Introducing...Olive!

Visit Tails & Tales to meet her....

Introducing...Olive!

I just wanted you to meet Olive...I'm sure she will be sharing more of herself with you in coming weeks and months.

Reciprocal land love

Huck and I have begun a new ritual. Climbing up the side acreage to view our land from the high point. It is one of my favorite parts of our property, and few people have experienced it. Part is covered in Savannah Oak where I dream of building a small writing hut where I could spend a nite in the thicket, perhaps with a small corral to leave my donkeys at nite, who would carry up my wine, bread and water for the evening.

I have lived in many houses I loved, and had gardens too that I felt connected to. But owning land is a love affair like no other. This may sound over dramatic, but it's not. It's one thing to fix an aging house, it's another to help the land, over grazed, or underutilized. We have much to do, and the work will never be finished to our liking, but I do know this land will be left in better condition than when we bought it. I do know that when I'm walking on that upper pasture, looking down at the old barn, the lavender fields, and the moss laden oaks, I feel appreciated by something very internal in this land.

Perhaps the feeling of walking on this expanse of land is very primordial, poking my heart's library of unconscious memories, reminding me of a time I can't photograph, a time when I roamed the earth free as another creature without a land deed.

When I took a walk with Huck and Martyn up to the top point this weekend, I made a promise to myself, and the land, that I will visit each day if possible. Walking straight up, I watch my feet sink into soft soil, I feel my heart pumping, I hear Huck running and the stream clicking on rock. I have much to do, with pleasure.

Thanksgiving message

May you be surrounded by those things you love, and recognize it as so. May you serve the bounties of the earth and relish in its texture and taste. Never take the warmth of a creature for granted, or the smile of a mate. And may the herds of the world somehow find peace.

Thank you to the many readers who share gratitude for this farm and its creatures, and two aching dirt farmers. Your comments, emails, and packages to a little donkey or an old goat of cookies, aprons, and handmade oddities, make life very special.

Small gestures, lasting impacts

I felt a need to write this after a conversation Friday with a young artist who reminded me of the power of invisible gifts.

Back when I was single, young, and clean, living in Minneapolis, I had a heartbreak I thought would never heal. A boy I loved had left me behind and at the time it felt like all doors were shutting out the sun. Such drama, I know. I remember the first Sunday after our break up I was so despondent, I didn't know what to do with myself. I really needed to do something, anything, to take my mind of my patheticness, and with my throat cold all but over, I ventured out. The world seemed really big, and noisy.

I am not a church goer, preferring to commune in woods or pastures, enjoying the sermons of birds or wind. But in the spattering of church sermons I had attended, I did occasionally experience epiphanies. Deciding now would be a good time for an ephinany, I found myself sitting down in one of Minneapolis' older churches, known for it's historic building and accomplished choir, not to mention a pipe organ.

I fumbled through the various rituals, not really knowing what I was supposed to do, but I was so morose in my pathetic way that it didn't matter. Any movement on my part was good for me in this state, even if it was mumbling words from a Bible I knew nothing about. Even though my cold was mostly over, there was still a little something lurking in my throat, and of course it decided to rumble right as I sat down in the pew. I clutched a hankie to my mouth, holding in my coughs, when what I really wanted to do was just let it rip. I'm sure I was annoying to be near, but as I held my coughs in as best I could, the elderly woman next to me reached over, and handed me a throat lozenges. She smiled sincerely at me, and patted my hand gently. And then she turned away to listen to the minister. It was the tenderest gesture I had had in a week, and it did not feel the least bit judgmental, just a helping hand and a pat as if to say, "It'll be alright." I wanted to cry. I wanted to sit on her aged lap in a fetal position and tell her how safe she made me feel. She thought she was helping out a person with a cough, little did she know my wounds were much deeper.

That moment comes to me often, even though it happened almost 20 years ago. The elderly woman has most likely passed away, but the effect of her simple gesture lives on.

As I was working last week, a little piece of art sitting near my desk, reminded me of a young artist who had recently visited my studio. She had really liked the particular piece, and wondered if I had a print of it that she could buy. I didn't, and we went about other conversation. The young woman had come from out of town to meet me, and explained I was a role model for her. Remembering all this, something clicked in me and I stopped what I was doing, wrapped that little piece of art up and sent it off to her in the day's mail drop. Yesterday, I had a phone call from her, and as she began to speak, I could hear she was crying a little. She was so overwhelmed with the surprise gift, and she tried to convey what it meant to her.

My phone conversation over, I thought of that elderly woman in the church of many years ago. I did not have the words to tell her what her small gesture meant to me. It made me feel loved, and worthy. The phone call from my younger artist friend made me feel loved, and worthy. I am so grateful she expressed this to me.

