Part Two: Pino's revelation

The barnyard gasp had just sunken into silence when a faint, slow, click-clop was heard in the near distance. A small statured creature from the old barn quietly plodded out to the crowd, it's head bent.

"Pino!" Lucia cried out to him.

Pino took his place next to the Speaker, his eyes showcasing his remorse, his tail laying still out of respect for the serious discussion about to begin.

Boone began to speak. "It has come to my attention, thanks to an unidentified news source..."....and at this point I looked down at Huck, who gave me his best impression of Lady-Diana-Eyes. I immediately knew he had squealed, or accidental squealed. This is not unusual for Huck. So great is his joy for everything he sees and experiences, that he wants to share it, so he can't be trusted with secret information. He doesn't intend any harm, and often has no idea of the consequences. I let him lay his head in my lap, and I rubbed his soft chocolate ears - my way of telling him his secret was safe with me.

Boone went on, "...that Pino has broken a barnyard promise we all took some months ago."

Another gasp mixed with snorts-bleats-clucks was heard, but more hushed than the first.

"It seems that Pino has been twittering!" bellowed Boone.Pino's head drooped even lower.

The hens erupted in a chorus of clucks, Pap Roo crowed, and the sheep bleated in union.

"Tweeting??!" screeched Frankie.

"Pino! We all agreed that tweeting was just one more craze that was creating a neurotic society said Daisy, speaking for the flock.

"Neurotic and self indulgent..." stated Boone.

"Helping promote attention deficiency." said Frankie.

And everyone started talking at once, and poor Pino just stood there, taking the brunt of it.

"Order! ORDER!" bellowed Boone. "As upset as we all our, we must give Pino a chance to explain his actions. Pino, you have 10 flies to make your case."

Frankie jumped up on her bucket. "Wait, he first must state his full name, for the record."

Everyone rolled their eyes, except Pino, who walked to Boone's podium
and stated, clearly and slowly, "My name is Pino Blangiforti and I am a donkey."

Pino cleared his throat. He looked for Lucia and Paco, which gave him courage. He looked over at me, and I gave him a knowing glance, as if to say, "Be honest."
Huck lifted an eyebrow, and then buried his head in my lap.

"One day I was sunning. It was really nice. I was thinking about berry season, and it made me happy inside...I thought....that...it... well...
I'm ..." he stumbled all over his words.

At that point I had to step in. I was trying to stay silent, which is really my role in any of these meetings. But I took to the podium and spoke, "Now look everyone, this is my doing. And while Pino went along with it, we decided to keep it from all of you, since we were tweeting as sort of a trial, sort of an experiment. We thought it might be a new way to share with the outside world. But we were skeptical, and just wanted to see what it was all about."

"Woman and donkey tweets mixed!" declared Papa Roo.

"Why aren't they called Dweets if you're a donkey? " mused Lucia.

"Or Baby Bleats?" ask Rosalita, the youngest of the lambs.

"That would be a Baweet", chipped in Blue, her mother.

"Order! We must focus!" said Boone. "Exactly what was the experiment?"

I went on, "Well, think of the ways the blog has helped us share stories and art.
Without it, I'd have no living. I reach people I never would have before email and blogs. It's brought good things to us, and I think we have valuable things to share. And when an animal needs help, like Old Guinnias for example, we reach out through the blogosphere, and help arrives. And we sell a print, some money can help other animals."

With that, Guinias suddenly awoke out of a deep nap. "Ah, yes, um, yes, I love Pino, I vote for Pino."

"Just go back to your nap, Guinny," said Boone to the old goat.

"But we are not talking about blogs, we are talking about Twittering. And we all agreed the ridiculousness of cramming a thought into 128 characters only helps provoke the already attention deficient, neurotic society who have a phone in one hand and a blackberry in another." declared Boone.

"Blackberry?" chimed in Paco, but he was hushed.

Boone went on, "And we also all agreed that letting everyone around the world knowing our minute by minute poop schedules, what our poop looks like, and what time we poop, highlights the worst of the self indulgent aspect of social networking."

"Well, I totally agree Boone." I said. "There is so much pointless chatter out there on blogs. If you are looking down and tweeting about the beautiful walk you are on, are you not walking just to tweet, are you not changing the actual natural experience, even if it takes 1 minute to tweet? Does the same person feel compelled to take a phone on a walk and call every 30 minutes and say 128 characters of experience to a person who isn't home since they are tweeting somewhere else? Are any of us really sharing, or is it like a cocktail party where too many voices are giving their verbal resumes at once? If you tweet at a meeting, are you really listening to the speaker?"

