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...".

A real cat now

The final Apifera Farm cat has been neutered. Little Orange took the big step yesterday to neuterdom.We told him what we told all the cats before they were caught and brought in to the vet -"You're not a real cat until you take responsibility for your reproductive organs". They always listen intently to the speech. Little Orange, being the most teeny member of the Apifera Farm possé,is also one of my favorites. Perhaps it was the fact he was born in a wood pile in the middle of winter, or that he is the teeniest little orange thing, or that he still kneads the ground wherever or whatever he is doing. He joins me in the front garden to weed, he loves to be held, and he is the only one of all the cats that does not go to the big barn for feedings. He entered that barn once, and looked so proud at the accomplishment, but I guess he only needed to do it once. He prefers the front deck, where he can sit on wicker and have his very own garden which to this day he firmly believes was created just for him. When I brought him home from the vet, he is the only one of the cats that didn't leap out of the cage and take an hour or two to be alone in the safety of the blackberry bushes. He chose to sit in my lap, kneeding, and looking at me every now and then as if to say, "I'm REAL now, right?"

In his honor, I made greeting cards available on the store under "Farm Whim" section.

The road to total Apifera neuter/spaydom has taken 2 years. I am relieved it is over, for now anyway, until someone dumps a cat and it wanders up to heaven on the hill. And the word is leaking out to all ferels in a 20 mile radius -"Apifera - go there- warm barn - good food- safe- woman nice-husband harmless" . Trapping cats is stressful, for me and the cat. I hate it. I hate walking out to the barn that day knowing I am going to trick an animal that has learned to trust me over a few months, into crawling in a cage for tuna. Some I was able to touch as kittens, and hold, so trapping was easier, but never as easy as you think to get a cat in a cage that is used to living under the stars. Anyway, it is an important thing I want to ask you to do - please spay and neuter your animals. If you are feeding them it is your responsibility. I was blessed to be raised by a family that always had pets, and understood that responsibility and passed it on to me.

I am still working on a way to set up an escrow fund for donations so that cats in the area can be trapped and then spayed/neutered at my country vet. I have had one talk with the bank on how to set up an escrow, but don't know legal ramifications and details yet. So it is taking time I just don't have at this moment. But I will. And again, to all of you who have donated over the last two years to help me defray the cost of 20 spay/neuters [4 were nearby barn cats I helped]- it is greatly appreciated, by me and Martyn, and Lavandula Angustofolia [Gus], Miss Prairie Pussytoes, Mr. Bradshaw, Hazel Nut, Sweet Pea, Mr. Tomentosa, Big Tony, Mr. Pumpkin Head, Blackberry, Mama Kitty, Mr. Plum and Mr. Quince, the Late Mr. Weed, Little Fig and Teasel.
And last but not least, Little Orange, who is very real indeed.

When home is a field

Like I don't have enough baby animals to fret over, I now have three more. Less than an ounce each I suspect, baby sandpipers.

Saturday as we were tilling in the front lavender field, we were careful not to disturb the ground nest of the mama sandpiper. We had found the nest over a week earlier, and marked it with stakes so we wouldn't hurt it by mistake. The three small speckled eggs had survived another week, and we kept on with our work after we checked on the nest. About two hours later, I checked the nest again before a lunch break, and there was a brand new baby, who looked so much like the egg - survival of the fittest in action, the speckled baby looking just like the egg, blending in so perfectly with our speckled ground. By the time we came back from our picnic on the tailgate, all babies were born and amazingly mature looking within an hour - again, survival.

Thanks to the way we are maintaining our fields naturally, the left over green mulch allowed the nest to remain safe, or as safe as can be. I thought later how if we had put down plastic ground cover, we would not have had that experience with those babies. It made it feel like the hard work was helping three small little beings.

