Last weekend, while biking home from nearby Coppola Winery, I stopped on Independence Lane to admire a weathered water tower overlooking a vineyard. Unfortunately, I was in a hurry that day and didn’t have time to paint.

The following Saturday I returned under clear blue skies, the air a crisp seventy degrees. This time, it felt like a vacation, and I reveled in the beauty of the autumn landscape, exhilarated to be out riding.

Leaning my bike against a fence post, I surveyed the area for a good place to sketch. While catching my breath, I delighted in the grape vines’ glowing red leaves, took several photographs, then settled down in the shade of an olive-green bush to draw.

Wooden water towers are scattered all around Sonoma County and most were built about 100 years ago. Back in the day, water was pumped out of the ground using a windmill and stored for later use in a tank at the top of the tower. Gravity provided enough water pressure to supply fresh, running water for a nearby home. Although most water towers have fallen under disrepair, some have been refurbished into guest houses and B&Bs for an almost tree house like experience.

After I finished painting my sketch, I packed up my gear and headed home in the warm afternoon sun.

In keeping with my plan to start biking to sketching destinations, my friend Phil and I took to the streets last Saturday. The morning was sunny and warm, as we each rode high on two wheels, heading to our first destination, Francis Ford Coppola’s winery, just north of Healdsburg.

As I suspected, riding bicycles instead of driving a car opened up a whole new world of visual treats. We saw turkey vultures resting on fences, old rusted tractors in pumpkin fields, and wooden water towers located off the main roads. I’m looking forward to all these new sketching opportunities.

Once we made it through the gate to the Coppola estate, it wasn’ long before we found a good spot to sketch. Coppola had a “wine wonderland” in mind when he built this facility, with wine tasting bars, two restaurants, a full bar, a swimming pool, a movie gallery, a performing arts pavilion and a park area with game tables and bocce courts. He designed a place the whole family can enjoy and it is truly a destination unto itself.

I sketched the east side of the winery with its most prominent spire and a patio restaurant covered with umbrellas. The vineyard to the left had already been picked but trucks thundered down the road behind me carrying bins of fresh picked grapes to the crusher.

This past Saturday, I loaded my bike into the car and drove down to Spoke Folk Bike Shop in Healdsburg for a tune-up. A young woman named Kimberly welcomed me in from her place behind the counter. We discussed details of the tune-up package, she estimated the cost, and we scheduled a pickup time for Tuesday afternoon.

Lately I’ve been padding extra time around appointments to allow more time for sketching. So with the afternoon clear, I set up a folding chair across the street to study the building’s domed, corrugated-steel roof. Pulling out my sketchpad, I draw its overall structure, and then dive in with paint. In reality, the building is beige and forest green, but I chose to liven up the colors with orange-yellow for the sunlit areas and purple for the shadows.

Back at the bike shop Tuesday afternoon, I paid and happily wheeled my bike out the door. Another customer just outside commented “nice vintage bike.” I thanked him, but thought “vintage?” It’s hard to believe, but it’s been twenty years since I bought my Cannondale mountain bike. At the time of purchase, I was planning a ride in the Tour de San Francisco, a challenging and hilly 24 mile race through Golden Gate Park that wound its way up the Pacific coast to Chrissy Field, just south of the Golden Gate Bridge. I participated in the race for two years in a row and it’s one of the most beautiful rides around.

Outside the bike shop, I admired how clean the Cannondale was now, especially when compared to the way it looked in my garage just a few days ago. Stepping my right foot onto the pedal and pushing myself up, I coasted down the street. It felt great to be back on my bike, just like old times. Making my way through the downtown area, I felt the bike humming along with me. What a smooth and invigorating ride!

Now, after having gotten reacquainted with my rusty bicycling muscles, I realize it’s time to get back into shape. I’m looking forward to riding through this picturesque Sonoma County wine country, discovering it up close, and sketching it along the way.

 

A few weeks ago, after I posted a watercolor of wild blackberries, several people recommended creating another painting using the juice of the berries. I liked the idea, so this morning while my wife and I were out picking wild blackberries for a cobbler, I created a sketch using berry juice as paint.

I sketched the blackberries in pencil, then ink, until I got a drawing I liked. Then I crushed a few berries, watching their vivid, rose-colored juice collect in the corner of a small, flat-bottomed container. The berries gave off a sweet fragrance and I imagined how great that cobbler was going to taste.

After selecting an old brush to guard against damaging my good sable brushes, I began to paint. Dipping my brush into the juice, I applied the first layer and watched as it soaked into the paper and turned a grayish purple color. But when I applied additional layers, the juice kept its beautiful pink color. The final painting looked deceptively like two different colors. I have no idea how long the pigment will last without fading, but with a scan or photograph, I’ll be able to enjoy the colors forever.

With the painting complete, we headed home to make cobbler.

We didn’t realize how many berries we’d picked and were surprised to measure out 10 full cups. We created two cobblers, enough to share with friends. I sketched the cobbler right out of the oven because I had a feeling it wouldn’t last. I was right.

The recipe I used can be found on Jean’s wonderful recipe blog Delightfulrepast.com.

With a bag over my shoulder and a sketchbook in hand, I walk down the fire road near my house to a hidden blackberry bush bursting with ripe fruit. After a long week of working indoors, it feels good to get outside and breathe in the fresh air. Even with this summer’s strangely cool weather (10 degrees below normal), blackberries are in abundance and tastier than ever. As I face the bush, a shapeless mass of green, a sweet aroma lures me closer.

Today I plan to paint the blackberries before filling up my container with fruit. I walk around the bush looking for a good place to draw, and find a good spot under a shade tree. I reach for my paints and study the berries in their various stages of ripeness, colors ranging from inky black to brilliant red, glowing in the afternoon sun. A couple of bees check out what’s up, but soon buzz off to more important matters.

While letting the watercolor dry, I pull a bowl from my bag and pick the ripe fruit, berry by berry. Pigment from the juice stains my fingers as I loosen each piece of fruit. Carefully, I try to avoid the bush’s sharp thorns but inevitably one will poke me, reminding me of the pain that often accompanies life’s pleasures and keeps the easily intimidated away. I eat some berries right off the bush, enjoying each one’s distinctive taste. Some are soft and sweet, and others are firm and tart. But what I love most is the inviting fragrance that smells like a sweet perfume.

Returning home with battle scars of pokes and scrapes, along with a bowl full of blackberries, I imagine how good they’ll taste topping off homemade ice cream and tomorrow morning’s breakfast cereal.

Today was the 31st World Wide Sketchcrawl and even though I had lots of yard work to do, I snuck out in the morning hours and sketched the corner of Center and Plaza street here in Healdsburg. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get another chance to get out and draw some more.