Donkey Dream is spreading its wings

I will be sending the files off to the printer next week for "Donkey Dream" and let me tell you-I am so pleased, and relieved. There are so many tiny details to be consumed with and it is hard to focus on any other work while making a book–at least that is how I work on them.

What has been fun for me is to go back and read the original story–which was originally called "Raggedy Love". I started it in 2009 I think. This book has been through so many transformations-it started as a children's story of Pino and his pies, but then evolved into a memoir of how I met Martyn and got to the farm, which included Pino and his pies. Depending on who saw it, the poor book [and me] would labor over a new direction. But looking back, it was all worth it–the book is really more like I had envisioned it in the first place, with the love story but also pie recipes.

Anyway, I settled on a cover and back cover, seen here. Very soon I will have pre-order information up too.

Guarding wheelbarrows and other Marcella skills

She is growing so fast. Going on 4 months her puppy body is turning gangly and discombobulated. It is as if her front end and hind end are working against each other. Her teeth are coming in and her paws are still polar bear like. She is smart, independent and drives everyone in the barnyard a bit crazy from time to time. She likes goat feed and cat food and raw eggs. She beats Ernest tot he duck hut every morning to look for a prized egg which she neatly pokes, then sucks out the feast. The pigs crunch the whole egg, then somehow eat the food while spitting out the shell in one step.

Marcella is learning not to chase. I can't watch her 24/7 so about twice a day I hear a loud yelp from her in the barnyard. Usually it is her overzealous behavior around Rosie. I've told here a million times, "Watch out for the grumpy pig," but she keeps trying to make friends. She'll learn.

We haven't had any accidental deaths- I worry a bit about the ducks since they came to me clipped. She is intrigued with them, but also likes anything that moves fast. Usually her romp is over fast and if I am there it is a stern,

"NO chase!"

and she immediately sits. She is after all, a puppy. I know by about a year I'll see a huge difference. She had her first real encounter with the main flock this weekend. I put her out in the barnyard with them-not the lambs or moms at this time, too soon-and I took a seat to observe. One of the yearling ewes head banged her and Marcella got up to leave, and that ewe came after her again knocking her to the ground. This sent her running, crying to the barn. Watching them learn is not always easy, but you have to weigh safety with learning and let them figure out the dynamic. She is big enough to get rammed a few times without harm. But she's not mature enough to be left unattended for a day. So they spent the afternoon together, and things calmed. She learned that the ewes are bigger than the Pygmies and mean business.

She already sits in certain spots-the fence line when the dogs or Martyn are out and about. And why not guard a wheelbarrow-its a very important item to us.

Mother Tulip returns

Mother Tulip came back. I had my eye out for the first signs of her. This time of year I run the sheep down past the house and front road to put them in the side fields, and it is a challenge to keep them from eating the tender Muscari and my lone tulip.

But she is not just any tulip. She is Mother Tulip. Many years ago my mother gave me lots of tulip bulbs to plant here at the farm-she loved tulips. They are had to grow here due to the deer, let alone the always escaping Stella and Iris, and sheep passing by. The original Mother Tulip came out right after my mom died last April, so I took it as a clear message from her,

"Hello, I am still here." While it sounds silly, I really hung on to that tulip in my heart and it had great significance for me.

So this year I watched for her. I knew the bulb would have separated or died out, but then came a tiny shoot. In her first stages, she looked just like the original Mother Tulip, with yellow highlights, but when she began to open, she turned red. She was not as strong and tall as last year, but we all evolve, and so does Mother Tulip.

I think she came back to give me a smile. It did bring me one, although it brought back the memory of how sad it all was. But a year later, I can look at her as a beautiful creature taking on many forms.

Sunday coffee break

Lots going on around here these days. Spring is like that. We have projects all over the place but we always take time to stop, even for a few minutes and have a sip of coffee. I took time to take photos today and caught these two as I was returning.

The grumpy pig birthday party for two

I kept Rosie's 6th birthday party very low key to give the birthday girl complete control over her special pie I made her. It is a secret pie recipe and I won't share it with you, but the pig enjoyed it and always enjoys this recipe above anything else I give her. Only the barnyard and The Dirt Farmer know the single creamy ingredient that sets my little pig's heart beating and mouth salivating. She likes to leave remnants on her nose, to sniff and carry with her through her day, until someone comes along and licks it clean for her.

