wheatstraw suite

"I got to like this farm. Do anything I want. Roll in the fields, talk to the wheat patches. When I was sleepin', they'd talk to me. They'd go in my dreams."

--Linda Manz in Days of Heaven

Here are some pictures I took last weekend in the field across the street from my house. The fields and trees were all wrapped in delicate autumnal shades of gold and ochre and earth tones, but day itself was as hot and hazy as August. In other words, perfect weather for lounging around in the tall grass and rambling around abandoned farmsteads!

The silk jacket is one of my most prized possessions; it's from the 1900s or teens, and is entirely hand-embroidered. My mother actually bought it at an antique store in London when she was living there in the early 1980s. It's just been sitting in her closet since then, and when I took up a serious interest in vintage clothes, she gave it to me. Amazingly it's in practically mint condition for its age; I'm always kinda nervous about wearing it, though, 'cause you never know when those delicate hand-swen seams are going to give way and if I ever tore the lovely thin silk I'm sure I'd cry. The dress is a 1940s square dancing dress with some cool ric-rac around the collar and sleeves; I found it for $10 at a great local antiques place.

Sorry there's no actual wheat to be seen here, despite the title and opening quote, ha ha! I just had that harvest time, golden fields feeling in my mind when I was taking these pictures.

Oh, and here are some of my older pictures of the outside of the abandoned farmhouse, if you're interested:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/51157968@N03/sets/72157624386505414/

It's huge (that kitchen sink shot is in a sort of in-law apartment; there are two kitchens!) and has some of the most beautiful wall paper, but most of the windows are boarded up, so there's never enough light for good pictures. I'm going to take another stab at it sometime soon, because the house gets more run-down every winter and I feel a kind of panic to document it before it collapses. When I do, I'll be sure to write up the house's history, too. It's had a weird past, to say the least.