Speaking of quiet moments, I had the luxury of what felt like all the time in the world to do this sketch. In reality the whole thing took me less than an hour, but in the moment it felt like time was stretching ahead of me to the horizon—just like the rows of grapevines below.
One thing I always look forward to about driving to California is watching the seasons change as I go. It never ceases to amaze me that you can go from winter…
…to spring, sometimes in the course of a single hour.
These two sketches were done on the same day, just over 60 miles apart. For this year’s trip, I’m planning to cover much more ground, and head much further south. Dare I ask? Will summer be waiting for me at the end of the line?
The Tailor and I took a little overnight trip to southern Oregon this weekend, blaring Christmas music the whole way down and back. It might seem odd when I tell you that the music fit in perfectly with the scenery in this sketch—but in this part of the world, the holidays mean brilliant greens, rather than bright whites.
I pulled over and started sketching this little farm, with the idea of doing some sort of pre-Turkey Day post today. And then this guy wandered right up to the fence—and into my drawing.
I guess it’s a good thing (for him) that emu isn’t traditional Thanksgiving fare…
Now, I know I can go to the market and find eggs in small, medium, large, extra-large and jumbo. But can I get a round dozen in World’s Largest?
(Maybe that’s what those Washington cooperative farmers have been hatching…)
Continuing on the whole fake farm theme, the ones that make me giggle the most are those that don’t try very hard in the ambience department. When my friend Elizabeth and I went to PEI together, our whole trip was centered around our childhood (and adult!) love of Anne of Green Gables. But even we were hesitant to visit Green Gables Heritage Place, because what could it actually offer? There’s no real Green Gables farm—Anne is a fictional character, the 1980s miniseries that everybody knows so well were mostly filmed in Ontario, and even the author’s home is now only a ruined foundation, located on a different site nearby.
Well, I’m sorry to tell you our fears were well-founded. The “Green Gables” house is just a replica farmhouse, filled with random period furniture and staffed with somewhat bored university students in Edwardian garb—all with the aim to give the busloads of cruise ship tourists a misplaced feeling of nostalgia, rather than information about the author or a detailed recreation of anything tangible. If it had been irredeemably hokey (you should have seen our reaction to the Green Gables post office in Cavendish!), we probably would have loved it—instead, we found it vaguely depressing.
Until we got to the barn, that is. The shiny fiberglass Jersey cow gave us a bit of much-needed comic relief—while Rachel Lynde’s imagined voice echoed in our heads.
You know I have a real thing for farms—as evidenced by all the sketches that have cropped up here (no pun intended) so far. But I also have a fascination with fake farms—you know, the odd sort of agricultural replica that you sometimes see at museums, tourist traps, or—as in the case above—private property.
I love them because just like any roadside attraction, they range from the hokey to the poetic, with every variation in between. Just like the sort of thing you might find at Wall Drug, you get a scrubbed, glorified, romantic version of farm life—without having to muck out any stalls, fight brush fires or take out crop insurance. Yet both the places themselves and their visitors (including little ol’ me) are remarkably earnest in their enthusiasm.
This replica barn, with its replica mural and (probably) eBay-acquired vintage feed plaques, is much more than lawn decor—it’s a careful homage to the agricultural history of the entire island. While most of Vashon is still rural and dotted with farmland, you’re more likely to find beach homes than egg cooperatives these days. So while I’d still rather have the real thing, I’m glad, at least, that somebody wants us to remember how things used to be.
Every year that I lived in Minneapolis I told myself I’d do a piece of crop art someday and enter it into the State Fair. Well, I never got around to the real thing, but I did draft an idea in my sketchbook!
It really doesn’t matter, though—I’m just glad I got to spend so much time perusing the ag displays every year. Growing up, I was too much of a city kid to do anything like 4-H, so I guess the fair is my chance to live vicariously through a bunch of farm kids and their charges.
Oh, that—and die and go to heaven every time I saw the vintage seed sacks.
By the time I’d get to the other end of the ag pavilion, I’d have forgotten all about the rides and cheese curds—I guess I was mesmerized by all those blue ribbons.
Two years ago today, the Tailor and I were at our friend Sarah’s family farm in North Dakota, celebrating her wedding to the coolest groom we know. (That barn you see above is the same one that sometimes appears as the masthead on this blog!)
We didn’t just get to spend a whole day in the company of people we love—we also got to experience an overwhelming feeling of home. The Christianson farm wasn’t our home, of course, but we got to bask in how much it meant to the people who had grown up on those acres. We could almost feel the years (five generations’ worth!) of memories surrounding us there. I can’t think of a better place to have a wedding, and create new memories.
Happy anniversary, Sarah and Jesse! Here’s to many more—love to you both.
I love summer in the Northwest, and I love drawing stripes—so you can imagine how happy I am when the two come together perfectly. If you’re ever in this part of the world in late July or early August, head up to the Olympic Peninsula and bask in the lavender fields. Between the buzzing pollinators, the fragrant blossoms, the sunny rain-shadow climate and the mountain scenery, you’ll find yourself experiencing the best summer day anyone could ask for.