Happiness of the pig hair

I get great happiness spending time with the animals. Sometimes it is just a small passing of the pig, and I look at his head and admire his beautiful red color. I hope this for others, that they have something like that that gives them moments of pleasure like that.

I always have something to do here and care for; I have an endless supply of stories-too many-to write and paint-and share.

But sometimes, I just want to sit with the barnyard. That is where I'm headed now, to take a cup of coffee and just hang out in a short sun break and observe, quietly, be part of the gang. Goose will likely jump on the concrete wall where I will sit, and Moose will run by and pretend he is not interested but he is; Rudy will be off in the distance in his favorite sun spot by Old Barn and the ducks will most likely be on the compost pile soaking up earth's warmth. Who knows where The Head Troll will be. Boone will be napping I think, as I rode this morning; the elder ponies will be sleep standing. Doris and June will hear me and will squeal and squeal and then go back to napping. Chickens will be about. Just a normal day-but so huge in many minute by minute ways.

If you like what you read and see here, please consider supporting and pre ordering at the Kickstarter project for the upcoming book, "Donkey Dream" {A Love Story of Pie & Farm}.

Another elderly odd couple to adopt

I was minding my own business....

You know how this ends.

I have become acquainted with an elderly odd couple, and my inward barometer is telling me to jump in and bring them to Apifera. An old llama, and his side kick, a little elderly pygmy goat. They are with our friends at Sanctuary One [where Rosie and Stevie hailed from]. The llama arrived there with his elderly mate who has since died. Scooby the goat came from a large rescue. Both appear to be real gentlemen. I would love to take these two on for however long they have-the llama is almost 20 which is getting up there.

I have set up a GOFUND page with a small budget to cover adoption and transport. Please help if you can. Sometimes these opportunities have a real sensory message internally-telling me,

"Yes, you should act on this one."

So I will listen.

Kahile, the llama, lost his elderly mate awhile back and I am told he is a perfect gentleman. I remember when I found Rosie, the pig, Sanctuary One told me she had to be adopted with Stevie the crippled goat. I hesitated a day or more, as I had many goats. But I am so glad I acted in a forward fashion. I can't imagine Apifera or me without Stevie, or Rosie.

I think these two will have the same effect on many - and be ambassadors of peace and community spirit.

Donate to help bring them to Apifera, if you can- thank you!

Paco's birthday with fig newton layer cake

As some of you know, Paco is our resident worrier. When he arrived here after I adopted him from an overcrowded environment, he was bossy, sassy and difficult to handle. It took 3 of us to hold him for foot work. He wanted to be in charge of everyone, including me. It took over two years of tendering for him to be comfortable enough and to fit in. Time is so important when working with these animals-and consistent handling. I'm so glad I hung in there-believe me, I had my days- but he is a sweet little fellow. He still is the first one to arrive for butt rubs or food [and he has quite the butt], and he still worries, but he is a perfect gentleman with the farrier and does wonderfully at Pie Day. And of course, he thinks Mother Matilda is really his mother.

So three years ago, I decided Paco needed something special for his birthday, since Pino gets a lot of the glory. And that is why each January 24th, I have a little gathering for him with a fig newton layer cake. The party is very quick-donkeys do everything slowly-except when eating fig newton layer cake.

Help give this book wings!!

I have launched a Kickstarter project for the new book, "Donkey Dreams" {A Love Story of Pie & Farm}. I'm thrilled, excited, and terrified.

I appreciate so many of you who have pre ordered the last book, supported the Misfits in donations, urged me on with gifts and kind notes- really, really. I am blessed to live this life and feel it is my gift to share it all through art and story. It helps me to share stories and art, and if it makes someone happy, or consoles them, than that is icing on my pie.

Kickstarter projects take an enormous amount of work and blood, sweat and guts-so I am asking for your help, good vibes, cookies-anything you can think of. We have to raise a lot of money this time around. I know we can do this. Remember, I get no money-and you aren't charged-if I don't make the entire goal.

Help me give wings to this book.

Inward

A couple years ago I had my abstracts at a gallery in Atlanta called Dalton Cowan which has since closed its door, but the owner is a friend of mine and she came upon some images of my work. It was so good to see these again, and timely, as I have been feeling the urge to paint abstractly again.

I plan to do so after I get this next book birthed [you'll be hearing a lot about that in the coming weeks]. I'm finding that making books- which I truly love- is like wearing yourself inside out. It exposes things.

Abstracts will let me go inward and explore for awhile, perhaps more in silence without the urge to add words. I can still share the paintings, but won't feel a need to tell you about them, you can do that for yourself which is really the beauty of abstract art.

You can see some more past abstract work here. It's the new website I created this month. The old site will be closed down once I get the domain transferred. I needed a change and I wanted the new site to feel like a book about my life here. And I finally put my old life of commercial illustration where it should be-as a foot note of the past.

Caring for the undercats of the world

I was thinking the other night–as I was hand feeding Mother Matilda her Equine Senior feed–that feeding or caring for a sick or wounded animal bonds human and creature on a different level. Even if it is a creature you've known for some time, caring for it when it is wounded or ill seems to alter the relationship.

As I fed Matilda–yes, I did say 'hand feed'–which means I hold the feed in a dish and hold it up for her so others don't get it. This is to prevent her little rascal compadré to keep from getting a bubble butt–you know who I mean...Paco. So not only can I make sure she gets all her feed, I can observe her and just stand with her silently.