I guess we all do little tiny things in daily life, and many of those things make huge, lasting impacts on others. I'm so flawed. I was feeling a bit misunderstood when the day began. But after this call, I remembered that I can make impacts on others. And they on me.

Love in a box

One only need look outside the window to catch a glimpse of love. Mr. Plum and Little Orange remind us that one does not need fine Italian sheets to find comfort, nor a bed from a big box store. Cardboard walls, natures finest hay bedding, and a friend keep the chill out, and the heart warm. For the fortunate person taking the picture, these little lessons come throughout the day, and are often expressed by nature's creatures.

Overheard in barnyard

"Think of it this way," said the crusty old mouse to the new arrival. "When you're living you're still dying, and when you're dying you're still living. No point in worrying about either on their own."

Stella tunes up

New movie: Stella sings

Thanks to all the kind emails congratulating Stella on her first movie. Pino's worried his place in Apifera Farm movie making will be usurped. But I've reassured him his talent and compassion can never be outdone.

Pregnant lady reunion

"Daisy! Daisy!" I said as I entered the field tonight. "It's so good to have all you ladies back together! Come over here and see me!" And she did.


During this breeding season, 145 days of separation anxiety for the lady flock, and shepherdess, I think I missed Daisy most of all. I could see her everyday of course, in Concubine Field, but I didn't get my special Daisy time each morning. That would have meant Joe Pye time too, and believe me, you really don't want to have Joe Pye time unless you absolutely have to. So I missed the lady hay clatches.

I separated the three rams out on Saturday, tearing them from their ladies-of-the-season. This in and of itself was quite a task, if I may brag a bit. Hey, you try it. Now all the pregnant ewes are back together again, along with the younger virgins. I love having my flock back.

I think the reason I miss Daisy the most is she was our first ewe, along with her mother Rosie, who as my long time readers know, died tragically last March, along with her triplets. Daisy spent every day with her mother from birth, and when Rosie died, Daisy was 6. I really felt she changed after Rosie's death. A light sort of went out. Some might accuse me of placing my own feelings onto an animal, but I know this animal. She just seems different...rather sad, or...accepting of the situation at hand, but meloncholy. I was going to retire her this year and let her be baby free for the rest of her life, but I changed my mind, knowing that it is her innate urging to breed. When I saw her in heat weeks before breeding began, and she was hovering on Joe's fence line, away from the flock, I had to look at things from a sheep's inner programed desires. She's programed to breed, and lamb.

But she already looks so huge to me. I hope she doesn't have triplets. I am now officially terrified of triplets. I admit, after the ketosis tragedies of spring, losing our two best ewes and 6 lambs [both had triplets] in 2 weeks, I'm nervous this year.

Seeing Daisy pregnant again brought it all back. But it also reminded me that it's a new lambing season, and that's what we must focus on. And I will do my best for her.

Naked-donkey-old-goat-therapy

The beauty is, I can do what I want, and you, my beloved readers, can believe what you want...

After the creepy energy of yesterday's post, I went out to barn this morning and spent time with the donkeys. I told them their ears and body parts had been briefly pirated, but that all was ok, and we are safe again, at least in the barn, out of sight of any web cams, iphones or apps that might tweet us.

So I took my coat off, and my clothes, and rolled in the dust. I left my boots on, well, just because. It felt really good.

I had donkey hugs while still naked. Now don't be getting all freaked out or starting rumors- but the fuzzie winter coats feel really good on naked skin. It's the beauty of a barn, one can do all sorts of things in it without being egged, or hauled off to jail.

I proceeded onto the newer barn, fully clothed. And hung out with Georgie, Guinnias and Gertie, the senior three. Frankie was busy being Frankie - head butting the ram, positioning herself at the hay bar. But the three old timers amused me. They love to have body rub downs. Man, if I could just explain to them how to do that to me, now there's a viral Youtube waiting to happen.

So, this image amuses me. It will be the print goat sponsors get [really, I am going to send them to all of you who have sponsored, once I get my darn inks loaded again]...I just wanted to share it with you to make you smile.

I'm off to take a shower now.

Copyright infringement

UPDATE Friday, 11/13. The blog owner took the images down [although she has now posted the same copyrighted story of Platero and replaced my images with images from the British Museum which appear to be in accordance with their usage on their website. http://ora25.wordpress.com/2009/11/11/magarusul/] She has now added a quote at the bottom of each of her posts "If you are the owner of this art and object please contact me." Her readers seem to think I'm an ungrateful hussie for not looking at this as PR. One of her readers thought they were being quite funny by calling me a 'donkey' -ha ha- 'ass' since most of the work posted was my donkey art.

