The land.
I traveled from Seattle to Eastern Washington on February 13-14 to scout locations for a new series of landscape paintings. My subject is the Naches Heights, about ten miles outside of Yakima, Washington (which is about 142 miles from Seattle.) I selected this region for a few reasons: the shapes and colors of the landscape remind me of 19th century French impressionist paintings of the countryside. My maternal grandmother's line originates from an ancient French village, Loudun, situated in the Loire Valley, France. The Loire is both considered the breadbasket of France as much as it is known as the "Valley of the Kings" of France. So, in my mind, the comparison of the two agricultural regions is valid. (smiling.) This project is especially meaningful to me because it is the home of my family on my mom's side.
My mom's childhood home. So majestic in an intimate way as it sits alone among the apple orchards.
My mom's family settled in the Naches Heights around 1916-1920. Four generations in my family worked this land and continue to do so. They made their livelihood raising apples, cherries, and pears. My mom, Brenda, is one of four kids raised in the Heights by my grandparents Harvey and Edythe. My mom’s eldest brother, Paul, purchased the apple orchards from my grandmother after my grandfather died in 1957. Apple harvest in September prevented my Uncle Tom, a former school teacher, from growing apples. So he chose to grow cherries instead, harvesting the fruit during the summer break. Now retired from teaching, Tom still grows cherries and pears and sells to local farmers markets. My other uncle, Steve, is an oyster farmer on the western side of the state, "the Coast" as they call it in the Heights.
My Uncle Tom is busy clearing brush from his cherry orchard.
My Uncle Tom and I spend two afternoons driving through acres of orchards and miles and miles of roads in the Heights. The imagery is overwhelmingly beautiful.
Morning in the Heights.
The land is untouched by time and is a nurturing source of home for me. I am soaking up the rural, agricultural land where I spent my childhood years-holidays, summers.
In my memory, I go back to the 1970s and 80s of my youth, where I played in the orchards and climbed the rock buttes formed by volcanic activity about a millions years ago. I remember as a kid building forts made of wooden apple crates in the sage brush fields at my Uncle Tom's ranch, where I retreated from the hot summer sun with my Orange Crush and read comic books.
Morning coffee at the Little Store in Naches Heights, 6:30 am sharp! Then it is off to breakfast then more location scouting with my uncle Tom (center). My uncle and his grower friends visit every morning over coffee and discuss life in the Heights: farming, fruit varietals, weather, what's happening.
As authentic as they come, The Little Store has served the Heights since the 1920s.
My uncle was patient as I repeatedly asked him to stop the car so I could get out and shoot pictures of what I was seeing.
Southern view from my mom's childhood home.
A an apple branch I collected from the ground that was from an orchard that once belonged to my grandfather Harvey, then my Uncle Paul.
Being here brings me to my childhood. It brings me to another era, another place in time. I imagine my mom as a young girl, playing in the fields with her brothers.
At the end of the second day of scouting for locations, I returned by myself to a spot off the Naches Heights road, near where my mom and her brothers grew up. I located a view point and parked the car. I gathered my pencils and journal and went to sit on a bolder near the side of the road. I opened my journal, looked out at the landscape, absorbed the atmosphere, and began to draw. It was just me and the land. I am flooded with memories of my family. This land and the collective memories of my relatives accompany me as I begin to draw.
My first impression: It is so quiet and serene.
The only sounds are the occasional passing car. And every now and then, the cooing and chirping of the finches, the rustle of the wind through the sage bushes.
I imagine what life must have been like when my mom and her brothers were children, who experienced a way of life that was much different than today's world. Photo of the family ranch house, c. 1945
My imagination, stoked by family stories of yesteryear, takes me back in time, before I was born. I can picture in my mind's eye possible scenes as they unfold. I imagine my grandmother Edythe, taking her morning coffee in peaceful solitude, watching the sun rise, before her family awakens and the house comes alive.
I think of my maternal grandfather, Harvey, and his brothers, who were growers, having inherited this profession from their father, Paul W. (P.W.) who came to settle the area. I wonder what their lives were like as they worked the land with the tools and machinery of the day. Farming is hard work no matter what era.
Two apple trees. The one on the left is about 90-100 years old. It was probably planted in the 1920s about the time when my great grandfather arrived in the area. The one on the right is about 15 years old.
View in back of my mom's childhood home.
My second impression: Gratitude for this land.
The land is so beautiful. More so now. Once, this land was the backdrop of my youth. Now, as an adult, I experience the land as a reminder of my family, which makes me appreciate the land so much more now than I did as a kid.
For this period of time while I draw, I am one with my family. Many of my family members who played such a vivid roll in my childhood--my mother, my maternal grandmother, great aunts and great uncles, have passed on. And at the same time, I feel them incredibly alive and present as I sit upon my rock, the wind circulating around me, carrying the scent of sage. Sitting on the land where they once lived and worked for several generations brings me closer to my relatives in a comforting way. I feel the past connected to the present moment. I am in the eternal now.
The land is a life force. It serves as a bridge through time.
Painted rocks. Trails used by the Yakima Nation tribe for hundreds of years pass through here.
The Yakima River flows below the Heights and below the the painted rocks.
Orchards.
Apple orchards. These trees will begin to bloom in April. Fruit will be ready for picking in August/September.
Props. Used to "prop up" tree branches if they get too heavy with fruit.
Oil burners and wood from the orchards. The burners are used to keep the branches with budding fruit warm during cold spells.
One tree still has dried up fruit on it from last season's bounty. I like the juxtaposition of the old, greyed wood, and the singular color of the ancient fruit that manages to remain on the tree.
These apple trees are part of a series of trees that will be grafted, as the orchard switches out from one apple varietal to another.
Grafting trees from one variety (on the right) to new variety on the left
The trunks of these trees are grafted with the trunks of another tree.
Rusty ole' bike.
Mary Lamery is a lifelong resident and native of the Pacific Northwest.
Lamery paints regional landscape in a manner that leans towards 19th century French Impressionism. She will be showing a series of painted landscapes of Naches Heights, made en plein air, in July 2015 at the Seattle Art Museum, SAM Gallery.
To see galleries of her work and details of the July 2015 show, please visit www.mlamery.com