Awakening to quiet beauty

Awaking to morning after there has been considerable snow at night is always a magical experience for me, perhaps it takes me back to childhood, when a new snow meant no school, sledding and baking cookies.

It was a heavy snow of about six inches, caking the branches of every tree. And the sky color this early morning was very intense blue. It will be gone soon as its warm, and fifties are forecast for next week, so I will relish in it today.

There is a sound to the snow. But it also leaves a blanket on the interference of the noises of the human world going by the front of the farm. As much as spring and gardening and all the joys that come with warmer seasons, I do love winter for giving me quiet and less intrusion.

M'Lady

I never tire of M'Lady Apple, never. She seems to grow more distinctive every day. In fog, sun, full moon or snow she stands strong, gracefully reaching out, like a mother seeking the child.

We welcome another old girl into the club

I was alerted about an elder cat that had recently come into the shelter...which led to...well, bringing her home to Apifera.

Her name is Laci and she is going on 14, and is also on thyroid meds. She hates taking the pills, so fortunately there is a cream I can put on her ear twice daily. She is very accepting of that.

Laci settled in really quickly. I was pleased because at the shelter she was curled in a lump in her cage. I was happy to see how content she seemed right off the bat. Noritsu was the first to greet her-which seems to be his new role in the Cat Suite. So far everyone is getting along just fine.

I guess that somewhat surprises me, how everyone has acclimated so quickly. Maybe because our cats out West were more feel, these guys just seem like they were meant to all come together.

I'm going to go out later today and knit with them. The Old Kitty Knitty Club will be having another knitting day in March. We are making wrist warmers and then will share them with our elder friends next winter. People have asked if they can partake in the Old Kitty Knitty Club from afar, and you can knit some wrist warmers and send them to me and next fall I'll hand them out to our elder friends.

[If you like the work we're doing with animals and elders, please consider a donation. Thank you!]

Opie watches Gene Kelly...and we lose Richard

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Feb 15, 2018 at 10:50am PST

Opie and I had a therapy visit with our elder friends in Wiscasset this morning. We were a little early and when we walked in their was a Bingo game going on in the kitchen.

"Hello, Opie!" I heard some of them yell out.

Opie and I meandered to the parlor where we hold court and Sylvia and Ruth were watching an old Gene Kelly movie. They have a pretty big screen and Opie was immediately mesmerized by it. We all got a chuckle out of it, and while he commenced with sharing his love with his friends, he kept stopping, and turning to the screen to watch. I am quite pleased his first film experience was one of class-Gene Kelly dancing is a good introduction for little Opie into entertainment.

Soon the other elders arrived. Joe was all gussied up to go out to lunch with his son, and a movie. He explained his purple coat was from his war time in Korea. He was in good spirits as always, he always makes everyone's day...such a fun man, such a good spirit and attitude.

A young girl was also there, of special needs. She comes to play Bingo with her friends and she was so excited when they told her a goat was coming. She asked me if Opie could be her friend, and of course I said, "Yes," then she hugged him. I asked if I could take her photo and she obliged and I said I'd find a way to get her the photo. She asked,

"Can you be my friend?"

"Yes, I can, and I am," I said. She beamed, and shook my hand in such earnestness. So meeting her and watching her interact was really wonderful and I think it was one little root being exposed as we evolve our work with elders. I want to do more with special needs, and today was a reminder that these things -if I let them-evolve at a graceful pace, depending on the outward branches from the tree I'm sitting in.

I think Bingo and the Opie visit might be a lot for them. Mary started falling asleep.

Last visit, I knew Richard had gone off somewhere. We are never told where, nor are the residents. It's the way it is in any elder facility, no matter how small. We didn't know if we would return, be sent to another place where there would be more nurse care...or...other things.

These people don't really fear death, I don't believe. They've seen it over and over, just as I have, and you reading have too. By the age these people are, they know what is coming. But I do think, speaking only to some of them in casual manner over the last year, that they all want one thing- a good death. We all do. I want that for them too.

I have grown attached.

When I arrived, I always do a quick scan and check in my head as to what faces I see, and what faces aren't there. There are only 8 residents there. Since I know them now, and we have a comfortable relationship, I asked if they had heard anything about Richard.