Of course, Marcella had to come. I'm actually pleased she can be around Rosie now without constant skirmishes by pig or pup. She still can't get it through her little head-yet-that Rosie isn't like Ernest, but she tries, though less and less, to play with her.

So happy birthday to the grumpiest pig I know. If it's sunny, she's grumpy; Rain-yep, pretty grumpy; Snow? Why get up out of the hay bed? But Rosie is still welcome here in all her Rosieness. I know I'm grateful that the people I know best love me even when I'm grumpy, so a little pig gets that unconditional acceptance here too.

Rosie the pig is one of the many adopted Misfits of Apifera. Read more here >

A horse, a woman and life

Today I celebrate life-all around me. As I did my morning feedings, I took time to lean on Boone's fence and watch the lambs and flock, the blue sky was one giant window above me-where does it go? Who knows, but I let my face look up to it, merge with it as I closed my eyes and I felt my heart inside me. I felt my mother there too, probably checking in one me as she went about her new realm,

"Just checking in to see how you're doing!" I can hear her say it, just like a phone message.

There is something good about getting past the "first year of firsts" after a loss. While the loss is always there, lurking, ready to pop out and catch you and draw you in if you let it, there is healing in Father Time.

It is also Boone's 16th birthday. BOONE! Boonie. Boo. He's my horse of red who lets me ride him to old cemeteries so we can sit and gaze out at the fields of cattle. The same guy lets me dress him in a red check table cloth and load him up with lavender to be in a parade. We've come a long way since our meeting 6 years ago when my confidence was lacking as a leader for him. He knew, horses know in an instant. He was never mean, but he was lazy and out of shape. I can relate in ways. We worked through it though, with lots of riding and lessons and now I just feel like his leader and part of a team. We are very similar in ways-still a bit lazy sometimes as far as exercise goes but not like before. We enjoy each other. I really feel he enjoys our times together.

Love me some Boone.

So, I will be with him later today, maybe a ride, maybe just some hanging-out-in-the-sun time.

I will leave you with two thoughts. One, don't give up on a horse before you've really spent time riding him. Find a teacher to help, and a safe place to learn and gain confidence. Take baby steps together. But ride, ride, ride. Time in the saddle is what it is all about. Consistent time.

Secondly, don't give up on life during your loss. Grab on to it like an anchor. Find help if you need it. Don't let anyone tell you to go at their speed while you grieve, don't let anyone tell you 'should' be painting more or doing this or that more to move on-who says? People hate to see others suffer I guess, it is uncomfortable for them. But if you don't suffer loss head on you will suffer in other ways, down the road or through passive aggressive encounters. Life here is so fast. I can't believe Boone has been with me 6 years.

I must always look at life first-it is why I am here-to live here. Plenty of time to be in the next realm. Grief is a creature, it lives on its own terms and it is a challenge to live with it but you learn to find ways to recognize triggers, and ways to respond to those triggers. Sometimes you fall in a crack though. I am finding in the past week-the week of the anniversary of her death-that my body was really sensitive to a lot things, and I purposely slowed myself all week. I rode, walked and such, but I let my body feel quiet. I had my wine but I was careful not to fall into over eating or overindulging. I made myself feel that quiet sadness that is there-but then I said

"Hello, sadness, I feel you, I get it, it's okay you're still here, but now I will pat you on the head and enjoy this beautiful moment with my husband or animals."

See more of Boone >

Seven years of little Lucia

It is hard to fathom that it has been seven years since I walked little Lucia to her new home at Apifera. As many of you know, she is a sister to Pino who is a couple years older than her. I took care of her when she was very little while her caretakers were away and fell in love with her. WHen I heard she was for sale, I created a secret plan t bring her home. Actually, I just bought her and brought her home and then told Martyn. he didn't flinch.

Where is time going? If she is seven years older, so am I.

Read more about Lucia >

Before Apifera

I have wondered, if I leave Apifera or die, will it cease to exist? This sounds so pompous, but I do realize that it is my energy and ideas that created Apifera, along with those of my side kick, Martyn. Without us two, it would be someone else's property to steward, evolving through their energy.

We are just stewards here. I feel that way about houses, they take on the souls of the keepers. Some keep the house in a warm light, others neglect a structure leaving it wounded and relieved when new tenants show up.

