Forgotten Treasures
The barns are fast disappearing from our
countryside. Just take a ride down any country road in your area and you
will see once beautiful barns now fallen into decay. You will see many
with roofs caving in, unpainted structures, and walls rotted and falling
down. This is very sad to me because I have always loved the barn.
In my childhood, the barn served as our playground, our gymnasium, and our secret clubhouse. On rainy days, it was the perfect place to be. The sound of raindrops hitting the tin roof certainly was an invitation to lie back on a bale of hay and take a nap. On hot summer days, it was the perfect place to be…The coolness of its structure was a welcome relief from the heat. In the winter days, there was always a warm place in the loft with pieces of hay pulled snugly around you…A wonderful place to share your deepest secrets.
I can just look at a barn and the vision of cows comes into sight. I can hear the sound of the cowbells as they ring out the “Time for milking” sound. It makes me appreciate the fact that I was raised a country kid.
To see the barns disappearing so fast is a heartbreaking thing for me and all the other thousands of farm kids in our nation. It tells its own sad story. Our small farm life is on the decline and The way I See It, our nation is suffering from the loss of farm families.
Forgotten Treasures.
A neat old place, my grandpa's barn,
Where the doors stood open and there was no harm.
A cooling place from the heat of the day,
And the air was sweet with the fragrant hay.
Hens making nest busily scratched around.
Breezes blowing through barely making a sound
Sunbeams shining through the open slat,
A quiet place to sleep for the barnyard cat.
The old barn, where my childhood days,
Were filled with fun in a thousand ways.
On the highest rafters we often chased around,
To this day I’m thankful... we never once hit the ground….
Mary Frances King
In my childhood, the barn served as our playground, our gymnasium, and our secret clubhouse. On rainy days, it was the perfect place to be. The sound of raindrops hitting the tin roof certainly was an invitation to lie back on a bale of hay and take a nap. On hot summer days, it was the perfect place to be…The coolness of its structure was a welcome relief from the heat. In the winter days, there was always a warm place in the loft with pieces of hay pulled snugly around you…A wonderful place to share your deepest secrets.
I can just look at a barn and the vision of cows comes into sight. I can hear the sound of the cowbells as they ring out the “Time for milking” sound. It makes me appreciate the fact that I was raised a country kid.
To see the barns disappearing so fast is a heartbreaking thing for me and all the other thousands of farm kids in our nation. It tells its own sad story. Our small farm life is on the decline and The way I See It, our nation is suffering from the loss of farm families.
Forgotten Treasures.
A neat old place, my grandpa's barn,
Where the doors stood open and there was no harm.
A cooling place from the heat of the day,
And the air was sweet with the fragrant hay.
Hens making nest busily scratched around.
Breezes blowing through barely making a sound
Sunbeams shining through the open slat,
A quiet place to sleep for the barnyard cat.
The old barn, where my childhood days,
Were filled with fun in a thousand ways.
On the highest rafters we often chased around,
To this day I’m thankful... we never once hit the ground….
Mary Frances King
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