Elgie Tapp's barn.
He was a neighbor down from Chicago to central Missouri in the 50's to purchase 200 acres to farm with mules and raise a family. Refractory clay was found on the land, and extracted to form four fish ponds (after) and at 20 cents a ton was enough to purchase a tractor and mechanized equipment.
The barn and he are gone now but the structure lasted as long as it could with a compromised roof.
Made of local oak and nailed when oak was new and soft. Over the years oak becomes very hard and must be drilled before a nail is possible.
Oddly enough I found a poem about barns:
Barns
What holds up
the toothless barns;
their sun-bleached beams
textured and warmed
to the touch;
alive with memories
and long forgotten hay?
Oh, those winds, do blow
howling through
each opening
trying to force open,
the resistance of owls-
eyes and feathers
softly occupying
rafters without pigeons
You’ve sloped,
here and there,
into the body
of the landscape,
surrounding you
You’ve sheltered
young lovers, vagrants,
and beer-drinking youth
in your senior years
Loyal and steadfastly
upholding your purpose-
refusing to retire
Your beautiful bleached bones
familiar etchings
across lines
where land meets
blue skies-
The sun
sets and rises
around you-
You, that
holds time
There is something strangely beautiful about old barns.
ReplyDeleteYears ago my ex and I often talked about building a cabin using the weather-beaten, weather-worn timber from old sheds...the timber that has warped and turned a silvery-blue from its years as victim to the elements.