There is something deeply nostalgic about old farm houses and barns.
From the moment you see their neglected lane-ways, now covered with wild grass and weeds with only a hint of the paths that lead the family home each day…to that next moment, as your eyes are drawn to the byres and ranches that have long since been forgotten.
That feeling of wistfulness for a place that I never knew….
I can imagine when this place was full of life….
Hard working families and children with chores, who have risen with the first sign of dawn to tend to their animals and fields of plenty.
The family dog dutifully next to his master as he watches over his homestead, hands calloused, skin weathered and darkened through season after season, year after year of hardships and elation for the masterpiece of existence he has created.
I can imagine the home fires burning, smoke billowing out of stone hearth chimneys, dinner on the table as mama, the matriarch, calls her family home to her.
The laughter, telling of stories and adventures, everyone eager for their chance to share the happenings of their day, as the food that was harvested by the hands of the family is passed from one to another.
I can imagine as the children grew and began to pull from the roots that once grounded them, on to other quests, the draw of the city, the dream of something bigger or just different.
Their aging parents slowly letting pieces of their homestead whither and age in time with themselves. The animals and fields either passed on or sold off, the homestead no longer a homestead.
The barns have aged, sun, rain and years of weather have transformed them into productions of art. Stunning reminders of what they once were. Nature taking them back to the land
This Old Barn
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