I am a body of breath [and I have a tire around my middle]

The cat is a wonderful creature. I have always admired them for their combination of survival skills: the ability to appreciate zen over stress, finding food and shelter when needed, and taking full advantage of their body's grace to keep themselves limber, even as they age.

A reminder for us all, including myself-keep stretching, use it or lose-or don't use it and feel your muscles tense up.

I still do yoga each morning, although it's dwindled down to about 10 minutes. But when I don't for even a couple days, I can feel it in my lower back.

I'm noticing my age more and more as I near sixty. I don't want to turn this blog into a space of ailments, but I'm somewhat frustrated by certain things that have been happening in my body since about 56. When I find myself getting depressed about it, I push it away, because there are are so many other things that could be wrong, and aren't. I've lost two people to cancer, my age, this past month. I see friends fighting all sorts of debilitating diseases-having a fatter middle is nothing compared to that.

I watch the elder cats stretch and jump, sit and sleep, focused on a light beam, a window of snow flakes...or a dish of food being consumed by a fellow cat-they do it all with a balance of intrigue and calm. I doubt they are noticing the fact their tummies have dropped-or that mine is a certain size. I found this an annoying thing to go through-the frustration of putting on post menopause weight after working hard to maintain a good weight through my adult years. I've never been one to diet, I love food-good food fortunately. So when I put on some weight in my early thirties, I went to Weight Watchers. They weren't going to let me in because I was one pound under the limit. But they did. I'm sure when I walked in the group that was there-mainly people older than 55, and mainly people with a lot more weight to lose than my wimpy 12 pounds-but I went every week and listened. I've thought of this one man a lot as I struggle with weight in the last few years. He was a sweet, quiet man, probably about 65. Every week, the leader would end the session with asking people if they had 'special challenges' that week that might trigger over eating. This fellow would always quietly say, just two words,

"Portion control."

Every week, he looked the same to me. And there I was whipping off my weight 1-2 pounds a week. Oh to have hormones and be young again.

I never gained it back...until one day, I hit my fifties. I was active, I ate well, I knew how to take it off. But this time it didn't come off. It brought on angst because when I was little, someone I loved very much patted me on the belly and told me I was "too young to be fat." Of course, I was not fat, I was just a little 8 year old that had a slight paunch. But it crushed me. And I know my angst about not being able to lose the tire around my middle is tied up into that, or partially is.

I don't like having this tire to carry around. But...I walk with Muddy, eat right and my attitude is that what is most important is strength, breath, and life. I don't want to die wishing I'd eaten more olives. And if you think about it, we would never look back at being ten and think, "I wish I had that waist again," why do some of us think we should aspire to the waist and neckline of our early forties. I just never thought my middle would get to this. It's just sort of a little cloud that is behind my head all the time. I can look the other way and the beautiful blue sky, or acknowledge it from time to time, quickly, and focus on my breath and life.

I always thought I had it under control. But I don't, my body is just doing what it is programmed to do via my particular DNA and no matter how many calories I count out the tire will be there. Can it get smaller? Yea, but the last time I tried that I was eating 1000 calories a day. What a drag. The same calories that maintain weight for me at 40-50, well, now it means eating so little to lose 1/4 pound. I want to eat...I don't know, God forbid, 1500 calories a day at least.

Eye floaters, the loss of my perfect blood pressure from my entire adult life until menopause...carpel tunnel, the known fact that when I trip in the barn it might take months to heal instead of weeks...it's all part of the package of getting older. But the package is also about breath, and life, and the fact some of us still get to be here in relatively good health. I like what I heard an elder woman say about her body, she had been a modern dancer her entire life, but at 90 still loved to dance, and did. Her arms were sagging and her muscles had deteriorated, but she still moved gracefully about the floor, and she said she thinks of her body now as a 'body of breath." I liked that, I am going to focus on acknowledging I am a body of breath.

