©K.Dunn. All rights reserved. Friday, May 31, 2013
"Holy PIG!!" I declared. And The Pig came running. She is speaking to me again after the vet and one assistant, and me, helped snare her and trim her piggie toes, give her shots and examine her skin. I was sure she would ignore me for days if not longer, but the next day I offered to annoint her piggie ears with Destin to sooth the crusty skin - and she calmly agreed with,
Tomorrow I'll give a silent salute to my father and thank him for his 4 years of service in the Japanese islands, one of two Marines to return alive - can you imagine, leaving at age 17 for this. No matter what war, how brave of them. He told me about war over cognac one night when I lived in Brooklyn. We talked into the late night and even smoked a cigar together. He never spoke of it again. So to all the vets, past, present, and future - thank you! The freedoms I have tomorrow - waking up to my farm and grilling Apifera lamb, enjoying friends and good wine, good health, personal choices - thank you to all of those who sacrificed for me and others. I miss you Robert Dunn, you old rascal.
I didn't know my sheep that well when I first painted them, but do now, each of them. As the shepherdess of a small working flock of 35 sheep, I can say I've learned a lot about sheep behavior, and still have much to learn and explore. I'm very grateful I somehow did the research at the right time and ended up buying Katahdins - I just love this breed, and at the time they were a breed that needed help to keep them from going into the endangered category. We were and are pleased to have been part of that - now there are so many more small farms raising them here in the West and that is all good. It's rewarding to raise your own meat - it is part of what we do here. We do not profit from it as we breed only enough for ourselves and to cover costs. We know what we are eating when we do choose to eat meat, and I know how the animal lived, and am with it the day it dies. It was important from the start for me to know the animals were not hauled anywhere on butcher day - my job is to secure the rams and hold them on that day. Martyn watches all butchering with the mobile butcher who comes here to the farm. We are grateful to have such professionals that can still come to the small farm. One thing I've learned on the farm - there are worse endings than death. Some might not understand that, or think differently, but that is my knowledge, from my experience. Rosemary is gone now, buried on Sheep Hill with her triplets that we lost in the Spring of Death. But Daisy is still with us, going on ten, retired now and living out her life with her flock helping maintain the fields and fertilizing them at the same time. I miss Rosemary, she was truly my favorite ewe of all them - to this day - but she gave me so many wonderful daughters too, and color which to some isn't a factor but I love the markings and tones.
These paintings are in my living room, along with a portrait of the founding father, Joe Pye Weed, who now works on an Idaho ranch helping the milkers. I like looking at them closely from time to time - and they seem to look back at me. Posted by
This past weekend was so hot - Martyn gallantly tilled the veggie bed for me, but I only got the tomatoes in - I'm such a wuss in the heat. But I was able to work in the shade and plant the three new roses in honor of my mother, each one has some of her ashes. She and my father loved roses and when I was growing up in Minnesota, they bravely planted them wherever we lived, which meant having to tip them into the compost and straw for winter survival.
I also placed some of her ashes with the pug who rests now under the lilacs. I like that I can go there and know his little pug body is just as I left it, I can remember it that way. Someone sent me some little prayer flags and I placed tokens n his grave. I think my mother might be bemused that she is placed in with an elderly one eyed pug but she loved him and used to sing "Where have you been Billy Boy, Billy Boy" to him. Burial of ashes is for the living, I think. It helps us connect one more dot so we begin to reach a place of acceptance that a person we loved in body is now dust, and is physically gone. It is the beginning of our new relationship with that person. My mom and I had a long standing game on Mother's Day about lilacs. In Minneapolis, there were lilacs everywhere, in parks, roadsides and neighbor's yards. I never had any lilac shrubs in all of the houses I lived in as an adult, so I would start plotting where I'd find my Mother Day lilacs - to steal- and give to her. She always said I'd get arrested some day, but I never did. So now she has the graceful bows of the old lilacs here at Apifera, dark purple, light lilac, pink and white, all bending over her with the wind blowing wafts of scent around her memory. Looking north, one can see Old Matilda grazing, a mother of many. My mother's middle name was Matilda, something I didn't take lightly when the old donkey arrived here a couple of years ago.
She is missed - as I know many mothers are today. But she is remembered for so many things by so many. When she died on April 4th, I did have moments where I thought I'd never be joyful again, I had never had a world without my mother, what could it possibly be like, I thought. It felt unsightly to me. But here I am one of her two greatest legacies, and I am joyful about many things one month later. One is that I am independent and have an ability to inspire myself into new territories to imagine and grow and enjoy the gifts around me. One of those gifts is life itself, which she gave me. Posted by
Here is a PDF of the show which runs though the month and if you are interested in purchasing anything while it is running you can contact the gallery directly. "Floating Amongst Muses"
It is shedding season. The hair coats of the flock begin to fall in clumps, tufts and white or brown orbs. They seem to have different shedding personalities - some peel off their hair almost in giant pieces early on in the spring, others seem to walk around much longer with their thick coats and rub and roll to rid themselves of the extra heat. All the fences and trees and any upright piece of furniture suitable for rubbing on are covered in their hair. It is one reason a sheep farmer can always find something to do - fence mending - on any given day. I like to help peel the hair clumbs out - some sheep like it, others don't. I only do it if it is almost pulled off - if one assists too early it can cause sun burn, especially on the white sheep of the flock. So if you came to the farm this month, you might take pause and wonder - "Why is there so much white stuff floating around?"
