Apifera Farm - where art, story, animals & woman merge. Home to artist Katherine Dunn

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Sunday, May 24, 2015

Happy pug, happy tail



Hughie once known as Hewie and otherwise now referred to as The One Eyed Pug II not to be confused with the original never to be replaced One Eyed Pug is doing just wonderfully.

This is one smart pug. And, incredibly solid in his demeanor. Everyone who works with him seems to fall in love with him. He is very different than the first One Eyed Pug, in that he is less needy for starters. I think due to Hughies' first home where I think he was left a lot alone in a room due to his blindness, he had two choices-get needy or be calm. He seems to have gone the calm route. He has learned to navigate the house-which is mainly one floor so works out great for a blind fellow. I was amazed how fast he has adjusted. He has a bed in the main kitchen/living area so he is always with the gang. Like most pugs, he likes to be with his people-but what is great is he is very adjustable so if I go to the barnyard for long spells, I have crated trained him [he actually was fine with the crate when he arrived so already was crate oriented-I'm strong believer in crate training].

He is pure love and acceptance. He knows my voice and now that he knows the layout I don't have to always have him on his lead, for safety. I created a Hughie Garden-basically a puppy pen in the grass where he can lay about in the shade if I need to work in the garden, but he can still hear me. He sits on the chair with me and the heating pad at night for our glass of wine, by the fire, and then moves into the living room at night for television watching, on the couch of course, with old Huck in his spot. Martyn still gets to squeeze in with his girl, no worries.

I don't know how it happened, that the stars were aligned just right to bring him here, but they were. To all who helped make it happen, thank you again.

On Tuesday, Hughie and his eyeball will be going to the vet to have a back tooth removed. I had noticed bad breath when he arrived and checked his teeth. My last pug had horrible teeth from a young age, Hughie is from better breeding for sure. His teeth are really good, except he has a split tooth which is half rot, so we will take it out on Tuesday, and he will be able to return home that afternoon. We did a senior blood panel on him Thursday and he was a gentleman with the vet. She is hooked, just like the last vet who saw him.

Hughie, Hugh Pugh, Pug, Hey Mister- all these names are known to him now around here. He is very happy, and feels secure now evidenced in his happy pug tail.

A video posted by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Four hours with Boone and God



I did today exactly what was needed. I went for a four hour ride up in the mountain foothills with Boone and some friends. It's a wonderful place that is maintained by the local Muleskinners and the trails are just wonderful-challenging but never overly so. Boone did great and we went through our first streams together and waded in pools too. Many of the trails were steep and rocky, combined with wet footing and logs to cross so it was just a wonderful challenging day and so much fun. Every time Boone and I do any ride it is enjoyable, but these longer ones are so meaningful as they build us up as a team, and I'm always so proud of him just for being his calm stoic self.

Part of the trails are through private forest land and this is the only photo I took today. I am not religious and did not go to church as a child or young adult but the power of the best things of faith are embodied in Nature for me, and if there was ever an outdoor cathedral it is the forest. The old barn is a cathedral for me too, but old forests bring me onto hallowed ground. Looking up into the light bouncing off Doug Fir limbs, a statement popped into my head,

There must be God.

I do believe in God, but that statement came to me, strongly. Boone noticed things I did not, smelled and sensed what I could not. Perhaps that is God too, for him, but he needs not label it. I remember Joseph Campbell saying that we need the word "God" because we have to put a short description onto the entity that we can not describe in human words.

I needed this ride today and sometimes the beauty of the world is so overwhelming. Through certain parts of the forest, I could see coastal range foothills, and I wondered how many eyes were watching us as we rode though those paths. The horses themselves bring me great contentment. The sounds of feet hitting ancient rock and the sweat of the neck perfuming the cool air was worth thousands of dollars of psychotherapy. It was like it washed me, it didn't wash over me, it literally cleansed me and all the heavy thoughts I've had of late. Last night Martyn and I sat and talked a lot about giving up Pino Pie Day, and I was surprised how much it felt like a loss. I am very confidant it is the right thing to do, but it is a loss. The ride today reminded me of my small size in this universe, and another idea came to me,

If we had to walk in this cathedral before speaking how would it change our words?

The steady steps of my horse amazed me at times, and I daydreamed how I would most likely be slipping and tripping. Boone trusted me enough not to lead him into danger, carrying me four hours on slippery slope and never missing a step, never faltering or hesitating a turn.

I did not think about plans. I didn't ponder what might be in the future. I was just with Boone, enjoying the sermon of those trees and the light they cast on us and feeling pretty good there was a God.