Marcella, we could not do it without you

She is one of the most challenging creatures I've worked in partnership with. We had some rough spots in her first year. Maremmas are not like a pet dog, and if you try to treat them like one...well, good luck, and it would also be a disservice to them. They were bred to be livestock companions and guards and while they certainly have many loyal dog like behaviors, they set their own boundaries when on their turf. While Benedetto is much more of a field periphery walker, Marcella sticks with her charges. I have found in Maine that Benne is much better with the sheep, and Marcella's job is with the front barn of small goats.

Marcella came to us as a pup. We got her from a sheep farm that had been raising them as working dogs for years. He knew his stuff and I learned a lot before I purchased her. I will tell you that we looked at getting one when we first arrived at the old farm in Oregon and had our first sheep. But I wasn't ready. I had come from having dogs my entire life but they lived inside at night and were with me during the day. I talked to a lot of experienced Maremma people, and I just knew I wasn't ready, and I didn't want to muck up a good dog.

I'm really glad we waited. But I'm also glad we brought her home. She is a valuable part of our farm. Now in Maine, Marcella lives in the front barn near the house, with some smaller Misfits, and Earnest. She has an important job of keeping them all in check, and she also keeps the rats at bay, and the eagles that float around looking for chickens and rodents. Ever since an eagle took one of our ducks out west, both Marcella and Benedetto go crazy when hawks and eagles fly, and they watch those birds until they are gone.

Most of the challenges I had with Marcella were in her first year and a half. Some of it was my fear of letting her be her-the breeder had told me if she felt she needed to be some place and it meant going under a fence, she'd find a way. She proved that on her second night, coming out under a gate from her barn stall where I bedded her those first nights. There were also simple issues of feeding-you do not get near her food-in any way-and in her first year I had a serious wound from her, and she would not back off. I sat patiently waiting her to release her grip, knowing if I moved my hand it would rip it open. Treating a wound on a Maremma can also be difficult, or trimming nails. As she has matured certain things are easier, but she is always going to be a Maremma.

Now I understand her much better. If I'm in the stall with her and the goats, her charges, she wants attention, but I also know there are some kinds of attention she might see as a threat.

I always tell people, if you came to our farm and Benedetto was at the fence, you might get away with petting him, but that would not happen with Marcella. If someone comes into the barn with me, she is up at at them at her stall. I have to take the person in [and only do with certain people] and we act normally and let her examine the person.

She is a beautiful creature too. She consistently crosses her legs - a dog version of Grace Kelly, I always think.

Happy birthday, Marcella, you are one of a kind, and a good partner. Thank you for teaching me how to treat you.

Introducing two more elder arrivals

Noritsu, a beautiful pure white cat who had a face that embedded in my mind, and heart, has arrived at Apifera. His background is a mystery, and having known him now for two days, I would say he himself has many mysteries deep inside of him. Perhaps in time they will be revealed.

After our birthday celebration with our elder friends, Opie and I drove to the shelter to get Noritsu. I was pretty much minding my own business, waiting for the shelter helper to get done with a phone call, and I wandered into the needy cat room. I had remembered another cat I had seen some months ago, a black and white who had a face that also struck me. And there he was.

As I listened to his story, I knew I would be taking him home. This cat had gone through a horrible ordeal. He suffered from calcium blockage/urinary issues-prevelant in many cats- and it was so bad, and so painful for him, that he chewed his penis off. The vet then did a surgery on him that basically made 'him' a 'her'. He also had a growth on his tail removed which I guess is why his tail is short.

So there I was, with a goat in the car, and two old cats. I got them to the Elder Cat Suite and they got right down to introductions which went perfectly. Of course Anna had to let them know she was ticked off, but she'll get over it. The challenge is feeding the b/w his special urinary food, which he has to be on for life. I was worried about it because he is a huge cat, as in very overweight with a belly that graces the ground almost as he walks. But he ate his food, and the others ate theirs and as long as I wait in the room to make sure the non urinary food gets eaten up, all is well. I did ponder the fact this urinary food is pricey, and the fact if he needs more medical help it will be pricey. But I felt the cat angels Apifera has found as of this date will come through-and I will continue to be open to universal magic and the power of kindness being spread by many. I just felt Noritsu needed to be here, I was pulled by him in the last months-and when I met the b/w and heard his story...I could not leave him. It's a fine balancing act of taking in the needy, and still being realistic about financial commitments to the animal...but I feel it will be okay.