That night, as we sat on our favorite sitting spot now that the warm air is back, looking up towards our hills and hay fields where the neighbor cows are pastured, we saw the newborn calf out in the field for the first time. He was frolicking like a lamb, going to all the cows and introducing himself, then running back to Mama. Then back again for more introductions. It went on and on. Babies on the ground, babies in the hay field, babies in the barn. Babies everywhere. And I worry about each one, not every minute, but I worry the gates are closed after I drive off, worry the dog up the road will get in somehow and work someone into a frenzy, worry the hawk I love will pick the baby birds up. It's a relief sometimes to go inside.

So this morning, as Huck and I returned from town errands, I came upon those three baby sandpipers - There they were with mama, on our gravel road, making their way towards the stream. They were remarkably larger even after 3 days. Three days they have lived, in a 700 square foot area of land at most - a trip across the driveway to the stream must be pretty exhausting. And confusing. I stopped the car so mama could gather them to safety, but one little guy panicked and ran the opposite way, back to the pasture he knew. Huck and I must have sat there for 20 minutes, waiting for that patient mama to gather her family, which she finally did.

Between the warm air on my skin and the sound of the babbling stream, dog at my side, it was 20 minutes well spent.

Moo decipherings

I took a break from painting yesterday to work in the lavender field for a couple of hours. It was our first real summer-ish day, and being inside all day wasn't possible. It was perfect temp to work in the field, new enough in the season that being a bit hot felt so good, and no bugs yet to spit out as I worked. As I was working, I could hear one of the near by cows that are kept in our adjacent acreage. It was a different kind of moo. I stopped to watch her at a distance, and as all the other cows were off grazing, she was standing, head up, very still a long way from the herd. I knew immediately she was most likely in labor. It dawned on me how I have learned a lot about the nuances of animal sounds and their different meanings since moving to the farm. I was pleased when later on, I found out she had been in labor. I think it is safe to say I know more about pregnancy in ewes and cows now than I do in humans. I would have no idea what to do with a woman in labor, perhaps get them to a near by barn and prepare a bucket of warm water with molasses, check on them every half hour or so.

She's my favorite cow of the herd, the only red one amongst the black Angus group. She has incredible eyes, and I have told the farmer who owns them I think I want to buy her. He chuckled. He has learned that although we are new at all this, we try our best, and work hard, and that is what proves you out here with these crusty guys. He once said to me, "I could spend all day watching my animals"...and I agreed. That is our common denominator. We have gained his respect as he has watched us in rainstorms and heat waves working on the fields or putting up cross fencing or redoing the old barn. He comes over sometimes to check up on the electric fence or something, and he often will stand around for an hour telling me animal stories. Sometimes, I've heard the same story a million times, but I never let on. They seem to get better with each telling.

This picture is of the same farmer's bull. One day when we first moved here, Martyn got up and causally said, "Katherine, there's a bull in our field". It was Hotshot. He was standing so pristinely in our front field, surrounded by dog fennel weeds. As far as bulls go, he is well mannered. For much of the year, he is kept separate form the herd and brought over at breeding time. It was so heartbreaking to hear his wailing when he wanted so much to be with his girls. So I would visit him through the fence and give him carrots which seemed to please him so much. When he ended up in our field this morning, I replied in a sleepy daze, "He's here to have carrots with me"...Later we found the area of the fence he had mangled to get through to our side. Some might assume he was trying to get better grass, or get a little closer to view his far off herd, but perhaps his inspiration was my carrots and companionship.