This was clearly NOT FAIR USE, as described by the copyright laws. Firstly, she took 16 images [not thumbnails, not crops, full size images]. Many of the images included my donkeys as the main theme, including some from my own children's stories about my donkeys. She then placed them as illustration for a copyrighted book/text of Platero, a story about a donkey [and a lovely story]. This last fact made the infringement even more upsetting for me. As an aspiring author, to have my art used to illustrate another book...um, excuse me, to we all see the conflict. She seemed to think she was 'transforming the art', hence 'fair use.".

There is much confusion among bloggers about copyright. Here is a Blogger's Legal Guide. I thought one more person might understand that just because you put a credit on an image, it does not give you the right to post or use an artist's image without consent or negotiation.Just becasue you have a 'share bottun' on a post, doesn't mean you can take images and illustrate another person's book with them. She obviously doesn't understand, as she continues to post daily a copyrighted book or poem, with art from other people. If someone gave her permission to do this, fine, but ask first.

And what about common curteosy? I always ask people or alert them if I want to post a photo. And for lordi sake, if I posted SIXTEEN of them...which I wouldn't think of, but um, think I'd pretty much ask permission.

Also, this idea that I as an artist should just be thrilled to have anyone post my images to gain more recognition is nonsense. I work very hard to create art for a living, and to create beloved characters from my animals to put in my stories. I don't appreciate having anyone placing my images of my donkeys next to the words of a published book, and I'm sure that author would not be too thrilled either. This person also felt she wasn't doing anything wrong becasue she put a link to my site at he bottom of her post. She cropped out my © insignia that was on the images.Now what happens when 100 others copy the images of her blog.

Thank you to so many that wrote her comments on the blog. You came through for me. Lesson: Don't mess with my donkeys.
----------------------------------------------

My images are being used without my consent. Feel free to leave a comment on this person's blog post [as I have done].

http://ora25.wordpress.com/2009/11/11/sufletul-cetii/

Here's someone who thinks it's fine and dandy to copy and post a multitude of my images, and then write a story around them. Gr---rrr--r-r-r-.

This is NOT alright. From what I can tell by the Romanian-English translation, he/she [there appears to be no link to send an email directly to this person so I wrote a comment] is either writing a story up, or not sure. This same blog has tons of other's art, from what I can tell, and then writes story narrative around it.

I really get irritated when this happens. It is not ok to just cut and paste people's art, and using it in such an arrogant way. I often give people the permission to use my art, and welcome certain shout outs on the internet, but taking this many of my images, without asking, is not only against the copyright laws, it's arrogant.

Post a comment to them if you'd like. Perhaps that will get this person to learn something.

Helping a little Bug

Another senior dog I sponsored through Old Dog Haven, was this sweet little thing called "Bug". Well, my sponsorship was up this month, and I just can't resist that face, or name. So again, thanks to recent print sales, another small amount will be sent their way.

Bug was basically abandonned at a large shelter, with a dislocated hip, heart murmer, horrible teeth with oronasal fistulas which are being worked on. Still, Bug has a sunny personality, say the family that took him in for his forever home. We are so glad Bug found you!

Please consider donating to Old Dog Haven or other animal rescue organizations in your area.

Helping Hewitt

NOTE: 12.30.09 ...Hewitt has passed on, but he died with dignity, and in a loving home where he knew he was safe.

Thanks to recent art/print sales, I can donate a small amount to one of the Final Refuge Dogs helped by Old Dog Haven. Old Dog Haven helps senior dogs by placing them in forever homes, or helping adopt them and get medical care. They are located in Washington and have a network of foster homes that help the dogs in need.

This month I will sponsor Hewitt, an old Chihuahua who was found emaciated on the streets, and hairless. He is fighting seizures and has a serious heart murmur. Despite this, his Final Refuge home says he is a snuggler. No matter what time he has left, he will go out with a full heart and caring home.

Please consider making a donation to Old Dog Haven or the animal rescue organization in your area.

Ladies, prepare your undergarments

During one of the few sun breaks [Oregonians know the term], I took the opportunity to visit with the chickens, who were free ranging right outside my stdio door.

Without fail, the minute I bought my camera out, they start showing off their underpants. One bends over, and it begins a contest for "Best Looking Undergarments of the Moment".

"Lookie here, my underpants are a lovely earth tone!" declares Edmonia Lewis.

"Ahem, but mine are a silver fox color!" says Jane Morrison.

"I feel mine have are slightly puffier than yours though," chimes in here near twin, Lady Jane.

It was 10 minutes well spent. So I'm posting these for my chickenless readers, to make you happy. It is a known fact, I read it somewhere, that chicken underpants make people happy. I can attest to this, as I feel even happier than I did when I woke up, and I was pretty happy when I woke up. I thought of having a "Prettiest Underpants of Apifera" contest, but that would only encourage them, and would be slightly non-Apifera in tone.

