So, back in January, Rod and I decided the kids were big enough, and the economy was getting tight enough that we’d finally invest in that sexiest-of-all-vehicles, the Fleetwood  tent trailer.  Yes, the one your folks, or your neighbors, or that somewhat geeky person that you knew had.  Or maybe someone really cool, but my associations are pretty geeky. 

There she is in all her camping glory!

So, on a really dismal, pouring-down-rain-day (because when I decide it’s time, it’s time, rain or not) we loaded up the kids (Helen in a black cat suit, tail, ears and all) and trekked down to our local seller of RVs.  And lo and behold, there on the lot, all popped out and splendid in it’s fabulous navy blue and burgundy trim with its oh so homey curtains and linoleum, was our soon-to-be home away from home. 

Do you think we were aspiring to great adventures in Yosemite or the Grand Canyon?  Treks down into Monterey or up into Eureka?  Nope, we just wanted to camp at the coast.  And that’s all we ever do.  Ten or more times now since January.  Down to Doran Beach, up to Wright’s Beach.  Our friends (and especially my brother Joe, who also has a tent trailer, was our inspiration, and travels all over the greater American West with it) have come to find our very limited selection of destinations a little boring.   Maybe even a little weird.

The view from our campsite.

But not us.  We love it.  This past weekend, we were out at Wright’s Beach. Spot number nine.  Eight has better views of the insanely dangerous surf and astronomically huge waves- and occasional whales- but nine is cozy, tucked in and has its own little fairy forest where the kids explore and play endlessly.

The weather, this past weekend, was epic.  The first night, Friday, while we were all fast asleep in what has become a really beloved little home, Sonoma County and beyond was attacked by a totally out of character September lightening and thunder storm.  We awoke to a pattering of soft rain and a lightening show, over the ocean, that was beyond cool.  It lasted for hours, and we sat around the revived camp fire, all bundled in our foul weather gear, sipping wine and feeling like we were a million miles from Wine County in late summer. 

By morning, the sun was out, everything was dry-ish and the lightening from the night before seemed like a dream.  Except for the fact that all of our neighbors couldn’t stop talking about it.  Wright’s Beach is like that.  It’s set up like a little neighborhood.  And as often as not, all of the kids form an instant pack and all of the grown-ups meet on the beach at some point, and it gets very friendly.  Which we usually like.

Rocco flying a kite with our neighbor, Mike.

I know, that sounds really cute.  Gotta get my Farmer’s Market fix?  Or what?  I go postal for want of fresh picked peas?  I go into fits from the absence of perfectly ripe heirloom tomatoes perched, all fragrant and enticing, on my kitchen counter?  Well yes.  Actually.  I realize that that’s just kind of precious.  I live in Wine Country, it’s all about the “lifestyle”, here, right?  So we put on our big straw hats, grab our chic, but totally organic market baskets, and we head to the market to see and be seen by other fabulous Wine Country-lifestyle-types, while we purchase perfectly peeled, dewy produce and feel so good about “doing the right thing”.  Isn’t is just so green to be addicted to the Farmer’s market? 

Actually, that’s not it at all.  Eating fresh, seasonal food, grown or made by people you know and like, is addictive.  Not gotta have my Twinkie addictive, but it becomes a sort of food for your soul as much as anything.  Plus, our Farmer’s Market is just so much fun!   We go to Sebastopol and Occidental.  Western Sonoma County.  The Green Capital of America.  More kids per capita than any other towns anywhere.  Barely even Wine Country at all.  Not to say that Wine Country doesn’t have it’s share of Farmer’s Markets that are more, say, glamorous.  But they’re not over here in West County.

Sunday morning is all about the market.  We roll out of bed, load up the kids and the stroller, grab coffee and a donut at My Friend Joe’s (yes, an actual donut.  Helen likes the ones with sprinkles,

Pink sprinkles for Helen thank you very much

Rod goes for Old Fashioned and Rocco will take anything we give him.  For me, it’s those greasy double-fried apple fritter things.  I know it’s gross, but it’s only once a week… And, we’re on the way to Nutrition Nirvana…) and head for Sebastopol. 

The Farmer’s Markets are a weekly festival.  Music, food, crafts and incredible produce grown by dynamic farmers.  We load Rocco into the stroller/shopping cart  (the super-grubby, falling apart thing that used to be Helen’s) and away we go. 

First stop (always, can’t be missed or skipped) Hector’s stand, for honey sticks.  $.25 each.  Everyone gets two.  Helen is in charge of choosing flavors and passing out.  We also get spring garlic, sweet onions and lemon cucumbers from Hector. 

That's Hector

Next, once the kids are good and sticky, we make our way all the way to the end of the market.  Got to see who’s got what.  And it gives the kids a chance to “check out the scene”. 

While we sort of “troll” the market, we decide the menu for the week.  We have to be strategic- because we’re committed to eating everything we buy.  Before next Sunday.  Beautiful squash blossoms?  Great, what are they going into?  And when?  

This week’s Sunday dinner ended up being our favorite salad of yellow wax beans (the ones tinged with green that are unbearably fresh and sweet tasting) and grilled fresh, wild Copper River salmon with a sorrel aioli. 

Full Circle Breads

The salad is one we live on in the summer.  My grandmother made it religiously every Sunday for my uncle. When she had beans in the garden, anyway.  We called it “Cuncia”.  I’m not sure where it got the name, but it’s basically tender green beans with sweet onions, olive oil and red wine vinegar.  The trick it tossing the beans with the oil and vinegar and salt when they’re still warm.  They get the most amazing flavor.  In my family you could add canned tuna- the really good Italian stuff packed in oil, you could add potatoes, starchy ones, so the potatoes break up and coat the beans, pesto (that’s from my great grandmother, who put pesto on everything), and that’s it.  End of the line.  Can’t add anything else.  Well, we do.  Tomatoes, olives, cucumber, you name it, it all works and is really good. 

