I live with a donkey and a real Christopher Robin

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

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

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

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

Have donkey, will deliver pies

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




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

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

Envision Peace

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

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

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

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

Never taken lightly

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

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

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

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

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

He sleeps under stars

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

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

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

Friday night gala in Atlanta

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

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

Wrapped in a horse

I like this picture. It was taken on our open father's day farm weekend by Anna who came by while vacationing on the beach. I think we look like us, and happy.

The harvest continues. I find that being out in the field after 7pm is a wonderful time. The air and sky are nice, heat is gone, just a nice time. We have to cut a small amount of Grosso, but then are left to let our main bud variety of about 1000 plants sit and dry on the plant more, and then we will cut and hang them, and eventually de-bud and put that bud in bags for storage and selling. One of the old farmers came by and asked us 'is there a market for lavender" in sort of a sarcastic voice. I told him there was and that lavender has a lot of value added potential, meaning it can create many products from one crop. Yet another rather tongue-in-cheek tone came out of him as he asked, "What's value added?" like we were crazy city kids getting in on those crazy trends...I often feel like a fish out of water out here, as we chip away at our weeding without any tractor yet, maintaining our fields by hand on our own without spray. We often joke, wondering what kind of creature Fred Flintstone would have to farm lavender.

My head is full of hay dust, and it feels sort of fogged. The dust of summer is everywhere now, on the country roads, in my car, in the fields. August is looming, always my most challenging month. It took me years to figure out I make really bad decisions in August, usually because I am hot, and I don't like being hot. Things seem dried up and parched. When I still lived in NYC, it was in August that I knew I had to leave the city for good, as a cab nearly ran me over, and I kicked it [it didn't bother stopping] and I knew I had lost my city 'edge' - or did I gain myself and say, 'what am doing here anymore?' - I prefer the latter answer. So, two weeks before August, I am preparing, can feel the heaviness of the month coming - my senses are off, my beat is clumsy. I feel a need to rest and let my roots get water where they can. I want to be with my horse, and I am gravitating to her. We are both 'in training' and working with a local trainer, working on ground basics, starting all over together like two babies in a round pen. She is magnificent, even while misbehaving.

Peace out loud and some bees

I am very pleased that some of my Goats for Peace buttons are on their way to Rhode Island to one of the teachers at the Nonviolvence Institute. This organization continues to teach the methods and traditions of nonviolent communication that spring from the teachings of Martin Luther King Jr. By teaching through examples the principles and practices of non-violence, the organization believes they can foster communities that address potentially violent situations with nonviolent solutions. In some small little way, the goats' campaign is working, spreading slowly like dandelion seed. It hasn't reached North Korea yet, unfortunately. Or D.C. for that matter...but we'll keep on, and you can too.

In the meantime, you can buy a 10 pack, or even a 100 pack of the buttons, and pass them out at your picnics and barbecues and block parties. Pay no mind if people laugh and think it's a joke. That's ok. Humor can only help the cause, as it helps people relax. Just a week ago, I was chatting with a local farmer and he saw my 'Goats for Peace' button on the straw hat I was wearing. He read it out loud, and chuckled. Then we went on to talk about hay or something. But it's the fact that he said the word "peace" out loud that is so important. For if you say 'peace' out loud, it sends the energy of that specific word's essence to your heart, and it will grow into something with that essence - because stuff in your heart just doesn't sit there, it grows.
So it was with peace in my heart that I worked in the lavender field, thinking of other peace ambassadors on the farm. And I think the "Bees of Apifera" need to have a button too. They not only do their work peacefully side by side all over the farm, but they work in peace with us as we harvest the lavender. I have also learned that the bees show us when the lavender plants are ready to be harvested for dried bundles. You see, you want to cut that lavender at the optimum moment of nectar so the bundle, once dried, will have a good amount of oil/sweet smell to it. Once the lavender stalks shoot up, their buds sit waiting to open. If you go into the field during the warmer part of morning and there are no bees buzzing, the plants aren't ready. I had been checking our lavender Hidcote variety each day, and the bees weren't buzzing yet - until yesterday. So, "thank you bees" - what magnificent little beings. They make a cool sound, help make honey for heaven's sake, and they help this old, green farm girl know when to cut her crop - all the while not swarming and creating a violent upheaval.

