Barn Art

Back in time, pre-cattle, pre-large horses, we/I had miniature horses.

We gave free barn tours meeting our horses and seeing our operartion.  The "art" I did not keep in the house I put on the barn walls. People seemed to enjoy this along with my antique or "the things we used to use" section.   Through a tornado, ten years of weather extremes, cattle occupation and other changing events these remain.

a painting on cardboard and great-grandmother's bedstead

This is a four foot plus wide wooden piece I did years ago representing Hubby and me.  The number in the center is our marriage year and the outside circles are our birth years, separately and becoming. I think they should be almost one circle by now.

a random selection to help hold the tar paper 

You know I never waste a thing!

I would not change these years and although I miss the time I think I wouldn't wish it back. It is just another chapter that been read and finished in our book of life.  We begin the next chapter.

Shoring Up The Old Barn

After being hit by time, a tornado and a severe ice storm, the old barn is not doing very well. After spending most of my holiday removing horse manure for the garden. I worked on shoring up one section that had nothing to nail to.

The beginning, as you can see, it did need some work.

Gathering rocks solved two problems, removed them from the horses way and provided material for my project.
The barn really looks no better but the bottom boards Will not fall and the horses will not cut their feet on these limestone rocks.

From inside the old barn, you can see I have almost broken even with the garden gold the horses left me.

The Barn

I have been cleaning. I ran across this piece I had written in February 1998. This is about the barn at my home place. Mom and Dad let me have a corn crib for my play house. I have no pictures. We still own that place but someone has stolen the barn a board at a time.

The Barn

Twenty years had passed
The barn had grown so small
Memories were lurking there
In the corn crib, lot and stall.

Echoes of my laughter
And even of my tears
Bounced from loft to chicken run
Not silenced by the years.

In this barn, I learned of birth
Of death and in between
Never questioned or considered
It could be cruel or mean.

To the barn, I talked aloud
Shouted questions to the walls
Searched for answers to everything
Silently the barn supplied them all.

Twenty years would pass again
Before I could finally see
The Barn was my cathedral
Where God talked to me.