"I hope this one paints my walls a lighter color," it might be thinking.

I know this farm was once a working dairy. I felt a sense of sadness in the entire place, that it didn't have a purpose any more. I could feel the hard work the first owner put into it all. Every time we fixed something or improved something, I would think of those first farmers and how it would make them happy to see the place going back to a use.

The photo here is from our first months at Apifera. It never ceases to inspire me to look at old photos of our arrival. While I sometimes feel like I am moving fast enough, I see how much we have done. There was a very neglected but worthy old barn and fields that hadn't been maintained for many years. Anything you might see now if you come to Pie Day was probably not here-the vegetable area, fencing, paddocks, gardens, arbors, decks, orchard, boundary trees river front trees to name some things. There was a lot of bramble, in fact the current donkey area was almost all bramble and Stella and Iris had an important job, which they did well over the years. There was no chicken coop, no donkeys or sheep, no Misfits, no red horse to ride. There was a lot of debris–a lot of debris–and a lot of cats living in the debris, or being born in it. You might know if you've followed along, I trapped, spayed and neutered over 25 cats that first year or so, and many of them are still with us including Big Tony who now resides in the Big House, and Mama Kitty, still feral but living on the deck with two 10 year old sons. I think we are currently at 10 cats-it's getting sparse!

In a way it is eery to look at this photo. My life then was very different. I was just settling in, reforming my identity with myself and new home, exploding out of city life into a rural area I didn't know. My art career was in total transition going from the known to the unknown. I was making little money and the economy was crashing. We sold our houses right before the crash. We were younger, in our early forties, and we worked into post dusk then. I remember that, how hot it was that first summer, and we didn't have the irrigation from the river yet, so we hauled hoses down to the lavender field to try to get our young field established. The local farmers, actually mainly the ones that weren't farmers but liked do act like farmers, scoffed at our non pesticide ways. One guy said,

"So can you make any money on that lavender?" in a very demeaning way. He's not farming any more. We are.

That winter we had the floods and lost a lot of our young field. But we tried to save it all through a two week period, hand trenching drain areas as we soaked up the rains. It was a mess. But we learned a lot about our land that winter. You see people move into the area and plant stuff, and you know they will learn a lot about their land in that first year. It's just how it works.

We made so many mistakes, some pretty funny-like planting the rows too close together so we couldn't drive our tractor between the rows. Oops. We refused to take out any rows, so for the first few years we hand weeded everything-because we also refused to use weed barrier [thank goodness we didn't] or pesticides. Man, I can remember nights just sitting in the field and sort of crying, I was so tired and felt like I was in a Greek myth, pushing the same boulder up a hill only to have it roll back down. We had 4000 plants back then, by the time I got to the end of a row, which took about 2 hours, I swear the weeds grew back where I first started.

I got smart and put the animals to work. I believe in seeking out an animal's purpose and letting them incorporate that into their life. They are happier with their own skill at work. I have failed Muddy, the younger chocolate lab that way, he has no job except Frisbee which I have little time to really play. Seeing Marcella already starting to work is wonderful, and it reminds me how I've failed Mud a bit. Not Huck, his job is to be an old soul and he did it well from a pup on. So anyway, I first put the donkeys in the lavender as they loved teasel and thistle and it worked great for about a month but they began to eat the fresh buds of the plants. The next season, we discovered that the sheep didn't eat the lavender and they became our main weeders. It cut down on our annual weed around the plant manual labor, and it sure looked pretty too. About four years into it, we realized the young ram lambs like lavender and I now have to time it and put them in at just the right time. We didn't have as much fencing then either and now have much more area to cross pasture our flock-good for them and the fields. I always said if I woke up filthy rich-besides buying some new boots and sharing some of it, I'd save most of it but I'd hire a fence crew to reshape the fences and do all wood corners. I envy a field of professional fencing! But you do your best.

Farming is creative that way–it is a daily puzzle and you have to roll with the punches. One animal gets sick and you might have to change the mix in the barnyard to let him recover properly. You see a fencing issue and have to drop everything to deal with it or suffer the consequences. I like that about my life, it's engaging, manual, fertile, expanding daily. I never lack for something to do, or figure out. It keep me sane, really.