It's raining mamas

I'm surrounded by good mother figures and milk producers out here, well, except maybe Lewisia Pinkie who abandoned her little second born twin, Little Rue. So for mother's day, you can overwhelm the mothers in your world with must-have items from my Cafe Press shop. I mean what mom doesn't want shirts and mugs and such with this little face on it. After spending the week painting abstracts - which I love, and this week's finished piece just sent me to the moon and back, it rewards me so much - I enjoy making these silly little items which hardly anyone buys, thanks to my lack of marketing them. But, that's ok. It's chilly and rainy, I banged my knee on the way to bed last night and my shoulders are all cramped up from reaching high to paint the 48" canvas - so, I have this hankering' to bake chocolate chip cookies and sit by the fire. Before I know it, it'll be Pinot Noir hour...It's been forever since we were both inside on a weekend not working on some farm project. Spring is stopping and starting here. I read that California growers are really suffering this spring with the rains, unable to get their crops in. Some will lose their first planting. I am a mother of lavender, I guess, and witnessing their tiny little wet feet in the overly soaked ground makes me want to gather them all up and bring them in for the nite. Just like I tried putting a little dog rain jacket on Baby Rue today - she loved it, but the other sheep all fled her in a panic, and then Rue followed which made them run from her more - it was amusing, but I called her in and took it off, which calmed her flock. I even left the goats in, they hate the rain, and even Sky Flower hung out in the barn all morning. I took the time to just be with her, brush her over and over and over - each time I went to leave, she'd knicker, and I'd blow in her nostrils and rub her eyelids which she loves. It's hard to walk away from a barn full of love.

Wolves Will Not Eat Me Again

With the lambs safely born and under the wing of their mamas, I can focus again on art. I've been painting, but in broken up time frames. Now, I'm revving up for exciting new things - like painting for a new gallery in Atlanta that opens May 5th called Dalton Cowan Gallerie. [I will post their info when their new site is up soon] I have known the two owners for a long time now and I am so happy and jazzed to have my work there. Rob is a woodworker and artist and Stephanie is a renowned artist in her own right. The Atlanta market is a strong one, and I know they are going to soar with this gallery. "Teasel Weed and Dirt Greet Spring", shown here,is one of the pieces I will send down there. A lot of people ask me what teasel is - it is one of the most magnificent 'weeds' around - Tall, strong stalks, it grows anywhere and anyhow. It gets a cone-like flower on top with purple prickles that browns out and makes a lovely dried flower. I hope to harvest them this year and sell them for the farm. Most people out here would call that nuts, but I know there are some kindred souls out there that know the beauty of weeds such as these. I have teasel friends all over the property, and I appreciate how they feed the finches, and they also make wonderful hair brushes for all my little elf and fairy friends that live in the oak grove on the property.

I am feeling re-energized after a topsy-turvy business week. I am pulling all my work out of the Santa Fe/Santa Barbara outlets for business reasons. When one door closes, many more open. Within a few hours of the my decision, I was freed up to do some little abstracts instead of falling into the old mind frame - 'let's see, that guy only likes it when I do red ones, or women with birds." Sometimes an outlet gets hung up on what's selling, and they don't allow the artist to expand and flow where their muses want to take them. They are scared they will lose income or customers. They want you to do want is safe for them, and cloth it in words like "I really think that type of painting is your best, do more, they sell quickly". You get caught up in in it. And to qoute my guide Neil Young, "'People want to know why you don't make your most famous record over and over again,' he said. 'Because it's death.'"

Trusting oneself is one thing. Finding other people you can really trust to talk about your art in a helpful, guiding manner is another. While in the end it is me, the artist, that must listen to my own voice and trust it, it is also very helpful to find certain guides in one's life that can really help you through the muck of your process and path as an artist. Sometimes you think you've found one, but often it is wolf in lamb attire, calmly and Buddha like holding your hand, and offering you trinkets and gold coins to keep you going when you need it most as you the artist make your way through the forest.

This week, I was reminded that besides my own inner voice to trust, I have the wisdoms of some wonderful artist compadrés to back me up- they know who they are. I have some loyal customers that buy pieces some wolves leave on roadsides. And when I look at a painting like the one I have shown here, I say, "Bring it on wolves, you can't eat me."

Woman Horse, Horse Woman

It looks like one of my paintings today, a soft fog over the hills and pastures, and as I poured coffee into my cup, a blackbird flew and landed on the top of young tree. Perhaps it is like an old episode of Outer Limits - at the end of the show, our little farm is just part of a large painting.