My father was notorious for writing little notes and mailing them - he had letter friends all over the world that he'd met on his business travels. I was going through old papers looking for something and came upon a card he'd sent me after I'd moved to the farm. While these
©K.Dunn. All rights reserved. Friday, May 31, 2013
"Holy PIG!!" I declared. And The Pig came running. She is speaking to me again after the vet and one assistant, and me, helped snare her and trim her piggie toes, give her shots and examine her skin. I was sure she would ignore me for days if not longer, but the next day I offered to annoint her piggie ears with Destin to sooth the crusty skin - and she calmly agreed with,
Tomorrow I'll give a silent salute to my father and thank him for his 4 years of service in the Japanese islands, one of two Marines to return alive - can you imagine, leaving at age 17 for this. No matter what war, how brave of them. He told me about war over cognac one night when I lived in Brooklyn. We talked into the late night and even smoked a cigar together. He never spoke of it again. So to all the vets, past, present, and future - thank you! The freedoms I have tomorrow - waking up to my farm and grilling Apifera lamb, enjoying friends and good wine, good health, personal choices - thank you to all of those who sacrificed for me and others. I miss you Robert Dunn, you old rascal.
I didn't know my sheep that well when I first painted them, but do now, each of them. As the shepherdess of a small working flock of 35 sheep, I can say I've learned a lot about sheep behavior, and still have much to learn and explore. I'm very grateful I somehow did the research at the right time and ended up buying Katahdins - I just love this breed, and at the time they were a breed that needed help to keep them from going into the endangered category. We were and are pleased to have been part of that - now there are so many more small farms raising them here in the West and that is all good. It's rewarding to raise your own meat - it is part of what we do here. We do not profit from it as we breed only enough for ourselves and to cover costs. We know what we are eating when we do choose to eat meat, and I know how the animal lived, and am with it the day it dies. It was important from the start for me to know the animals were not hauled anywhere on butcher day - my job is to secure the rams and hold them on that day. Martyn watches all butchering with the mobile butcher who comes here to the farm. We are grateful to have such professionals that can still come to the small farm. One thing I've learned on the farm - there are worse endings than death. Some might not understand that, or think differently, but that is my knowledge, from my experience. Rosemary is gone now, buried on Sheep Hill with her triplets that we lost in the Spring of Death. But Daisy is still with us, going on ten, retired now and living out her life with her flock helping maintain the fields and fertilizing them at the same time. I miss Rosemary, she was truly my favorite ewe of all them - to this day - but she gave me so many wonderful daughters too, and color which to some isn't a factor but I love the markings and tones.
These paintings are in my living room, along with a portrait of the founding father, Joe Pye Weed, who now works on an Idaho ranch helping the milkers. I like looking at them closely from time to time - and they seem to look back at me. Posted by
This past weekend was so hot - Martyn gallantly tilled the veggie bed for me, but I only got the tomatoes in - I'm such a wuss in the heat. But I was able to work in the shade and plant the three new roses in honor of my mother, each one has some of her ashes. She and my father loved roses and when I was growing up in Minnes
ota, they bravely planted them wherever we lived, which meant having to tip them into the compost and straw for winter survival.
I also placed some of her ashes with the pug who rests now under the lilacs. I like that I can go there and know his little pug body is just as I left it, I can remember it that way. Someone sent me some little prayer flags and I placed tokens n his grave. I think my mother might be bemused that she is placed in with an elderly one eyed pug but she loved him and used to sing "Where have you been Billy Boy, Billy Boy" to him. Burial of ashes is for the living, I think. It helps us connect one more dot so we begin to reach a place of acceptance that a person we loved in body is now dust, and is physically gone. It is the beginning of our new relationship with that person. My mom and I had a long standing game on Mother's Day about lilacs. In Minneapolis, there were lilacs everywhere, in parks, roadsides and neighbor's yards. I never had any lilac shrubs in all of the houses I lived in as an adult, so I would start plotting where I'd find my Mother Day lilacs - to steal- and give to her. She always said I'd get arrested some day, but I never did. So now she has the graceful bows of the old lilacs here at Apifera, dark purple, light lilac, pink and white, all bending over her with the wind blowing wafts of scent around her memory. Looking north, one can see Old Matilda grazing, a mother of many. My mother's middle name was Matilda, something I didn't take lightly when the old donkey arrived here a couple of years ago.
She is missed - as I know many mothers are today. But she is remembered for so many things by so many. When she died on April 4th, I did have moments where I thought I'd never be joyful again, I had never had a world without my mother, what could it possibly be like, I thought. It felt unsightly to me. But here I am one of her two greatest legacies, and I am joyful about many things one month later. One is that I am independent and have an ability to inspire myself into new territories to imagine and grow and enjoy the gifts around me. One of those gifts is life itself, which she gave me. Posted by
Here is a PDF of the show which runs though the month and if you are interested in purchasing anything while it is running you can contact the gallery directly. "Floating Amongst Muses"
It is shedding season. The hair coats of the flock begin to fall in clumps, tufts and white or brown orbs. They seem to have different shedding personalities - some peel off their hair almost in giant pieces early on in the spring, others seem to walk around much longer with their thick coats and rub and roll to rid themselves of the extra heat. All the fences and trees and any upright piece of furniture suitable for rubbing on are covered in their hair. It is one reason a sheep farmer can always find something to do - fence mending - on any given day. I like to help peel the hair clumbs out - some sheep like it, others don't. I only do it if it is almost pulled off - if one assists too early it can cause sun burn, especially on the white sheep of the flock. So if you came to the farm this month, you might take pause and wonder - "Why is there so much white stuff floating around?"
My father was notorious for writing little notes and mailing them - he had letter friends all over the world that he'd met on his business travels. I was going through old papers looking for something and came upon a card he'd sent me after I'd moved to the farm. While these