Evolving days of Apifera...the dream expands

For years, I tried to get elder residences to come to the farm, back when we were in Oregon. I even talked to some elder consultants, and both of them told me due to laws and insurance issues in Oregon, it would be hard to make it work. This coupled with the fact we were very remote, much more so than we are in Maine.

Like any dream, one looks back and realizes that it wasn't so much doors closing, it was just the dream had to be held onto, percolating, until the right set of circumstances aligned.

And we have aligned, I believe. We have had lift off.

Friday we had our first official elder residents farm visit. I guess I need a catchier name for that. It was so, so, fun. It meant so much to me, and I know how much they all loved it. I had been trying to get this to happen with the folks I visit frequently in Wiscasset, but due to staffing and driver issues, it took awhile to make it come true. This was a test run, and like anything, one learns a lot after a 'first'. I was really pleased with how everyone, staff and residents, were willing and able to go with the flow. I had put the two benches [donated by Apifera Angels] on the outside of the orchard where the animals would be. I wasn't sure who was coming, so decided we would play it by ear to see if some people wanted to be on the inside with the animals, or on the outside just enjoying the animals from five feet away.

It just all worked. Ollie came out at one point-and visited. I knew he would be great and think I might have to take him in for visits now. I kind of always had that in the back of my head. They got to meet some of the animals they've been hearing about, or seeing in pictures, when Opie and I write letters.

And of course, the llama love was spilling out of Birdie.

One of the residents came from a nearby place, and I knew she was a real animal lover. She had met Opie in the past year, and got right down on the floor with him to commune. She arrived eager to be with all the creatures. I am really going to make an effort to go visit her with animals, she needs and wants them in her life. I know I will be the same way.

I also supplied some hats for everyone, and I love that in these photos, they all have on hats that once belonged to my father. In my heart, I said hello to him, and felt him there, getting a chuckle out of that.

I also now feel confident where I want to build the small shade hut so guests can sit in the shade. I'm not sure if we can start that this fall, it would be nice too. I'm also excited that the event manager of this residence is excited to do more of these visits. And next week we have another local elder facility coming. So we are on the road...to love and sharing.

I really felt so good after the visit. We are only one year into the 501[c][3] and I feel we've come along and done so much-and each accomplishment gives me new ideas and energy.

The important thing is that I always focus on our mission-helping elder/special needs animals, and bringing them together with people for...joy. Keep it simple. From the simple gesture of sharing the animals, it brings so many smiles.

The Misfits line up for.....scream, squeal, oh no!!!!!!

Update: Less than an hour after posting our needs online, we had our socks knocked off with support-we made it-THANK YOU and we feel so graced.

It's that time again...rabies shots!

Background: collective screaming from barnyard.

Now in Maine, we are in an area where rabies is a threat. We never did rabies shots for the barnyard Misfits out West, but we have opted to do it here. I have even asked the State Vet about it, and we decided it is worth the extra money should we have an incident.

It is costly, so I am reaching out to all Apifera Angels to see if you'd like to help offset the cost, which helps keep our fund healthy. We already did the donkeys, so now we just have the other Misfits to do.

Ollie is the only one who is excited about this. Being his first rabies shot, he thinks it is special that everyone gets to line up and get something. Opie knows what to do, cover your eyes!

I appreciate your continued love and support to help The Misfits! Anyone donating $50 or more can take home one of my books [your choice].

You can donate on the blog here, and if you prefer you can send a check to 315 Waldoboro RD, Bremen ME 04551 made out to Apifera Farm.

Be Donkey...Be Love

Let’s all go out there and give some love and attention to someone-Paco has always believed Old Matilda is his mother, we have never tried to dissuade him from this idea.(Copyright Apifera Farm) #donkeylove #apiferafarm #animalnonprofits #pacothepoet #matilda

A post shared by Katherine Dunn / Apifera Farm (@katherinedunnapiferafarm) on Aug 22, 2018 at 6:02am PDT

Life with the old dog...what is the reward?

I often hear people say how rewarding it is to live with an old dog, but none seem to share specific examples as to why they find it rewarding. This was an article I wrote some time ago for "Life With Dogs" about the first, never to be forgotten Old One Eyed Pug aka Billy. Of course we now have Hughie, The Old One Eyed Blind Pug.

