15 years for the white cat

Noritsu turns 15 tomorrow. What a magnificent cat he is. There is mystery about white animals, a spiritual aspect to them that does not go unnoticed at Apifera. There is the mystery of White Dog, the shape shifter of Marcella, and now Noritsu. Noritsu brought himself to me, there is no doubt. I saw his photo at the shelter, one that I don't normally adopt cats from, and that face stuck with me. A couple months later, after his face kept coming into my mind, I adopted him. Little is known of his past, except that he came from out of the area.

The past lives of these cats...what they knew, who they knew, where they lived...we never really have the answers. But I spend time just peering into their eyes, or resting my forehead on theirs...much is said that way. I just have never been able to put it into words...yet.

I hope we have many years with Noritsu. I call him Nurse Noritsu at times. When Laci, and Maxine were dying, it was Noritsu who stood with me while I cared for them.  He cared for me.

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When old cats just stick with you

I'm so glad I went back and got Miss Spring at the shelter. She had come in at some point during the weeks I was dealing with the inevitable for Laci, and not long before we lost Maxine, both very old, frail and thyroid issues. I felt I needed to hold off, not only to absorb the vet bills, but to give my heart a brief rest. But she was still there a couple months later. I'm also a sucker for Calicos, ever since Mama Kitty back in Oregon gave us years of kittens in the old barn. We could never touch Mama, only once did I, but she lived well into her 14th or older year, and came to the front porch to die in a basket, something I was touched by.

So, I finally went in to to see the calico needing a home. She had lived with someone who loved her who passed on. The cat, and her dog friend and one more cat were in descent shape, and a neighbor knew about the animals so alerted authorities when the woman died. All the animals have homes now. It turns out it was a hoarder situation, and they had to really look to find the cats.

The first thing I loved about her is she squeaks. This is reminiscent of Itty. She also does a half 'Meh' much like Itty. Just one more way that Itty Bitty lives on, both tormenting me and also comforting me. I named the elder Calico, "Miss Spring" in honor of the season, and the name is perfect for her. For not only did she arrive in the season of her name, but she is very agile and springy, leaping from table to ledge quite gracefully. The other cats do too, but I was surprised to see how far she jumps, considering her age. On a side note, watching Papi jumped is pretty comical, due to his large...um...girth. [We love you Papi].

So this cat stuck with me. I'm glad. Sometimes, an animal presents itself, and I feel the immediate need to rush to it and help. Other times, and I've had to learn this, I stand back a bit and ask if I am the one to take this creature on, am I doing it with pure motives? With Miss Spring, I was just feeling I did not have energy to take her at that moment and if she was meant to be here, it would happen, and it did. The shelter here is a very good one, the people are great and I knew the cat was fine there. Now, looking back, I'm glad I did not wait one day longer.

I have thought of bringing her in the house. We are catless in the house since Big Tony died. I have his cat basket all ready for a new cat, sitting in the window that looks out on M'Lady and the gardens....but we have not gone further at this point. We will. And I wonder if she might be a good candidate. The thing is, she seems very content in the Elder Cat Suite, and they do form a network in there. She has her windows that sit right in the woods, letting in dappled sunlight at morning and dusk. In time, they will be able to roam in the upper loft-a project that keeps getting pushed aside but will happen at some point. They all seem very content. I love each one of them and am grateful for the people that send us cat food and care about what we are doing here.

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Aging is freeing -at the moment-and my apologies to the arugula, again

Ollie turned one month old

May is always a very busy month on a small farm. We have the front and private gardens going-Martyn has reshaped the structure of the gardens and of course it is a work in progress, but one we love to work on it. We love to save Misfit plants too, and revitalize them. This is our third garden we have developed and it remains a passion we can share together, but also, we seem to be able to blend our styles together well-Martyn has learned that 'weeds' are okay- Queen Anne's Lace, clover, And many others I don't know the names of. And I have learned to mix plantings more, for texture, just like a painting. I also get my solid bed of hollyhocks against a wood fence, a must, and always, lots of sunflowers.

It seems I should know the problematic status of growing a vegetable garden around ruminants. Yes, it is fenced. But they always find a way into the side arugala bed. Honestly, if Girl George doesn't ruin it by laying it, old Sophie comes along and eats it. Of course, every year I say I am going to go buy another 'real' gate, instead of my raggedy pallets and fence and hay twine...but something always is more important. We have so much lettuce, this morning I just gave up and let them stay in with the arugala.

I've also been consumed with many details of many things. This is what I call 'doing human' state of mind. it can take a person over. But I always try to stop, sit, commune with the gardens, and animals several times a day. The older I get, the more each day of health, stamina, the ability to walk and work at things I love, the ability to still see, hear, think...love amongst the vitriol being spewed...savor my food versus worry about post menopausal 15+ pound weight gain....age has a way of separating out the gravy from the grease. I have less tolerance for ignorance, stupidity, laziness and people that just don't try, aren't honest, are arrogant and live by their ego not by their heart. I no longer mince words with people that ignore boundaries, or I just don't let them through the physical gate out front or the invisible one I carry with me.

