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GHOST COTTAGE, TREEFORT GALLERY AND THE PURPLE CRAYON
by Sara Drought Nebel
It is surrounded by rock ledge, in its own canyon nest. The ledge in front has the shape of a lion’s head. Next to it is a boulder with stairs carved into it that once led to the front door, the original door, that still opens with a skeleton key! From the road that was once a dirt road. The path to the fort. The history that lies behind the yard, over the ledge, into the woods that borders Route One, includes the legend of the Leatherman. A tradesman that walked up and down Boston Post Road to sell goods. He camped in these woods, long ago. |
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Our Cornucopia Cottage began as a caretaker’s house and was built in 1955. A man named Andrew, lived here til age 94, with a no-tailed cat. He grew corn and strawberries in the yard, which explained the rogue lone strawberry peeking out from under the deck stairs when we moved here in July of 1998. I had the great fortune of meeting an elderly man on our walk to the first Memorial Day parade that we went to here, who just happened to know the history of our house. The original 1955 furnace is still running. I named her Maryanne after the children’s story, Mike Mulligan and His Steamshovel. We uncovered the original pine floors. Original glass doorknobs are still on the old doors. I named the house Cornucopia Cottage one day sitting in our hammock chair, listening to our oldest son playing Billy Joel songs on his keyboard - the music wafting out of the window of the attic bedroom he shared with his brother. His brother, the hockey and baseball player, whose posters lined the low ceiling up there. He was shooting pucks in the driveway. Daughter was swinging on the tire swing, holding one of our chickens. Husband Dino was getting ready to take our son to hockey practice. He was the assistant coach. My art studio above the garage. I realized in this moment that the perfect name for this little house was Cornucopia Cottage, with all of the activity of our family bursting out of this 900+ square feet space. Corny for short, because I am such a romantic sap! |
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Off the kitchen, now used as a front door, there is a big deck that faces the setting sun in the western woods, and the detached garage with my Treefort Studio & Gallery above. Since my childhood, I have always wanted a treefort. I spent most of my time in the woods, climbing trees, and at the beach when we were near one. We moved around a lot when I was a child. My father was an author, and we were like the nomadic barnstorming skydivers in the novel he wrote, The Gypsy Moths. Our dad was the original romanticist. The six of us went from place to place in our VW Bus “Brunhilde” (Dad named everything, as I do now). It was a great adventure, and a tough struggle. Dad died at the young age of 51, but there was a lot of life in those years. I still have his old Underwood typewriter. And signed books, posters and DVDs of The Gypsy Moths movie. |
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One of my favorite children’s stories when I was young was Crockett Johnson’s Harold & the Purple Crayon. Harold literally drew his world. His adventures, his way out of trouble, and even back to the safety of his comfy bed and moonlit window, were all realized by his trusty purple crayon. His imagination. I think this is where my “just plain art” and “anything is possible” philosophy began. The magic of the purple crayon fascinated me as a child and is a powerful metaphor for me as an adult. An adult who still believes in her purple crayon, the magic of an artful life, and that anything is possible. |
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He did not know all that I was seeing in it. Dino was an accidental artist. An improvisational performer, and collector. On dumptrips and in his job as a blaster, he found and brought home amazing artifacts. Other things he “thought I would like” or interested him, or that he thought were valuable. Those treasures, like his life, were mixed in with junk and chaos and tragedy. But treasures, they are! They all have a history and story to tell. Antique bottles, animal skulls, sea relics, rusty twisted pipe remains, shells and rocks. Lots of rocks. All kinds of rocks. Crystal quartz and mica and green-who-knows-what rocks. Dino was a self described “Rockhound”. He loved Stony Creek Quarry and pink granite, so we have many borders and random sightings of pink granite around our yard. There was no question of what stone to use for Dino’s Memorial in Westport, near his parents. Stony Creek Quarry graciously donated that perfect stone. Our yard is also filled with the trees and flowers that Dino planted. Flowering crabapples and apple trees and yes, cedar trees, came to live with the existing elders that were here when we came. Oaks and maples and lilacs, a pear tree and a dogwood. He knew I loved trees and would plant a tree for anniversaries, birthdays, and random finds like bleeding heart and more lilacs. |
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I will teach drawing and painting classes with my Dino treasures/still life collection, calligraphy, zen drawing, and host Green Living Workshops. I will transform the Treefort into a beautiful Gallery and shop! The shop section will house my new scents - dunewalk, forestfloor and seaspray, anything is possible tee shirts, cards, prints, and books. |
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| If we can see through sweat and tears beyond the open window of hope to the endless dreamscape and limitless path of imagination…. anything is possible. -sdn |
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A Treefort Gallery preview and Green Living Workshop will be held on Sunday April 25th 12-5pm (by appointment) Call or email the artist, Sara Drought Nebel, with questions, class enrollment and Gallery viewing appointments- The studio/gallery are open only by appointment. Visit me on Facebook and Instagram anytime! Cell- 203 927 9830 (text or call) |
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