A SOARING BARNS ARE NO LONGER SOLELY AT THE HEART barn OF WORKING FARMS. THEY ARE WOOING PARTY-THROWERS OF ALL TYPES WHO WANT TO GATHER BENEATH THEIR CENTURY-OLD BEAMS RAISING
Umore“THE BARN IS SOMETHING ROOTED IN AMERICA’S DNA.”
p and down the state, there’s
than milking going on in California barns. Event planner and designer Julie Atwood sums up the new role of many rustic structures this way: “Today’s barn is the 21st century ballroom.”
As anyone with a Pinterest account can attest, the idea of having a party in a barn — be it a luxe wedding, an important corporate event or a bat mitzvah — is having a (forgive us) heyday. Atwood, who runs a successful event barn in Sonoma Valley and is a pioneer of the movement, says the agrarian attraction springs from a longing for the authentic. “Spending a few hours on an actual farm or ranch and eating food in the place where it was grown is participating in an experience that connects many to their heritage. The barn is something rooted in America’s DNA.”
The primal appeal of the simple outbuilding has worked its magic in popular culture, where a lot of architecture, interior design and home accessories are mimicking a rustic, down-onthe-farm look that’s (again, forgive us) born in a barn. And the desire to gather together in a place that harkens back to a time when Great Grandpa wore overalls is contributing to the survival of another cherished American icon: The small family farm.
Many big barns exist on land that once was home to thousands of heads of cattle. Today, the old buildings are largely outmoded and are too large and too expensive to maintain. A drive to the Sonoma Coast reveals several hulking structures that were once essential to herds’ survival but now appear to be abandoned. But, as anyone with country roots knows, diversification has long been the name of the farming game. Back in the day, agricultural success meant having to get your hands dirty. Today, in some cases, it can also mean cleaning up for a black-tie event from time to time.
The Tresch family arrived in Petaluma in 1905, riding onto the land that’s known today as Olympia’s Valley in a horse-drawn springboard wagon with two dairy cows tied to the back. According to Kathy Tresch, who runs the farm today with her husband, Joe, cows have been milked on the farm every day since then, for 111 years. The Tresches currently have 750 dairy cows (their organic milk goes to Straus Family Creamery) and a large orchard.
But the original hay barn, built sometime in the 1800s, had fallen into disuse. It was essentially a dusty, glorified shed — hardly the setting for high-end events. But when their oldest daughter Lindsay got engaged, she declared that she planned to tie the knot inside the barn, primarily because it was the only building on the ranch large enough to hold her entire guestlist. “It was filled with old fencing, broken jeeps ... it took months to clean it out,” Kathy says. “But
when we finally emptied it, we realized it was an amazing space.”
Suddenly, the weathered brown building constructed with old redwood timbers and mortise-and-tenon joinery started to look green, as in a moneymaker. Another daughter, Lydia, was married there shortly after, and the sisters wrote a business plan for the new venture. “The barn feels real. It has nice old beams and knee braces. When you look up at the ceiling, you can see the metal roof peeking through the framing,” Kathy says. “We thought people would connect with it, and with the farm, and it would be a good thing.”
The farm website says “budgets start at 50K for most events at Olympia’s Valley.” Given that figure, there’s little doubt that, even after the time-consuming process of sprucing it up and obtaining the proper permits, the barn is contributing to the operation’s bottom line. “We’ve had a lot of conversations about the future of the ranch and the importance of diversifying,” says Kathy. “When Joe and I took the ranch over, there were 32 dairies in the area. Today, there are 18. We were interested in adding new ideas to the mix to survive.”
They aren’t the only ones. The Poncia family has been farming the same land in Tomales, Stemple Creek Ranch, for over a century. The
“THIS ISN’T PAINTED TO LOOK OLD, THAT PAINT WAS WEATHERED OVER DECADES BY SALT AIR. IT’S A SETTING THAT RESONATES IN PEOPLE’S HEARTS.”
great-grandson of an Italian immigrant who settled in the area in 1902, Loren Poncia and his wife, Lisa, are at the helm today, selling organic beef directly to consumers and restaurants.
Buying the farm next door, with its lovely old barn (the family says it’s at least 156 years old), was a childhood dream of his that was realized several years back. One of their missions is to connect people with their land and with their product, and the enormous barn seemed like a natural place for farm dinners and open houses.
Standing next to the building, covered with weathered red paint, you can see rolling hills and often hear the bleats of sheep and lowing of cows. Bird songs, the wind rustling through the tall trees and the chug of a tractor engine are the background music. “It’s a beautiful space for gathering,” says Lisa. “It’s an honest and functional space. This isn’t painted to look old, that paint was weathered over decades by salt air. It’s a setting that resonates in people’s hearts.”
After seeing how farm visitors responded to the building, it was a short jump to booking private events there. “It started as an educational tool for us, and private events weren’t and aren’t our focus. But it has become it’s own viable business that benefits the farm operation.”
Now that the barn trend has proved to have staying power, Atwood is seeing more and more barns being built expressly for events. Will farming families be forced to adapt again? “I believe there’s a place in the world for both,” she says. “But there’s a certain client who loves and understand the whole rural rustic aesthetic of a true farming barn, and for them an imitation won’t do.”