"He died," Evelyn told me quietly.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry," and I held her hand.

"But he isn't suffering now, he was such a nice man."

I'm so glad I got to spend as much time as we did with Richard. He was wheelchair bound and when we first visited, he didn't stay long, he didn't smile. Next visit, a bit more of a smile. And then...he was calling Opie over each visit. Richard was the one who got to hold Opie's first birthday cake while we sung to him.

I know that many of the people I get to know, and grow fond of, will die. It's going to be..tough sometimes. But I will look at it in one way-they go out loved, and feeling like someone cares, be it helping them get dressed, or taking time to bring over a cunning' little goat, as Evelyn says. I'm just glad I can do this.

I really love these guys.

[please consider a donation to our non profit effort]

Kayla, a very special, special needs child, our new friend

The always graceful Jeanne

One of my favorite photos of Joe-his look here, grabs me

I wasn't privy to this conversation with Joe and Evelyn

Mary dozed off, a morning of Bingo and then Opie is a lot

Mary and Opie

Sylvia just loves Opie

I've seen love expand, they said their love was bigger

When my father died in 2008, I was flying home from his burial and as I was up in the clouds I felt like he was with me. He had been with me the entire last night of his life-although he was in Minneapolis in home hospice care and I was on my farm in Oregon. I had made the choice to stay put, until he died, and then I would fly home. It was a hard decision, I went back and forth, but I knew I had already said goodbye to my father on my last trip, some three months earlier. We said goodbye with our eyes, and it was a very personal moment, a moment between him and me that nobody experienced but us. We knew in March, sometime after my fiftieth birthday, he had a matter of days, not weeks. He could no longer talk on the phone nor did he want to. His little dog who slept with him, separated from him days before the final moment. So on the afternoon I got the call that it was probably going to happen that night or by morning, I opted to sleep in the guest room at our farm. That night, I talked to him all night, in whispers, and I told him it was okay to let go, that everyone was going to be okay.

I went in and out of sleep, but would awake from a dream, [or was it a dream?], where I had him there with me. He felt tormented, like he wanted to stay but he couldn't. I don't know if he felt he had not said enough before he left, he was not one for acknowledging certain things which led to difficulties at times, in our relationship. But I always loved him, and he me, that was never in question for me. I just think he wanted to tell me more, and he was saying it all that night as perhaps he was floating in an out of this realm.

I flew home in the coming days and asked to see the ashes- but they had been left in the trunk of the car, in a secure garage, as we would be burying him at Fort Snelling the next day. I was appalled they had left his ashes in the trunk. They had all had many weeks to adjust to this inevitable departure, since they were in the thick of it. I understand. But I waited until they were all in bed and snuck down to the garage and retrieved the ashes, and placed them near my bed that night. His dog slept with me too.

I found out a year later, from my mother, that on his final day, when the door would open and he heard a woman's voice [it was my sister-in-law], he would say, "Is it her, is it Kack [my nickname]?" This pretty much smashed my heart, but my mom was telling me that because she wanted me to know he was thinking of me. She had actually told me I should stay home until he died. But the night I speak of above, it made even more sense.

I cherish this note from him. He was a real letter and card writer-not just to me but to the many of his colleagues he had all over the world since he travelled for his job as the international architect//designer for 3M. I still have his address book. written in his own hand, with people from all over the world. I can't bare to toss it, I just like to look at it periodically. He worked there until he was 75, when they slowly pushed him out. It was painful to watch, and I think it caused many issues for him in his final ten years that he didn't have the tools to address in a healthy way. I remember sitting with him on his couch, months before he would die, and I told him he was such an excellent draftsmen and drawer [he was] and he said in the most humble and genuine way,

"Do you really think so?"

There it was, the wounded heart he had carried around since childhood abandonment, four years in the Pacific as a Marine on the front lines at age 17, and all the other losses he incurred....there was his heart, just pure and open and uncynical, asking me for reassurance.

I miss you, Bob. And you're okay, and I'm okay, we both know this now, for sure.

So when I was on the plane back from his burial, I not only felt him all around me, in the clouds, the air, everything, I remember thinking,

"My God, the love expands."

And it does.

