old barns

After dropping my grandson off at his apartment in Goleta, I went in search of a trail about which I had read. Well, GPS did not take me there but to another trail. Here is where I began.

It’s summer and the wetlands are not very wet but this goes between two wetlands. This whole area is apparently for wetland preservation. Lower after looping around, I came to a woods.

I tried to figure out a way to take a photo that would encompass the entirety of these large, tall trees but gave up.

The trail sort of loops back and near here I saw a picnic table covered in graffiti. And then after walking to the other side of the wooded area, I saw this old barn.

Once upon a time, it appears to have been quite fancy.

I walked back to my car and drove to Carpenteria, a smaller beach town south of Santa Barbara toward Ventura. Carpenteria is not fancy like some other beach towns. It is friendly, laid back. I was hungry so went to the Dart Coffee place which was closed the last time I stopped there.

The empanada was yummy and served with their own chimichurri. This is a Frida book I have never seen before; it was on a shelf with other books for anyone to read.

This coffee shop sells cards with paintings similar to this one on the wall in a hallway that goes to other shops.

After wandering around this area and trying to find a shop where I previously bought a sweater (the shop was gone), I walked toward the beach.

In the distance beyond the ocean you can see the Channel Islands.

And turning around and facing the other direction, I saw this.

Previously I mentioned that I decided to try WordPress’ class to see if I could discover something new, broaden my horizons, play, explore. In completing assignment for day eight, I found a blog with a photo of an old barn. Old buildings fascinate me, lead to daydreaming. Who lived or worked there, how old is it, why did they abandon, move on? Several miles down the road from where I live stands an unusually large, faded, red brick barn. On the edge an even taller, circular silo stands. Part of the roof is falling in, a few trees shade the east side. I used to drive by this barn every day, twice a day. Still when I drive by, I think what a unique restaurant or house it would make. Meanwhile, slowly it deteriorates; I feel sad.

While writing this and looking at the photo mentioned above, I remembered the old carriage house where I grew up. It stands, the only building remaining where my father was born and lived until he reached the age of ten. I still own the farm; the young man who farms it cannot bear to tear the building down. When I was there 2 1/2 years ago, it housed a piece of farm equipment. I remember large elm trees and the hollyhocks growing next to it, making hollyhock dolls as a child. Who will remember when it is gone?