I’d been in Louisville two weeks and most of the time it had been slightly overcast and cool. Sometimes downright cold.
Then, there it was, a day comfortable enough to be outside, and there was actual sunshine off and on. We decided to hop in the car, wander around rural Kentucky, and search country roads for old barns for me to photograph.
Jeannie drove, and it was my job to look ahead for two things: interesting barns, and places we could pull off to the side of the road.
We and three of her children had taken a nice back-roads drive through gentle rolling hills up to Madison, Indiana, the previous week, the only other sunny day, and there were fabulous old barns but nowhere to pull off the highway and too much traffic to just edge over to the side. As a lover of old barns, I’d been horribly frustrated to not be able to take any photos.
So, on the next sunny day, coincidentally a day with few obligations, off we went!
We headed east about thirty miles to Shelbyville. My sister knew of an old barn there, and I was itching to see and photo it and whatever else we ran across.
From there we headed north on a few local roads through farmland with old homes and glorious old barns.
And then the first surprise. We were pulling into the town of New Castle, less than an hour from my sister’s house (if we hadn’t made any stops). I spotted an old barn and Jeannie saw a parking lot.
After I took a quick photo, I noticed a log cabin just ahead, right in downtown, and there was a parking area immediately across from it. Yay!
As we climbed out of the car, I spotted the sign in front of the cabin: The Bookstore at Berry Center.
“Jean! It’s a bookstore! Wanna go in?”
“Of course.”
We climbed stone steps to the door, me thinking a bookstore called “Berry Center” would be about gardening. We were promptly greeted by a young woman whose name we later learned was Emma.
“Have you heard of the author Wendell Berry?”
“Sure! Love his work.”
It turns out the Berry Center was named for Wendell Berry who had once lived in this town and currently lived just up the road. We explored every nook and cranny, both floors, of the sweet little shop. The upstairs held mostly children’s books while those for adults filled the downstairs.
We chatted for some time with Emma behind the counter before we left.
Then on to searching for more barns
And then the second surprise. Rather, a group of surprises.
We decided the next stop would be La Grange, for a few reasons. One, my sister had heard there were good restaurants there. We were getting hungry and decided to stop for a late lunch. Second, we were raised in the community of La Grange, Illinois, and thought it would be fun to spend a little time in another La Grange.
The first surprise was right on Main Street. There were tracks running right down the middle of the street, and yes, up to thirty trains a day roll right through downtown. Locally the area is called Trains on Main.
No trains were coming as we turned onto Main Street and found a parking spot across from the restaurant we’d decided to eat in. Not eat in, actually, because I still won’t eat in a public place. Too many unmasked people too close together for me. So we were across the street from the restaurant from which we could get some takeout.
The restaurant, called One Nineteen West Main, had a great door.
And it had a fabulous menu that included fried green tomatoes and something called potato cupcake bites, mashed potatoes with cheeses and chopped ham rolled in crumbs of (we think, though it doesn’t say so on the restaurant description) potato chips then deep fried.
As we pulled out of town, we found another surprise: The county courthouse looked like it was being moved!
We later learned it wasn’t actually being moved. It had been lifted so a new foundation could be poured underneath it. The courthouse was built in 1854, making it nearly 150 years old.
And that was our last big event on our adventure. We headed back to Louisville, only half an hour away, no more barns to see but delighted with our day.
Emilie Vardaman 