I pass this place often as it is near where I live. I wonder what stories it has to tell. Write one for me.
Your Story is a SethSnap series in which you get to decide the story behind the photos. You can write a story, a poem or even just one word. You decide. To see previous Your Story posts click on “Story Time” on the right.
My response is with a haiku; the 17 syllables Chinese poem.
I hope you’ll like it.
“Surrounded by grasses
beautified by the skies;
an ancient warehouse!” -Nnamonu Tochukwu. Teecee.
Very nice. Thanks. 🙂
Let’s string a million lights inside and out! Let’s hang large golden stars inside reflecting light. We need tables covered in white lining the edge of the inside of the barn. Sprinkled everywhere we’ll have gold and silver star confetti. Saturday night will be the date. Our friends, our friends’friends are coming to eat, and dance. All over the room is laughter, animated talking, and happy eating. Thanks to this barn a pretty home for a party was found.
Yes let’s do. 🙂 Thanks Donna.
They say a lot of things about the old barn over there…
That old barn with the rusting roof and plants taking over the walls.
They say a lot of “Things” happened there…..
Imprecise “Things” that: “We just don’t talk about”.
They say there’s “Nothing to see there” these days….
They said so much with what they didn’t say that I had to go there.
I opened the door they said should not be opened…
I cast my light around the interior and took it all in.
The emptiness that said no sort of “Things” had happened here…
At least not in a very long time.
The utter vacancy standing as reason why “We just don’t talk about” it..
What really was there to say about a long disused barn?
I shut the door and agreed “Nothing to see there” these days…
All the nothing you could imagine contained by walls.
“You went up there, to the barn, didn’t you?” asked the elderly proprietor of the local cafe. I nodded in confirmation.
“It’s what’s left of my husband’s farm; it was his father’s before that. terrible ‘things’ happened there; too many bad growing seasons put us into debt and all three of our children grew up and moved to cities. None of them wanted it.
We had hoped that at least one of them would take an interest in keeping the farm going, but they had seen their father slowly slide into alcoholism as the farm slowly slid into disrepair. “We just don’t talk about” it when they bring their families to visit.
After my husband passed on, I sold the land and was able to open this place with the money. Beyond that barn, there truly is ‘Nothing to see there’; it’s just as well, I can barely stand to look at what it’s become when I know so well what it once was.”
I finished my coffee and danish, paid and was on my way. It was clear though the old lady liked her cafe, she was yearning to have something
back…something that simply could never be again.
Wow, awesome. Thanks.
Glad you like it. I grew up in Canada’s wheat belt where the story of the dying farm is an all too familiar one.
AH yes. 🙂 I need to visit up there. I’ve only been to the big cities.
“Dreams, only dreams in the dusk,
Only the old remembered pictures
Of lost days when the day’s loss
Wrote in tears the heart’s loss.
Tears and loss and broken dreams
May find your heart at dusk.”
Nice poem. Thanks.
Not mine …. borrowed *smile
I thought it was so suitable to your photo.
Yes but it is still a nice one. 🙂
Yes, it’s … thanks.
The grass swishes around me as I move through the field, the birds fleeing in my wake. My excitement builds as I near the building. At the same time I feel a peace settling over me. I enter, quietly, aware of my surroundings, sensing the other energies around me. I feel them watching me as I move through the barn, waiting to run at the first sign of danger. They don’t though, they wait, to see if they can trust me. I climb into the rafters and sit, sketchbook in hand, waiting for them to trust..
Sure it hasn’t been easy but I’m still here am I not?….
Indeed. Thanks Linda.
Reblogged this on Cynthia Attempts.
Thanks for the reblog.
I look humble, but my mission is glorious. – The Barn
My great-grandfather built this barn with his hands. My grandfather painted it red. My father slid down the roof on a old oil tarp, and I visited the million wild kittens while their tired mothers slept in a dark corner.
My daughter takes photos of the owls in eaves and the mice in the hayloft. The breath of my family lives here forever.
A weathered heart
sits upon the plain,
through storms and
I bend and wane,
slowly breaking down,
to the Earth,
from once I came.
Thank-you Seth, very fun for me.
Have a wonderful day… loving loving your pictures!
Thanks Tara, very nice.
Old barns, old buildings…they have such character, they hold so many secrets. I love seeing them…thanks so much for sharing!
I like this idea Seth, may try it out on my site just for fun! 🙂
full of screaming echoes
games and spiders biting toes
a rotting rope from a tire swing
the fear a belt could bring
must filled corners hiding treasure
hours of forbidden pleasure
meant to hold a horse or two
but only memories fill the view
Thanks! Nice words.
Somewhere between yesterday and today I sit in the middle of God’s paradise listening to His voice in the wind and the stillness. Years of men’s labor have sustained my walls. Rain, hail, wind, tornadoes have belted my roof but I stand unscathed. I watch over nature and it over me.
Nice. Thanks. 🙂 …x
Reblogged this on Adithya Entertainment.
Amazing pictures! They remind us that America is more than skyscrapers and what we get to see every day in the media. They also show your love for natural things, and this is what makes your photography timeless. Would love to stay in touch, all the best from Austria, Europe!
Thanks Stephan. Yes we have lots of country over here. I’ve been close to Austria but never there. I need to visit.
The space was big enough for canvas, wire, wood and tools.
It wasn’t the best place to build an airplane, and he wasn’t a pilot, engineer or even much of a mechanic.
But the barnstormer knew what he wanted from the sky outside.
A way forward. And any way would do.
My story…me inside playing my guitar writing and singing songs…connecting with the peace and acoustics, bliss….Red Crow
Can I come listen?
I’d be honored…
They only saw the danger, the adults. They saw the rundown, the lack of upkeep. They saw the holes, the rot, the bugs and vermin.
They saw only the fun, the children. They saw the adventure, the stories untold. They saw pirate ships, a circus stage, cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers. They saw days of laying in old hay and watching the war between light and shadow. They saw high leaps ending in soft tumbles. They saw buried treasure. They saw bats, bugs and small magical creatures.
The children saw the run down barn and smiled to each other. After the adults left with shaking heads and clicking tongues, the children would return to the barn for some real fun.