Animals do a lot of things in silence, and standing. For me it has become one of the most important things I can do to win their trust and just become part of the rung–stand with them in silence. I hope to do a book on that someday. No words, just photography.

But my other little sick man is still recovering from what appears to be a chronic infection of some kind. This is the third bout of it, and the meds didn't quite clean it all up, but he is improving and the gurgle sound is all but gone. He is drinking water well, a good sign, and his personality is just like the Samuelle I know-friendly, wanting companionship, non alpha. And yes, he is sitting on a chair in this photo which might lead you to the conclusion he is still in the house.

Um, yes, he is still in the house.

And he is fitting in just fine. I just felt after the chicken kills and the chilly nights, it was best to keep him in. I had intended-really, I did-to put him back out with Hazel and Gus in the goat barn where he resides, but really felt he wasn't progressing fast enough. I felt badly for Hazel, she and Sam sleep together. They aren't litter mates as Sam showed up as an adult years ago. But lately, Hazel greets me at the gate just as usual, and seems to be fine with Gus. The indoor clan seems fine with Samuelle. Well, all but Miss Peach who is part royalty. But she sleeps outdoors. Only Itty and Big Tony sleep inside.

We always suspected Big Tony was Samuelle's father, as they both came from the clan down the road, and the two of them are completely compatible. One funny thing is Sam tries desperately to 'join in' at dinner time. He gets to a food dish while Peach is eating-because in the barn that is how it works-you eat all smooshed together smorgasbord style. Well, not in the Big House. He is perplexed by this, that he gets batted at by any cat he tries to dine with. Poor fellow. He will learn.

Martyn has taken a shine to him. He calls him Little Tony, and Junior. He is the easiest cat to be around. I'm still force feeding him. We think he is eating in the night while we sleep, but I want to make sure he doesn't lose more weight.

We love and appreciate any of you who choose to give small donation-at various gift levels- to help me maintain the Misfits in the barnyard, including the strays. Thank you.

Dreaming of fields

As a transplanted midwesterner, I always find what is called "winter' here in Oregon more like what we Minnesotans would call "late spring". I find myself believing it is really summer-because there is green grass and buds on the trees, dafs poking up.

Now, this photo is from a summer gone by, up on Mud Hill. This time of year–no matter how sunny–finds the grass struggling to grow, and I yearn for the fields to be full of bud again. My sheep need the nourishment and eek out enough with hay supplementing them, but I prefer to have full bellies when they return to the barn.

In May I will be saying the sheep can't keep up and we might need to mow a field or two. In any case, the weather has been mild and sunny, and I am so enjoying every minute. Soon we will be walking on Muddy Hill, and the scene you see here today will be once again in my view, in the real.

"Pick your favorite" give-away

Leave your comment by January 24th, midnight. I have alerted The Puppet to get his special bucket out and he will be picking a winner this weekend! It was fun hearing all your comments!

This will be between you and me–there is no point in getting the barnyard involved, as it might hurt feelings. While my photographs of their daily lives might always show peace and tranquility, they are like any community-their are layers of feelings, greed for the extra feed, fear of the unknown...so why add to that.

So, if you've bought the book, or been gifted a copy-tell me which photograph you like the most. Leave your answer in the comment section below and one of you will get a free book, which you can gift it if you wish.

I love all of the photos-I chose them with an open heart and put a lot of time choosing them. They all can take me to a moment or place here on the farm. I will carry this book with me where ever I have to go in the future, to be able to step back here if needed. One of the joys of barnyard life, is having the privilege of walking behind the old goats that have lived here over the years. They waddle, limp and creek, but the view is so humorous, and sweet. I am constantly amused by the animals just being themselves. Lucky I am to have such scenery-and that is why I feel compelled to share it with you-as Joseph Campbell taught me years ago- the hunter that finds the jewel in the forest must bring it back to the village to become the hero. Now I am no hero, but I believe in sharing what gives me pleasure as it might bring someone joy or inspiration to go to their own forest and find their jewel.

Nightly muse

The night in the barnyard is in and of itself a muse.

I hope that years from now, if I'm taken away to live somewhere else–that I'll remember the nights here. I have momentary thoughts of years fast forward, and I am somewhere else, thinking of Apifera, the animals–maybe trying to remember names or the sequence of events–just as I tried to remember some college classmates today as I lay in bed. Will I be haunted by melancholy, or lifted up by those thoughts. I don't know–but the night and the almost full moon made me think of such things as I walked back from the barn.

Pig dream

Who knows what dreams mean, many of the metaphors are personal I suppose, but some might be universal. Paintings and art are like that too. I think my weekend had me thinking about many things-spring, for one. The pregnant sheep are starting to get big, due in early March. But it was wet, soaking wet-which came as sort of shock. I know, it's Oregon. But we have had a dry winter-cold, yes-but the temps are rising and the rains are back. Nothing like usual, but it's funny how two days of straight rain and wind gives one a case of the

"Spring will come"

sighs.

So much is going on with the Misfit book, and the upcoming book, ideas, projects in the house and farm-and then there is this sensation that I must get so much done before the real spring comes and carries me out to the barnyard for lambing and all that goes with it.