Meanwhile, we continue to harvest our lavender crop. This year we have 1500 plants at almost full maturity. It takes me 1 hour to harvest 2 rows and another hour or more to rubberband them and hang them for drying. There are about 50 more rows to do. Next year, in '07 it'll be 3x that. Are we down hearted? NO! I am so naive in forgetting how intense the harvest is. But seeing how large the yields are compared to last year and working amongst my bee friends, many whom I remember from last year - all in a field we get to steward - this is a good way to spend the 4th.

Heat Rising into the Sky

It is the third day of 100 degree heat. I am pretty much useless after 85, so at a certain point in the day, I just sort of...disappear. This morning I did barn chores early, and even then the heat coming from all directions onto my body, from both earth and sky, was intense. While we don't have the humidity , thankfully, like we did in my old prairie homeland of Minnesota, it is still hot. It reminds me of when I visited Arizona in August, and everyone kept telling me, "But it's a dry heat", and finally, after hearing that 100 times, I blurted out, "I don't care if it's a dry heat, it's 110 in the shade, it's [blank] hot!"

The barns takes on a whole new dimension in the heat. The hay side is intensely hot, and Martyn assures me as long as the bales were dry when we put them in the barn [which they were], that they won't explode. The cats move to get their morning feed, but you can find them lounging in the most glorious poses languishing in the hot air. The goats don't jump out of bed in the morning, and Sky was already hot to the touch. I hosed her down yesterday, and will again today. Last nite we took Huck to the river front and went swimming with him the first time. We all stood in the navel deep water, and our neighbors on the adjoining river front came down to greet us. We all stood around in the water and visited. Country time, man.

In the meantime, I am moving very slowly, getting ready to start two new canvases for Atlanta. So far, I've taken the roll of canvas out to cut it. That took all morning, as I opted to post 5 new pieces on the store site [under originals]. This barn painting demonstrates that which I have mentioned before - that when I paint a piece one day, it is often a subconscious realization of an upcoming event; For when I painted this a few weeks ago it was cool and I yearned somewhat for more warmth- Now when I look at it, I can see the heat rising into the darkening sky, just as it did last night.

Home

As the picture shows, the Big guy is home. We are considering changing his name to "The Million Dollar Cat", as his vet bill was a tad higher than I had hoped for - I won't share it with you as you will all think I've lost my mind. The clinic where I vet my dogs and barn cats were wonderful, as always - thank you Carlton Vet, I know you threw in some extra attention and service.

The outpouring of donations definitely helps put a nip in Tony's vet bill, and I can't thank people enough, over and over.

For those of you who donated, I will be getting your print/story off to you in a couple of weeks. Meanwhile it is over 90 and the heat will continue into the next week. I worked an hour in the field and melted, literally, as my Irish skin just can't handle heat. So I am taking the opportunity to work in the shade today - I am busy training Tony how to fold and toss a newspaper, as I am hoping I can get him a paper route to earn some of his keep here.

Sustain thyself

"If you don't enjoy your lifestyle, it will not sustain itself".
Such a simple statement with such truth. I read this in a website of a farm that is practicing sustainable living. So many people write and tell me they envy my life, living in the country on a farm with animals and painting. I strongly believe that if one truly desires something, they will attain it, they will unconsciously direct themselves or be directed to people, places and events that open doors for them or lead to the desired thing. I have desired this lifestyle since I was a young child. It took many steps and side journeys to get here. If you're just tire kicking, you won't bring home the car that day.

We've been here 2 years, and I can say that this month more than ever I am feeling in a total flow with my life and our life here on the farm. The farm and the lavender are interconnected with the animals we raise and care for and feed my soul which nurtures the art, and then the art is sold. Those paintings that emote my deepest feelings for this place, its animals, plants, weeds and crops are sent out into the world, to Japan and Vermont and Des Moines and Atlanta and it spreads that energy. This is part of why I am here, I don't need to question that anymore like I might have 10 years ago. The people that receive that art, and care for it in their homes, they in turn share an energy with it, they get to have their own relationship with it. Like raising the child as best you can, and sending them off on their own at 19, you always have your signature on them, but they take on a life force of their own.