"Exactly. I still am not hearing a valid reason for tweeting behind our backs, " said Boone sternly.

I proceeded with my case. "Long before any of you, there were areas, like this farm, that had no phone lines. When phones came, there were actually people who resisted them as intrusions. Then there was radio, and TV, and laptops, and cell phones. All have come with annoyances, all can tempt the compulsive nature of most two footers, but with each new gadget, we can reach more and more ears, and we can share, and learn, and then grow or change. When I was little, we used to get people calling the house, and saying, "Are you Dunn yet?" and they'd hang up. It was a frivolous use of the system. But that same phone allowed the paramedics to get to our block to help a hurt child on a moment's notice. Twitter can be like that. We just have to figure out what messages we want to send."

"So Pino, what did you tweet about then?" Boone asked.

"Berries...."

"Berries?" asked Boone.

"Yes, and I told people I loved them." Pino said.

"That seems like a good thing to share with the world, " said Lucia

"But is it so necessary that you had to tweet it, to some one's phone, while they were driving, or meeting, or working, or working while tweeting about their Facebook page? Didn't we agree that most messages can be put in a letter, or an email. Didn't we agree we felt our stories were worth more than 128 characters. Don't we want people to read, and stop and think about it for a second, and feel it, relish it? Pino, didn't you just add to sea of useless information that prevents people from focusing on their own life's work for the day?"

Pino looked sullen. "Yes....but a revelation came to me when I saw how Twitters helped the people in Iran. So I thought my satisfaction with such a simple thing as a berry might help the world, somehow..."

"Your delight in berries will help bring democracy to other nations?" asked Boone, sarcastically. Pino sunk his head.

"Look everyone, " I went on. " I'm as perplexed as Pino as to how we fit into Twitter, or if we should fit into it. Isn't it enough we blog, and write, and illustrate, and email, and facebook, and even write letters? Pino and I talk about this. But there was a time when some people scoffed at email. We can't get left behind. But we can't follow blindly either. We must explore this as an opportunity and search out the merits. I think we need to readjust our perspective. Let's try to decide if we can use Twitter responsibly, politely, helpfully, with meaning. Let's start thinking entrepreneurial about this."

"Imagine if Black Elk had had Twitter...." said Pino.

"Or the Allies in 1940...." said Paco earnestly.

"Or any of the Three Stooges..." said Frankie. And everyone stopped and stared at her. "What?" she asked perturbed.

Boone pounded his hooves. "Order! I think we have heard enough. Let's vote - who here feels we should explore our place in the Twitter sphere?"

All feet and wings went up except Gus's, one of the cats.

"I refuse to be controlled by 128 characters." Gus declared.

"One 'nay'. Let the notes show Pino will try to find an Apifera way to Twitter."

I quickly added this to the meeting notes.

Then Boone raised his hoof in the air, and sternly stated, "And I declare that Pino was only working from his heart, trying to tell a wider audience about berries...."

"Especially in pie..." said Pino.

"Order!" Boone boomed. "We will all join together as one, and think of ways we can use Twitter properly. Now, how many in favor of forgiving Pino?"

And a multitude of hooves, wings, paws, toes went up, to many to count.

"Any nays?" asked Boone.

And with that, one small hoof went up...

It was Pino's. He bent his head and with a quivering lower lip said, "I'm so sorry I disappointed everyone.".

Huck rushed up to the little donkey, and kissed him all over his body and face, until Pino sat on the ground and laughed, and laughed.

The crowd started singing "Put on a Happy Face", one of Pino's favorite songs. And Old Guinnias woke up.


Congratulations! If you're reading this sentence it means you read all the way to the bottom of the story, and don't suffer too badly from attention deficiency or Twitter disease. If after reading this story, you want to tweet Pino your ideas on how he might Tweet in an Apifera appropriate way, please do so here. Please, serious tweets only.

Suspense continues...

Barnyard meeting mystery: Part One

Cameras are not allowed at these meetings. It's difficult to take notes and sketch too, but I did my best.

I was just about to do barn chores yesterday morning, when I heard a faint, not familiar knock at the door. I say unfamiliar as it didn't sound like a hand knocking, it had more of a 'click-click-click' sound to it, not human. "A cat?" I thought to myself. When I peered out the door's window, I saw no one. Then I looked downward, and there was the pygmy body of Frankie. She peered up, and very matter of factly announced,"Barnyard meeting. Starts in 5 flies." [A 'fly" is a system of timing for the animals. It took me awhile to figure it out, but basically one "fly" takes about 2 minutes to fly around a body, land, fly, land again before it creates enough annoyance as to cause the animal to swat or tail swap, so 5 flies is about 10 minutes.]