The main pig pen, where Doris and June live...wait...

I must tell you, "June" is actually "Pearl" but I keep calling her "June" for some reason, so I guess I will now officially commit and make a grand announcement that her name has changed to "June".

So, back to my thought on their pig pen. It is mud. They love it, and they have an island of hog fuel to get them off the mud, plus their sleeping hut. They have terrorized the hog fuel by digging into it in their piggie way, digging for worms and such so it is quite a mess. But that's pigdom for you. The rains mean it is always require the worst of my mud attire to go out and hang with them. They love to be belly rubbed and ear scratched, and I like sitting with them in their hut. So spring will mean more time with Doris and June.

I think maybe that is part of this piece of art–it's a pig dream, my pig dream.

High alert fowl

We have been on high alert after two chicken deaths last week. One was clearly a hawk, as I arrived up the drive and caught him in the act. It was my dear Golda-who skipped and hopped like no chicken I've ever had. I will miss her.

The second death happened that night, and although I first figured it was a hawk, the kill area seemed to be a raccoon, maybe several, as the feathers were spread in such a messy way. I suppose it could have been a bobcat, as we've had them, but it doesn't seem to be something a bobcat would have done.

So, much to their dismay, and mine, all fowl are contained in the hut runs and not allowed out to free range. I miss having the busy bodies running, pecking, scraping and working in the barnyard. But I would feel dreadful if I lost Priscilla or little Henny Penny who is elderly now.

I made bamboo floating ceilings to help keep a hawk from landing in the runs. I think they are a mix of "raggedy" and abstract. However at certain angles the duck hut looks a bit like lock down at a duck detention center.

I don't know a lot about hawks, or their territories. I guess all I can do is leave the fowl in for a few weeks and hope he passes through. The farm down the road lost about 20 hens this year- but to raccoons because his hut and fencing are mediocre and they were night kills. He agreed our night kill was not consistent with hawk or owl behavior, or coyote. We've never had a coyote in the barnyard. And when we get that new guard pup...oh there I went, I spilled the beans. You will hear more in mid February about that addition.

So I will try my best within my power to protect my flocks. I can't cover the skies. And I can't blame a hawk for being the hunter he is.

Right now

Right now, here. Go look at your right now, there.

Ellie + Friends to rep the book!

Joanne Rossman from John Ryan Johnson on Vimeo.

I am so excited to announce I am now part of Ellie Garber's group, Ellie + Friends. Ellie will be selling my book, "Misfits of Love" to independent shops around the country. The video above shows one of those shops [with the most wonderful name, don't you agree?] that just placed an order for my books. I think if you watch it, at about second 22, you will see why it is such a enjoyable fit [one of many reasons].

Ellie reps lines of cards and products that are unique, sometimes quirky, but always beautifully done-suited for the indie market and shops with unique flavors and personalities. Perfect for a Misfit like me, I'd say. She also reps one of my dear friends from Minneapolis-Jane Jenni- and I'm so happy to be on board with Ellie.

Book Give-Away!

A loyal follower of Apifera who has supported the many efforts to help "Misfits of Life" the book get published is having a book give-away over at her blog. You have until Saturday to write a comment on her post and perhaps take home a free copy of Misfits.

Visit her post to read all the details! I told her that I must alert the barnyard to all book give-aways, but always tell them they may not participate. The last time they won a book they immediately stashed it in the secret spot known only to The Head Troll-and what is the point of a hidden book, I asked them.

Hawk strike and so it goes

As I drove up our road to the house, I put the truck in park and looked to the left to get out of car.

"NO-o-o-o-o!" I screamed.

There was a one of my Buff Orpingtons, dead, and I cried out again,

"NO-o-o-o-o..." but this time it was a quiet sighing on my part, an understanding.

The brown mass standing over had flown up and out as I left the car, a red tail hawk, leaving behind beautiful red feathers and down from the hen.

I could not find her head–but realized with calmer examination it had been destroyed, the talons had most likely ripped it apart-a quick kill I can only hope, but think it was. I've held a lot of dead animals since living here. After the initial realization of what is before me, there is a scientific curiosity that comes over me. The spirit is not being disrespected if the remaining onlooker holds the body and examines, learns, ponders-and is amazed at the complexity of the feather structure or the myriad of tones in each wing.

I got Boone to the barn and there was an eery calm. The chickens often hang out in various areas of the two barns, but what was different is the roosters had also congregated and were laying low. Some of the hens were in the coop. I was too rushed to figure out who might be missing, but I was relieved to see the ducks in one piece and old Priscilla okay as well. But I haven't seen my last remaining Buff, and I hope she is there. The once three Buff Orpingtons were some of my friendliest hens, and we lost Clara some time ago to natural causes. The two remaining- Florence and Golda- were just so fun, especially Golda. I will be saddened greatly if it was her- I couldn't tell from her body as it was wet-the two hens have different shaped combs and the hawk destroyed the comb.

I am not mad at the hawk. And please don't write here about the hawk as a culprit-he was killing for food. I kill for food and would be a hypocrite if I separated myself out of the food chain- a food chain I am part of. In fact, a calm came over me within seconds of finding the hen. It was as if I was being held by air, with the understanding I often write about here on the blog- it was as it was, this act of Nature. I had no control over it, and never could have. We have free ranged our hens for years and I've never had a hawk kill before. We put our hens in at night, but hawks are always around. We had noticed a younger Red Tail in the Doug Firs behind the old barn some weeks ago, and Martyn saw it swoop in but heard lots of crowing and screeching and by the time he saw the bird lift off, the hens had scattered and the roosters were all prancing around–we think the roosters kept it from snatching someone.

