This window is on the old barn behind Judy's childhood home. The barn was built sometime around 1900 I think.
I did not take the photograph but I wish I had. It was taken by a cousin's spouse who is obviously rather talented.
It made me think though.
Windows are like eyes in a way. This one has seen so much, too. And what it has seen seems more important in a way because of the connection between the place and my Judy and her family and now my own family.
It does not make me sad although I can understand how it might seem sad to others.
Rather it makes me more hopeful I think. The old barn isn't used any longer. But that's only because the need for it has passed and not because it couldn't be used. It would take some fixing up for sure and then it wouldn't really be suitable for much of anything. In its day though it served its purpose very well indeed and represented a tremendous investment by the builders and users.
But that was a day when horses and mules provided the power and hay bales were small and we stacked them to the high roof. Today one of the huge John Deere tractors could not fit without removing a big part of the wall and even then it would be tight inside if even possible. And not even one bale of hay would fit there now.
There is a silo around on the north side that still stands but is also not used. Just down a short ways from the barn is a creek bank. Usually it has a little water flowing there and sometimes it is a torrent. It is pretty deep. If you happen to be back there you'd never know you were not still in the country until a car's noise would alert you.
We are in the "dates" of the month I see - that place mid-month when several us mark the passings.
6 years ago
1 comment:
I love old windows like this. It's as if they have observed so many things over the years. I love the old buildings, too. But somehow, they do make me sad.
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