The farm event was so special. The pony rides were a huge hit with all ages, the weather cooperated, people came from all over, with lots of little children who came to see a farm and animals. What Apifera Farm is to the outside world is formulating, and we are not just a lavender farm, for we, care for many animals and we will propagate plants and we care for the earth and will share any bounty we might mange in years to come - and we sell art that celebrates it. We met wonderful people, interesting people, and one of the most exciting for me was a couple who had just moved to our area from England where he was a real, live SHEPHERD - I acted like a was meeting Neil Young. But it was so exciting! We are not only meeting, but slowly forming bonds and friendships with other couples who are farming on a small scale, or raising animals. It is really, really rewarding, full filling. I am in love with this farm, I am in love with the daily chores. Actually, 'in love' is too weak a term to use, as 'in love' connotates the beginning, immature stages of a deeper committed love. I must rephrase it to say, I love this farm, I am committed now to this farm. This is not a temporary dilly dally in the country, this is not a foolish-young woman attempt to try living with someone prematurely - this is a life I chose, carefully, with much attention and thought, and an understanding of what I needed and wanted. It took years to get here. And the journey goes on.

And part of this journey will include, always, many cats to care for. I want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart for the incredible outpouring of support I have received in the past three days for Big Tony.I am so blown away. Thank you. I needed help, I asked, and it rained on me. The update as of this writing is that Big Tony is still in the hospital, BUT, he is hopefully coming home Friday. He was doing much better on Wednesday after heavier meds and more aggressive sedations - we are hopeful this is the beginning of real healing. I haven't received today's update, but am for the first time breathing easier. One of my cat supporters suggested I look into a 501K for the work I'm doing with the cats, and I have already contacted my accountant. I know I can do so much more to help animals. I am 48 and I have so much to do and give to them. I know my art will help in this cause too. I'd like to help ferels as well as neglected farm animals.

But right now, I'm going to eat some left over salad of our fresh grown butterhead, nurtured along by our sheep manure and water that sits deep under the soil of Apifera.

Big Tony, please come home

Many of you know Big Tony from my story over on Animals of Apifera, and some of you have even been lucky enough to have been graced by a personal introduction to him at our farm. Big Tony is the King, he is the one, he rules, he rocks. He is King of the new barn where 10 of the barn/ferels sleep, he is King of the front porch where Little Orange, Blackberry, Pumpkin Head and Mama sleep. He is King of our house now, where he comes and goes at his whim, sometimes reclining on the bed, sometimes on a chair by a fire. He eats on a counter and is in his eyes, is elevated in his position in our farm and home. He adores Martyn. He is at the top of the hierarchy of all animals here on the farm, including Huck and Billy. He is even above the other big man, Joe Pye Weed. Tony does not need to scream this from any balcony, he oozes this fact - it is like they would say about someone like Ghandi or JFK - you just know you are in the presence of a higher energy. Some animals have it, and Big Tony is one.

Big Tony came down with a serious infection of the urethra last week. He has been in the hospital since, and they are having trouble keeping his bladder empty. It's common among neutered male cats, often is diet related, and can usually be controlled once the initial blockage and infection is taken care of. They just can't seem to get to that point, but I am remaining hopeful. Of course, all this is costing money, and I put out the word yesterday to an email list of customers and cat lovers and friends - 'please, help if you can', and I want to say, yesterday was a day of many tears of gratitude. Some of you I knew well, some not so well, but each penny and dollar helps so much. Big Tony is my responsibility, but we have been helping so many area cats, that this incident tapped me dry. I reached out and asked for donations for Big Tony's rising vet bill, and people have responded. I am just so grateful. It means a lot that people understand how much time,effort and love I put into the ferels and helping them. I will always always reach out to animals. It is a gift for the animal, but more than that, a gift for me to have this affinity.

If you want to donate money to help defray the cost of the vetting, you can visit the katherinnedunn.net site and go to Farm Whim section and donate online. Or email me if you prefer a check. I am sending all donaters a small archive print of the piece I recently did of Big Tony, along with the story of him [which you can read on the Animals of Apifera site.] I will post immediately when, hopefully, he gets home.

I am still working [slowly, I know] on my escrow fund idea for helping other people with spaying/neutering ferels/strays, but right now, I need to focus on the King. I have gathered a lot of support.

I wanted to write about farm event - which was a huge success - and I will later this week. So many cool things happened and I need to digest it all to write about it. But for now, my heart is wrapped up in a cat, that I care about, and that cat's energy has power and purpose. I want Big Tony home, back on the farm.

Conscious land

This farm has a conscious.
We watched "Farmer John" this week and that thought has been on my mind since. This farm, indeed, does have a conscious.