But he's been watching, I guess.

Someone is always watching here, be it owl or upper field coyote-taking notice of many minute smells we humans miss or ignore.

The chickens stay near the barns but do venture out to the house area, some 50 feet from the main barnyard gate. The Buffs have been exploring there a lot–there is mulch and dead leaf areas that are perfect for their protein meal. I suppose maybe there were a few of them pecking around and they were more of a target than the barnyard. Who knows.

Part of my agreement here is to do my best under each individual circumstance–circumstances that are always evolving. I do what I can to make the animals free, but safe. I keep my dogs out of the barnyard, and fence so other dogs can't get in. But I can't cover the skies. I won't say I'm jaded, but I guess I thought a hawk strike would have happened by now, in 10 years, so I didn't worry that much. I used to worry about them in the beginning years when I'd see them high above and I was new to chickens and heard so many hawk strike stories from people. I would call up to them-

"Stay away from my hens!"

So it has happened. They chose to be a hawk today–not a character in a semi fictional story.

I will keep everyone in for a week or so. And I will hopefully take a head count and find my other Buff, and hope it is Golda. She would skip, not run, skip to me in the mornings and evening. Such a happy looking girl. Florence was nice too, but Golda was dog like.

Still, it is a good day. There are no bad days if I am breathing and I can look forward to this day and the next. Hard days, maybe. Not "bad".

Samuelle's sick room

Monday Update: Thanks for all the good wishes for Samuelle! He is still on meds, ringers [a fluid/electrolyte I give every 12 hours under his skin with a drip line] and force feeds, but his attitude is good and he is getting better-slowly. Still residing in his private suite in the house complete with steam room effects.

Samuelle spent the night in our bedroom bathroom, had a spa treatment of a steamy room to help the congestion. He's still not eating on his own so is being force fed. If he doesn't eat by Monday I'm afraid I'll have to start the electrolyte drip bag each day. He is getting liquid in his medicated food I drench him with, so hoping we can maintain his weight.

Poor fellow. He lifts his head up to alleviate his very stuffy nose, but the drops are helping. I hate to have him away from his barn mate Hazel, but the nights are chilly and I think at least one more night in the bath will help him. Last time he pulled through in the barn in a crate, but he's getting the royal treatment this time.

Thank you for those of you who have emailed support. Starting out the year with vet costs is par for the course-but your support is a counterbalance. I am so grateful I can do this.

I was thinking today how I really just enjoy tending a sick animal. I don't know what this is or where it comes from. It is rewarding to see them improve, and it also brings a new dimension to my relationship with them. I have tended animals that were inattentive, and after healing they realize I'm not so bad after all–they begin to transform how they interact with me, the human. I become an ally. Samuelle really likes being nursed, which makes a huge difference, especially with a cat. Having ended up in the ER while tending other cats in the past, I can tell you it is so much easier with a mellow dude like Sam. He hates the drops, but allows them without much claws in my hand defense.

Please remember your donations will also be reciprocated with either Misfit book or the farm's lavender-you can also opt not to get a gift, and recurring donations lasting a year are also available [and you'll get a book then too].

Vet care for Samuelle Noel again

Back last summer, one of the semi feral cats–Samuelle Noel– came down with a horrific infection which really hung on, requiring me to give him a drip line of electrolytes every day for 2 week,s and two shots of antibiotics. The film clip from back then shows you how horrible he sounded, and he had lost about 1/2 his body weight. We pulled him through.

The chronic issue seems to be back–and I rushed to get mild drugs in him last week, hoping it would help. With the holiday, there was no room to really get him to vet and she didn't want to give the hard drugs at that time, without seeing him of course. So, he's not as bad as he was, and I'm off to the vet now at 4:30pm to try to get stronger drugs to hopefully keep it from getting worse. He gained all his weight back, and his coat looks good- but he is not eating again.

This is a good time to let you know that all donations for the barnyard can now be made here on the blog. With the new year, I shut down the GoFund site-fees are less this way among other things. There are gift levels-including getting a copy of the book, or the farm's lavender- and now you can also subscribe to a monthly donation for as little as $5 a month. As stated before, all donations help defray the some $5-6000 of care for the Misfits [this does not take in our pets, horse or non adoptees].

No matter what, these animals will be cared for-but your support really helps, and is always appreciated.

Press: Pino is in Mingle Magazine

The little donkey and my homemade pie are featured in this issue of Mingle Magazine.

I was delighted to write the article and give photos for the piece, and even more delighted when I got my copy in the mail and saw Pino and got 3 full color spreads. Thank you, Mingle!

You can buy a copy of the magazine here. It is part of Somerset Studio and full of full color inspiration for all your mingling desire.

Fog friends

I went for my morning walk with the dogs and on the return walked part way up Muddy Hill. I haven't walked there in a while because we cross fenced it so the sheep could graze there certain times of year. That means we can't walk all the way up, until we add a gate to the cross fence.

