The barn was a witness...

The other day when the sun was shining, Greg and I took Olive our dog for a ride.  Sometimes, you know, dogs just need to go for a ride.  We are fortunate that we live in a place where just about any road you want to take takes you to someplace beautiful.  This time our ride took us a little bit northeast of our house and into the country. 

 

I always take my camera when we go for these rides.  It just wouldn’t be right not to.  I seem to gravitate to old barns as we travel along.  I love the way an old barn looks and often wonder how long it has set in place.  I love the distinguished decrepitude of the ones that seem to be standing against all odds.  And I love the utilitarian beauty of the ones that are carefully cared for. Old barns make me reflect on the way many of us used to live in this country so many years ago…life closer to the land where we used what was available to us. Barns make me think.

For sixty years the pine lumber barn
had held cows, horses, hay, harness, tools, junk
amid the prairie winds... 
and the corn crops came and went, plows and wagon
and hands milked, hands husked and harnessed
and held the leather reins of horse teams
in dust and dog days, in late fall sleet 'til the work was done that fall.
And the barn was a witness, stood and saw it all.

~From The People, Yes by Carl Sandburg