I now have acquired another handy skill - banding, or as I like to say - castrating. No one says 'castrating" , but why sugar coat it - I have now altered the life of at least one small lamb who's destiny is now set. He will be butchered in late fall. The process itself was not that bad [for me anyway] and I was prepared for the lamb to get down afterwards and flop around -thanks to a heads up from my wiser shepherd sister over at Donkey Dan's place - but he got up and just sort of went on his way. Afterwards, I had a cast of something hanging over me - -I felt uncomfortable with being master over this small creature - I am in fact making decisions that will end his short life. Perhaps too, it was that I thought I had put up a boundary in my heart and head between the three rams to be butchered, and have not touched them much - but this morning I had to hold one in my arms and soothe it while we did what we did. He had a heartbeat, and warm little head and long eyelashes. He was not any less cute than any lamb, yet he had been designated, by me, as a meat lamb. I hate this. It has made lambing season different for me. If I live on a farm and raise livestock, some of them have to go, some of them stay. Some of them become trouble in the herd and are time and energy draining, some are just plain mean, some are dangerous. Those decisions seem to make sense. But when it's a tiny lamb, it's a conflict.

I was supposed to go down to the front lavender fields and weed for the morning, but instead I felt a strong need to be with Sky Flower, my horse. What was going to be a short 15 minute workout on the ground, turned into a trip down the road to my horse neighbors, and then a 2 hour trail ride with them. Being with the animal that I have worked so hard with for a year and who has come so long, along with me, is rewarding. It is even magnificent. A 1500 pound animal that has the ability to crush me if she chose too, yet agrees to work with me to learn subtle cues like 'cluck' means take one step, not two steps, Sky, but one step. And now she does. So she and I, we learn together even though it's not always pretty, or graceful. I was feeling tired before the ride and almost didn't go, but I am so glad I did. Sky and I had a good ride, and we got one more inch of trust built up between us - after all it is just as much about her trusting me not to lead her into danger, as it is me trusting her to believe me that I won't lead her into danger. She went down roads she had never been, and saw scary rocks that looked like trolls, and heard waterfalls that sounded like oceans and walked over bridges that made strange echo sounds that sounded like cannons. And through it all, she responded to me, and carried me home safely, where a flock of sheep stood on a hill, and a man worked in a field, and two goats greeted us as we neared the barn.

Springing

Today it was so blatantly Spring that even the dirt could be heard singing. Huck and I drove into town to go the feed shop for horse bedding and sheep vaccinations [where I resisted for the third week to buy spring chicks], then stopped to do our weekly shippings and then onto the grocery store for a quick shop of essential food.

As I walked into the grocery store, one of the regular employees , who is mentally challenged, greeted me at the door by stating "It's Spring! And the flowers are springing!" And then he laughed, and I laughed, and the more he laughed, the more I laughed. Two kindred self entertaining units, we enjoyed the moment. He also told me in a much more serious tone that the flowers like spring because they get hurt when they are in the dirt too long, which seemed like a very wise observation. This encounter, though brief, was one of the bright spots in the day. But there have been so many - like watching Huck's lips flap in the wind as we drove home with his head out the window. Between watching that in my rear view mirror while watching the coastal range out the front window, all the while listening to the new Ray Davies cd [loudly], well, spring had definatly sprung for this old farm girl and her hound dog.