I sat with them all this morning for some time. I'm very pleased the b/w chap likes my evolving hay twine chair-a project I started years ago out West and never finished. Maybe it was because it was really meant to happen here, in a room full of old cats.

The memory of The Magnificent Maurice Mittens was on my mind today. I have an innate knack for opening myself up-ofen-to the ones that are ready to find a soft spot to lay their heads, and die. In some ways, I'm proud of this history, that many of them feel or sense I am a safe entity where they can let their guard down, let it all out, and perhaps heal...or die. So I hope these guys will be around for many months or years. Noritsu is almost 15. The b/w is ten but with his health issues he might have a lot of wear and tear.

I love having a herd of cats again. We are going to be working on the upper loft this winter, where the cats will be able to free range, and I plan to have cat days, drawing days, workshops and gatherings of some kind, and let the ads mingle. I am excited for that.

And last night, Martyn heard a cat on the porch, and went to look-there was a grey cat, she ran away, but we put food out which disappeared. I guess the word is getting out.

{Please consider a year end donation or a cat food donation [right now the urinary food is most important]}.

The elders sing to Opie

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Dec 14, 2017 at 10:53am PST

Opie had the best first birthday a goat could have-singing with his elder friends and sharing love and head scratches. His friends also made him a special plate of squash bits. It was so cute. They all had fun too and I just felt so happy. I know it made them happy.

I made photo books for each resident of all the visits Opie made with them this year. I thought it was a fun way for them to show friends and family their little goat friend. And they loved the books, I mean they really were touched.

It does not take a lot to touch people, really. And I think too what I am feeling is the settling in of what my life is meant to be here...it is still emerging but this is all what I've wanted to do with the animals for a long time. I'm so lucky to have landed in this exact spot in this exact state. The fact I found this network of private elder residences...it is so perfect for my evolution here. I will continue to strive to grow and expand Apifera from my heart-and also let the wind point me in directions I need to go.

The Magical Garland

Many years ago, a follower of my blog and all things Apifera sent me a handmade felted Christmas garland. Shortly after, I decided that it was meant to be shared with all the animals too and that was the birth of The Garland Festival at Apifera. Back then, I would take the garland out to the barnyard and we'd have a wonderful if not sometimes chaotic festival.

That garland has been dragged through the mud by pigs, chewed on by goats and dogs, pooped on by chickens and stomped on by donkeys. Garland is like a well worn teddy bear-abused in love, and appreciated no matter what condition she ended up in after a day of heartfelt sharing.

It's been a wonderful tradition and when we moved she fell off the radar for a bit. But I came upon the garland as I unpacked some decorations for our tree. I gasped. I had certainly not forgotten her, but seeing her in the box, holding her, it brought back so many feelings of whim and joy that the season should bring, can bring if we let it. Despite missing my own elders, or slogging through the news, or down the bumpy cobblestone streets of friendship, the garland was right there in my hands, asking me,

"Do you remember that time when....the pig dragged me into a muddle and I almost drowned?"

And so our farm in Maine now begins its own version of The Garland Festival. Instead of spending one long hour or more sharing the garland with the animals, we will celebrate in smaller bursts of magic. This is much more fitting with our new Maine residence-where we do things a bit slower than out West, not because we have to but because we are more inclined to listen to our internal waves lapping on the shore we have chosen here.

I have to say on a practical note, spreading out the Garland Festival over weeks instead of an hour is helpful to the garland. Right now, she sits on my desk, waiting for me to fix her up again, sew her together after a particularly festive hour with the llama. Birdie really put on a show, which you can see in these photos.

I'll add more Garland festival photos here as the days and weeks to Christmas arrive. I hope there is a garland in your life-that item that you bring out every year and you too gasp, and hold onto all the memories it brings out of your heart.

{Thank you Christine Gross, again, for making this important piece of Apifera for us. You never would have known its destiny...then again, maybe you did, and that is why it has so much magic}

Please consider Apifera in your end giving.

