As the reality of disappearing barns from America’s landscape takes hold, I think I’m captivated by the soul of something profoundly American … something of the back-breaking, sweaty toil that pioneered a nation … something nostalgic and slightly romantic that I see in these cast-aside buildings. ( The Love of Barns, part I)
I’ve lived in a large metropolitan area for over 30 years and am enamored by the city … but not nearly as enamored as I will forever be with the country. Country life feeds my soul … it inspires me not only to dream but to labor … to strive for the values that are truly lasting in this short journey we call life on earth.
Barns scream of hard work.
Relics of the past, these buildings of the pioneers remind us that every generation dreams dreams.
I look at the price paid by those before me who gave everything to find a place in this world, and I ask myself, “Do I just live or do I ADVENTURE?”
What do we become when all of the barns come down? What kind of a society is it that no longer needs the secrets of a barn?
If there are really mansions waiting for us in heaven, I hope mine comes with a barn that I get to help build and then put to use.
Think of what we’re missing in our culture: barn raisings … places to hide the messes in our lives … places to make more messes so that life can keep on giving …. refuges for wounded owls and feral cats. (The Love of Barns, Part I)