I love it up there, in some ways it is my favorite part of the property. It reminds me of a painting, where we are creatures floating, hovering over the farm. The Savannah Oak grove houses multiple families of birds and rodents-and you can hear them working in the fallen leaves. A covey of quail is usually close by-hiding from the dogs-but ready to take flight if needed.

Stella and Iris were on Donkey Hill, their white coats sinking into the background. I was pondering fog- how I think of it as one giant entity that can cover miles at a time. But then I realized it is like dirt, it is little particles all clumped together into a white coating. I began to see it as individuals combined into a flock, just like the sheep.

New day, new kiss and the pig blossoms

It's a beautiful new day, a new year, and the sun is out. I started the day like most others, in the barnyard with my chums. Stevie the goat gave me a kiss-and those of you who have been fortunate to be on the receiving end of a Stevie kiss know this crippled giant gives the most sincere, kind kisses-pecks of friendship and acceptance placed quietly on a cheek or hand-wherever his lips first reach you.

The weather was slightly warmer than past weeks-good for the soul of both animal and farmer. Amazing what sun and 5 degrees can do-it seems to lift certain dark areas that might have lingered form the past year. All clouds are blown away, if for one day. I am always optimistic in general, but the New Year Day is one of my favorites. The past is that, the future is so....full.

The pigs got out to saunter in the sun. Rosie and Ernest are friends now. They sleep together in their massive hay bed, tunneled under the cover of nature's golden sheets- you can hear them under there as they get settled, like an old couple that grumpily lays down together, fighting a bit for leg space on the bed, only to finally settle and slumber as one. Stevie helped Rosie navigate after she first was taken in by Sanctuary One, and when they arrived here, he stayed by her side-after all, nobody really wanted to sleep near Rosie due to her tone. As she spent more days here and settled, I noticed pig and goat became more independent of one another. This is a good thing, it showed they were settling and expanding.

And then came Ernest. It was as if-as she watched Ernest be himself-Rosie realized,

"I am a pig too!"

And she continues to slowly blossom. She is still grumpy, but less so. And when Earnest runs to me for possible treats, finds none, but still hangs out for belly rubs, Rosie has taken note and she too is finding human touch to be...okay and less threatening. It took me years to settle in a new place, and so it goes with my grumpy little pig.

Happy New Year everyone!

And we shall take flight again

The anticipation of what is to come, the idea that dreams continue to take flight exhibiting themselves days, weeks or months later. And the chickens dance because light is added to the day. It is good we don't know the year to come-we would not be ready for it in one setting.

I must melt into each day's occurrences, sometimes crash through them, but always-revel at what happened.

And I must thank the many of you who follow along, either hidden or well in view, for because of you I can live here and do may art and writing, and care for the farm and animals. Thank you for your help, encouragement when needed, support in so many ways-I am truly appreciative.

Lessons from a donkey

I don't know about you, but I'm always glad for the holiday, and relieved when it is over. We had a wonderful Christmas though, spent with a small dinner at good friends, and my brother and his wife. It was not sad. I was wondering if i would go into a slight tail spin as this is the first holiday period without my mom.

I am living a life I chose to live-and it took me awhile to get to my farm– with the right guy, so I'm just grateful for each day. Each day I can still get up on a horse, or carry a bale of hay-that's a good day. I am surrounded by land and nature and that is where I feel the most confidant and optimistic. It is where I feel the closest to my parents or any creatures or friends that have left. I have so much richness in life.

I took note of the donkeys the other day. I think they are such good role models. In the cold, they walked on, endured and didn't complain. They take time to just stand around and be donkeys. I like to stand around sometimes and be me.

I'm so looking forward to a new year–with new ventures for the Misfit book, another book on the horizon and who knows what new Misfits might show up.

A moment

The fog this morning made the world monochromatic-beautifully toned in grays and whites. I walked the dogs up to the old cemetery. Then came a "swoosh", flapping, and fluttering. Out of the fog in the field to my left came a flock of birds- their blackness became focused as they flew towards us, only to slowly fade, first to grey and then to pure white as they disappeared back into the fog.

Annual Christmas Garland Festival!

A couple years ago, a kind friend of Apifera sent us a hand made felted garland, thinking it would be nice on a tree. She had no idea what it inspired in the barnyard-an annual day to celebrate the merging of animal, woman and one Dirt Farmer.

What do we do at this festival? Not much, except I always leave full of appreciation for this life and these animals, embraced by this farm on this specific spot. So many imperfections here which make the days rich with compromise and appreciation. I can not complain, nor do the animals.

It was the first festival for Ernest the pig and Little Moose and Little Goose-and Doris and June. As a child, I hated when I was forced to sing or do pagent things at school-so nobody is coaxed into wearing the magic garland. It is said that by wearing the garland for at least one minute allows the soul to cement some future dreams. So Little Goose jumped right in-that is so him- but I wasn't surprised that Little Moose felt like watching. And Pino and Lucia were feeling voyeuristic too-perhaps Pino likes to just be a donkey during the non pie months, I can't blame him really. Doris and June were very eager to eat the garland, and Old Rudy likes to suck on it like a binkie–so one Christmas miracle is the garland still exists- another indication of its magic.

Sit back, and enjoy the photos from this year's festival.

Working on magic

I am working on two new book projects, although have been focusing on a book about how I met Martyn, got to the farm and–well, you know what followed–donkeys, pie parties and chickens with pretty underpants.

