Collage of Curiosities No. 2
The woods whizzed by. The dark depths holding tightly to more secrets than I’ll ever know. Cruise control set, I slipped effortlessly northward as I drank in as many snapshots of wildflowers and shadowy edges as my eyes would safely allow. There’s nothing like a summer road trip. The blaring sun bouncing off dried grasses being whipped around by passing motorists gives rise to bittersweet nostalgia. As though in a dream, I’m instantly transported back to our blue Suburban, my sisters and I packed in the velour back seat, my mom at the helm.
One summer, we drove up the East Coast, from Virginia Beach to the family summer cottage in Cape Cod. Just us girls. Mom said she wanted to show us that we didn’t need a man around to go out and do big things. Now, I think she gave us the gift of freedom and I relish a road trip. I’m free and on my own schedule. I can travel at my own pace, and go as far as I desire.
This most recent trip took me seventeen hours up to Pennsylvania to visit my youngest sister and some of my dearest art friends. While the trip was chock-full of activity, it also offered me the space to breathe in inspiration. I traversed several forests, traveled to New York City, and even attended a locally legendary horse show. As I write this, I’m still swimming in the surreal afterglow of my adventure.
Scroll below to get a taste of my trip and many additional images that didn’t fit into my collage. There were too many beautiful moments not to share!
Havertown, Pennsylvania
Home to my youngest sister and her husband. I explored the local woods, attended the nearby Devon Horse Show, walked the Haverford Heritage Festival, and ogled some of the incredible historic homes of the Main Line area.
West Chester, Pennsylvania
Here I stayed with my friend Sarah at her new-old home, Willow Springs, nestled in the Pennsylvania woods. We spoke of art and nature, our mutual loves, and took walks with her dog Tallie along shady trails under an unending cathedral of statuesque trees. The light filtering through the trees glowed like green stained glass and cast a spell that swept me back to the woodlands of my childhood. While I’d never stayed with Sarah before, I was overcome with a feeling of familiarity and comfort that was like coming home.
Warwick Furnace Farm
I’d long wanted to visit Warwick Furnace Farm, a family-run lavender farm in rural Chester County Pennsylvania, and meet Claire Rosen, its visionary and a fellow artist. What first struck me when Sarah and I drove up to the farm in the late afternoon was the stillness. It felt like the surrounding hills oozed the lavender-tinged haze that filled up the valley as evening approached and dampened all sound other than my breathing. This is the kind of place that reassures you that magic does exist in the real world, you just have to seek it out, or create it for yourself, a combination of which I think Claire and her family have done with the farm. Standing atop the lavender fields, the weight of the woods behind me, it was as though the glow emanating from the pores of the land melted into me and I too was momentarily a part of its being.
The formal garden with blooming Delphiniums and roses.
The Lavender Maze overlooking the fields and the adjacent hilltop.
The formal garden.
Monticello.
To begin my journey home, I headed south to Virginia to tour the grounds of Thomas Jefferson’s home, Monticello. Set on a mountaintop, the grounds boast an austerity, and yet, at the same time, seemed to take themselves far less seriously than I’d expected. The garden planting was relatively informal, except for the neat rows of vegetables, and most of the grass was left as meadow. I was curious if this was always the practice or if it was more recently adopted to ease maintenance and encourage wildlife. Either way, I drifted around soaking in the views and marveling at the natural beauty.
A Swallowtail Butterfly drinking lavender nectar on the back lawn of Monticello.
A mass of dill in the vegetable gardens overlooking the neighboring mountaintop.
Afton, Virginia
I’m a solitary person by nature. After a trip filled with soaking up family and friends, I felt I was due for a bit of quiet before journeying home. I found myself a cottage just a few miles from the Blue Ridge Parkway that fit the bill. Surrounded by woods, the home offered the kind of monastic seclusion I was in search of. I only stayed for two nights but I became well acquainted with the wildlife and spent time sketching the towering trees with a glass of wine in tow. I saw deer, rabbits, ravens, cardinals, squirrels galore, and even a tiny shrew. I sat in silence and contemplation much of the time, listening to the sounds of the woods and staring into its verdant depths watching the light change throughout the day. I think Thoreau would have approved.