Whistling while we work

getting organized

One of the best things we have done since returning home has been the transformation of my dad's clinic into a sculpture studio for his play.
Dad retired from the veterinarian business at the beginning of this year. He was forced out by all the drug company regulations and mandated attendances at far away conventions. In order to keep his license to practice he had to attend a convention every couple years and have his badge scanned as he entered lecture halls to hear panelists discuss the newest drug or industrialized benefits. At 83, he didn't feel old, except when dragged through the networking "parties" and herded into sales rooms, so it was agreed between him and his wife that when the year started, he would stop.
And it seemed as if he really did just STOP. When I showed up mid June, the clinic waiting room smelled musty and still had bags of dog food in the corner. The operating table had a set of calipers, an empty syringe and his lab coat draped across it. When I asked dad what he was going to do with the space he sort of shrugged his shoulders...

Clinic waiting room Before

Partial crowd of helpers with Dad

Dad's office area, Before

After a memorial event in the city for my dear Uncle Pat, a crew of 19 siblings, children, nieces, nephews, cousins and friends gathered at the farm. There was a clip board, a whistle and the promise of just 3 hours commitment. (Lunch was already waiting at the pond for when we stopped). You could check off the list and choose whether you wanted to clean, paint, destroy, or set up.

during

getting ready to repair and level the concrete floor

Natali in the operating room

Noah and Sophie cleaning the waiting room

Annie doing the windows

Erin mans the vaccuum

Lois and Julian paint the cabinets

 Meanwhile upstairs in the kennel room....

Before

During

Kent and Gardner take down the kennel framework

Daniel and Dad

The Kennel room today

the old waiting room is now a gallery for Dad's sculptures