His birth name was Billy Baker, named after my kindergarten friend who had a buzz cut that reminded me of Billy’s soft, round head. But fate gave Billy Baker, the pug not the boy, a name change after one eyeball became wounded and had to be removed. It happened after a complete misunderstanding with a then very young chocolate lab, but the incident did not alter their loving relationship. To this day, Huck licks the little pug’s smooshed in face like a lollypop.

I like to think of his lost eyeball as the full moon watching over my little fellow and shining a light his way to keep him from running into walls. If I’m sitting on the porch with pug in lap, gazing on a full moon, I give him a squeeze and say, “There’s your eyeball, watching over us.”

We thought we were going to lose him a year ago when he appeared to have a mini stroke and lost coordination for a few days. He was off food, tail down, humped back, and we rushed him into the vet. Ex-rays showed deteriorating spinal disks and together with his bad heart, we figured our days together were closing in on us. But he rebounded.

Most of his teeth have been pulled but he still manages to eat like a running back, making one thing the same as in his youth- gas. Ah yes, the gas he doeth pass. Over the year, he sleeps more, and he is so deaf that he doesn’t know if someone is in the room. He goes into deep sleeps and if I try to gently shake him awake, he still lays snoring for minutes until he comes to life. His one remaining eyeball is nearly all fogged up in blindness making stairs or new territories a challenge.

He needs constant guidance now to get around the house. If we are in the kitchen, and I leave for the downstairs studio, I tap him and he knows to follow, but then he needs assistance on the stairs. If I can get him to settle on his fire side bed, he will sleep for most of the day. But it takes him longer to settle, and he often wanders around looking for me, or something that feels right. he often seems a bit delirious, like an old man wandering, looking for the reason why he got up in the first place.

His one sure way to let me know he needs me, or needs something, is to whimper. He whimpers if he needs to go up the stairs, or down. He whimpers if he wants to get off the chair, or if he needs to step the 3 inches over the porch thresh way to come in. He whimpers if I am five feet away but he’s unsure where I am.

Out in the garden, the old pug can still sniff around a few minutes before he starts to cry a bit- “Where are you?” he’s asking. “Do you know where I am? Because I’m not so sure where I am, come find me.”

He used to love spending hours in the garden. But now he’d rather be in my lap, my hand on his worn down spine, his little pug nose snoring in and out with an occasional twitch from his singular eyeball.

And there in lies the answer.

I still provide a shore for him, a respite in his delusion brought on by age. He gives me one more purpose in my day – to give him a safe place to be all that he can be even in his elderly limitations.

We fit together like salt and pepper. I have a nice warm lap that has been reformed over the years to fit his little curled up fawn body just perfectly.

3 days without Martyn...not so sure I would be good at this

I spent the last three days alone, without Martyn. He went to a family outing 4 hours away, and I could not get farm care. That is one of the realities that comes with what I do-the responsibility of care taking never ends. And since we haven't been here that long I have not found farm sitters. I was really glad Martyn got to go, he went fishing at his family's old summer stomping ground, and got to see family too. He needed that. In some ways, I told him, I think maybe I was meant not to go, I would have created a different dynamic, and this way, he could fish all day.

We have not been apart for...I can't even remember the last time, I guess it would have been 2008 when my father died. When he was packing up his truck to leave and I was helping carry stuff to the car, I had this overwhelming sense of...this just doesn't feel good. As I stood by his truck and it was time to say goodbye, my throat started to swell up and I had to hold back my emotions.

Good grief! It wasn't like he was getting on the Titanic.

But it was interesting to be alone again after so many years. Keep in mind before Martyn, I was single until I was 42. I lived alone, except for one year when I hooked up with a moron who happened to be a very good liar, and liars and open-hearted souls often collide, leaving one bruised and battered and leaving the liar to leave, and lie some more. I liked living alone. I really did. I have always been, since a young child, a self entertaining unit. I always had my own room, since it was just me and my brother, and I found multiple ways to amuse and engage myself all day. When I was about ten, I would go to bed really early sometimes, like 8, and my mom wanted to know why I was going to bed so early-it was because I loved lying in bed with the lights out and listening to the stories in my head.

