Back in 1964 when the Bacigalupi family planted six acres of Chardonnay on their property, many people thought it was a mistake since the conventional wisdom of the time was to plant prunes, a much more lucrative fruit. But the Bacigalupis gained widespread recognition as growers in 1976 when Château Montelena’s 1973 Chardonnay (made with 40% Bacigalupi fruit) won the famed Judgment of Paris tasting over many highly acclaimed French wines. This single event helped to change the world’s perception of California wines.

This watercolor sketch shows the Paris Tasting Block of Chardonnay on the Bacigalupi ranch in Healdsburg as it exists today. The family plans to keep the vineyard as long as it’s producing grapes.

While driving along West Side Road just outside of Healdsburg today, I noticed all the grape vines in the vineyards have been pruned. The vine’s thick, black trucks are all that remain, contrasting against a sea of yellow mustard. The weather was unseasonably warm so I parked roadside and sketched this scene while sitting under a tree.

Unlike today, last weekend the weather was perfect for a bike ride and I chose to head into the Russian River Valley. The autumn colors were at their peak, draping the landscape in deep oranges, rich reds, and golds. In another week, two at most, these warm colors of autumn will be replaced with winter greens.

Old barns are common along roadsides in Sonoma County, but I never tire of the character and beauty they add to the landscape. Many are no longer in use; seemingly held together by nothing but peeling paint, their roofs sag and the walls bear holes big enough to accommodate all sorts of critters. Yet somehow these barns manage to keep standing. I like to think they’ve grown roots, like the old oak trees from which they were built, that each is digging ever deeper into the soil in order to prop up its increasingly frail frame. This old barn along West Side Road complements the season’s earthy browns and greens, now that recent rains have washed away much of autumn’s warmer tones.

After walking a quarter mile from our house, Marilyn and I arrived back at the site of my Four Seasons series. We set down our bags for a relaxing morning of art and nature, and a chatty mockingbird welcomed us with a rapid succession of musical phrases.

After unfolding our chairs, I pulled out the final piece in the quartet. I’d begun the drawing yesterday, leaving it unfinished after the heat drove us back indoors. Today feels different: the shadows are longer, the foggy morning has left dew on the grasses, and a new crispness hangs in the air. Autumn is near, and more importantly, harvest is fast approaching.

Across the field, the closest vineyard has been plowed over and the vine’s skeletal remains have been bulldozed into a burn pile. With the rainy season only two months off, I imagine this pile of woody vines will soon be reduced to smoke and ash.

Looking up to catch the sun dancing across rustling leaves, I blinked twice to realize only three pears were now hanging from the top of the tree! Apparently overnight, someone had picked the pears as far up as they could reach. I wouldn’t have thought the fruit would be ripe yet but someone else must know better. Good thing I’d started the drawing yesterday when the tree was full of fruit since the point of the series is to show all four seasons.

The mockingbird that had kept us company, flew across the field and disappeared into a thicket of bushes. With the last of the Four Seasons paintings now complete, I began to pack up my supplies. I’m going to miss painting this place, it’s beginning to feel a lot like home.