The other night I was watching Letterman interview George Clooney and they both addressed how the love they felt when their first children were born was like no other love they had felt. Letterman said, something to the effect of, you can have strong love for your mother, spouse, friend, etc, but when he had his child he said no other love compared to it...it was bigger than any other love one can have in life.

On the one hand, I can imagine this. As someone who cares for animals -who are not my children nor have I ever looked at them as children, ever-I know my mama bear comes out in me when they are sick, bad, or dying. I often think about how my relationship with Martyn has evolved over time, expanded, into being true love-letting the other be himself, letting me be myself in a place of strength, not fear or rivalry-but also I have an intense desire for him to be safe and happy. I do not question that anyone would feel this way, that the love of a child is a different kind of love. But, I think it leaves out something important, all love expands if it is genuine love. While I don't have a child, I think the sensation of feeling love expands is like that of the parent.

And it doesn't really matter. Because love is love. Love is everything, in the beginning and in the end. Not to mention in between.

When I'm terrified, I look to Matilda's eyes

"I've been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I've never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do." {Georgia O'Keefe}

I pretty much feel this way too. I have moments of deep doubt, or fear, of the future, about what I am doing or not doing, about what will become of me, and Martyn, our earth, my animals, is anyone listening or looking at my art, is any of it enough?

Old Matilda and the animals, along with Nature, reel me back to a more compassionate view of both world and self. It is all about the now to them. Is there food, are they safe, do they have their herd, do I show up-those are their questions.

I think it is human to be terrified the minute you leave the womb, maybe even before. I imagine out little human brains floating around in mother thinking,

Something just doesn't seem right and boom, you are born. No choice, human-wise. It's the soul that must propel us outward into the unknown frontier. Like leaving the warm house every morning to feed the animals, and the cold hits my skin, I could retreat, but there is so much life out there relying on me, and I get so much each morning helping them.

So Matilda's soul is right there for all of us-in her eyes. Can you see it, feel it? She's been through some stuff, like any of us. But she shows up each morning, just like I do, like you do. We are  a team of possible terrified-ness. But we choose to go on, and seek out calm. For me, the calming these days comes from just showing up, and working at what I love be it art, writing, or animal therapy work...or simply relishing my food bite by bite.

Even in her photograph, Matilda's eyes seem to mesmerize her viewers.

Wilbur the Acrobatic Goat has a party

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Feb 11, 2018 at 8:21am PST

He requested a hay party, no cake, which was somewhat of a relief since the weekend has been full. He is Wilbur, Wilbur the Acrobatic Goat, who came to us many years ago, when we adopted him along with old Granny the goat. I couldn't resist taking Wilbur home too, he was so lovely and a beautiful brown. It was only after he had lived with us awhile that his true nature and talent as an acrobat came out.

Wilbur is nine today. It took me aback. Time is just...fleeting. Perhaps it is the fact too that in a month I will enter another decade, a decade that is the beginning of the end of the party.

"This isn't about you, it's about me, it is my birthday!" Wilbur just yelled. He also did a flip over Earnest the pig...he still is nimble, although he too, like me, is showing his age.

"EHEM! I said this is all about me today, not you!"

So, raise a glass to a fine goat, a wonderful, happy, pretty well behaved goat, except when he' not. We love you Wilbur!

{Wilbur is one of many Misfits we've taken on here and your donations help us continue our work with elder animals, and people. Thank you.}

It could be yours

You can help Apifera, and maybe adopt this archive 20" x 20" print [value $195].

All you have to do is donate $10. Every $10 gets your name in Pino's bucket, and at the end of next week, he'll pull a name out of his bucket. You can donate by check too if you wish, or go to the donate page. I will be adding all donations to the Barn GoFund site [if you donate there directly that is fine too].

The print is called "Bird Greets Young Tree".

If you do want to send a check, please email me so I know it is coming and I'll make sure your names gets put in Pino's bucket.

And so it begins...The Old Kitty Knitty Club

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Feb 7, 2018 at 10:37am PST

As you know if you've been following me over the years, I get many brilliant ideas, some of which fizzle, and some that go on to have a life of their own, like the time I thought it would be fun if people sent my donkeys aprons-we know how that took on a life of its own.

And I have an inkling that the Old Kitty Knitty Club is not going to fizzle out soon. We had our first small gathering yesterday, just three of us...always good to start small....it makes it more intimate too. And I had never had a group of people in the cat suite so needed to see how that went. The room and table are perfect for 3-4 people so I think that is a good choice right now. We really had fun too.

