For the Love of Barns

It would be an understatement to state that I love barns.  Well, I love barns.

My heart literally swells when I see a barn.  It practically bursts with happiness.

Every time Kathryn sees a barn she says to me, "Look at that farm mommy."

In a way it's true, barns are typically on farms.  Right?  Or at least what used to be farms.

And that is why I love the country.  I love living in the country (or by the country more truthfully).  

I love seeing a barn in the spring when the grass is a bright green.

Or when the sun is setting behind it.  Or one that stands alone in a field along with a single tree.

Or one surrounded by a white fence that you see as you turn the corner in a road.

Or one that is blanketed with snow.  Or when the fields surrounding it are full and tall.

One of my very favorite barns in the area is now an antique shop.  I met the owners at a yard sale this summer and told them how much I loved their barn.  They told me it had always been a dream to own it.

I think I would love to own a barn someday too.  Or at least live by one.

 

I'm wondering when my love of barns developed.  My dad built one in the pasture when I was young.

For a long time, it was just plywood with a hole in the side.  I'm not sure what the hole was from.

Probably an angry horse, a crazy kid or a run-away tractor.  I called my dad recently to ask if I'd given him any grief about finishing the barn, like I had with countless other projects around our house.
Such as the chimney that just had to be finished before I got married.
Michael finished bricking it right before our wedding day.

Now, that same barn is bright red with a green roof.  It's beautiful, tucked away in a corner of the pasture.

This is a barn that I found, while driving with my two small children down a country road.

I think it is so beautiful.  And I wonder what life used to be like when it was in full use.

I guess I'm a little bit sentimental about barns, rolling hills and the country...