The sorrel aioli or mayonnaise is also a basic at our house.  Pretty much every Sunday Rod makes some form of aioli from whatever herbs we find: nettles, sorrel and basil are standard for us with our eggs and some McEvoy olive oil.  We smear it on everything all week. 

Jill from Crescent Moon Farm

Anyway, back at the market… We make our stops at Crescent Moon for all of our hot fresh and dried ground chili peppers (we use a lot of peppers) and heirloom shelling beans, Laguna Farm for lettuces and the sweetest carrots you’ve ever had-their corn is fantastic too.

Then we head over to see Mateoat his Yucatan Tamale cart for “Farmer’s Market Huevos Rancheros”.  Fresh duck eggs, housemade tortillas, fresh salsa, peppers from Cresent Moon.  You get the picture.  And an agua fresca- this week was peach and thyme. 

We eat while the kids dance in the fountain with the other jillion half naked, tribal toddlers and pop in for occasional bites and slurps.  There’s always live music.  Sometimes its great, sometimes it’s not, but the kids always love it, and actually we do too.   The Farmer’s Market, like the seasons themselves only lasts a short while.  We anticipate its arrival, we mourn its departure and we sure make the most of  it while it’s here.

Photo shoots are intensely intimate.  A one day shoot is like an entire relationship crammed into 8 hours if you’re lucky, but generally more like 12 or 14 by the time it’s all said and done.  You’d think that after eight years with Farmhouse, and with all of the experience accumulated in the years leading up to Farmhouse (I ran a winery and handled all of the PR and marketing, but that’s another story), that I’d remember from shoot to shoot what always end up to be the pit falls.  Well, somehow I never do. 

Ideally, in a perfect world, you’d fine one photographer, whose work you love, and work with them exclusively.  But, I can’t do that.  I can commit to one husband, happily, but one photographer?  Forget it.  They’re too tempting, too seductive.  Great and even really good photographers have a unique voice.  They see your property in their own way- whether they’re intrigued by the architecture, the story behind the property, the interiors, the people themselves.  Each one, if they’re passionate about what they do, falls a little in love with the place for the time they’re here.  If you’re lucky.  And, they make me fall in love with it all over again. 

I meet photographers everywhere-  sometimes I meet them on assignment for publications doing stories on Farmhouse, or at parties, or through designers.  When it comes time for a shoot, I’m nuts for days trying to decide who is just perfect for this particular shoot.  Do I use the person I used last time?  Rarely- I’m always chasing the next exciting voice. 

For this shoot I decided to use Tai Power Seeff.  She’s an incredible photographer who I met when she came to do a two day shoot for Brides Magazine (The story she shot comes out this month sometime).  She sent me a link to the images she’d shot and I was hooked.  She sees Farmhouse like I do.  A little bit traditional, kind of sexy, but really fresh and bright and happy.  She’s basically famous, and travels all over the world, but she and I hit it off while she was here, and she agreed to come back once we’d finished the Barn and do the images for me.  

We picked a date- two days after she got home from Paris and two days before she leaves again for South Africa- and I started working on my ever-too-ambitious shot list.  It’s always a challenge to distill it down to what I really need- not what I want, but what I need.  Right?  What I want is every new flower, the new breakfast dishes, that really cute little caterpillar we’ve all 

been watching (got that one).  But, what I needed, in this shoot anyway,  is several shots of each new room, the renovated pool area, new gardens and, if we’re really quick and efficient, shots of our new Winemaker Wednesday Picnic Basket and some Holiday shots.  I sent the list to Tai and got the thumbs up- with the caveat, “that’s pretty ambitious…”  Well, I already knew that.

The day before the shoot is all about pulling props together, hiding electrical cords and getting ready to be super-efficient.  I scour all of our wholesale flower marts, our gardens and even our neighbor’s gardens collecting enough flowers and plant material to turn into just a few subtle arrangements for each shot. I’m compulsive about not using the same arrangement twice (but as everyone asks, “who even notices?”  Well, I do…).

Tai and her assistant, McNair, arrived the night before, we walked the property and planned the day. Then they headed up to Healdsburg for dinner and a little socializing at Scopa, a terriffic little modern Italian place that’s always filled with locals and visitors alike. 

The morning of, I set up a station for cutting and arranging flowers, my stock of books, glasses, magazines and props and lots and lots of bottles of water.   Then we met for breakfast and got cracking.

First pit fall.  Models.  Somehow we never arrange enough of them, or someone can’t make it.  Tai’s roommate was scheduled to come and couldn’t- so we were lucky enough to get Kate, one of our absolutely darling restaurant servers to stand in.  And, since Tai’s assistant, McNair is great-looking, we decided to pull him in too.  So, models in hand, we headed up for some tub shots.

Now, here’s how the relationship goes.  First you’re kind of flirting.  “Oh, I love your stuff, want to get  together?”, sort of stuff.  Then you set a date.  The actual shoot.  But, you don’t know one another very well, and so things start off rather tentatively.  Translation: slowly.  Every single shoot- every single one- we get about two hours in, we have about one of fifty shots done, and I start to freak out.  So we ramp it up a little and I start collaborating a little more.  Until finally, by the end of the day, we’re averaging about ten really good shots an hour and we’re humming along. 

Kate and McNair, cute huh?

At the end of the day, I had literally 167 tub shots of Kate and McNair (many of them breathtakingly good) and 600 shots total.

Tai was amazing to work with.  She gets Farmhouse and her voice really tells our story.  I think I may have found my “steady” photographer.  As long as she doesn’t marry the guy in South Africa…

Keep an eye on our website, we’ll be filling the new images into the Barn pages soon…