the wine farm

Saying goodbye to a place is no easier than saying goodbye to a person.

The Wine Farm has been in my family since my Great-Grandparents immigrated from Holland.  My Grandpa and Grandma took it over and  eventually my Mum grew up there as well.  It would soon become my second home. Every Sunday as long as I can remember was spent drive out past Bentley and going for a good visit at the farm.

No one does it better than my Grandma: the potato soup, canned beans and carrots are to die for.   My Grandpa helped start my savings fund by paying us loonies for back scratches, and collected pop cans so us grand-kids could go to Disneyland.  He was always an incredible source of knowledge, collecting news cut outs, sticky notes, books, articles.. researching and sharing endlessly.  Helping in the garden, smoking fish, baking, tobogganing, quad rides, swing rides, bird watching, gopher hunting, catching frogs, playing in the forest, you name it, we loved every minute of it. Not to mention, I did an obscene amount of wandering through the woods finding magic.  A good portion of my childhood memories have been on the Wine Farm.

It is a place on this earth, so dear and near to me. Recently, however, the farm was sold.  But such is life, everything is constantly in motion and changing.  And as I change and grow, so does everything around me.

2013 marked the last Wine Christmas at the Farm, I casually enjoyed the day and made the absolute best of it.  My sister and I went outside, it was a perfect Canadian winter day, and became children again, running around, making snow angels, climbing up things, soaking in the timeless place.

The Farm has always astonished me, as a secluded place full of texture, tradition, memory, history and artifacts.  My art has deep roots into its soil and I’ve spent countless days exploring every nook and cranny of its landscape.

As I move on, this place will hold an incredible place in my heart.

West of Bentley, Alberta, Canada

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