunny. Which makes the entire package very sweet, like a ...bunny.

If you've been visiting here awhile, you might remember my moral crisis when I first met a then baby Lucia. Since that writing, I of course put stealing Lucia aside, and bought her. It was the best thing I ever did with my money, besides bringing the first two donkeys home [even grumpy Paco adds a certain twist to the barnyard that I cherish]. I don't know where this whole donkey life is headed, but I'm holding on and enjoying the ride.

The weather is warming. My focus is scattered, like the seeds I haven't planted yet.
I think the death of a parent takes a lot of creative energy away - or perhaps it's that the death of a parent allows the artist to rest that creative energy for outward purposes, and use the energy to plant new seeds internally in the worn heart. From that will come a summer harvest. I am not a faucet. Nor is it my purpose to create and create only for external showcases.

I will go to the barn now and see if the new beautiful silver tomcat is back - a definite dumped pet, a real beauty, who cried all morning in the woods, and then suddenly rushed to me and let me hold him and carry him back to the barn. He was very hungry. He told me of his journey - it was shocking, he said, to have been left at the road. He didn't understand it.

Yin Yang

"....God is in the roses, and the thorns..."

R.Cash

More wind visits

I just finished this piece "Spring Winds" and am wanting to just sit 'within' the painting. But then again, I already live within this painting. How graced I am for that - even on the rougher days of life. When rough days have so much good, I can't complain.

Available now at the store site.

If look closely, you will see donkey ears. But of course.

The thread of order

One moves to the farm for the first time and makes many mistakes - especially animal lovers like me who have waited years, decades, to get that first farm and fill it up with animals. It is easy to have things grow into complete chaos - even when the new farmers are well intentioned and compassionate people. I've seen it happen, and I've certainly made many errors in judgement, but fortuantely, as I continued to learn, and watch others and learn from their successes and failures, I've managed to maintain a peaceful barnyard, and a healthy one [knock on wood].

I learned the first year that those cute little ram lambs grow into large testicled beings with one job - to breed. If they aren't breeding, it is not wise to have them. We also quickly learned the value of cross-fencing. I think cross pastures have kept our animals healthy and have given me more options on a daily basis for animal management. We are slowly increasing our fenced pastures. It is expensive, and if I had money, I'd do it all at once. But we chip away at it - just this weekend we added another 1/2 acre to the existing area where we put our meat lambs when they've reached that 'I can jump on you missy and make a baby' stage. I know I live on a farm because the one thing I notice most when I drive anywhere out here is...fencing. Good fencing makes me drool with envy. Bad fencing makes me feel like running up to the farm's front door, and say, 'It's ok, I know you're doing your best...want to come over and have some pie?"

I sometimes feel like I am doing everything 'not as good as I should be', - or maybe another way to say it is, I sometimes feel like, "Phew, I did everything well enough today so that no one died, including me." It's a constant learning curve, and a constant shuffling of creatures to keep a nice balance. We had thought about growing our flock up to 50, we have the land, but after getting some lambing seasons under my belt, I feel like the number we have is a good balance for now. And we can't afford the cross fencing right now.The main flock of 10 grows up to 20 with lambing, and then I whittle it down to 10 or so again by fall through sheep sales and butcher dates. Any more sheep and I think I would be doing everyone a disservice - me, my art, the sheep, my husband, and all the other animals I love to spend time with. I know that my mistakes can adversely affect these creatures. Perhaps there is a special place in the after world for farmers to go and meet up with the creatures they have mistakenly damaged, just to apologize again. For when a farmer hurts an animal without intending too, a little needle becomes wedged in his heart - it doesn't feel good.

When I'm in the barnyard, I can breathe in and relax that in that very moment there is a thread of order keeping it from chaos. I've learned many things - like the language of many animals. This picture is a visual representation of how Paco says, "Excuse me, please, could you stop what you are doing immediately and rub that one spot on my rear end that feels so good? I'd really appreciate it."