Being sixty is freeing that way. I imagine each year might become more freeing, if I am fortunate to remain independent.

This weekend I realized too that one of the things I really like about our Maine property is the intimacy of the barns and house, and how the barns are close to the house. I really missed the vastness of our old farm, and the openess of the land out West. Midcoast Maine has lots of woods, unmaintained, kind of has a northern Minnesota feel. But I realize too more and more, this is a really different gig. And we needed that for many reasons. But I'm finally settling into the difference of character between the two farms. And of course, we aren't breeding sheep or growing 4,000 lavender plants-we are no longer 'farmers' per se. We are stewards to our land and animals. We are caretakers. We are walking on this spot of Earth as gently as possible, communing. And as I was looking out my studio window this past week, I could see at one point most of the animals, including the equines in the back paddock fields. I felt they were safe, I could see them, there was and is less of a feeling of predatory possibility here. It is there, coyotes and dogs, but it feels like I have more ease with keeping everyone safe. I can move the animals around more easily. I put them in at night, or in paddocks, it is just more contained.

It's funny how a move takes a long time to settle in a person. There is also a bit of 'hanging on' to things that worked once, but really don't work anymore, or don't work well. Letting go sooner, also seems to be a perk of growing older.

And for the record, little Ollie is stinking' cute.

Protector

He has not told me his name yet

View from the second floor studio

Do you like Maine, they ask, would you do it all again?

M'Lady Apple from my studio

We have been here exactly two years now. In 2016, we loaded up 33 animals and headed from our first farm in Oregon to make the 6 day journey to mid coast Maine. One of the first beauties we met was an old crabapple on the property, always in my view...I call her M'Lady. She is in full bloom now and simply stuns me every spring.

I can say that as we go into our third summer here, I am more grounded than the first two. Part of that is...logistics and getting through the upheaval any move has on a household, and in our case, a farm. We had to build a barn, and are about to start the third one. We had little or no fencing here. We created our gardens and stone walls and privacy areas. The house needed little attention in the beginning, it felt perfect in many ways, small but quite open for it's size. I have since done painting mainly and have slowly been recreating the rooms to our needs. We left a lot of furniture behind. I knew it would not fit in this little house. I sadly left all my father's studio teak work tables behind but I really had no choice. I left the couches too. In fact, the one thing I can say I would do differently is the personal property we left behind, for free. At the time, we were under the gun. The first buyer, who we grew to see as not the buyer we wanted for the farm, fell through. Even though we were relieved, we had many reasons we had to scramble and do as we did. I did my best. But...the only option would have been to possibly lose the house we are now in, and lose the $3000 downpayment we had on the equine hauler, slow down the sale of the new buyers and stay put and hope for the best in finding another place that fit our needs. It was either rush around and try to sell things, or move. But...I would have insisted on a separate payment for the probably $10,000 or more of personal property, including the 10 year old Kubota. That is one thing that I still get angry about, that I didn't do that. There were other things in the sale I can't think about because they make me mad, so I don't. I can't tell you how stressful the sale was...and all the logistics of the move I had to handle with the animals.

So, it took time to resettle, emotionally and physically. But we have.

And yes, we like Maine. I hate the bugs and flies, but you could put me anywhere and I would tell you summer, despite all it's pluses, is not my season. I love the winter here, really I do. So does Martyn, he gets to be on the farm working, the summer people are gone, it gets beautiful and quiet. Back West, Martyn was driving a total of four hours a day just to get from the farm to his landscaping clients. He was home by 7:30 on a good day. He was running out of steam after running his own crew and business for 20+ years. Keeping up with his estimating and billing was really getting problematic. I sensed at some point we weren't going to be able to sustain ourselves emotionally for another 15 years when the mortgage would be paid off, and we would have been 70 by then. And then what? We saw a lot of people wait too long to sell their land and farms as they grew older, and they would get into trouble.

The hardest transition, for me, was losing the more rural feel. But now we live in what I describe as a postcard New England village setting. Old houses from the 1700's dot the roads in midcoast, the sea cove is in view, old apple trees, the smell of the sea...it's all different than the Wilamette Valley. Oddly, I've met quite a few Oregonians who moved here, some who are small farms. The appeal of paying 1/2 for a piece of property [versus what it would cost out West] here is what first intrigued us. As freelancers, especially for Martyn, at some point you might not be able to put in the hours to feed a mortgage. So we don't have one now. We live simply, and hope our health holds out, but who knows.

I miss my vets. I was warned by one of my vets out West who had hands on knowledge and experience with the situation in Maine of the large animal vet care, or lack there of. I believed him, but thought, well, that was 20 years ago, surely it is better now. It's not. Equine vets a plenty. But farm vets? Nope. I have not found a clinic yet that I can I say I honor and trust. I started working with a highly regarded place, but just to get them to the farm is $100, anything they do here, such as coming to examine a goat, has a $150 minimum. I talked to them about this, that they are treating small farms like people with pets versus herds and flocks. She understood, and I really liked her. But, that's the way they choose to operate, it's their business, not mine. I feel sorry for both new farmers and the animals in their care-the vets I had in Oregon taught me so much, over time. And they weren't cheap, no vet is. But what would have cost about $375 total the other day was almost $800 here. So I'm grateful I had 15 years under my belt and know the basic treatments and do most of my own vetting thanks to the vets I had out West.

