The glance of a king

She can not seem to understand my true qualities, my kingliness. For 4 years I have helped in the equation that brings food to her table, to her barbecue. I feed her. I nurture her with my genetic make-up, providing meat to her liking. I give up my prodigy without a fuss, I accept that fate. I do my part willingly - I eat and graze to keep up my strength. I even allow myself to live in a mixed herd of lower gentleman, and two goats for heaven's sake. I am a saint for that. And when the season changes, when I smell a hint of drying leaves in the forest, I know it is once again my duty to service my flock. I go willingly, I do not balk at her. I go to the field of ladies, reintroduce myself quickly - for their is no reason to doddle, they know it too, the job must be done. The grass and foraging I have done all summer to keep me fit for the job pays off, for I spread my seed over and over without tiring, just to make sure the job is thorough. I am a professional that way.

Yet, she seems to put herself in the herd master role, when it is really I that am in charge of this herd. That is why, from time to time, I must come to the fence line and stare out at her. Surely my expression will explain clearly, "Excuse me, you! You the woman with the bucket, I am the greatest! I am Joe Pye Weed. And this herd is mine."

Cat contemplates the day...

Good evening

One of the nicest things I get to do here on the farm is sit at the end of a hot day and look out at this. One hand is petting a cat in my lap, the other is holding a glass of wine. I can hear the snorkels of the one eyed pug behind me on the deck, and the panting of Huck.


The lord of the manor house sits beside me, dressed in Apifera Farm attire. This time of year we watch the mating couples who have flown in, like the Western Tanager - spectacular! We revel at the cedar siding we just put on the pump house, and discuss the many ideas for other little projects. We share our day with each other, and 95% of the time are at peace. Each day, something happens in the garden bed in front of us, and we enjoy pointing them out to each other.

These simple things happen every day in my life and marriage.

I do not have to go
To sacred places in far off lands.
The ground I stand on is holy.

Here in this little garden I tend
My pilgrimage ends.
The wild honeybees
The hummingbird moths
Are a microcosm of the earth.
Each seed that grows is full of miracles.

And I toil and sweat and watch and wonder
And am full of love
Living in place
In this place.
For truth and beauty dwell here.
[Mary de La Valette]

The cat that became an elephant

The transformation of any creation is the fuel for keeping magic in one's day. Like all my rag dolls, I can't seem to work from any set plan, but this is the signature of all my work really.

So, I set out to make a cat, but it turned into this little elephant. Ella Elephant likes to wear short dresses but no pants. This helps her go swimming like elephants like. She wears a pink ribbon to attract boy elephants. Her little tail is the sweetest little tail imaginable!

Ella Elephant is a one of a kind creatures, full of personality, and like any creature, can not be duplicated. I am working on other felted creatures, and want to do some 3D sets to place them in, like mini theater stories. It's still in my head.
It will most likely be a gigantic 3D mess, much like my monkey houses of past, but I will forge ahead with hammer, saw and nails. Martyn will cringe and step in. Soon perhaps he will build me a stage of some kind for theatrical performances with felt puppets and guest appearances from Phinias T. Barnum and others. [I have convinced him to make a special magic door to the "Pino's Pie Place" where the donkeys will be for the June 28th Pie Day].

Lady's lament

Backwards or not...

I am working on a new children's story. This time I am trying something a bit different. I worked on the illustrations as a whole before I even began writing the copy.

When I was working on my new felted dolls [to appear later] the feeling of the character started coming out of the doll. And as I felted away, I was telling stories in my head about the doll. So it gave me the notion that perhaps I should try creating a visual storyline first, and create the words around that. In my last stories I wrote all the copy first.

So far, I've done all the first draft b/w visual spreads. I had the story idea in my head before starting, but really let the art help me develop the details of the story/plot. I'm finding it is helping me not rush as much, and I feel like I am taking more time to try and develop the characters.

The main character is an artist donkey that leaves the city life for country life, and the challenge she faces as an outsider, and as being seen as a bit 'strange' to the country folk. The other main character is an old mouse who acts as her friend and mentor.

It's a completely true story.

Natural tendencies

The May madness of planting the vegetable garden and prepping the perennial beds for summer have been in full swing. Basically I am 5 inches shorter, from bending over so much. But at least I can still bend. I do often require two hands to get back up. Not too pretty from the rear, I guess. I definitely notice my body reacting differently to manual labor, no matter how enjoyable. I just can't handle intense manual labor like we did our first couple years here. I actually was so stiff last week that I convinced myself I had some strange joint disease. When we were really little, my brother used to warn me I'd get worms someday from giving dogs kisses on the mouth. I scoffed. Perhaps that scoffing has come back to haunt my joints.

I did this piece a couple years ago, and many of the pieces from then had a kneeling woman, all bent up. I was tired - hanging on to a plant to try and get back up on my two feet.

I don't read blogs daily, but lately many I visit are taking hiatus for one reason or another, some really seeming in angst over it.To me, it seems the bodies natural tendency is to want to be outside in the days of warm weather. The desire to switch from creating on a canvas, versus creating with mud and dirt and seed seems perfectly acceptable and logical. Our ancestors probably busted out of caves on a spring day - perhaps the cave paintings were only done in the winter.

Business is slow. I always stress the first of the month if jobs aren't coming in or things aren't selling. But at a certain point, I have to remember I got here from art, I am allowed to stay here through art - so why do I think after 10+ years the universe would kick me out of this place due to a lack of art? So, I continue to work, and each day let the powers to be work behind the scenes... "Hmmm, let's let her work in the fields and play with the horse for a good month, and then let's give her that huge illustration job..." . That might sound egotistical, but I just have to believe in slow times that I am not always the one to be privy as to what the heck is really going on.