Just for kicks- remember this beloved barn
Oct 3, 2014 21:26:51 GMT -5
treatlisa, Debbie Lincoln, and 5 more like this
Post by brigitte on Oct 3, 2014 21:26:51 GMT -5
It always gives me a sense of connectedness with the past- the very beginnings of a passion for nurturing the land, to reread Charlotte's Web yet again. Who hasn't wandered in a barn like this? Maybe a little dyfunctional by contemporary standards, but still perfect for a family cow. I was just marvelling at how fast the barn I built has acquired certain objects, for art and implement's sake. And I am still mourning the loss of a nearby historic barn that defined the comfort of being in a place well lived in, a place where the smell of hay always seems comforting. I can still hear and see, in my mind's eye, the first barn I worked in in northern Vermont- with its threshing floor and double wagon bays for hay, a spigot outside to catch the rain, the clanging of the steers in their stanchions, and the comfortable feel of old wood. It might still be my most favorite indoor place- its very messiness seemed to be by some grand design a means of connecting me forever to its purpose. Here is the beginning of EB White's chapter, "Escape."
"The barn was very large. It was very old. It smelled of hay and it smelled of manure. It smelled of the perspiration of tired horses and the wonderful sweet breath of patient cows. It often had a sort of peaceful smell -- as though nothing bad could happen ever again in the world. It smelled of grain and of harness dressing and of axle grease and of rubber boots and of new rope. And whenever the cat was given a fish-head to eat, the barn would smell of fish. But mostly it smelled of hay, for there was always hay in the great loft up overhead. And there was always hay being pitched down to the cows and the hourses and the sheep.
The barn was pleasantly warm in winter when the animals spent most of their time indoors, and it was pleasantly cool in summer when the big doors stood wide open to the breeze. The barn had stalls on the main floor for the work hourses, tie-ups on the main floor for the cows, a sheepfold down below for the sheep, a pigpen down below for Wilbur, and it was full of all sorts of things that you find in barns: ladders, grindsones, pitch forks, monkey wrenches, scythes, lawn mowers, snow shovels, ax handles, milk pails, water buchers, empty grain sacks, and rusty rat traps. It was the kind of barn that swallows like to build their nests in. It was the kind of barn that children like to play in. And the whole thing was owned by Fern's uncle, Mr. Homer L. Zuckerman.
"The barn was very large. It was very old. It smelled of hay and it smelled of manure. It smelled of the perspiration of tired horses and the wonderful sweet breath of patient cows. It often had a sort of peaceful smell -- as though nothing bad could happen ever again in the world. It smelled of grain and of harness dressing and of axle grease and of rubber boots and of new rope. And whenever the cat was given a fish-head to eat, the barn would smell of fish. But mostly it smelled of hay, for there was always hay in the great loft up overhead. And there was always hay being pitched down to the cows and the hourses and the sheep.
The barn was pleasantly warm in winter when the animals spent most of their time indoors, and it was pleasantly cool in summer when the big doors stood wide open to the breeze. The barn had stalls on the main floor for the work hourses, tie-ups on the main floor for the cows, a sheepfold down below for the sheep, a pigpen down below for Wilbur, and it was full of all sorts of things that you find in barns: ladders, grindsones, pitch forks, monkey wrenches, scythes, lawn mowers, snow shovels, ax handles, milk pails, water buchers, empty grain sacks, and rusty rat traps. It was the kind of barn that swallows like to build their nests in. It was the kind of barn that children like to play in. And the whole thing was owned by Fern's uncle, Mr. Homer L. Zuckerman.