Barns
“Along with the World War II generation, the barns are dying out. I cringe at both. Solid red barns are symbols of a rural, family oriented, stable way of life. Barns filled with machinery and livestock, their haymows filled with fragrant bales.
“Old barns are pleasing to the eye. Ever notice that barns are a favorite subject of local newspaper photographers? I save them all.
“Barns alive with a horse’s nicker, cows chomping hay, the gruff grunt of a sow with baby pigs. A pigeon’s wavery coo, the whistle and beat of its wings in a startled retreat.
“The creaks and cracks of the barn’s joints on a windy day.
“In spite of an oily dusty machinery smell, a brand is a great cavern to play in. The giggles of two sisters jumping into a granary of oats a floor below. Their shrieks as they notice grasshopper parts mixed in with the oats.
“Minnie’s concerned meows and purrs as she supervises the sisters playing with her kittens, their eyes still shut.
“When the kittens get bigger, the sisters raid sparrow and pigeon nests in the rafters under the barn. The girls don’t remember if the cats were at all interested in the bird eggs, but they learn that lice lurk in those nests. The sisters quit stealing the eggs. . . . “
First published in The Dallas County News, June 26, 1997, the whole story about barns is in Chapter 2: Childhood on a farm in The Immigrant and the Outlaw: A Collection of Stories from America’s Heartland
—–
I’m not the only one who enjoys old barns. Photographer Joe Kenney often posts winsome photos of them on Facebook, along with other charming pictures.