the preServe lookS nAturAl by DeSiGn. it iS A fully reStoreD ripAriAn AnD coAStAl SAGe Scrub hAbitAt.
Greenwell Preserve is the exemplar of a silk purse
sewn from a sow’s ear. Only a few years ago it was a county road yard, ringing with the noise of heavy equipment and lumbering dump trucks. Steaming piles of fresh asphalt tainted the air. Today the serene space, with its two old farm buildings, does double and triple duty, providing parking access to backcoun- try trails and meeting rooms for local civic groups, as well as a low-key, passive park. The transformation from road yard to nature preserve, initiated by the Summerland Citizens Association (SCA), is a lesson in what a small group of committed individuals can do. It is still early morning when three
cars pull into the preserve’s parking space, the cement pad of the former road yard’s garage. Dogs jump from open doors and dash into the shrubbery, scattering bush rabbits. The women drivers, three old friends, gather their dogs, and the group heads up Greenwell Avenue for a morning stroll. In their wake, a sparrow hawk wings through, checking the swallows’ mud-daubed colony for a breakfast of nestling bird. The native plants that populate the pre- serve come alive with bush tits, finches,
grosbeaks, buntings and towhees gathering seeds and insects. Bees buzz the white sage flowers. A couple of walkers traverse the preserve’s path-
ways, glancing at the labels of native plants before heading out for a hike. The preserve is a designated trailhead, and five trails strike out from its hub like the bent spokes of a wheel. Later in the morning, pickups towing horse trailers swing into the parking area. The equestrians unload their horses and start up the Polo Club trail, one of many maintained by the Montecito Trails Foundation (MTF). They may follow a large loop, connecting with the Toro Canyon trail, perhaps even dropping down to the beach access at Padaro Lane. Along with the Summerland Citizens As- sociation, the MTF was an early and strong supporter of the preserve. Mid-day at the preserve, some coastal fog creeps
in. The area takes on an aura of peace and quiet. A ring-necked snake slithers from its hiding place near the creek to search for salamanders. From an oak tree comes the chipping tap of a downy woodpecker. An artist parks his car and sets up an easel to paint the old barn, its lines softened by mist. These two acres have a history. The barn was the
center of a pioneer farming operation during the early 1900s. Perhaps, as the artist touches brush to can-
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