The little ambassador of love turns one!

It's a big week for Opie, he turns one today and all week he has celebrations planned, two at elder facilities to share his love. Opie and I also have a goal to raise another $1000 to add to the slowly increasing barn fund [which is being matched for every dollar up to $10,000, the barn will cost $20-25,000 and help us take on more Misfits]. You can add your donation here and I will add it to the GoFund Me barn page. The money all goes into our Apifera account no matter where you donate, FYI. All donations are tax deductible.

Thank you to everyone who has sent wishes to Opie. I can not imagine life without him!

First snow, big week

We had our first snow, a beautiful six inches or so and it is so welcome. I love winter here [I do get a bit cranky come early April if things aren't going as I'd like]. White Dog is just thrilled, he sleeps in it, eats it, rolls in it...it is his element. In winter, the sound is different, a quiet blanket covers everything and you can hear the snow when it falls. The front road slows way down even though it already has by this time of year. And let's not forget, there are no flies.

It is going to be a busy week! We have Opie's first birthday and he has two therapy visits scheduled, along with a birthday party with his elder friends in Wiscasset. I'm not sure his ego will recover.

All this week, I am attempting to fund raise another $1000 to add to the barn fund. I have a fundraiser on Facebook, but you can also just donate here and I will add it to the pot-it all ends up in the same place. All donations go into the Apifera account and are tax deductible. Opie is pretty happy just as he is, but if he could talk, I think he'd ask for a dollar or two for the barn-he knows the new barn will bring more animals, and also he is hoping maybe he can venture out there and nap with the donkeys. He says he doesn't get to be with the donkeys enough.

It is also the season of the Garland Festival. I will share all that as the week progresses.

Misfit chaos

I was almost to the upper barn when I heard a fair amount of arguing.

"Not there, bring that strand over here!"

"I'm trying but my feet are all wrapped up," I heard Opie say.

There were some soft meows but no screeches and then a voice of reason said,

"I think we should just wait until she comes out to help."

Almost every year they get so excited to light up the tree that I forget I must secure the fixings so they don't get into this situation. It's hard not to smile though at the scene.

{If this scene and others on this blog bring you a smile, consider a small year end tax deductible donation to our non profit-which helps animals but also shares them with elders.}

The softest Apiferian

I adopted the bunny out of the shelter when we brought home the first elder cats to Apifera here in Maine. She was sitting in a cage in the front room of the shelter. Upon first seeing her, I said,

"Bunny."

What is it about bunnies?

Someone had found her in a yard and brought her to the shelter. She had very long toes but had clearly been a pet. It made me sad. Who knows what happened-so many possibilities but I am glad to have her. She lives in my studio and recently I made her a special bedroom so she doesn't have to live in a rabbit cage. The "bedroom" is actually a large closet that sits between my studio and office and has a door into each of the rooms, so she can be with me no matter what room I am in. When I work in the studio, I let her out so she can hop around and do bunny things.

Her name is Isabelle Noir, but it is impossible not to just call her, simply...

Bunny.

{Please consider a year end tax deductible donation to Apifera. We appreciate your support!}

The little ambassador of love is turning ONE!

The charming little bucket of love, Opie the goat, is turning one on December 11. He is very excited and said,

"I've never been one before."

We will be celebrating all week in many ways. For one we are having a birthday party at one of the elder facilities we visit regularly, which was requested by the residents. Opie is thrilled, but since he has never been to a party before he has no idea what it will be like. There will be singing and I will bake some cookies. We can't have candles but that doesn't matter, we will wish on something else for him.

I want to try to raise another $1,000 in honor of Opie's first birthday. The money will be added to the barn fund. We are up to $4000 which is on target for our goal. The barn will cost $20,000-25,000 and every dollar up to $10,000 is being matched by The J&J Stanley Foundation. I need to put a down payment on the barn in March which is slated to be built in June.