The idea behind The Old Kitty Knitty Club was that I wanted to find a way to bring people into the cat room to socialize with them, but also bring some good out of the room. And I love knitted wrist warmers. And I want to do more knitting but actually MAKE something. And I wanted something to give back to my elder friends Opie and I visit. See how my mind works? We will be gathering and knitting wrist warmers, and at the end of the year or whenever we have enough, I will gift the wrist warmers to our various elder homes we visit.

I would also love to be using our fiber from our CVM sheep. I have about 8# of washed CVM fiber [uncarded/uncombed] and another 7# of Assumpta's beautiful Blue Leister washed fiber. I am also open to having someone spin the fiber for me and give me yarn back in exchange for keeping some themselves, and then I could make wrist warmers. I'm afraid doing all the spinning and such through a facility is going to be cost prohibitive-but it's so gorgeous, I refuse to waste the wool. If I can't make that work, I might just hand felt it into wrist warmers. We'll see. I also use the wool to make Bird Balls, or bed warmers if needed for the animals-so fear not, it is not wasted.

I was really interested to see how the cats would react. As I suspected, Papi was all about it! And so was Noritsu who I have to tell you is such a wonderful guy they all are-but Noritsu clearly had a home and was loved, and really likes to have people around. He's not a lap sitter, at least not yet, but he approaches newcomers and when I am in the room, he is interested in being loved. So Noritsu and papa thought we had created this party just for them. I guess maybe Papi is now the President of The Old Kitty Knitty Club and Noritsu is Social Secretary. I will have to have some wool ball protectors next time! Yume acted like I knew she would, slinking off to a cubby-BUT! nothing like when she arrived, and what pleased me is she went to be in the cubby with Tig, and she didn't try to bury herself in a blanket like when she arrived. Anna sat up on a ledge observing everything, completely in control of her space.

People have asked how they can become members of The Old Kitty Knitty Club from afar:

• Knit some wrist warmers, make a hand tag with your name/location and mail them to Papi, President of the Old Kitty Knitty Club, Apifera Farm, 315 Waldoboro RD, Bremen, ME 04551 and they will be given as a gift to one of our elder friends when Opie and I visit
• If you harvest your own fiber, you can donate small quantities of wool for wrist warmers
• Visit the Pinterest board I've started for knitted wrist warmers

So stay tuned, we will be having another get together in the coming weeks. 

Noritsu really likes this idea

The elder cats preparing for guests

A mystery, inside out

What I love about Maine, the physical part of Maine...it seems to be opening me up to deeper mysteries. I am listening. I'm not sure how much of this mystery is relevant to anyone else, but I sense I'm being further called.

I did this piece a day ago. I painted the background, and let it sit for an hour I came back in and added clouds and the little open gateway.

I sat and stared, as "Tempest" played, a Bob Dylan cd. I just sat and melted into the painting.

Did it need more? I sat some more.

I left it alone. But I felt akin to it, I felt complete satisfaction. Sometimes you feel satisfied with a piece, and it is for reasons that don't lead to the most optimal work you have left inside of you. Sometimes, in rare, intense moments, you feel satisfied with a piece on a much more spiritual level-and sometimes those pieces get sold, or they stay with you for reasons you aren't sure of. I always feel my work is in the process of making the art, I'm the conduit and all that, and then I let it go after birthing it. "Don't get attached to the final result", I always say, or you get stuck, or you start relying on a tried and true formula in a piece over and over.

It seems the pieces are wanting to be sparser of late, even quieter than before, more muted.

I came back to the piece and sat with it. I felt it was telling me something, something I might already know unconsciously....that is usually the way–the inside knows much sooner than the outside.

This is a deeply personal piece, personal in a way I haven't fully comprehended yet. Maybe I don't have to. Maybe I do. It's the mystery of painting and art. But also, I think it is the special place I am in right now-not only the physical location, but the time of my life-sixty is a month away-and also the times our world is in. I've been sharing publicly-so much-since my blog started in 2006, and maybe this is responding to that.

I shall wait. For now, it is like this painting is my soul living on the outside of my physical body, and I'm grateful it came around. I will listen to her.

