I love wooden barns slightly more than silos and slightly less than graveyards. Expect to see more pictures of each. By the way, pole barns have no soul.
I think I started appreciating the beauty of wooden barns while I was on vacation, driving around on back roads in upper New York state around thirty years ago. I was somewhere within a thirty mile radius of Cooperstown. I was on a winding road when I came across a farm that had a wooden barn set in a field at the bottom of a small hill. There was a stream running through the field and you could see the road winding back around the hill. It was a warm summer day, and the scene was so pretty I stopped the car, got out, and took a picture of the barn with the stream and road. I loved that photo, and ever since then I have been taking pictures of barns. Some are still in use, like the one in this photo, but many of them are in disrepair. It’s a shame that they aren’t kept up, because there is a quality about wooden barns. Of course, it might just be nostalgia on my part.
This morning I was thinking about the stars of some television programs that I enjoy. From out of nowhere I started to think about the fact that most of the people on television are young enough to be my children, and many are young enough to be my grandchildren. When did I start to age? Heck, when did I start to think about aging? I know that from a temporal point of view my life is more than half over. I hope that I have many years of serious thought ahead. I also hope that there is a fair amount of frivolous thought and action ahead of me. I had better stop writing before I get seriously depressed.