I want to thank so many who are helping us in this formative year for our non profit here in Maine. I will be very relieved when this capital funding is over, but ike any non profit, it really never ends. I try to balance asking for money with great art and photos, and stories of all your Misfit friends, and of course to show you our work with elders of all kinds.

Donations can be made here, or you can go directly to the barn fund [it all goes into our 501c account]. All donations are tax deductible.

Conversation with Pino and the perfect tree

In honor of the Christmas season, I have a story to share with you, a conversation of sorts, between me, Pino, and a little tree.

"It's a perfect day for tree searching, Pino," I said as I grabbed his halter.

"Yes, I agree," his ears said. Although I don't rank days by perfection, they are all worthy of something, the little donkey thought to himself.

We set off to the side Wood, not far from his barn. December had been quite warm, but crisp, leaving the ground firm to walk on without mush, and no ice to slip on or snow to stomp through.

I found a perfect tree, tall, full at the base and formed well, with no real gaping holes at its side.

"It's too tall," I heard Martyn say from behind. He had come to follow us, with the saw.

We forged on a bit further, keeping close to the paddock and away from the thickest part of the marsh. It was the first time I had rigged up a makeshift hay twine harness on Pino, nothing fancy, so I didn't want to go very far this first time out.

Suddenly, Pino stopped. I waited. When Pino stops it can be for many reasons, but I could tell by his ears pricking forward, his stopping had meaning to our mission at hand.

"Do you see one?" I asked hm. His ears pricked backwards to me, then front and back to alert me to his sighting.

"That one, Pino?" I said, and I walked to a little misshapen, crooked tree. It was not full of bows but sparse. It was a tree that in time, like many in The Wood, would be smothered out by the larger Oak and Maple canopy above it, if its roots didn't rot before that from the years of marsh living.

"It's the right height," Martyn said. It's not very full, should we look a bit longer?"

"We started walking again, but only a few steps, and Pino stopped again. I turned again to look at the little tree, and with my new perspective could see that the other side had a big empty area where no branches were, and the crooked trunk was even more noticeable from that side. From a Christmas tree standard, she really had no good side.

Pino took a few steps to line himself up with me by my side, something he knows to do when he has a halter on. He was quiet, and we both stood looking at the little tree.

"We want this one," I told Martyn.

"Okay," he said, and as he knelt down to saw its base he said, "Positive?"

"Yes," I said.

We tied the makeshift hay twine get up to the tree and to Pino and we started back to the house. It took a bit of time. Donkey hauling Christmas trees in not something one does in a rush. I thanked Pino for his work and leaned the tree up against the porch, while I tied him some feet away so I could run into the house for something. I returned to find Pino staring into the little Misfit tree, his ears pricked towards it, he was clearly deep in conversation with her.

"You are a beautiful little tree," he said.

"I'm surprised you picked me. I'm crooked and ill kept," the tree said.

"You are as a perfect as an old Redwood," Pino said. "You had a purpose to hold the birds, and now you will hold the Christmas lights. We will see them from the barn on clear nights. Thank you."

I led Pino back to his mates, returned to find Martyn had the tree up in the dining room, and I began to hang the first lights. I placed white doves at her top and hung glistening fruit all around them. She is the most Charlie Brown tree I've ever had, but she is perhaps the favorite too. With each year that passes, I recognize the Misfitedness within me, and somehow this sweet little crooked tree symbolized for me that I am just fine, I'm doing okay. I'm worthy of being noticed for the purpose that I am meant to live out, in my own misfit way.

It was dark. I plugged in the lights.

I heard the donkeys bray.

The man who keeps the place standing...and a good chicken love story

As I age and especially as I work with more elders, I think of what will come of me, of us, and our animals when I get really old. I will be sixty in spring...this is not old-old, but I am entering my final quarter. After the riding accident, after any bad fall, it does change your perspective on falling. I always assumed I'd carry on as usual into my final years, always walking, always working outside, always with animals in my life.