Mysteries of red dresses

What becomes of the loved face?

I have not painted in earnest since my mother died a year ago this coming week. While I've been creating images for the book, I have not worked on a body of canvases since my last show, which I was painting for when my mother suddenly died. I didn't consciously stop, I just couldn't bring myself to sit in the same spot of a year ago and look at the paints and other views that I remember while I tried to absorb the shock of that moment. I'm the boss of me, as Neil Young once said, and I didn't care if I wasn't painting. Everyday is a painting here, but sometimes my medium is the land, or animals, or sewing, baking, writing or thinking. I quit worrying about 'shoulds' from others a long time ago.

It was Boone's birthday. I told you then how it seemed unfair that she died on his birthday, but I quickly saw it as a little note from her and others, reminding me that life is for the living. After all, I had waited so long to get my horse, there was no need to wallow in the past or death. I had to get in the saddle. So on April 4th, I'll be with Boone.

But I can now say with all honesty I've had depression. Internally. I'll mention it to Martyn when I feel it, then I move on. We have such a good life together with so much laughter, nature, good meals and wine, and our garden and farm, that I can't wallow in any kind of sadness. But it is still there, the quiet little sack of sadness. But then every day I'm happy too. But then I'm depressed...while being happy. I think it is important to remember this about loss–it does not go away. the loss is always a loss and it manifests itself forever, in different ways. Others who have had loss, on any given day, might be struggling even if they appear happy. There is also this pressure online-for me anyway- to not dwell on the negative, to share the positive, the upbeat. I'm not looking for advice from anyone I just think it is helpful that others see that even someone like me, surrounded by donkeys and sweet pigs, and one grumpy one, folds her wings in and takes a sit down.

The mounting pressure of the arrival of April 4th really started around Martyn's birthday. Then mine came and went. All the 'firsts' of the first year after her death-first holiday season, first birthday, first spring, etc- are now almost past. There is something freeing about it being a year. But I still can go into shock, briefly, when I remember she is dead, or remember that day. I have been pondering why it is hitting me hardest right about now and I think it is because spring itself is so raw in so many ways-our senses are ready and open for the aromas of spring flowers and fruit blossoms, the seeds are percolating beneath us-we are vibrating in a spring. Our hearts are eager and open to new life. It's a visceral time.

I have a voice message saved from my mother and in the days after she died, I played it all the time. Now I play it every few weeks or less. But I still talk to that recording. "Hope everything is okay, talk to you later," she ends her message. "Talk to you later," I say out loud.

I was thinking that if one is lucky enough to grow old, there perhaps comes a day when a thought enters your head, "I sure do miss a lot of friends and family, maybe eternal rest isn't so bad after all." I don't know, but that must be what letting go is all about in the end-the end to suffering, whatever your personal suffering is.

After a year of not seeing her, I think the other reality is still-okay, it's been a year, now there are 40 to go.

So today I started some warm ups to paint again. I'm taking back the studio, taking back the paint. I painted a face trying to remember my mother's hair and features in the end and all I could see was her face is lit up like stars. I didn't make much of anything but I started again. The other two faces only remote resemble her. Perhaps I'm not ready to see her from my soul yet.

The gentle and strong

Stevie is one of the most gentle of all the Misfits. He is the largest of the goats and despite his size and ability, he does not push the smaller ones around. He is very tolerant. Despite his crippled and now deformed legs, brought on by severe neglect years ago, he is still very strong. After years of trying to get his one claw like hoof more manageable [at one time it was 6" and curved, I asked my farrier to help me get more hoof off, and wow, was I pleased. At first I worried that taking off the hook would effect his balance negatively, but he is much more upright than he has ever been. We still have a lot of hoof to trim off, but at least now I can keep it more controlled in between trims.

If you don't know the story, Stevie was part of a big neglect case in Southern Oregon. His herd was eventually confiscated and he was the worst off, having been living on his knees for a long time because his feet were so overgrown. The Humane Society stepped in at some point along with a local vet, and gave Stevie an operation that allowed him to at least hobble on all fours, versus being on his knees all the time. Eventually he was taken in by Sanctuary One and later Apifera became his home with his grumpy pig sidekick, Rosie. He spends most of the day lying down, but he can walk and ventures about in good weather. And he still gives little kisses.