She waddled off in a hurry. Frankie took her role in barnyard meetings very seriously. She was in charge of gathering the barnyard on time, but also made sure the meeting's minutes were properly communicated to me, since I of course am the only one who can type and translate the stories to the outside world. In that way, we are like our own little mini publishing empire.

As I gathered my pencil and paper and made my way to the barn, there was much activity. But not the casual morning greetings I usually heard. It was a bit more like a breaking news story, and reporters were rushing to get a good position for questions. The hens were always in a flutter when such meetings were called...they chirped their opinions, fears, concerns and annoyances as they waddle-rushed to the meeting.

"Cluck, what's it about?" asked Vivienne the red hen.
"I hope it's not about water issues again.." worried Henny Penny.
"Cluck, no, something about Pino." Gracie chipped in.
"Bok, Bok!!!" all the young hens screeched.
"Pino? I just saw him yesterday, in the upper bramble, he looked fine." said Chicken Named Dog calmly, never one to worry.

With that, the older hens found there place at the meeting area, which in summer months was held by the back of the old barn. This allowed privacy from any Two Foot cars on the road 1/2 mile down the hill. There was a strict seating code at these meetings. The chickens stayed in a flock, with Papa Roo and his chosen hens at his side, then all hens fell behind them. This was the first barnyard meeting for the now 4 month old hens, so their excitement was noticeable. Since they had not been named yet, they were treated kindly, but were not allowed to speak at the meeting. This had to be earned through one year of egg laying. Old Guinnias was the first one there, since he left early to get there being so old and slow. He was given a seat right next to me, and the Speaker of the Barnyard, Boone. This helped Guinnias hear of course, plus it was the honorable thing to do. The flock of sheep gathered, and huddled in a tight group, with Daisy at the lead. They had left a small spot within the area they now stood huddled in, and on that small spot was a sprig of rosemary. This touched me, as it was the first barnyard meeting since the passing of our beloved head ewe, Rosie, and it was their quiet way to honor her. The rams stood in the distance, listening, and the many cats of Apifera all took to their preferred perching areas. Huck and Billy sat at my side. The only ones missing from the meeting were Big Tony and Mama, who were always given a choice to attend or not. Finally, Stella and Iris came from the pasture, and directly behind them walked Paco and Lucia. But Pino was nowhere to be seen.

As everyone settled, Frankie scuttered about, understanding it was now time. She jumped up on a bucket, so all could see her short statured pygmy goat body, and she declared, "Madames and Meisseurs, ladies, weeds and bambinos, and to the one mouse attending,may I present, the Speaker of the Barnyard!" We all stood up and applauded, and made as many respectful noises as possible. From the distant shadows of the old barn, Boone strode in, looking so dignified. He had his meeting attire on, which he had mimicked from watching reruns of "12 Angry Men". He took to the Speaker podium, and clomped his hoof on a rickety wood stand three times.

"The meeting will come to order! Silence!" Boone declared.

A hush grew over the barnyard crowd. A kernel of corn could have dropped and not one animal would have rushed to eat it, so great was the suspense of what this meeting was about.

"Fellow Apiferinianites, we are gathered here today to discuss a serious infraction on this barnyard. And that infraction was made on us..." he paused, hardly able to speak the final words.."that infraction was made by Pino."

And a collective gasp came over all of us.

Stay tuned for part 2....

Cowboy lovers...

If you like cowboys, or men being bucked around on a horse, or green, or nice smells, you might like the Tuesday sale item today.

Ode to a blue egg

This painting is available for purchase here.

Back in the spring, we found a little blue egg, unscathed, in the middle of the drive. It seemed wrong to not pick it up, and place it somewhere more honorable. The unborn bird inside it was surely dead, or ill formed. But it was a miracle an egg survived a drop from a tree, or a bird.

Months later at Pie Day, someone saw the egg, and picked it up and starting goofing off with it. To make a long story short, the egg ended up being destroyed. While it might not seem like a big deal, I took great offense to this. It was disrespectful to us, and our farm, but it was a human being acting casually about nature. I buried the crushed shell and the contents.

It prompted ideas, posted at Raggedy-Sketches, and this painting was a love letter and a promise to that little creature, and the beautiful, perfect, blue egg.