I liked what a woman in her eighties once said to me, that she did not like, nor did she deserve, to be 'detracted' from. At the time she wanted another dog, she missed her dog terribly but due to her age some family members felt it was not a good idea-so many things could go wrong-she could trip on the dog [she could trip on the carpet], the dog might out live her and be homeless [the dog might die before her, and if she did die the dog might end up in a wonderful new home, just like my pug Hughie ended up with me]; walking the dog might cause her to slip on ice [there are solutions to these things, perhaps a small outdoor pen on the deck or outside the door for winter months, something my parents did for a short time].

One has to be practical, but too many times I think we treat our elders like they don't have experience and inner knowledge of their own. They have lived 80+ years, they must have some clue of what works for them. I saw an article this week about a farm setting elder home in the UK where they are incorporating chickens into the daily lives of the residents. One of the residents had had to leave his home, and he was somewhat depressed. The manager spent time talking to him and found out one of the things the man missed was his chickens. So she decided to see if they could help him with that. And soon, the home had a chicken coop and the man had some chickens which he cared for, and other residents helped too. The man's depression went away and he talked more, smiled more, felt more like himself.

As someone who has moved, a lot, and also had to leave my beloved farm in Oregon, I know how unsettling it is to leave animals and a place that once gave me a purpose. I loved the article about the chickens, and realized I want to make something like that happen here too. I have so much work to do, so much. If I was rich I'd buy the property next to us and turn t into a farm-eldercare place, so there could be a few animals, and I could help. I've even thought of trying to raise funds for it, but I need to focus on getting our barn built, and continuing our elder work. We had our first annal meeting with our board and many good things were discussed and one was to recognize the 501[c][3] is evolving in its own time frame, in its natural way. I sometimes get ahead of myself.

I wonder if I could stay here without Martyn. I am a very handy woman, I have lived alone most of my adult life until I met Martyn in my forties so am very self sufficient in most ways-but there are many things here that I rely on him for. I am grateful for each thing he does. He keeps the place standing, fixes the things that need work-important things like electrical and plumbing. He can build things-crucial to any small farm.

We talk about what we would do if one of us died. It gives me comfort to hear him say he wouldn't leave if I died. He loves Maine and he loves our house. I think one of the crucial reason we landed here, in this state, in this region an din this house is it was right for both of us at this time, but it was crucial to Martyn's well being. His life here is better with less commuting and less stress. I know I would stay too if he died, but, it seems the reality of what is coming in the final decade or two is present everywhere in my work with elders. I don't dwell on it, but I don't think a day goes by where I don't thank the skies for what we have together.

And he's stinking' handsome in my eyes.

{If you like the work we are doing with our non profit, helping animals and elder people, please consider a donation which are tax deductible.}

Opie hits the town in his flying sock monkey pants

Opie shows Sylvia his new outfit

One of the biggest challenges I've faced in my life is...sewing functional goat clothes. Not cute little romper's for kids to keep them warm-but real goat outfits I can put on our little bucket of love so he can't drop pellets or piddle. Sounds easy, doesn't it? Nope.

Opie's waist is 33 inches. That's an inch bigger than Martyn's. His visit today had him adorned in his newly improved traveling clothes-a dog diaper, along with a belly band I made of flying sock monkey fabric which seemed appropriate. My new outfit was a big improvement from just having the dog diaper-the latter would slip off when he stood up to greet an elder on the chair, causing pellets to fly out of the tail hole [fortunately, everyone is understanding of this and ok with it since I quickly sweep them up and they aren't messy]. So I adjusted the tail hole, and improved the velcro waist. The belly band has a diaper material in it, washable, and that worked really well except I need to add a thicker diaper material.

Opie took it in stride. I'm sure he wondered what more he had to put on just to visit friends.

Our visit was nice. The residents got to go home for Thanksgiving, and some went to a family members house. I was glad to hear that. This week, Mary, in the pink sweater, opened up a bit more. She went home to the island she lived on for years, and told me she saw her old home which is now a B&B-but it didn't make her sad because it looked so different to her since they had remodeled and added rooms. The sweater she had on was hand made by her sister who died at 97. Mary knitted a lot but never made herself a sweater, since she was usually knitting things for others or children. I wondered about getting yarn there to them and we could knit mittens and donate them. I'll look into the reality of that.