Friday, May 22, 2015

The matriarch of the Apifera Cats is gone



About four weeks ago, Mama Kitty appeared on the front porch-where she lives with two of her remaining sons, Little Orange and Mr. Plum. Her chin was growing in size and was red. I assumed it was an abscess or a tooth issue. I kept my eye on her for the next couple days, as the area became very large. I have dealt with many abscesses on the semi feral cats and have been able to treat them topically in the past. But there was no way I could do that with the wild Mama.

But as time went on, it was becoming apparent it might be more than a abscess. It was really huge, and her mouth was changing shapes. I took her photo and showed vet, and they concurred it might be cancer for all we knew. So I set out to trap her. It took me two years to originally catch Mama. Back in 2004 when we arrived, there was a new litter in the barn, I was able to catch them all and spay/neuter them, along with Big Tony the patriarch. I could not get Mama, and she had two more litters, one who lived with us, and one litter she carried down to a nearby farm. After catching all the litters and spaying/neutering, I finally caught her. And it wasn't easy [obviously]. She was one smart cat, a survivor on many levels. Of the 25 cats that have roamed onto this farm arriving semi feral and ending up pretty tame [to us anyway], Mama was the only one who never allowed you to be close. Thirty feet was her normal boundary with me. After a couple of years, she suddenly appeared on the front porch to eat with some of her offspring. At some point in Apifera history, the original barn cat litters broke up into two groups, some headed to the front porch where they could live under the house and eat on the deck, some stayed in the hay barn. Mama appeared but never tendered. I touched her nose once, I can't remember how, but that was the only time I touched her. When I trapped her back then, it was with a special net contraption I'd invested in just to catch her.

So, I knew trapping her wasn't going to be easy. But I felt I owed it to her-even if she had cancer, I felt I owed it to her to not have her suffer. And I also knew she was old, probably over 12. Mama has always adored Big Tony, who lives in the house. He is the only creature I have ever seen her show affection to. While she was never mean to her offspring, she basically ate at the porch and left, but when Big Tony came out in the morning, Mama would wrap around him and flirt. It was so endearing.

So for the past three weeks we have been trying to trap her. I had two different traps, invested in lots of medicated smelly canned food from my vet, and also had a crate set up with my net. Several times I had her in the trap! But she got out, never tripping the release. We tried so many different ways to get her, including a box and string method so I could do it from the house, as the front door squeaks.

The only comfort I had was the huge chin mass did erupt, and was draining, I thought. If I could keep her eating, she might make it through. I have seen cats survive open wounds to the bone, so I had hope. But we still kept trying to catch her. In the final three days, I could tell she was changing. She would come to the window pane and make a small meow to me when she saw me. Mama never meowed at us. At the time, I tried not to let my human thoughts take over-I felt she was probably famished and wanted the medicated food which was smelly and easier to eat in her condition. But yesterday, I put Big Tony out and she tried to wrap around him-he sniffed her and walked away. That was heartbreaking, but looking back, he knew.

I knew she was weakening, so I spent an hour hiding in a spot near the porch, with my net, hoping I could get her in her weakened state. But no luck.

Yesterday afternoon, I had to go to the vet and found her lying on the road, alive, but right on the open road outside the pastures. I knew she was getting delirious. I got out and she remained still. Grabbing her was dangerous, even in her state, but I got about a foot away and she moved to the pastures. Her walk was catty wampus and she landed on the fence line, and then fell. I ran the 1000 feet in sandals back to the house to get my net, hoping I could trap her and take her to the vet to be put down. She was clearly dying. But I couldn't get her-she got into such thick bramble, I couldn't get her.

I couldn't get her.

I can't tell you how frustrating it has been for three weeks, not being able to help her. I said,

Look, I've helped all your children, now let me help you, please.

When I got back from my errand yesterday, I looked for her in the pastures and the stream she had hid by when I had left an hour earlier. No sight of her and I figured she went off to die somewhere. But last night about nine, there she was curled on the chair on the deck. I couldn't believe she had been able to get there, after what she looked and acted like that afternoon. She was clearly checking out, as she let me get real close to her. I had left my net in the truck, but approached her thinking she was so out of it I could pick her up- but she jumped, fell, and fled under the deck.

I was so mad at myself for blowing my last chance, I figured, and also scaring her to possibly flee for good,into bramble to die.

