BACKBONES OF THE MIDWEST

Anyone who knows me knows that I. Love. Old. Barns.  My biography would be titled, "Barn Seeker", and my native name would be "She-Who-Prowls-After-Old-Barns-in-Remote-Places."

Everywhere we went, no matter our destination, there were countless barns.  Duh.  This, after-all, is part of the original Breadbasket of the USA. So, not only did I love the individual barns, but I honored them as part of our patriotic heritage. I was in heaven!

This one is hardly visible, but I love that these now immense trees were probably planted at each of the 4 corners while the siding was newly-planed: 

Pat, I am sure, was mortified at my modus operendus, which is to leap out of the car and simply go up to the front door of the farmhouse and knock.  I like approaching the folks to compliment them on their barns and ask permission to photograph.

Never have I met with a negative response; people are open and kind, and I usually get added historical information from the owners.

No one was home at this farm, so I wandered about the Sobanski farm, calling out as I photographed:

Yes, I love the barns, but I love the ambiance and even the bucolic aroma too:

I love what the time of day did to color and shadow these old planks and windows:

It wasn't long at all before Pat enjoyed the "approach" effect, and it was usually the two of us who got Up Close and Personal with the farm Personnel.

This was a large complex of barn and outbuildings, and the owner was happy to talk to us; even walked around with us, and showed us his wife's bottled jams she takes to the local market.  We would have purchased some of her lovely cherry jam if we weren't traveling by plane.

Barns with field-stone foundations became our favorites.  They  are stalwart representatives of the brawny determination of the original builders who scrabbled the stones from their own earth, then used a softer sense of art to place each one "just so". 

Jim explained how local Amish came 'round to help him re-stabilize this foundation:  

This is the same barn, different side  Many times I will take more photos of "barn vignettes" than I do of the barn itself, and here I love the color of the casually-placed boat oars: 

Speaking of "vignette", here is part of a different barn:

Okay, yes, most of these have metal roofs, and I have declared before that a barn is nearly disqualified as photograph-able if it has a (gag) metal roof.  Of course, I know the purpose is to lengthen the life of the barn, and in the case of these more-than-a-century-old ones, I am grateful they have been preserved.  

The flip side that brings these barns back into favor with me is that Midwest farms are TIDY! I kept exclaiming that I doubt even a piece of lint could be found around any farm.

Try to find a scrap of anything here:

This same barn at a different time of day.  

Imagine the thrill of being able to put this distinctive window in place a hundred years ago!

The farmer at this place actually left his work to talk to us. We learned sad news, that this barn will most likely deteriorate in its time.  It was built in 1892, but the expense is too much to bring it up to the code the historical society wants before they step in to help.

His very sociable horse came out to see us too.  He is a retired Amish horse whose work name was Bart and who is now called "Bullet".

This metal roof is quite acceptable because of the farmer's eye to design.

I love the trimmed windows!

 MANY more barns will follow.

PATHWAYS

Every day in Michigan, we hiked and hiked and walked and walked, and - lucky for us - it seemed we always had the paths and trails mostly to ourselves.  All the better to enjoy immersing ourselves in the moods of the different landscapes.  Unlike Robert Frost, we could travel any path we chose. 

Whether into the woods...

or through sand;

over water;

up high...

(representative of countless lighthouses we visited):

or unique (the mile-long breakwater path out to Ludington Light):

... each path we chose was a conduit to a new and beautiful adventure.

Even all the streets in Ludington (I put my hand over my heart with that word; respectfully like Mayberry to me) were lined in patriotism:

from morning...

... until after sunset. 

But like Robert Frost, we were free to "mark a path for another day"!

SMITTEN BY THE MITTEN!

My photo buddy and friend, Pat, had been flattering her homeland for so long, I couldn't stand not seeing it any longer!  With all the fun of anticipation, we planned - and had - the perfect trip!  "West Coast" is a very weird term for a place smack dab in the Midwest, but now that term comes easily to me. Because I was raised in the Pacific Northwest, I thought myself a true west-coaster-ner all my life, not acknowledging there could be another.  

You see, her home town is right on the eastern shores of Lake Michigan, which is also the western border of the state.  Make sense?  And the whole state is geographically shaped like a left hand mitten:

Michigan Chamber of Commerce, or some  brilliant entrepreneur came up with the slogan: "be smitten by the mitten" to better-sell the state's wonders.

And I was!  With the very first sunset of our first day, I was won over!  For the next nine days I loved every moment of discovery as we hiked, and walked, and visited with local folks, and ate, and photographed extravagant sunsets.

There is a phenomenon called "the golden hour".  After sunsets of my experience, comes darkness.  Not so on the "West Coast".  For over an hour after the sun has completely gone down, the world is awash in brilliant metallic pastels, like the air has magically taken on the hues of Black Hills gold jewelry. The sun is gone. But the atmosphere sighs a soothing lullaby.

I took this photo in "darkness", yet the wet sand and gentle breakers took on these hues:

Oh, I had so many wonderful new experiences: Playing in FRESH, UNsalted water, sunning 

 on white sand, eating delicate whitefish, and enjoying freshly-made, hand-dipped ice cream ...

... and discovering the charm of artfully-curving drift fences and rough-hewn boardwalks which must be in place to

curtail the ever-sifting and shifting delicate sand.

I have listed some of my favorite new things, but there is much more. So, there will be more posts to come while I show just how wholeheartedly I am
"Smitten".

JUST PLAIN FUN

I really didn't want to stop and get out of the car with my little pocket camera in the dark and rain.

But neither did I want to miss this color pop photo op.

Because it was raining so hard, there was obviously no need for un-stacking these chairs to use for outside dining.

And yes, folks running to get out of the rain did look at me quizzically, 

as not only was I getting soaked, but I  was in odd positions to frame the shots. 

However, this was taken upright; but the posting elves insist on keeping it turned sideways.

It was harder to try to turn this correctly than it was to turn myself for the other shots!

I still can't make it stay upright:

HOLDING UP HISTORY

Erranding took me on a freeway a couple of days ago; a familiar route from which we easily see an historic railroad trestle.  The perspective is fleeting as traffic flows at freeway speed.  But this day, I was in a deadlock right alongside the trestle view. I exited as soon as possible to try to find a road and get close.

The trestle is 102' high and 975' long.  Once upon a time I rode topside on a dinner train, but the view from underneath promoted respect.  The trestle was built in 1904.

I was so glad to have spent my time (alone here) wandering amidst the tangle of supporting timbers rather than in the traffic tangle a few miles away.

I loved the snarl of the girder grove, here green with age.

I see I even caught a ghost bird navigating through:

Note: my original photos are so much more rich with color and clarity. I would like to know what happens in the posting to make them look pasty and washed-out by comparison.

AMBLE THROUGH ANTIQUITY

When a Dear GrD says, "Grandma, I want to hang with you with our cameras!" do I hesitate? 

No! We were off, having decided to go to the innards of old Seattle.

Behind windows like this, it is obvious that what was once important no longer takes place here,  but the facades are fascinating:

A very old facade frames a lovely relic:

This is a part of town through which people hurry, but we took our time to hunt and peek: 

I love old building-side fossils:

Got Powdered Sugar?

Gr.D with yummy pastry tell-tale face:

Most alleys looked a little scary, but we couldn't resist going down this "designer alleyway":

Although a menu is posted here, there was no entrance. Tempting advertising might lure one to find the front of the building.  Someone loves the workplace, to care this much for a narrow, dark alley in this way:

Fire escapes almost romanticize old buildings:

Many of my photos of this outing lend themselves to the sepia effect, because of the era: