A different route home took me past this barn one spring evening.
It was dusk, past sunset, the blue evening sky visible through the barn where walls once were, exposing the ‘bones’ of this barn. It’s beauty took my breath away.
In the early hours of daylight the next morning I was back at this barn, gravitational forces at work. At first, I tried to maintain a self-imposed ‘no trespassing’ boundary, but the more I fed my camera, the more photos I had to take. I ventured to the side, and eventually around to the rear of the structure, capturing the changing light as it filtered thru the open slats. My feet, shoes and jeans soaked by the early morning dew on knee-high grass. Birds flew past, oblivious to my presence. Weeds grew among remnants of machinery left behind, rusting in the sunrise of the new day.
I imagined this farm in better days, before its retirement, filled with purpose and energy, unending labor. Its place in history. Textures, colors, gravity…I couldn’t pull away.
I drove past last evening, a pile of rubble remained.
It took my breath away.
The barn is retired.
Barn wood salvaged.
I imagine the artist who will create a new purpose.
Amazed by its texture.
Breathless by its beauty.