Dreary day...stuff yourself into a dog bed

It is a dreary day. The beautiful snows we've had this week are now being rained on, and it is grey. I have been in a quiet little funk all day, but...take heart, I say to myself, I will have soup tonight after a hot bath, some tea, and to bed early. I really just want to get in bed today, I don't usually feel like that, but today the relentlessness of the rain and grey is getting to me, plus I'm tired.

I should just follow Muddy's lead and try to squish myself into a pug bed!

The Nose has a special public service announcement

When The Nose speaks, we listen. White Dog greets me everyday, wind, rain, sleet or snow. I guess he could be a mail person, although he might get distracted and do some walkabouts on his delivery route.

I always take time to commune with him, thank him for his service, and we look into each other's eyes in silence, or at least without words. I often tell him my mantra,

"Everything will be okay."

This is what I told all the animals as we prepared to leave the old farm for our long trip to Maine, and I still continue to say it to Benedetto. I think it is more for me than him, of course. I remember those days of reality sinking in, that we were in fact leaving our home for the unknown, and saying my mantra while looking in Ben's eyes soothed me and therefore him. These dogs are so telepathic, more so than any I've worked with.

So this morning The Nose was right there waiting.

I let him into the front paddocks to be with Marcella today. Everyone gets a bit bored, cooped up, in all the snow days. In the photo below, White Dog is standing in the area where the new barn will go. It will butt up against the other barn. I will be trying to come up with more fundraising fun in the coming weeks, as a down payment will be coming due soon. Remember, every dollar of the first $10,000 is being matched by The J&J Stanley Foundation [hoof stomps and pig squeals].

This barn fundraiser is a big undertaking-but will be crucial to our ongoing work. It will be so wonderful to have more stall space, and it will take pressure off the hay barn too. I already have ideas to improve and alter Her Royal Highness's suite. There might even be room for a giraffe, or elephant, who knows.

White Dog stands in the area where the new barn will go.

Once we left a farm

"Once We Left A Farm" available through the shop

I lived on a farm once

far away from this one

It had dirt and sky and wood

just like this one

It had old friends of feather, bone and fur buried in her arms

so does this one

Things were big there and wide open like a stage without curtains

but here the stage is smaller, with a crack of light, stage center

Neither is perfect, neither is permanent

One smells of the coastal range, fog and wood

The other of the sea and beach paths of blueberries

There were bald eagles there who fished from our river

There are eagles here too who lunch from our marsh

But when you leave one farm for another

You wash off the dirt, pack the hoe, load up the truck and look back once

Only to find it's still there in your peripheral vision

While you plant the seeds for the sunflower patch

Strategically located near the small graves

Just like before

Today's dragon wisdom

Paco eats a parade

"I want to be in the front!" said Lucia.

"It's okay, she's the youngest, let her go first," said Paco.

So Paco had his birthday party this morning. He requested an Animal Cracker Parade Cake, which requires no baking-but don't be fooled they are actually rather problematic to make since the guests often follow you around while you make the cake.

Like most donkey birthday parties, it was short. Once the cake is gone, that's it. But there was a lot of good chewing going on.

Paco has been so proud all week, sharing his poems, and helping Apifera bring in some needed donations. He likes to be helpful in any way he can, in between getting into donkey mischief. He said he is working on a special birthday poem that I'll post for him as a final thank you over on his birthday page which ends tonight.

We are so happy Paco was born.

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Jan 27, 2018 at 8:28am PST

Paco's Poem

Paco has been enjoying sharing his poems each day during his birthday celebration week, and so have I. This weekend we will have a Cookie Parade for him and we are happy it will be a bit warmer. Paco is also very proud that he has helped raise $390 so far to help Apifera, and grateful. His birthday celebration page stays up until this weekend.

They had lives, and still do

Opie and I visited our elder friends yesterday in Wiscasset and we were happy to have Martyn join is. It was a very nice get together, and I found out a lot this time around about our friend's former lives when they were younger.

I am not sure if 'former life" is the way I should describe their younger years. It implies it is gone. But those past lives are carried along with them as they age and enter their final years. When I look back at my twenties when I lived in NYC and worked at an ad agency, it does feel like a different person-and of course in many ways, I was. But all those experiences formed who I am now. When I talk to the elders, I want to always strive to see the entire person that has formed over the years.