Getting home, I was pleased that my temporary -monkey-cross- fencing in the yard area had held up, and there wasn't a flock of sheep meeting me on the main road. Yes, you people that know me or read this journal regularly know that I have supernatural skills building "monkey houses'. If you don't know what a monkey house is, you must first read some former posts on them [visit the December 12, 2005 entry]- but this picture is a perfect example of cross fencing done the 'monkey house' way. I wanted the sheep to mow down the grass in about an acre of property that is between our barns and house, and give them some nice lush grass to eat as the pastures are bare, or just sprouting. I had just enough pasture fence to get from the vegetable bed door to the other pasture fence, about 40 feet, but had to come up with ways to hold the fence up, since I had no posts there. So, my monkey-house-fence consists of a garbage can with wire strung to the fence and a ladder stuck in the fence, and some sticks and wire and wire around the sticks attached to the ladder. It works. I don't think it would make Martha Stewart's 'it's a good thing' list, but then again, none of this farm would [and for the record, I have nothing against Martha Stewart and consider her a genius in styling and propping a 'mythical life'].

I spent the rest of the afternoon cutting some teasel weed, which I'm determined to sell to the dry floral market. It has to be stripped of it's thorns, and is labor intensive. We have tons of it, and it is considered a weed of course, but like an artichoke or thistle has such magnificence and stamina, how can anyone not want it all year in a vase filled with yarrows or other dead weeds?

So, that is all. It is warm, it is windy.
It is Spring.

Combined dreams set free

What can I say, this is my man. Somehow, after years of hooking up with selfish, immature, moochie boys dressed sort of as men, I was given the wisdom to see what a gem this one was. I knew the minute Martyn knocked on my door 4 years ago that he was a kind soul, and that we would be friends. I quietly knew more at that instant too, but didn't share it with anyone, not even myself, and experience has shown me that when one has a knowledge they don't shout to the word, it is usually a solid knowledge based on real inner understanding.

Our story is worth repeating, only in that sometimes I forget how nice a story it is. I moved to Portland in 2002 from Minnesota; I grew up there, had lived many places, but after 15 years in Minneapolis, decided I needed a big change of terrain and lifestyle. I looked for two years at small country towns in Minnesota and Wisconsin, California and finally visited my brother and his wife in Portland, and the minute I got off the plane, I just knew. Less than year later, I packed up the car with two dogs and a chinchilla an headed west. I've never looked back.

I had found a sweet little tiny cottage in a nice neighborhood, and as the moving van was unloading a man knocked on my open door. I can still remember exactly how his voice sounded as he stuck his hand out and said, "Hi, I'm Martyn Dunn and I had to meet the new neighbor with the same last name as me." Yes people, we had the same last name, and in Minnesota there are not a lot of Dunns. it seems in Oregon there are quite a few. Upon meeting, I learned he was a landscaper and we shared a passion for gardening and growing anything from the start. He lived right next door in a postage stamp size cottage which was the cutest little gem in the woods you've ever seen. It had a lot of charm, he'd done a lot of work on it, but perhaps what I remember most from the first visit is he had his living room full of tools for his business. We became friends, were the same age, had both been single quite awhile and were not daters. When he told me he was an avid fisherman, my little mind became engaged even more, as I had always wanted to try it, and had vowed too ever since I saw it in Colorado. He had drawers full of feathers and things for flying ties, and soon he taught me how to fish. I got to see parts of Oregon noone else had even heard of because of those fishing days. On one very hot day, over 90 degrees, I could hear a lot of rustling going on his side of the fence, and could see trees shaking. About 30 minutes later, he showed up at my door with a bowl of freshly picked cherries which he had gathered by climbing up his own cherry tree. It was at that exact moment I let myself in on the secret I knew on the day I met him - I would marry him.

So, after we were sure we weren't related, we were married in our own gardens that we had created. We continued to live in our two houses, and eventually had to move. So we took the plunge and went for our dream - a farm where he could build a little nursery and I could have animals and raise lavender and stuff. When we would go fishing we'd always see places with riverfront property and I'd tell him we would buy some riverfront so he could get up and fish on his own river, and I'd make him pies of berries, his favorite. And here we are.

Pictures are good at making one slow down a little and remembering all that's happened, and all the little surprises that led up to taking that picture. So if you have a dream, let it grow on it's own but set it free too.