I've been trying to capture the real essence of his expression and have not yet fully succeeded. But these are a start.

Apifera welcomes donations to help us maintain the many Misfits. You can receive a reward, or not, it is up to you.

Dirt Farmer hand model

I asked Martyn to help me with some of the final images for the new book. He obliged, of course, and the pot was sweetened when he knew the photo shoot consisted of cherry pie.

Many of you know our love was sealed over cherry pie and it is one of The Dirt Farmer's favorites. Any pie with berries is his favorite, I guess I should add. I have witnessed the man almost walk off an incline because he is so immersed in picking berries. I have gone on short hikes with him, turned around to say something to him only to he is way off behind me with his head buried in a berry bush. Berries are to Martyn like honey is to Pooh.

Now me, I love walnut pie. Probably the worst pie for me, I suppose. But I will confess-on Pino Pie Day, I always make an extra and hide it in the kitchen–so I know when Pie Day is over and the hostess gets to put her feet up, she will have not one piece of walnut pie, but an entire pan.

We did it like a herd!

Who is more relieved–me, the donkey, or maybe the Dirt Farmer who doesn't have to watch me agonize over a ticking clock anymore? All patrons of the project will get their books or rewards in late June-early July. The book will go to the printer in mid April. I'm so happy and thankful for all the support-really!

In the coming days and weeks, I'll be creating a separate Page for the new book and ways you can buy the book. For now, I'll relish a bit in all the hard work that paid off in success. I am feeling grateful, excited, proud and thankful all over again.

Spring warms the earth and the naps begin

The first really warm days came to us-and it is really no different than I remember as a child–all one wants is to be outside in it. Nothing else compares to the first days of spring. The earth's ground is still cool making the warmth of the sun like warm slippers and a sweater. No need for a jacket, but no need to strip off layers due to over heating. It's just you and the warm air with beginning wafts of the Indian Plums blooming. The daffodils are up and their is pink fuzz forming on apples and cherry trees. Spring is hope-for a new growing season, new life, new ways of looking at the same old things popping up into one's eyesight.
And it means the barnyard becomes a sleepy, dopey place where nappers abound. Marcella takes to the shade and we see the first hint of how her thick coat will make her a shade lover.

Today's smile of the moment

Today's smile of the moment brought to you by Raggedy Man.

Today's episode of Pig & Pup!

Springing

The donkey has lit a candle

I...um...think...we ...are ...funded.

But I am nervous-I have the same worry genetics as Paco the resident worrier.

Right now, I just need to take a breath, have some wine tonight, dream deep. I am so happy. Really!! There were so many who helped in so many ways-sharing, pledging, repledging, telling friends...it all came together. Some sent big donations that helped at very crucial times. But all the pledges-all of them-were met with me smiling and feeling gratified. I mean that.

But there are reasons why people should still consider pre ordering the book for the next 5 days [the Kickstarter campaign goes until 3/24 no matter what]and why going slightly over the fund will give a bit of a buffer in case of mishaps.

- Like I said, I'd like a comfort zone over the goal, in case someone pulls out [please don't do that!]

-Anything over $14,500 will be put to good use- promotion of the book [paid PR releases, mailers, give always, ads] and possible reprints costs

-By pre ordering here, you get a book for $25 [includes USA s/h] and that price will go up after 3/24 for regular buyers. I can't give you the exact retail cost of the finished book yet since I don't know weight and final incidentals, but am assuming it will be $28-$35 [that includes USA shipping]

-I'd also like to take some of what might be pledged in the next 6 days and use it for a private pie party for children and elders. I have a couple of contacts and am hoping I can pull that off.

So keep pre-ordering until Monday 3/24!

Pig & Pup continued!

There's a lot a couple of pals can do during the day-like investigate buckets, and then take naps. What a pair. What a life.

Donkey speaks

So I was informed, by The Heaad Troll delivered note under the door, that in a nutshell, my tone in my last update on Kickstarter felt a wee bit...tired. So the donkey has stepped in. With help I suppose from The Head Troll. Today he just wants to show how he relieves stress from such a fundraiser with Donkey Inspired Frisbee. I mentioned the typo in his movie and he said,

"Typos have no meaning to me".

He will be helping do updates as we tick down the final days of this Kickstarter-so be warned, the donkey will be sharing in earnest.