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

field day

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.

field day

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


Like a Summer Thursday


To celebrate my birthday, I (along with a couple of good friends and my mom) packed up a picnic of Frito pie, local honey crisp apples, and ginger ale and brought it to my favorite local pond, Lowell Lake! Lowell Lake is like my dream come true; it was a kid's summer camp until the 1980s, when the State of Vermont acquired it and made it a state park. All these adorable old log cabins and story-book cottage bunkhouses were just boarded up and abandoned! It's sort of sad, but it's the most charming place I've ever been.

Oh, and that funny little husky in the picture with me is my dog Banjo!

The weather was exceptionally hot again; I originally had stockings on with this outfit, but quickly shed them. Here's the Townes Van Zandt song I had in my head that day:

I wore a 1950s blouse and skirt with my English riding boots; the pattern on the blouse is little chalets and cabins, quite perfect for this outing.

There they are, a row of abandoned bunkhouses! There must be about twenty boarded up camp structures, including a mess hall, a laundry room, a recreation hall, and some barns.

We left just as the sun was setting; the colors were truly a sight to see. Fall's definitely hit the Green Mountains...


When night comes falling fast

It's polyester! It's from the late 1960s! It's cranberry red! It has a mock turtle neck! I should hate this dress, or rather, it should hate me-- I admire mod dresses, but they usually are so unflattering on me and clash with my personal aesthetic.

I am so very in love with this frock however. It reminds me of Sylvia Tyson and crisp clear October days and the bright autumn woods and the 1970s-looking chalet I grew up in.

This song "Lonely Girls" by Ian & Sylvia just epitomizes the coming season to me. Fall is the loveliest time in Vermont, but those chilly sunlit evenings are quite sad and lonesome as well. Of course now that I'm at college I feel all nostalgic about Autumns at home! The truth is that it's a bitter and bleak time-- everything's dying and you're cold to the bone all the time! But oh, now that I'm two hundred miles from home even dead trees and evenings spent huddled miserably next to the woodstove sound incredibly romantic and glorious. Sigh.