Behind the studio stands a rickety old barn. It belongs to our neighbors, who don't value it as much as we wish they did. It's been getting more rickety by the year and we can't persuade them that it's worth anything at all.
At this point it's probably too late, and a darned shame that is, too.
One of these days it'll blow down in a storm, and when that day comes, I'll be sorely tempted to hold a funeral for the dear old thing.
You see, I am smitten with barns, head over heels in love with them. I admit it's an unlikely love affair but there you have it: I'm completely over the moon about barns.
Ditto for old sheds, chicken coops, duck runs, greenhouses (but only the glass variety.)
There's just something about that magical blend of industry and laziness that makes you want to snooze in the sun or build something indoors. The scent of hay or tomato plants or just plain ordinary dust.
Surely I'm not the only one (am I?) who loves the rustic simplicity, the humble functionality, of these gems.
There is just something so honest...
so utterly respectable and hardworking...
so downright beautiful about outbuildings. And the way of life they suggest.
