|
By ANN WORTHINGTON
Old, rustic barns fascinate me and I’m always on the lookout to spot them as I travel around the countryside.
Some of them are so dilapidated and unkept, but nevertheless, they hold a sort of mystery that makes my mind wonder about all the events that have taken place in and around these old buildings.
When I was a little tyke, most farms had one and sometimes two barns that were used for storage of all sorts of things, like hay, peanuts, vegetables left to dry for the winter’s use, and even farm equipment.
Some of the barns were elaborate and painted white, while others were made from new boards and left to dry and remain in their natural states.
All barns have their own personality, but they are different in so many ways, such as the structure, foundation – just beautiful in their own way.
I passed by an old barn just a few days ago. It stood in all its faded gray glory as tall and proud as it was the day it was built.
The farmland around it was beautifully manicured, even to the drainage ditches that stretched in an endless line on the outskirts of the acreage of the barn’s resting place. Old, musty and mildewed hay hung loosely from the old door on the top floor of the barn, and the open door hung precariously by one old rusty hinge.
I had to stop and let myself walk over to the barn for a closer look, hoping if the owner saw me, he would understand my curiosity.
The barn reminded me so much of an old friend, and that was our old barn on our farm. As I stood looking at the frame of what used to once be a busy place, I thought about the events that probably took place in this reminder of yesteryear.
I thought about the flurry of activity that once was such an integral part of this farm. I wondered how many pounds of oats, wheat, hay, or even vegetables could possibly have been stored in this old skeleton of a barn. I thought about all the barn dances that could have brought many pleasant evenings to the family and neighbors, and I just let my imagination run wild for a time.
My time was up for visiting this old barn, but as I drove away, I waved a goodbye to this old creaking building and felt as though I were leaving an old friend.
If I were an artist, I would paint these old buildings that once were so much a part of the past, but my art ability is practically non-existent. I will just have to reminisce about them as I see them in passing and enjoy my memories of one more thing that is slowly making its way into a period of time that once was and now is fading into history like so many other things.
My reader friends, I must get busy on the never-ending household chores, so until next time, may all of your troubles be few and your blessings bestowed on all of you in a special way, and as always, have wonderful days in the weeks ahead.
 |
|
|