I love this book. It is a book that has actually had many lives, and it almost has come full circle. I guess this often happens with a project. I find it interesting though that i am going back to the book the way I first envisioned it-before editors and agents at the time started putting other ideas into my head-to make it more commercial. They weren't bad ideas, but I feel much more convinced that this way is the way the book was meant to be.

This is a happy book, a magical book. I wrote a huge portion of it a couple year ago, and had it professionally edited and shaped by a good editor. We pitched that portion and it got turned down by many places. This new version is much more lifestyle oriented, versus the old version which was a memoir. This version will have fun recipes and lots of Apifera wisdoms. I forgot how much I loved the original story of how I left Minneapolis and met my next door neighbor–who happened to have the same last name as me–it is easy to forget that broken heart that I carried with me to Oregon, only to be healed by loved, friendship and homemade pie...and then Apifera let me blossom.

So stay tuned.

A fog salute

It was about 4pm when I buried BW yesterday, near the One Eyed Pug and others under the lilacs. It was quiet. The fog silences things. While it might seem very egotistical, I welcomed the fog like it was there to embrace me. It was as if all the trees rose to the occasion at hand and dressed in Black and White in B's honor, to wrap a cloth around him as he left. It was very beautiful-perhaps the most poignant funeral I'll ever attend.

In which I lose a dear friend, a very fine cat

I had to say good-bye to a dear friend. A comrade of theatrics, a warrior, a thief of meat on the counter, a lover, a survivor-a cat I have grown to love very much.

B.W. was euthanized today and I told him how wonderful our time together was, how compact that time seems now since he wandered onto Apifera in 2007 with a swagger no cat has ever outdone. I had been trapping, spaying and neutering the semi feral colony that had grown to about 25, and my energy to find the correct name for him was waning, so we started calling him BW for "Black White". It stuck but he had many nicknames as such a cat with such magnificence should –

Dub, B, BB, Mister Magnificent...

His personality and expression had grown even more entertaining in the past year after he lost a front incisor, making his upper lip cave in on one side.

Damn it, I'll miss this cat. He was one of the four privileged felines allowed in "The Big House" as they call it in the barnyard–but he always was put out at night, along with Miss Peach–only Big Tony and Itty Bitty have night time curfews.

He loved coming in for food, and lap sitting. He adored to sit on me and had a very loud humming purr. He also loved to eat, more than any of the other cats over the years, this guy loved anything–the stinkier the better. He was the only cat we've had around that would climb kitchen shelves to find a pork chop marinating and then walk into the living room with it hanging in his mouth, calmly strutting towards me like that black cat in the Loony Tunes. In fact, we mimicked that black cat in Looney Tunes as we spoke like how we thought BW would.

I've known him six years and he has come into the house with head wounds, broken teeth, blown abscesses and more-but I doctored him up and he always rebounded in style. He took my Dr. Doolittle techniques and seemed to show appreciation for each one. But this time, I had nothing I could do for him.

BW came in this weekend with a hind leg that appeared paralyzed. I assumed it was a stroke which can happen to older cats with thyroid issues. He did not appear in pain, so I made a Monday vet appointment since my clinic was closed. He was eating and drinking. By nighttime, he was in horrible pain and was ill too. He lost control of both legs, and they were numb to the touch. By morning, Xrays told us it wasn't a fracture, and other things told us it wasn't a stroke. I won't go into why we chose to let him move on, but it was a well thought out decision by me and the vet–there are layers of things going on in him, and we feel it is best for him and his quality of life. Treatments that might not help would have left him suffering at a clinic for days on end with limited positive results.

This is a cat that lives to be in and out. He was a stray that learned to survive outside and while he loved being in for certain night time communions, he loved to be out. In the past days of having in all day, carrying him into the litter box, He looked up to me like he always did when he wanted out or in–but this morning, both Martyn and I saw there was something gone in his eyes, a light had gone out. the vet saw it too. When I held him at the vet, he still looked up at me like he always did when I held him, but this time, i know he was asking for help.

It all happened so fast. But I can say this, I have cared for him well, and he has returned the favor by just being himself-the one and only Mister Magnificant–a cat that walked into a room like he was about to accept an Oscar or sign an autograph.

BW–I love you and will miss you. Thank you for coming to us.

Misfits warn of waning mail dates

If you want to gift a copy of "Misfits of Love" Healing Conversations in the Barnyard, don't get too comfortable-time is of the essence. The Two Book rate is still on. I'll be here Christmas week filling orders if needed, but the early bird gets the worm before the duck, as we say in the barnyard.

Living in a cathedral

I always liken the fields as open cathedrals, ready for worshipers of all denominations or non denominations, especially on days like today-frosted with pure white.

While the weather has created non stop hardship for many farmers, there are moments I have to remember to stop and breathe–in, and out. I'm lucky to work out of my home studio, at my pace, and to be able to take my morning walk surrounded by all this.

Today I spent a lot of time going through lots of old photos for a project- I looked at many images of the farm, and of me and Martyn and the animals–some are gone now but many are growing old with us. I had some overwhelming feelings as I looked at photos from our arrival in 2004–there were no real paddocks or gardens, the fields were overgrown,and it just looked so alien in a way. I realized just how wrapped up in Apifera I am now, we are joined together at this stage in life and I don't go anywhere without her. As I looked at myself–younger by ten years–with less midline, less wobbly neck, not only did I see how much I've aged physically, but how much I've evolved too. There were photos of art and things I was creating that just seem very foreign, like I had landed here and was evolving so rapidly that I was just trying each and every thing I could to stay focused. It was a time of upheavel-in a good way. But it was a huge transition to move here, not know anyone, be new to all the things we set out to do-farm, raise sheep, harvest lavender.

But it was all meant to happen, just as it did, and with the exact people and animals that came with it.

Time is going fast. It's been ten years in June since we moved here–what will the next ten bring to all of us?

While time goes fast, the days that make up these years will be filled with many beautiful slower, moments, hard times and lessons, but beauty in the faces of my sheep and the comfort of the melancholy fog. Melancholy brings our sensations to the outer planes of our skin, allowing us to be moved by even the minute detail of one leaf covered in frost.

Grumpy Farmer Syndrome

It's been horribly cold. As a Minnesotan I often get a bit cynical with the West coasters–a dusting of snow usually shuts everything down. But there aren't the same infrastructure resources here for winter weather, and heaven forbid the state consider...sales taxes to help with road crews for storms.

However, it has been one of the coldest snaps on record, and we have had to haul warm water twice a day to both barns and all paddocks. It is especially worrisome for the elders, the cold. I was relieved that everyone appears to have made it through, and we are hoping for a thaw tonight into the week, with rain coming, but at least above freezing.

The Bottomtums just go about their day, taking frigid baths and accepting the weather presented to them. What else can one do? I did leave them and Priscilla in their hut for two days straight, which was kept warm by their huddling body masses.

I think more than anything, hauling water creates the Grumpy Farmer Syndrome. Martyn stayed home in the cold too-not much a landscaper can dig in this weather-and I'm so glad he's been here to help. Now, if I was just hauling water to one or two buckets, that would be less grumpy accumulating. But I have ten areas to keep water in–so I have a lot of time to grow my grumpiness.

And my sciatic nerve got tweaked from hauling buckets. More grumpiness.

By night time I am so ready for a fire and a glass of wine and it makes it all the sweeter. But I forgot, I have to carry warm water to the multiple outdoor cats–more grumpiness.

So, I was watching the ducks, bathing, dipping and drinking water in the frigid cold. They did not dip a toe in to test the temperature, they leapt in. This is the only cure for Grumpy Farmer Syndrome-dive into the cold and get it over with.

I am less grumpy today, as it feels down right balmy at 30 degrees.

Buy and prosper with art...maybe

If you buy at the Two Book Special rate, you might be one of 8 people who will take home a print of art from the book [the flying pig is not in the book, and of course all art in the book is in full color, just to be clear]. If you hear from me after 12/15, you will get one of these single images sent to you. [I choose the image, so it is a surprise to anyone getting one].

Please remember that all sales through the month also help fight children's hunger. $2 of each sale is donated by me to No Kid Hungry. We are about 35% of my goal.

The comments coming in about the book are really wonderful. I am really excited for the new year to further expand the Misfits into the world. Feel free to leave a review at Goodreads, or email me what you think of the book and I will post first name basis] on the Misfit page.

Moosin' it

Yesterday-like today-was very cold. Moose ate food in the morning which was great, but his temp was very low. I called the vet and he said to bring him inside to warm him up. I made the bone head mistake of not warming his drenches in the morning before giving them to him-and I think that was the culprit.

So, I had a Moose in the house. He warmed up very fast and ate well last night and there is no coughing. I will continue his shots and antibiotics for three more days and then I think I can relax. Tonight it will be even colder so I am going to put The One Eyed Pug's old sweater on him, it should be a perfect fit. It will be bittersweet to see that sweater on him, without a pug in it.

Little Moose is so charming. I'm so glad it appears he is on the mend. But until the warmer air returns, I will not let my guard down.

Gift ideas of meaning Apifera style

Don't stress! I can share some simple gifts with meaning for your holiday gift giving. Of course, each thing you buy on this list does help me keep writing, helping animals, sharing story and art–so it is a gift to me too.

Buy a Misfit! For the person on your list that loves art and animal, or that has gone through the loss of a parent or loved one, "Misfits of Love" Healing Conversations in the Barnyard is a gentle choice. You can read reviews and see spreads at the Misfit site. And there is a Two Book special [buy more than two if needed] right now. I hand wrap each book in true Apifera style and sign the inside.

Original Canvases can be purchased in several places: through Sundance, through Adamson Gallery [view a PDF of the pieces that might still be available at Adamson] and through me. Right now, most of my pieces are with Sundance and the gallery. You can always look at my site and email me if there is a piece you like and I can direct you.

Art cards and smaller prints at Etsy.

You can help support The Misfits in the barnyard-old donkeys, elderly goats, ducks, a goose, old ponies and more by making a small donation [gift levels available]. Meet the many Misfits here.

Support my indie publishing venture by donating to help defray the cost of the first book-gift levels available.

Help end children's hunger by buying a book. Buy a book on the Misfit page and this month $2 will go to help fight children's hunger at No Kid Hungry. You can also go directly to the No Kid Hungry Misfit page and make a donation [but you don't get a book that way- some people made donations anyway, yay!].

