A post from a few years ago. I liked old barns then; I like old barns now.
My Grandfather’s Barn
My grandfather’s barn leans to the south.
The weathered old boards are gray.
The tin roof is rusted and dented and busted;
The wind blew the doors away.
But once that barn, filled with freshly-mown hay
Was a dark, sweet-smelling retreat.
The straw in the loft was wonderfully soft;
A hideaway, cool and complete.
A tinkle of cowbells, a jingle of harness,
The smell of horses and leather
Once filled the stalls and the hand-hewn walls
Were a refuge in wild, windy weather.
Now Grandfather’s gone and that empty old barn
Holds more than a fond memory.
It’s a heritage dear of a bright yesteryear
And all that those years meant to me.
–by Blanche Day Manos
The old barn at Etta in northeast Oklahoma where my grandparents lived has been gone for a number of years. I wrote that poem quite a while back. The barn was an important part of the farm. A giant burr oak tree stood guard by the barn and a little creek, trickling down from the spring, supplied water for farm animals.
Arkansas and Oklahoma are blessed with many beautiful old barns. They are reminders of an important part of our heritage. It pains me to see a barn that is 80 or 100 years old slowly crumbling with no one to care for it because when it’s gone, there is nothing similar to replace it.
If the owner keeps the roof in good shape, the barn will last. But when the roof is neglected, the tin blows loose or the shingles go missing; the rain gets inside and the barn is on the way out.
Farmers still put up barns but to me they look temporary and hastily built. These structures do the job they were meant to do but they are lacking in grace and beauty.
Maybe old barns are beautiful because they were built on the spot by hand. Neighbors gathered and putting up a barn was a team effort. They built a loft for hay, stalls for the cattle, a place to hang the harness, saddle, and bridle, but before a board went up, a strong, firm foundation went down. Isn’t that the way we should be? We need a solid foundation on which to build a life. Foundation, stout walls for shelter, a roof to keep out the storms. The barns are silent sentinels standing guard over our country’s rural past; reminders of the way things used to be.
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