It is all connected, every element of it a thought that pops into my head often. As I muck the horse stall, I take the uneaten hay and toss it into the sheep for bedding, which turns into compost that covers the vegetable bed. We ate lettuce last night from it, it felt healing. The small farm used to take care of communities and families on a direct basis. Now people eat unconsciously, not knowing where it was grown or how, and much of it is grown not on a farm but in a factory. Farmer John recognized this many times, and lived it, and lived through the '80's while farmers around him went under. But he turned it around. There's a solution to very problem if you think creatively and openly. It took a lot of courage to do what he did,and ingenuity,and hard work. Now he is helping feed people, and educate people from the city - that farm is helping people.

I do not have the adequate time or energy to write a proper post - the farm event this weekend" is keeping me on overdrive - but I wanted to write that. This farm is leading me, us somewhere. Just as it heals us, we are healing it - as it sat so neglected for years. It is a long road ahead for us. But like Farmer John said, it is almost as if the farm tells you, guides you, with what to do. It inspired both of us to continue to work toward our plan of being more sustainable, and then taking that ability and sharing it somehow with a small community.

I think that movie should be required for school children, and then again to 20 year olds with all the answers, and again at 30 when you know you don't have the answers, and again, every decade of one's life - to give courage and inspiration. It is a beautiful, moving, inspiring story of a boy who grows up, a family, a farm, and the struggle, fall and eventual triumph of all.

It also inspired me as an artist - as one can feel like an outcast, odd, 'she's different', quirky, weird, etc,...But you have to find your own beat and drum it out loud, with head up high even while the neighbors snicker at the church social.

Bare spaces needed

I have been swallowed up by the details of getting everything together for our upcoming farm event. This morning while doing a brief bit of yoga, I finished with my Tree pose by looking up at the sky and saying, "I'm sorry, God". It was such a sweet, unfiltered expression that came out of my mouth that took me by surprise. I wasn't sure what I was apologizing for, but it must have been a genuine sentiment. Later this morning, I realized I was really apologizing to myself, as I've learned when I talk to the higher powers they are usually just holding up a mirror for me. I had let some crappy energy that came my way via the wind out West hover around me too long. So, that little apology was for me, "Sorry old girl, for letting certain things drag you down when all along you had the ruby slippers and the power to set it all free."

Hence, this particular painting interests me even more, now that I think about it. I painted it last week, in between taking care of the myriad of details for the farm event, like making tin buckets for the lavender, as well as running the business and the farm itself. Somewhere in a daze in there, I rushed to put up another 300 feet of cross fence and electric wire so my mare can be off the other fence line, where she keeps throwing shoes while flaunting herself to the neighbor gelding. When the fence was done, I cried, as I was just so exhausted, and I broke my own rule - I whined- "It's just another 'monkey fence', a piece of $300 crappy fence work I messed up that we'll have to re-do some day". And in his usual calm way, Martyn lightened me up with humor by saying, "Well, it would be good for monkeys." We laughed.

I remember when I finished this piece, I wondered if it was too bare...but it pleased me. One small wave under a moon on the ocean beach. I so wanted to take myself there. But of course I already had by painting this.

Moments strung together

One's perspective can be refreshed by the simplest of moves. Such was the case last night when instead of sitting on one couch in our living room to look out and up to the upper pastures where the cows graze, I chose to sit on the other side of the room on another couch - I rarely if ever sit there, mainly because it is the 'dog free' couch - off white and smothered in quilts as the cat is allowed there - and I like to sit with the dogs, and Martyn squeezes in on the right. But this couch sits in a spot that allows me to look out one of the front windows. And as I looked out last nite, there was that old barn, so proud and still standing after over 100 years. It was as if our eyes met, and we were both simultaneously acknowledging our appreciation of each other. It was a short, simple moment, interrupted by dogs wanting me, cats at the front door, a tv story worth listening too. But it was a moment of being, that when strung together with other small moments makes for a peaceful and meaningful life - for me that is.


The other joy - except for the fact it makes my head feel like cotton stuffing - is that the scotch broom is in full bloom all over the county. Driving any of the country roads one is surrounded by yellow blurs - like a painting.