Dirt farmer photo lesson

After a 90+ degree day, we sat outside under the night time sky, watching the stars...and listening to the hills ringing with every idiot in the county shooting bullets towards the moon. After surviving the celebratory gunfire, we ate our farm raised beef burgers [we rarely eat beef, but it was a nice change], fried potatoes, beet greens, and pecan pie. I asked Martyn to take a picture of me and the One Eyed Pug with our pecan pie, but it turned into more of a belly shot of Billy.

The day was hot, but with help we harvested 1/4 of the lavender field. Watered the 400 CREPS trees. Martyn always jokes, "At Apifera, we wear our clothes until they fall of us."

Took a dip in the river too...our first of the season.

There is much to share this week...like a story about an ear, a barnyard meeting to discuss social networking benefits, and more art....stay tuned.

"Oh yea, this was my idea."

The fresh cut season is in full swing. Lavender is like any pregnant creature about to give birth - when it's time, it's time, and you can't stand around looking for the overnight bag. The adage, "Make hay while the sun shines" makes much more sense when you live with any crop that needs to be cut and brought out of the field at a certain time for optimum results. We have learned so much about timing in the past five years. When I look back on that first year 's harvest, oh it is funny! We made so many mistakes and just bumbled along like Jethro and Nellie May in Paris. We've learned when to cut for fresh cut, versus when to cut for dried bundles, bud or oil. We learned that the paper clips you buy at Staples are crap. We learned that the bees tell us when to cut. We learned that each season you think you can do it all on your own, but you can't. We learned that the locals think we're nuts. And most importantly, we learned that you should plant your rows after you measure how wide your tractor is so it will fit through the rows.

Many write me about the romance of my life here, and it's true, there is much romance at Apifera, minute to minute. Much of that romance is for my own personal pleasure, and I don't need or care to share it with anyone - it is just my daily life. Some of the romance is construed by the readers of this blog. Like a glossy magazine, they see the pictures and hear the stories with the gentle endings, and they can edit out what they don't care to deal with. They see me at my best, as I can edit my words, appear calm in any storm, wisely guiding myself through life. But behind the scenes of any good movie, there are a few dirty little secrets - like the fact that a couple nights ago after leaving the field I was tired, grumpy, hungry and I had no patience. I yelled at Frankie because she was being a pain in my butt. And I had no time to discuss the beautiful sunset with Guinnias like I often do. I had no energy to brush Boone, and everything seemed like work.

We get the well intentioned offers, "Hey, we'll come out and work in the field with you for an afternoon and then we'll barbeque."....Ah, okay, but you best bring your own chef and wheelchair. Living on a farm with a crop, and livestock, is constant, hard, manual labor. It is not for sissies. It is not for dwaddlers, or pontificators, or wanna-a-be's. But I like it. I like growing a crop, on our land, and improving the crop over seasons. Watching a 1" seedling grow to a 4" wide beast that produces 10 large bundles is....sort of miraculous. It reminds you of the power of nourishment. It reminds you that a tiny seed turns into something. It reminds you that living is a verb, and that earth is a pretty cool realm to be jiving in.

I am a little spring woodland flower, and in the heat, I wilt. My roots shrink and I can't function. So I have to time my work around mornings and evenings. Together with Martyn's efforts, and field helpers we bring in at optimal times, we get the crop off the field. It's a 6 am rise time for Martyn, and often we work until 9 pm. The first year, I remember I had a horrible case of poison oak on both arms and wrists, and I had my arms wrapped in cotton to protect my open sores. It was 80+ degrees. We had no helpers lined up for field work. I remember sitting in the field on my knees at one point, looking out at a sea of lavender, and crying. My dirt farmer lifted me out of my despair by reminding me he had a fresh lamb rack waiting to grill at the house, with a bottle of wine. When I said we'd never get through this, he said we would. When I asked in despair, "Whose idea was this any way, to grow all this lavender?" He gently reminded me, "Yours."

Pino's Apron Gallery now online!

Get on over to the Apron Gallery and make the donkey happy...buy an apron and all proceeds go into his money bucket for his upcoming Hospice Celebration Day, the charity pie party we'll be hosting here at Apifera complete with fresh pie, donkey hugs and good vibrations.

Thank, than you, thank you....can't say it enough. This apron gig is turning into something. I might need an apron secretary soon...hmmm, there's always Lucia.

And apron donators, watch your mail boxes in late July for those donkey thank you's.

Don't forget...

...that it's Tuesday Sale Day.

The lavender harvest has begun. The dirt farmer and I are working triple time. Details of our field escapes, learning curves, band aid solutions and more to follow this month.

Donkey Diary 6.29.09