I'm the other mother - or Momma Deb. Our family is pretty much like every other family in suburbia. The girls go to school, one mom is on the PTA boards of elementary and middle school. The other mom goes to work, paints, writes, and tries to just have a good time raising kids with her partner. This is my third attempt at blogging...

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Where Do I Start?

Where do I start? I've got so many blog posts in my head, I think it's gonna burst. A long time ago, in a field far, far away...

I went wandering around the ranches nearby. I just had a need to get out of the house, away from everyone, and maybe do a little lone exploring. I took my camera with me to record any tidbits I might happen across. About half a mile from the house there is a ranch or two, as yet unt
ouched by developers. It's a wonder they haven't grabbed bought all the land yet. Seems that developers just keep on wearing down the owners of these old ranches, until either no resistance is left, or the original owner dies off and the heirs just want to dump the land.

Sorry, I digress. The ranch land which is not far from the house has cattle and sheep, or the land has been converted to vineyards. Some of the land still has the remnants of buildings too old to know their original purpose beyond what you can now make out.

There was an old gate that would have lead into the property, but it had rusted mostly away a long time ago. Someone had tried to do repairs, but the metal was pretty much eaten away from neglect and time.

I am really very fascinated by old, decaying buildings. I want to know more about them, the people who once laughed and lived in them. Falling back into the earth, they seem sad, yet not. It's as if they belong to earth, and really, they're just following the circle of life.

What is really sad to me is when these old "eye sores" are finally razed and a strip mall or an asphalt car lot is placed there in its place. All in the name of enriching city coffers. The inevitable result of malls and car lots is more traffic, more cement, more people, more noise. The bucolic existence that we love and embrace, disappears once again.

Wanting to follow a road I'd never taken, I wandered south and then east on that beautiful, warm Sunday. There was a small breeze and the "windmills" were turning in the distance. As the road wended around, I came to a driveway into yet another ranch, and this one had the windmills set very close to the road.
The windmills, in case you haven't got them around your stomping grounds, are used to generate electricity. The owners sell the electricity back to the local utility. Even homeowners who have solar panels or other means to generate electricity can sell power back to the utility.

Funny, while I was taking this picture, I heard some odd noises behind me. From across the road. Sort of a chewing noise. A whooshing noise. And ... a rustle. I turned around... and there they were. Cattle. Hanging out under the nearest oaks. Probably the only oaks they can find.

Another quarter turn, and I spied the rancher's home. You can always tell you're in California. The palm tree on a dry ranch is a dead give-away...