I've been going to this particular elder home for some time now, and felt comfortable yesterday steering the conversation a bit. We were talking about one of the Maine islands one of the residents grew up on, and that led to finding out where others came from. I knew some of their home towns, but what a surprise to hear about Ruth, a very quiet woman but one who has opened up a lot. She was from NYC, and she was a graphic artist and worked for many magazines. We pondered how we might have passed each other on the street in the '80's when I lived there as we both worked in midtown. And she lived ten blocks from me on the Upper West Side. I also found out that Jeanne was a dancer and travelled with an entourage around the east. She danced full-time until she married. I asked if she ever danced in NYC and she had, and she told me she liked visiting there because her sister, also a dancer, lived there.

"She was quite well known," Jeanne told me, and her name was Claire Luce which sounded so familiar. I told her I'd look her up. "She danced with people like Fred Astaire," Jeanne said. Jeanne always comes to Opie's visits with red lipstick on, and lots of red scarves or sweaters. She has a sense of style and reminds me of how my mother always looked her best as she aged. It made sense knowing more about her background.

When I got home I looked Claire Luce up, and was amazed to see what a famous person she was, dancing with Fred Astaire and Ziegfeld to name a sample. She was often in the papers and had quite the career. She died in 1989 at the age of 85 and was survived by Jeanne.

It all made me think about what role I am playing on these therapy visits-what is my role, what should my role be, or not be. I know that I've talked to them, and other elders we visit, about the annoying way many people ignore elders, or treat them like invalids, or babies, or people that simply have no new ideas or nothing to ad to life or conversation. I feel one of my roles is to listen, and encourage them to share, and I really want to hear their stories. I think that is why it is all working, this therapy visit gig, because I really do want to hear their stories. I'm not doing it for brownie points, I just like old people and their bag of life they have waiting to be opened.

I think another one of my roles is quite simple-to just be me.

I don't pity them either, instead I empathize with them. There is great wisdom in aging, but also great cruelness at times-the loss of physical abilities when the mind is still sharp, the loss of friends and mates, the inability to care for oneself, the fragilness of bones, or the whispering of the family on what to do with grandpa. The naysayers, 'You're too old to have another dog..." that elders are confronted with. I think more than anything, elder people of all abilities want to be treated like adults, like fellow humans. Just as a teenager wants his parents to see he is capable of doing things, so do elders. I absolutely cringe when people talk to elders like they are babies, or not in the room.

I noticed that Richard was not in our get together. I never ask where someone is-but I was thinking it. Sometimes someone just doesn't come to an Opie day because they are at an appointment, or they are visiting someone. But Joe told me about Richard-he had been sent somewhere to receive care that the residence could not give him. And they didn't know if he'd be back, or he might have to go live at one of the other five homes. We talked about what a nice man he is, how it takes him a bit to open up, but how he started coming to Opie days regularly and smiled a lot. Nobody knows where he is-that is how it works, it is a confidentiality thing in these elder homes, it is the norm. At some point, if he ends up elsewhere, they will be able to write him, or he might come back. I hope whatever happens, I can visit him with Opie.

It is part of this. They leave, one way or another. Just like the old animals we take on, just like our beloved family members, just like the leaves and old trees. All things must pass, all things do pass. Once you really understand that, it makes life much richer, it makes more sense-the death part. It is part of it...the big it.

So it was an Opie visit with many lovely moments-like when Opie figured out there was this beautiful sunbeam streaming in through the floor to ceiling window of the old home, and he just stood in that sunbeam, barely able to keep his eyes open. In the background, Ruth was dozing off too. I just love that photo.

Paco's kite in a tree...and a venting of sorts for manners

Paco is still writing poems daily. He does this all the time, maybe not this frequently, but he wanted to help Apifera in his own way, to share love, poems, and help raise some money if he can. So I am posting photos and his poems, a conversation or two, over on a one-week page in his honor. Visit and partake if you are inclined.

