I could not believe it. Someone was tearing it down.
I had always meant to take a picture of it; I like old barns and this one had character, a history that almost shouted from its worn boards. Now it was being disassembled, all its skeletons exposed to the curious eye. I know it was a little saggy here and there and some beams that might not have been trustworthy--or maybe one of those companies that take down old barns to sell their wood to city folks for paneling made an offer that was too good to refuse?
I know wood buildings can't last forever. This one, with its faded Mail Pouch sign and rustic gate, was a sight for eyes jaded by more modern metal buildings. As more old barns get left behind--roofs blowing off, doors gapping open, weeds growing up around them--I feel like holding my breath, knowing that an era is passing and most of us are too busy to see it. The big wood barns that held tons of hay in their mows, housed cattle, pigs and horses at night, those barns are becoming a thing of the past, at least in this part of America. They are being replaced by round bales in the fields and metal equipment sheds. The death of small dairies hastened their demise; the milkhouses stand empty with broken windows or have been converted to other uses. A time is passing, and we are the witnesses.