Each visit, we learn a bit more about each other, and build a trust that we are here to stay, and that we are committed to our visits, and to sharing not only our animals, but genuine caring and friendship.

Each time I leave, they always thank me so earnestly for coming, and as I walked out the door, I could still hear Jean saying, "We'll miss you, Opie, see you soon, Opie." I felt Jean seemed tired today. She has beautiful hands and I realized there will be a lot of loss ahead in this work-and even though I have had a lot of loss in the animal work over the past 15 years...it did hit me in my heart today,

I don't want to lose, Jean.


{If you like the work we are doing here, please consider a year end tax deductible donation.}

Jean and her beautiful hands

Opie falling asleep in Mary's hands

Mary's beautiful sweater knitted by her sister

Sylvia and Opie

Richard always talks to Opie and chuckles

Joe is very funny and inquisitive. I love the quiet look in his face here.

Why?

I was thinking today about why I photograph things.

As I took these photos on my early morning walk with Muddy, as we walked down to the ocean, I realized photos for me are my way of understanding where I am, and who I am in this place. It is also an acknowledgment to the subject, a way for me to quietly express gratitude for it being there, be it a field or animal. That moment I thought,

I need to photograph this

Begins the relationship with me and the subject.

Once I share that photo, it is the viewer who has their own experience with the subject at hand. It is not about how I felt when I took it, it is about the subject in the viewer's lens. And the viewer will have their own relationship with that subject. I obviously am the one who art directs the shot, and has my own intuitive way, as any artist does, of seeing that moment that is the right moment to take a picture [and one takes hundreds of photos that don't capture that instant].

I feel the same way about painting, or writing. I have the initial spark, then a relationship with the subject matter, but once in the world, it is not my place to suggest, interfere or even try to understand another person's relationship with my work. They get to do that on their own. I think this is why I never like talking about a specific piece with someone–for starters, I'm not really interested in what they think about that specific piece. I suppose of Chagall or Joseph Campbell came to me and wanted to discuss based on their experiences, I would find that interesting. It's nice to be acknowledged with "I love your art" or 'That piece just speaks to me, I don't know why," but more than that is not necessary. I find gallery openings uninspiring for this reason-I've done the work, I had my relationship with the process and subject, I'm ready to move on.

He takes my breath away

Paco the poet has a message

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My farm is uneven and I'll live with that

One thing that attracts me to this photo is the background. If you were to paint this or draw it, there is an entire painting of shapes and tones back there. I like the way it shows the unevenness of a farm, the hodgepodge of fencing and posts and sheds that have been added over time without a real master plan. A lot of creating a barnyard is like that, at least for us. You get the big picture where the barn needs to be, and initial paddocks, and then along comes a new pig or creature that forces you to add another paddock or shift some fencing.

It never ends, the fluctuation of fencing and background material. It's a wonderful way to live though, keeps one from getting bored, keeps you moving, makes you bend at the knees and get those glute muscles oiled.

Maine brings me sunrise

Each place I've lived in life has offered me different ways of communing with this beautiful planet and universe. In Oregon, it was more about the physical ground, but here in mid coast Maine it is clearly about the sunrise, and sunset. Being on the coast, with the cove right across from us, I have begun to fall in love with sunrise. I guess a better way to put it is I feel like the sunrise is here for me in a way it never has been in my past-it is like I am working with the sunrise somehow. When I was little, I was up at 4am most days according to my mother. As a freelancer, I began to get up later, even 8:30. Martyn gets up at 5:30 and after my riding accident, my sleep changed, and it felt better to walk than lay down for my head so I abruptly started getting up really early. It allows me to get a walk in most days with Muddy. My father used to rise very early before sunrise and always told me it is the best time of day. I am feeling like Maine is working with me on this,

"Get up and look!"

It dawned on me one morning while in bed, seeing the first glimpse of light from the east, that I am seeing the sun rise sooner than anywhere I've lived. There it is, we are on the edge of the States, and get to see sunrise before anyone really. This just has a special feeling for me, and it dawned on me that light is here for me in a way that I must take advantage of.