This morning, I was so humbled and touched to find her in one of the cat baskets on the porch. She was gone, but she had remained on the deck to die. She did not wander off to the bramble. She was not hit by a car on the road. She managed to come up to the deck again and die where I could find her. Somehow in the last 12 years, I had given enough distance and respect that she knew it was safe to lay in that basket right under the window, and die. That was her last gift to me.

I buried her in a spot away from sight, behind the lilacs, not with the other small graves there. She liked being anonymous– that was was my last gift to her. I examined her mouth and whatever it was, it was much more than an abscess as it was a huge hard area that deformed her jawline. It reminded me of what happened to Samuelle, who did have cancer.

It is another end of an era. Stella last week, and now Mama Kitty-the mother of 90 percent of the Apifera cats. She never would have made it so long if we hadn't somehow trapped and spayed her. She was a beautiful lady, a fierce survivor and stoic mother. In the end, she went out as she came in-a survivor on her own.

Pino and I are moving on



I will never stop dreaming. But dreams and ideas evolve and flow. I can't be afraid of not knowing what the next dream is.

I have made the decision. This June 14th will be the final Pino Pie Day.

I've been thinking about this for some time, and if you pay attention to the posts here, you might noticed that I have sharing for months that there is change in the air. This change wasn't planned, it is the way things evolve. I debated a lot if I should even make an announcement, or rather just quietly let it slip away. I suppose there might be some that think it looks like a good gimmick to raise more money at the Virtual Pino Pie Day, but you can't make everyone happy. In the end I talked to Martyn and a couple trusted mentors, and made my decision final in my head and heart. And I am fine with it.

Besides, I hate secrets. I think it took me awhile to even admit to Martyn I thought it was time to pull the plug on Pie Day for several reasons. The event has become wrapped up into my online identity, and Pino's. It is part of the illustrated memoir, Donkey Dream, and I've had magazine articles written about it. It has been an exciting focal point of the year at Apifera and many wonderful memories and friendships were begun over it. But all things hit a wall.

All creative endeavors-and Pie Day is a creative project for me-have an energy of their own, an ebb, a flow, a high point and a decline. I feel like Pie Day is on the decline in energy. The event was not 'created', it was a spontaneous act of the heart-my heart. It began–and I know many know this but I'll nutshell it here-it began because I was walking Pino to nearby farms and delivering homemade pie, as a gift, simply because I had a hankering to do it. It was met with delight and I did it several times. But delivering pie with a donkey at your side is slow going, and Martyn suggested I bring the people to my pie and Pino instead.

Pino Pie Day was never about getting a book deal or making money. It was just me and my donkey sharing pie. I did write "Donkey Dream" later on, which was turned down by multiple publishers for not being commercial enough. It was shaped by a top editor who had worked previously at Chronicle for 20 years, but we couldn't find a home for it and eventually my followers graciously supported the Kickstarter to get it self published. But back on the first Pie Day, The Misfits weren't even The Misfits, there was no old goat even. The first couple events, I can't believe this, but I did it all on my own, with Martyn-served pie,sold aprons, took care of the donkeys and guests-and sold art out of the studio. That first year I made all apple pie because it was easier. I also remember being appalled at the end of the day how messy the pie table was, and now I have a volunteer Pie Queen who helps at the pie table.

Every year, I learned something new to make the event better, and I added something new to delight my guests-like the Museum of Misfits, or the kissing area for Stevie. I learned new pies like Buttermilk which is a favorite of all ages. My butter crusts were perfected over the years too, if I may say so myself.

But the magic began to shift for me. And it has been harder to put it on every year-both financially and energy wise. There is a lot that goes into it, as you can imagine, but much more than you can imagine too. The volunteers of recent years-many repeat helpers-have been a God send and I thank them all-but it is getting harder to arrange and get people to commit. I understand, Sundays are precious for people, standing around with a donkey might get old after awhile. Costs on everything have gone up every year-and it is becoming situation of not much return on my time or dollar.

Pino and I had hearts of children back then. Somehow that is getting lost in the event now, after almost 9 years. I think I've shared a lot of good pie, made some grumpy people smile, let complete strangers walk around my farm while me and the animals share our energy with them. It's been great.

But I think it's time to listen to the internal shift. There is something out there, waiting for me to grab onto and give it my energy. I don't know what it is, but I have to let go of some things to recognize it, and commune with it. Thinking about over the past couple months was scary-Pie Day is part of me-but now that I've made the decision there was only one more step-release that decision to the universe.