I had long sit down with Paco today, I could use the soothing. I am finding some people to be very...impolite...when it comes to voicing their desires. It seems that many people are so tightly wound these days, angry really, that if they get an invite from a little donkey to join his birthday celebration, rather than ignore it-like I and many do daily on social media when we get a zillion requests-instead a percentage of people feel the need to leave a large print post on his birthday page explaining,

"Don't send me these fundraisers any more, sorry, I can't bare them."

Now if this had been from a stranger, I would have deleted her from my friend's list and walked away-when I create a fundraiser on FB it is public, but I am prompted to invite all my Facebook friends on my list-there is no way to create segmented lists on a fundraiser. And if you don't invite your friend's list, nobody is going to see it. On top of this, I do the usual posting on my own page. I always seek a balance of regular posts with fundraing posts, and you can't please anyone. This is someone I had respected for her art, and vice versa, for over ten years, and we have met in real life. I have always shared my art and book news with her, and she has always sent me promos. I have also been very generous with sharing her work online, and that was mutual. I am much more active online than she is however, and I now run a 501[c][3]. I was shocked that rather than private message me, she put this comment directly on little Paco's birthday fundraiser page where he was been having fun posting poems and photos. At first I thought maybe she was being funny, so I wrote her. I told her the only way to ensure she never see anything again, since she clearly sin't that savvy about how to work with her FB settings, was to let me unfriend her, that was really the only way I knew to ensure she never saw my posts if they were that bothersome to her. She replied that was fine, then said she "loved my posts, but she couldn't bear my constant fundraising efforts."

I was taken a back. And yes, hurt. I analyzed my marketing efforts, reviewed some discussions I'd just had with a marketer at a non profit help group, and even wrote them again and asked their opinion. They said if anything, I could increase my promoting and asking for money.

Oh well, it's her loss, and her desire, she is blocked now so god forbid she get a glimpse of one more poem from a little donkey, or a post about an old goat, or photos of old ladies holding Opie.

If any of you are bothered by my marketing, please let me know-I will delete you from my main data base, Instagram feeds, newsletters and Facebook-I don't have a problem with it. Why this person could not have handled it a bit more lovingly, I don't know, especially since she is a freelancer herself.

But the incident is dead to me now.

And Paco continues, as I speak, to pencil his poems on paper, hand them to Benedetto who sticks them on the fence post for me. n fact, one just blew my way,

"Don't let the poorly chosen worded ones
Stop our funs."
Love, Paco.

Paco's week long birthday celebration...yes, with poems

Paco wants to help, which is very much like him. As you know he is our resident poet, so all this week through next Sunday which is his birthday, he will be sharing poems and I will be sharing lots of Paco-isms.

Our goal is to celebrate this once shy and unconfident creature coming into our life, after we adopted him out of an overcrowded situation. It took two years to help him learn to be confident and behave with manners, and I'm glad I didn't give up-he just needed time and a consistent human presence to evolve. He has a big heart and is a very wonderful soul... and a wonderful poet.

Paco has set up a week long birthday page on Facebook where you can read his poems during the week and celebrate with him. I'll be sharing lots of Paco-isms too.

We love you, Paco!

Sit quietly and don't add anything

"Red cardinal morning" available at the shop

I had struggled with this painting this past week. It started out with all sorts of things in it, like I had tried to combine a weeks' worth of visual stimulations into it. I liked it, but each day I changed the painting. I covered up the woman sitting on a rock, and the donkey in a shed. I covered up the woods in the background, and other details.

I came to this, and wondered what I needed to add to it.

Then I stopped, sat quietly, and realized this piece was just a beautiful moment that I had had that morning, a second that breezed by and my heart felt it, and I was able to recreate it in art without even thinking. If I think too much with paintings...things can get way too complicated.

It's tempting to 'add' things to more abstract pieces. A bird, a donkey....a barn with a rabbit...

But sometimes if I allow myself to be quiet, I don't need to add anything. I love this piece.

Opie bucks some hay, Boone celebrates Christmas again, and all is well

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Jan 20, 2018 at 10:40am PST

We brought in another 150 bales of hay today. I had purchased 420 at summer harvest but with the extreme and long lasting cold I doubled my output, so felt safer bringing some in now, and with the remaining bales we have about 300 and will get through safely until summer harvest.