My overly tender heart has been suffering a bit due to the many baby bird deaths in the last two weeks. I've had too get somewhat practical and shorten my usual eulogies, and maybe are sent to rest where they will be found and eaten, not wasted. I did bury one starling that had died some kind of horrific trauma - I won't go into details - but I felt he deserved a place in the cemetery. And as I was feeding in the barn the other nite, I turned around and a small baby barn swallow had fallen and died on my corn bin. By the time I turned around to take it to bury it, a cat had eaten it whole. This was as it should be - although the crunching sound was rather graphic. While I hate the cats killing birds, I accept they are part of a chain of events here, and fallen birds must not be wasted.

The other big event of the week was Huck went into Wilco, our country feed store, for the first time. They allow you to bring your dog in, and I've been taking him every where I can to practice his new training and manner control. We were greeted by my regular sales guy yelling - "There's that pup that grew into a man!". I was beaming love. We listened to Neil's new "Living with War" CD the whole way home - singing out loud, LOUDLY, Huck's head out the window, lips flapping, my favorite view of him. Both of us full of hope, despite war, dead birds and no art sales in 4 days. When one has enough of the moments of being mentioned at the beginning of this passage, one has something rich and juicy to feed them through anything.

Get happy - no purchase necessary

I see a lot of blogs giving enormous amounts of advice. I am not sure why I, or anyone, should take advice from total strangers about anything from how to be creative, how to paint better, how to be a better mate, how to cook, how to write lists and have fun, how to live a simpler life - the latter often written by people who seem to complicate a fairly simple thing by writing a long book on it, often about cleaning your closet for ease in dressing in the morning. Since all these other total strangers can give advice to their total stranger blog readers, I think it is perhaps time for me to to give advice, even though none of you have asked me for it. So I have chosen the subject of happiness which so many seek often in very expensive ways. This guide to happiness is free.

"Apifera Farm's Guide to Get Happy"
Get a sock, preferably one you have found lying around in someone's shoe or closet that has been worn, preferably worn a lot, perhaps in wet Wellies while mucking stalls so that there is a fair amount of manure smell soaking into the somewhat damp sock. The sock preparation of this is very important. For one's senses, especially taste and smell, are key factors in obtaining certain free forms of happiness. As the picture here shows, first, lie around awhile with the sock firmly in your mouth. Chew it, suck it, toss it up and catch it, chew,suck again, as many times as you feel like. Whatever you do, DO NOT LET ANYONE TAKE THE SOCK AT THIS POINT - you must get the sock to maintain an overall slime quality. Once you have achieved this state of wet slime all over the sock, run up to the nearest person you can find, and shove the wet sock into their clothes or hands. Taunt them. They want that sock badly, but you have it. Now, wag your butt around and feel your backbone move, and move back and forth. Feel it. Move it. DO NOT STAND STILL! Now, when you have done this for some time, give your beloved sock to that other person who you originally were taunting it with. Let them see you are a lover, a giver, not a warrior. You would give up your most beloved of all possessions - your wet slimy sock. For while chewing and sucking and throwing a sock in the air make you happy, it is the sharing of that sock without being asked that brings you true happiness.

I have learned this from many beings in my life, and I am fortunate to have Huck to show me this simple lesson on a daily basis.

Now, in my next entry, as soon as I can get the demo pictures taken, I will show you all how to rake a ram.

Energy Steps

I'm pleased that these images were accepted into the 25th annual American Illustration show. They are some of the 350 picked out of 6500 entries to be included in their online award winners. I quit entering shows about 4 or five years ago, but my motives for putting this group in was two fold. I did it for myself, to say to myself - "Katherine, if you don't win, you know now at this stage of being an artist that it truly doesn't matter what American Illustration thinks, because you yourself are positive in your mind and heart these are beautiful and emotive pieces."

And second, I believe the stories I am compiling on my blog, Animals of Apifera, are ones I want to share, and I'd like to generate interest in them. I'd really like to finally get some of my writings published, and I thought this might be one small step. The chances of some editor or art director at Chronicle seeing the images on American Illustration's site are slim [some people win and are put into the beautifully reproduced book they publish each year], but it's an energy building thing. One small step grows into a long journey and a final destination. All from the energy that one person took in that first step - I have seen it happen in my own life and in others. For all the pieces I entered in my earlier years to American Illustration and didn't get in, I must admit, when I got notice these pieces were accepted to the website, I was quietly pleased, and just sort of laughed at myself. While the posting fee they charge hurts, it's just one small step to something. I almost didn't eneter, as I knew it didn't mean that much at this stage, but if it helps build up some notices in the stories, why not put them out there.