Morning Chat with Pino: Raining Pickles

Morning Chat with Pino

Morning dust bath

These pictures [by Jan Harris who visited awhile ago, taking some wonderful Apifera shots]really capture the spirit of a good donkey dust bath.

Huck reporting for duty

Of all the animals at Apifera, there is one that spends almost every minute of the waking day with me, but he is the one that probably gets the least attention on the blog. It's Huck, known in some circles as the chocolate lab named after a pie and friend to the pug with one eye.

When I take 2 steps to the left, Huck takes 1.5 steps. If I move 1 step back to the right, Huck doesn't budge. This allows him to be as close to me as possible without falling over.

Huck sleeps on the couch - yes, the couch- and in the early dawn when he senses the proper amount of daylight is present, he starts yawning. Not little girly yawns, but big manly yawns that an old farmer makes lying in bed, stretching. If he does come to the bedroom, he sits at the threshold, yawning. He's much to polite to come in without an invitation. "Come on in, Huck," and he bounds in and sits yawning at the bedside.

I unabashedly love Huck. His chocolate ears are like velvet, irresistible to my lips. I usually kiss Huck's ears in the morning long before I kiss Martyn.

Each animal has a purpose here on the farm, be it a job of pasture maintenance, laying eggs, or providing a strong back to haul something. Just as we two footers need a sense of purpose to remain healthy, so do these animals. I'm not sure what job the old goats have, or the one eye pug, but seniors can do what they want. For awhile Huck was lacking a job, but he now as two important tasks. When Stella and Iris break out of the fencing, which is pretty much daily as you all know, we say, "Come on Huck, goat duty!" and he rushes to the door. He escourts the goats back to their proper pasture, and returns to the house with a beaming expression. This summer I trained Huck to recognize the sound of raccoons or skunks eating at the cat food bowl on the front porch. Both have distinctive sounds from the cats. Every time I heard a coon or a skunk at the cat food, I'd just say, "Who is it Huck?" and within days he understood it as "Me Huck, must scare off critters." Now he runs to the door on his own when he hears skunks or raccoons.

I've been wanting to get back into pet therapy visits, like I did with the One Eyed Pug back in Minneapolis. My real goal is hospice work with a dog, and I 'm not sure if Huck will be right for that, but he might be great with group visits, or 'reading to kids' programs. He's trained pretty well, but he's led a sheltered life on the farm, so I've been taking him out to public stores to get him acclimated to new surroundings.

This weekend I took him to Lowe's. Lots of sounds, crashing boxes, electric doors, carts on wheels that were a good test for us. He did really well, and I must say I was pleasantly surprised. I really saw something in his eyes that made me swell up. It was like he was saying, "Yes, I can do this! I want to meet people, I want this job so much." It was a turning point for both of us. He was so happy to be there with me, doing something, anything, with me and for me. He obeyed and sat on command, and except for a bit of pulling, was a gentleman. He also got lots of admiration which was good for him, since the donkeys get all the attention at farm days. As people of all ages asked to pet him, I beamed every time someone said, "He's the most beautiful color." On occasion, he looked up at me as if to say, "It's going quite well, don't you think?" Perhaps the biggest accomplishment for him was he didn't have gas. Huck's admiration for kitty poop, preferably rolled in mud with a dusting of dried leaves, provides him with ample silent gaseous explosions. If you see me in a cold winter downpour, driving with all the windows open, you can be sure that Huck is in the car with me.

The dream I had long ago of one day living on a farm with a barnyard full of animals has come true. But I forgot how much I love working with dogs too. Huck and I will venture into some kind of pet therapy visits and I will of course keep you posted. And, I can't keep the secret any more - we are bringing home a little Huck, a puppy born this weekend from the same sire. The breeder told us it might be one of her last litters, and well, I took that as encouragement from the pet therapy guides above to get one. I'd been contemplating it anyway, knowing I wanted a hospice dog. The breeder has placed many of her dogs into service work, including hospice, so stay tuned. While I advocate bringing senior dogs into your homes, I felt I already have my senior dog who is 12 and has his own heart/eye issues. I decided I deserved a pup, and am really excited to work with him, and continue to work with Huck. And I think Huck deserves this too. Billy can't play with him anymore. It's sad to watch Huck's brown eyes sag when he attempts to get a game going with his senior friend.

Taking Huck and the new pup out for visits will bring stories and inspirations. It will be an honorable way to spend some time with my dogs.

Snippets of Apifera

Donkey and wind converse, he with brays, a flicker of the tail, lips quiver. And the wind caresses his ear tips.


I'll tweet snippets like this, 140 character 'essences' of what I'm trying to capture in my longer short stories [many you have not seen, yet.]