So if you can come to the June 14th Pino Pie Day, wonderful! I aim to make it as happy for my guests as I can no matter if there are 5 or 200 people here. If you can't come, be sure to follow the Virtual Global Pino Pie Day-where people can read stories of past and current pie day, see photos and movies. And of course, you can contribute at gift levels to help this final Pie Day.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Sweet horse sweat and maybe it's time



Boone and I did an early morning ride up in the hills. The ranges in the background were Payne's gray and it was unseasonably sticky out–for Oregon. We hope to do a three hour ride up in those hills this holiday. We rarely ride on the weekends because I like to be here with Martyn and work on the many projects that are never ending. It's just a silent agreement I made with myself when I got a horse-I won't let it compete with time with Martyn. Martyn is my best friend so I have no trouble not riding on weekends. We are both a bit compulsive about working, and as freelancers we have to. But as we are getting older, we are slowing down. This summer we hope to take some day road trips with Boone, and Martyn can fish while I ride. He deserves some good fishing days. A fly rod to Martyn is like horse smell to me.

Since Monday is a holiday, Martyn might want to work on a client project on Saturday, since this is the busiest season for him, freeing me up to go on an all day ride with friends. It will definitely test my legs, but my Tucker trail saddle helps with knee soreness. But I'll be sipping the wine that night for sure.

Boone is almost shedded out and he worked up nice sweat this morning. I love that smell. You are either born to love horse sweat, or not. Fortunately, I have the gene.

It will be a nice break from thinking about Pino Pie Day, either virtual, or the real deal coming up June 14. The event is wonderful, but I am considering other options for coming years. I'm desiring more time for projects and I'm wondering if it has run its course. All things have a breath and an energy and it might have reached a place to rest it.  I think perhaps I've become attached to some things, some things that feel like they are molding my identity, and I am preparing to let go of weights I don't feel I want to carry anymore. Pie Day might be one. We shall see after this one is over.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Face of a Moose, and Goose, and Acrobat



Sometimes I happen to be out there taking photos of something and the subject matter absolutely must turn to them, as id did last week. Each time I take Moose's photo, it is like he understands that he has power in that lens-all his joyous monkeyness comes out in that slight smile.

It doesn't take long before more smiles surround me, posers per se. It is a short string of moments in a busy day, but those flecks of light captured on camera might lift another in spirit today-perhaps someone bed bound who will look at these faces and remember a time long ago when they too had goat encounters on a daily basis.

When passing a stranger on a city street I have the choice to look up and smile, or pass by with my head tucked into a coat collar. If I choose the smile, I think maybe it lasts longer on the other person's heartprint.





Monday, May 18, 2015

Even The Head Troll fails



I heard her sighing–deep, heavy breath sighs, then some cud chewing.

She was sitting with her head in her feet, alone, there was nobody within sight of what is usually a busy barnyard.

"I sent them all away," she said to me, seeing me standing by the gate.
It was my cue that I could now dialogue with her, even though she was in no state to converse.

"What happened?" I ask softly.

"They did not understand my vision. I could not express it well enough. And once Stella died, it began to unravel....I guess when I changed the script to Latin, it was more than they could handle. they said it wasn't fun," she paused, more sighs heaved out of her tiny body- a body now beginning to show its age. "Is creation always "fun"? I asked them. Do we not have to stretch sometimes to grow, and expand?"

She went on, "I had Iris stand in for Stella, but it was useless, an utter waste of my time. I have to face facts-I can't run this place and give my words and ideas justice anymore. I let my muse down."

More sighs.

"I have failed," she said in a matter of fact way.

"Everyone fails at something," I tried to reassure her.

"No, I never fail at what I set my mind to. It has always been this way. But lately, I can't keep up. My feet hurt too. I can't be everywhere anymore. I can't remember all the places I've hid the secret codes. I need to fire myself," she said.

I had never seen The Head Troll this way. Always my right hand aid, the task keeper of the barnyard, it was hard to listen. She has been my rock for so long. I did not want to believe these things.

"Sometimes people think I can do it all, I think," I told her. "They make me what they need me to be in their life. I walk around, knowing I can't live up to it. So it's a daily failure, of sorts. It's always under the surface, an inner voice saying, you fraud."

We sat together on the rickety stage that just weeks early had held such excitement for The Head Troll, and therefore, for me.

Earnest came out of the barn.

"I learned all my lines," he said politely.

"I know you did,, Earnest, but Summer Stock is cancelled for good. I am not capable of making it happen. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I got to learn Latin," and he walked off to his mud hole.

"Maybe that is enough. The pig got to learn Latin," I told her.

And she scurried off, "I just remembered where I hid that code book!"



Sunday, May 17, 2015

Snapshot moments










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