When you love a Moose

I read once in a care taking/hospice book, to not say, "Don't go, stay with me," to a patient, rather say, "Stay as long as you need to."

I use that as my code. I've only broken my code once while at the farm-once while trying to pull Aunt Bea out of decline. On Monday, Little Moose was very ill–the night before he had seemed a bit off, and I gave him probiotics. But in the morning he was way off. His mouth was cold, but he had good color in his eyes and tongue. He wasn't down, but his breathing seemed odd. He wasn't eating. I had a sick feeling about it. Decided not to risk it but none of my vets were available for an ER call to the farm, so I drove him into one of my vets. No liver issue in blood work, no worms, no pain/tension in his gut. Could be a neurological thing, or pneumonia-the latter is bad. So we treated him for infection and fever and I brought him home for Apifera care.That was Monday night. Tuesday his temp was better, but he still wasn't eating or drinking. We continued med regime and electrolytes, and force feeding at night. But I was worried.

Some of you will remember how Little Moose landed here. My mother died in April, and my old pug right after that. I then lost two other of the elders in a short time span. Of course, this is part of aging on neglected elders–I understand. But I needed life. I needed youth. I wanted a gift for ME. Little Moose was born on my birthday, up in Washington to a trusted friend of the farm. I was honored she let me give this special fellow a home. They brought him down on Pino Pie Day last June.

I can't tell you how fond I am of this guy, as well as Goose–who was born on Martyn's birthday, and his client needed to find him a non breeding home; Martyn knew I wanted some youth, so we ended up with two youngsters and I named them Moose and Goose. They are also nicknamed The Monkees. Endless humor from both of them. Endless terms of endearment could flow from my typing onto this page–but on with the story.

So last night, I was feeling much better about Moose since his temp was down. But something just grabbed me while I was with him giving him his med regime. I took him into the hay barn with me so he could hang out with me, away from the chaos of The Misfit hay smorgasborg–and I could watch him while I did feedings. He seemed pretty strong, not declining, a bit more coughing but not a lot. No runny nose. He nibbled on hay. I force fed him some rice bran mixed with beer, my vet's suggestion. His temp went up slightly but I think that is normal. And I held him in between force gulps of his mash.

"You're my little knight in shining brown armor. You came to the farm for me, born on my birthday and you are suppose to get old with me and share birthday stories with me. Don't go."

I had a good cry, mashing my face into his. He tolerated the drama.

"This is so selfish of me, Moose, forgive me,"

Nature will do what she will do. I can intervene, aide, but I can't control it. I usually have a sense about things, an inkling of an outcome-but I didn't last night. I felt 'off'. I rode in the morning yesterday and felt 'off'. I got the trailer stuck on a hill in mud. I broke an egg in my jacket. I stuck the med needle into my thigh by mistake.

Maybe that's why I asked Moose not to go, maybe by asking it makes me feel like he has the power not to go, or that one uncontrollable outcome-no matter what it will be- will be my divine gift from Nature, this one time.

When I left the barn, the sky was so red! "Don't take him!" I said.

I'm getting soft.

And then this morning...


"Moose!" I said as I entered the barn. I could hear him, in his recovery suite, near Goose. It is my morning ritual. First I say, "Boone!" as I walk across the barnyard after I hear his knicker, then upon entering the barn, the first faces I see are The Monkeys and I say, "Moose! Goose!"

I had walked to the barn this morning in the 25 degrees temperature-very cold for here. Frozen, frosty, and a beautiful sun against one huge blue window. But what really lit up my face was seeing Moose this morning. He was looking up at me with the wide eyed look I know and love-the look of,

"Hi! Moose here! Good day, eh? Let's eat!"

He seemed so good. Active, ready to scamper. He ate a tiny bit of food with Goose, Ernest, Professor and Wilbur-his normal routine. I let him out in barnyard with everyone and he nibbled hay with the usual suspects. And the sweetest part-he waddled over to Old Rudy as only Moose can waddle, and hung out with him, just like he did on his first days and nights here. He always goes back to Rudy.

I watched him for 30 minutes and he seemed pretty good–for the first time I am openly optimistic. He still coughed with his drenches, but that isn't that unusual. And his temp was really low, but it's cold. He has another week of meds which we will continue [always finish a med regime, FYI] and I am hoping for continued goodness.

I am now trying not to look at every goat in the place and think they look 'off'. I suppose kindergarten teachers go through this–one kid goes down with a fever and she envisions them all as possible next victims.

Hail to Moose! Little Moose! I will say it again to those of your reading–I don't want him to go!

Special Two book rates through 12/15

The Special Two Book rate has been popular, so I am leaving it up through 12/15. But now you can also double and triple the order. These prices in the drop down menu below INCLUDE USA S/H. Normally each book is $27.50 [includes USA s/h. Int'l orders will be notified of additional shipping fees after they buy]. And this month $2 of each sale goes to the No Kid Hungry campaign [we have raised 20% of our $500 goal].

Remember, each book is lovingly wrapped Apifera style with hang tags and Apifera embellishments. I sign the inside of the book and leave the hang tags blank unless you give me a name.

If you only want single copies, visit this page at the Misfits.

2 Book quantities

1 order [2 books] $43.50 USD 2 orders [4 books] $86.00 USD 3 orders [6 books] $123.00 USD