So to celebrate and nurture this new energy growing within, I will be posting a story, today I hope, in honor of Ethel the fawn who was born nearby and I believe, is protected by Apifera Farm.

Older skin happier heart

My friend Heinz sent me this quote from Walt Whitman. Something to aspire to, no matter how difficult. The thing about living is you just get to get up each morning and start all over again. This one will get cut out and put on the wall, it is an inspiration to live as this suggests. I will fail horribly at it daily, but also just by aspiring to its ideas, will make this small corner of the world a slightly better place for myself and all beings around me.

Walt Whitman's - advice for poets and Americans..."This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence towards the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful and uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem, and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint in your body."


And in the meantime, I am reveling in wearing pigtails, inspired by the crooked braids of my horse Sky. I am not young on the outside any more, the Scandinavian skin protected from sun for most of my years is aging and I see it as I look at pictures of myself. An uncomfortble feeling, but one of resignation really. But when I am not looking at a picture of myself, I feel what makes me uniquely me, and I will always feel that, no matter how old I get. I wouldn't trade this knowledge for one moment as a 20 year old or a 30 year old 40 year old. Nor would I trade my life now where I aspire more to recreate land and help animals and paint more for myself than another which means I live hand to mouth - but I prefer it to the driven frenzy and unbalanced life of the 30's and early 40's where I was always trying to achieve something that was supposed to make me a better illustrator, or a more well known illustrator or an award winning illustrator or an accepted illustrator. Making 70 paintings in 2 weeks once...I prefer my perculating pace I have now. When the muse hits, I go. But sometimes the muse is the garden or the land or the sheep. Slowing down.

Living in a painting

I am celebrating the magnificence of our walnut tree today. I declared it Walnut Tree Day at Apifera Farm, this May 5th, and if you know a walnut tree please go stand under it and absorb it's beauty. I gathered as many animals as I could to sit under the tree with me today as it was one of those things one wants to share with a fellow being. Like travel, it is often more wonderful to be alone in your own thoughts and be able to go off on your own when you want, but sometimes you wish someone were standing by you to see what you just saw, as you know you will never find words to describe it properly. So, Little Orange, Pumpkin Head and Mr. Plum joined me under the tree where we stood for 30 minutes examining leaves and bark and internal spaces of her crown against the blue sky. So the four of us now share an experience that can't be put into words.

Last nite, Martyn and I sat on the front deck in one of our first really warm nites. As we looked up towards the back of our property, where the 10 acres or so of hay fields stand, we saw all the cows grazing, the calves too. Their was a frame of Savannah Oaks around the field, the sky was still blue, and the greens of the fields and trees were so varied. The blackness of the cows as they grazed, next to the green was inspiring. And Martyn said, so sincerely, "Every time I see that view, I just can't help but feel I am in one of your paintings". It tore me up. It was such a peaceful comment, said so sincerely, and it meant so much.

Painterly Developments

"...nature is not limited to the objects we see-but that everything in nature offers the possibility of creative transformation, depending of course on the sensibility of the artist." [Hans Hoffman]



The opening at Dalton Cowan Gallerié this coming Friday includes this painting. The top image is the final of the 48" canvas, with the painting process starting at the bottom image. When I'm working on bigger pieces, I sometimes take a quick shot of it, just to see it in a different format. I originally really felt I was done with it on the first image at the bottom. It felt really strong and the line in the middle just pleased me somehow, or made me feel bolted to something unknown. I waited an hour and ended up with the final version on top. Horribly photographed, it pleased me internally when it was done. I never wavered once it was done, but I did on the first step to work over that bottom image. No regrets. I didn't have the guts to leave it. And this is something I want to explore - leaving things. Then again, if the outcome, once found, was so real for me internally, and 'known' , why even wonder.

I still don't have one of my large abstracts in my house. I'm always selling them. I want one. But I can't afford one.

I spent the morning on a 2 mile walk up a steep gravel road with Huck, followed by shepherd duties and horse grooming and a slight encounter with Joe Pye Weed. Then breakfast, all by 9 am with late morning coffee outside under the cherry tree in full bloom, but losing it's petals in the strong wind. It was raining petals, and the sheep carried lovely pink spots at times.

More painting followed, while listening to the new Kris Kristoferson cd. The man still makes me say out loud when I see that
worn and rugged face, "My, my, my...".