Would I do the move again? I always find this question odd. It's like asking, "Would you be born again if I had a choice?" Hindsight is 20/20. I would do it again, but I wouldn't want to, and I would do a couple things differently. It was hard leaving my farm. That farm was my dream, a dream I'd had since my first encounter with my Uncle's farm in North Dakota. I write about that dream in "Donkey Dream". But it was not a question of should we leave or not. I felt we had to leave. I felt compelled to move, as fast as we could really, and I felt it had to be Maine. I will live by that and swear by that. There were invisible reasons we had to get out of there at that moment, and get here at this moment. I just went with that, i believed and let that internally. Martyn is so happy here. I knew his work schedule was killing him back West. Mistakes were being made too that were effecting our finances, he was just...spent. He gets up at 5:30 now and goes to work 15 minutes away, for a small landscape company. He is treated well and works with a great boss and crew. He has no ego about not having his own company, or not being the boss. He works on beautiful ocean properties and doesn't have to think about the logistics of the job, he just shows up and does what he loves-landscaping. He doesn't have to worry about billing. And I know exactly what money is coming in and it's easier on me too. It feels much more manageable.

When I had my riding accident last year, I asked Martyn, "Would you stay in Maine if I died?". He didn't hesitate, he said, really in a positive happy tone, "Oh yea, I love it here."

Martyn gave us so much over the years, and still does. I think more than anything, I love Maine because Martyn does. He deserves so much.

And I have people here, and creatures, I love now. I love them. I wouldn't want to have not met them, including my elder friends, and including M'Lady.

Conversation of The Secret Sisters...chicken speak

The Secret Sisters are the clan of Buff Orps that live at Apifera. They have separated themselves out from the Barred Rocks who are under the domain of Father, the Rooster. The Secret Sisters now live with Opie in the front of the barn, away from the constant demands of Father. 

"No, really?" the hen said.

"I kid you not," said the other hen.

"He really said that?" said the first hen.

"Quiet, here she comes," said the third hen.

"She does't speak hen," a chicken said.

"Oh, yes she does, I converse with her all the time."

Silence.

By the time I walked by the hens, they had repositioned themselves near Opie, sprawled out on his lawn chair as if he had just worked a six day week. I went onto the barn.

"So tell me again, what did he say?" I heard a hen ask.

She emerged like Grace Kelly and took over the room

If there was ever a day I wondered if I do enough, if I'm doing it right, if my animals and I are a team contributing to this community, all I have t do is look at these images and my heart feels just fine.

Today we took Opie, Pino and Birdie over to Inn Along the Way to have an "Opie Day', where some of the residents of the local elder communities could enjoy the energy and warmth of the animals. If you have been to either of our farms, and were lucky enough to be in the presence of Birdie the llama, you know the impression she leaves can last a long time. And while she had been involved in all of our past farm days, and did fine, I had never taken her out into a public setting before. The Inn was a perfect, safe place to test Birdie out as an ambassador of love. I knew she would do fine, but was curious to see if she would shine as she does at home.

She emerged from the trailer like Grace Kelly walking onto the red carpet. That is not an exaggeration. It was as if she was in her element. Now, llamas are not all like Birdie. Anyone that knows llamas will tell you that. She was love from the day I picked her out. Even her breeder said she had never seen a llama act the way she was towards me, and suggested if I wanted a true guard llama [which was her first purpose], not to take her. But I could not NOT take her. I knew she had other purposes at Apifera. Now in Maine, I guess today was a turning point.

Birdie greeted everyone, she swooned her neck and batted her eyelashes. She kissed people, some on the cheek, like a peck you give an acquaintance, and some she swooped in and laid her head on their shoulder. The woman in these photos was smitten with Birdie, and I think you can tell. The gentlemen was visiting from Houston, and as you can see, the two of them seemed to have an intimate encounter right before our eyes.

She's special. I always knew it, from the day I found her. I was really proud of her, for just being her. She will be having other days of Llama Love, for sure.

Opie stood back most of the day. He was quiet and calm. Pino too, stood his ground in stoic donkeyness like he always does. I know when we quit doing Pino Pie Day a few years ago [we are reviving it here in Maine in October of this year] I told people that Pino had done his part, he had sold aprons for his cause, delivered pie to nearby neighbors, got lots of mail, shared his wisdoms in many ways...but I felt back then it was time for him to just be a little donkey, Pino. He is still an ambassador to love, but he has help now. And I sensed that from Opie today. He knew what was going on, he knew he has his own stages to shine one, but he gave the light of the room over to todays' intended star, with her grace and exotic appearance...Lady Birdie.

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Sometimes humor inspires giving

Ollie's procedure went just fine, he is disbanded and banded now and he came out of his sleepy time medicine bouncing and ready for a bottle. One of the things we have found, and I am still getting used to, is the vet costs here are almost double from what we are used to. Today's vet bill was over $700. We also gave equal shots and rabies to the equines only-the other Misfits get rabies shots in the fall.

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