Being alone isn't the same as being lonely, and being lonely can happen even though you are surrounded by people. While I like being alone, I am not lonely. In fact I relish being alone. With Martyn I have found the perfect match, we work well together, but we also work separately-together. We come together at dusk and break bread, share, laugh, yell at the Apple TV, and sleep.

So after he drove away, I went in the house and...I cried, like a little baby. I was sort of caught off guard by that. But they were good tears and then I started on with my day. What was so interesting to me was the energy shift in the house. Everywhere there were marks of Martyn, things he'd built or fixed, his garden, the empty spot out front where his truck should have been, his cap hanging on a chair. That first day, I realized how accustomed living with someone I had become. I knew this, but the physical void was so palpable. By night time I made some pesto and watched a movie and went to bed. When I awoke, I had to remember he was gone. And when I got up to start the day, again, I noticed how the energy was different....it was as if I could feel the energy more.

I thought of my friend, my age, who three months ago lost her way-too-young husband in his fifties, suddenly. He got up to make breakfast, had a seizure which he had experienced his entire life, fell down the stairs, and was dead. She is forging on in her life, not cowering from the pain, but living in it, and she says it is a physical pain right now, it hurts every where. I empathize with her. I often wonder if I could stand this, if Martyn died now. Some people like to shower me with nice comments, based on my good deeds and what they see me doing on the blog, telling me I am 'brave' and 'strong'....hmmm, I am not sure of that. I am not sure I would have the strength to go one, or want to go on without him. I'm not sure I would choose to have the strength..maybe I would just, breathe out, and let go of the earth somehow.

Anyway, it was interesting to be silent for three days and not really have conversation. I sat out in the garden for a cocktail and I do love just sitting...I have always loved just sitting for a spell. But when I got up this morning, I baked a pie for Martyn's homecoming, and some bread so he can have sandwiches for work tomorrow. I'm glad he is coming home. It's the same excitement in my heart as when a new Misfit is arriving!

But I guess it is this decade of the sixties....you do know what you have more clearly, because all around you there is more loss. One can't dwell on 'what if', one must focus on 'the glory of what is here right now'. But then I think of my friend, and what she has right now is a big hole in her life. She doesn't get to have baked pie tonight with her best friend...

Here's to all the brave warriors out there, warriors of love as my friend calls herself, who get up and face the energy shift in the house.

As summer fades...we smile

It has been a humid August this year, and humidity is not my friend, or too many other's either. Since we never had humid summers in Oregon, I've never had to deal with certain things rotting in the garden. On the other hand certain things seemed to thrive this summer-the Queen Anne's Lace for example. But the rains we had, with humid days after, did seem to do some things to certain roots.

I could have an entire yard of The Queens, perhaps with sunflowers too, and pumpkins. Martyn has been patient with my Queen love, letting me keep large plantings of it in both the front garden and back private garden. We kind of have this unspoken rule that the front garden is more his, except for my hollyhock patch-step away from my hollyhock patch-and the back garden is more my garden. It's one of those couple speak things. We obviously are very united on how we take care of Earth.

And the cone flowers this year are phenomenal too.

I talk to all my flowers, how can I not? They are so full of personality.

But, as you can tell by this lackluster post, it is still August, and I am really no different than the plants, or leaves that are crumbling. I really feel this is what happens to me in August, I am no different than every other piece of Earth, I am ready to shed parts of myself, decaying skin and bits of dirt and hair, and start afresh in September. Fall for me is a revitalization, even though it is a time when Nature is prepping for winter. Winter for me is a long, caccoon of creativity and silence.

Fall always has a melancholy too. I think for me it is because it reminds me of days gone by-memories of being a kid and sitting in my leaf huts back in Minnesota, my mom in the house making a good dinner, my dog at my side. Back to school has that same revitalization for me-new pencils, the smell of the new books, who was my homeroom teacher going to be.

But for now, I do try to look at each flower head, marvel, and revel in it all-this setting, how we got here, and what will happen next. If I think of people now gone, or animals, it is not really in a depressed way, it is an acknowledgement that without them I would not be here in this exact spot and time...and that they live in my head.

The blessing of daily faces

It's a blessing to live amongst such a diversity of souls with faces that express their own peace each day, because they just get to be.