Last night took these photos. The sunsets are also special here. It's like the ocean air creates something I've never seen before. All nature is beautiful, but the wind here, the light here...it is working into me. We will see how it comes out over time.

Evolution of thanks

As I've gone through life, what I'm truly thankful for has evolved as I age–good health-or the lack of any debilitating conditions, as of this writing-is on the top of the I'm thankful for list. A day free of pain becomes more important after you truly suffer pain. We had four days of out of town guests, in and out of the house, but we made meals here, and celebrated our main meal last night.

Today, the house is quiet again, and I'm grateful. I truly love my inward life, it is what I can handle, where I spend the days with nature and animals, my art, my writing, what is in my head and heart. I like people, the ones that understand boundaries anyway, but most of time is spent without people. I love my husband, any time of day. But I love my work-with art and animals. I think that is something that I'm thinking about today. I'd rather be working than almost anything during the day, including being with people. And I don't consider it a flaw.

I'm grateful for my mate, my best friend...one of the few people I have known my entire life that I can be with all the time and not feel...flattened out..or invisible. I'm not writing well about this....it would require sharing way too much about me and other people.

I did yoga as the sunrise came into the living room, creating a shadow of one of the finches on the wall...so simple, how did I not notice that before? Tonight we are making turkey soup. I am so looking forward to a night of quiet by the fire, some wine, and the routine that we love...some might say boring, not us.

To rely on our inner lives, and activities we love to do-work outside, cook, tend to the farm and animals-that is a good life for us. I'm grateful we can do it and hope we can until...we die. A tall order, but one can hope.

And in order to make this life work, I'm grateful for you who still read this blog, show up when I need you for art sales and animal emergencies...or just plain support me through email notes and caring thoughts. Some of you I get to know in real life. I work hard to entertain with art and writing...but I love doing it, so it is no burden on me. The only burden is that sometimes, I feel I'm not doing enough, not entertaining enough. But, that's lessened when I look at my photos, or the actual faces in the photos...it's like the animals look at me, as they are eating, safe out of the wind and say,

"You're doing okay. So are we."

Happy Thanksgiving.

Mini sized purr factory: Maxine and I bond

Maxine and I have a daily routine. As an elder and perhaps due to her hyperthyroid issue, her coat is severely matted-the shelter began taking out mats but I work on her each day and we are making headway. In fact she seems to really appreciate it. She lets me know with a little "meows" when she's had enough.

Grooming is such a good way to bond and get to know an animal. She has gained half pound this month which is a lot when you only weigh 5 pounds! I think she has such a kitten face for an elder. When I groom her I tell her how she has always been beautiful but each day she gets more beautiful.

Maxine has a very unique purr. It is kind of a combination of a purr and a squeak.

While The Magnificent Maurice Mittens was failing, I spent most of the time doting on him, as was only right. When one animal leaves the group, it never fails to change the dynamic of those remaining. Maxine was always personable, but mainly spent her time sleeping in her first months here. I think some of that might have been depression, since she had been taken to a shelter as an elder. Putting on 1/2 pound for her too might have perked her up. But I always feel like since she arrived here with Mittens, maybe she blossomed a little after he passed-not because she didn't like him, she did, but because there was a space created, and the energy of that space allowed her to take a new position.

Just yesterday, a package arrived [thank you Melanie Reed wherever you are!] of more canned cat food-with a note saying,

A special gift for Maxine.

I told Maxie about it this morning in our grooming session. In the past week, with each grooming, I feel her understanding my intentions more and more, and my loyalty, and I know that is helping her to feel like this is really home, like she is safe and she won't be sent back to the shelter.

Animals like consistency: Consistent love, shelter, water and food, and a consistent sense that they are noticed. I consistently show up each morning and groom her, and she consistently purrs. It's a win-win relationship.

{Apifera is a 501[c][3] and we have been adopting elder/special needs animals since 2004. Maxine is one of the residents of The Elder Cat Suite. If you'd like to participate in helping, visit the funding page. In time, I plan to have open days for the cat suite, and workshops there too.}