Getting hay in the barn is one of the most satisfying, and comforting things to anyone with animals. I always take a big happy smile-sigh, glad that there is no need to scrimp on giving out hay. When we first arrived in Maine, we had trouble finding good hay but now are really happy with the two farms that supply us-and buck it and stack it. I'm done bucking hay! My shoulders are all messed up from all those years harvesting lavender, and of late, I've had real issues and pain doing certain movements. I will not quit moving, that is the death of a person, but I do have to do things more cautiously, deliberately and slower. So I just sit and chat, or listen to Boone eat while the young guys buck.

Boone loves hay delivery day. I think to him, hay delivery day is like Christmas to a little kid getting a pony. There are always broken bales so the animals get extra treats, and today we had to restock some bales near Boone, temporarily, and he was in hog heaven. Once we have the new barn, hay storage will be even easier.

We moved some hay to the front barn, Opie's barn, where the pigs and Marcella, Moose and Goose, Friede and Tripod, and the chickens...and the old cats all live. Opie was a real helper today. What a little monkey he is, I love that darn goat.

Visit the donation page to see how you can support our efforts at Apifera.

Daily love fest

Their wool coats keep them warm

All is well after we got some more snow, temperatures are rising and I swear I smelled some spring in the air. A girl can dream. Here are some faces you've come to know in love, spending their days as they should, true to their own souls. And the new elder goats have been named! Girl George for the hermaphrodite, Frieda [which means 'elf strength] and Else-they are all wonderful goats, I love them.

Hilde on the left and Friede on the right

Hughie never tires of sun naps

And the White Dogs get their weekly wolf play date

Wool! Through February!

Time to sell the remaining 2017 wool harvest, getting ready for spring shearing-yes, I said spring. One must always plan on these things in the dead of winter.

So, here is how it works. I am not putting this on the shop. If you are interested, just email me and I will send an invoice. Send which wool/how much/shipping address so I can tell you shipping. You can assume shipping will be at least $7.50 and no more than $15 [if you buy a lot of wool].

All wool has been professionally washed. All wool is CVM [California Varigated Mutant/Romeldale] except for Assumpta who is a Blue Leicester. Note that Louisa, Lillian and Sylvia were hoggets. CVM wool is very fine, Assumpta's locks are long and curly.

These prices last through February, and supplies are limited. You can mix and match from different sheep to get your quantities while supplies last.

Louisa, Lillian, Velma, Calla, Sylvia:
Buy 1-16 oz $3.50/oz +s/h
Buy over 16 oz: $3.25/oz

Assumpta
Buy 1-16 oz $4.50/oz +s/h
Buy over 16 oz $4.25/oz + s/h

AND ONE MORE DETAIL:
Buy at least 8 oz and get 6 Misfit of love postcards
Shipping will be Priority only. Expect a minimum of $7.50. I can calculate your s/h before you order if needed. The maximum would be $12-15 if you bought a lot.

Contact me with your order.

Noritsu is a muse

Does everyone really get to dream?

Today we honor the man who gave up so much in his life, and his life itself, to help people of color. The tenacity, insight and bravery it took to continually face oppression, risk physical beatings and jail time, and still set out each day with determination...is to be honored. We honor you Dr. King.

White people are still oppressing people of color, this is no secret. We've come far, but we have so much to do to learn from one another and to let ll people...dream. I looked at this quote from my "Donkey Dream" book, and I thought, some might be offended I post this on the day we honor King. But I thought about it, and thought it might be a good way to point out that I have always been able to dream, and keep dreaming. I have not been oppressed by a system that is run by whites, white men to be exact. Yes, I've had my sexist instances as a woman, I'm constantly being mansplained to, talked to inappropriately, and other things I don't want to share. But I am White, in a White driven country. I never had to fear I'd be beaten, or killed just by the color of my skin. I did not fear for any of my family that they might be disadvantaged or in harm due to their whiteness. I was not wealthy, but I was privileged simply by my whiteness.

So this image of my beloved a donkey-represents the dream I had to have a farm, to grow wings there and allow so many new things to come into my life, and to share it though my art and writings. I think it also represents white privilege. I will still dream, I hope I don't find myself in a position at some time of my life due to age, illness, or economics, that I fear to dream.

But there are many who start out disadvantaged simply by their race, class or circumstances. How do some of them even start to dream if we exclude them, shun them, or oppress them from the opportunities we all deserve in this country?