Like Losing an Old Friend

One of the things that Ed and I love about living out in the country is exploring the back roads of Shelby County. Often on our way to or from somewhere, we'll take a road just to see where it goes and what we might see on it. I'm always on the lookout for old barns. The timeless architecture of these often-decrepit structures never fails to catch my eye and capture my imagination. I like to think about all the history and hard labor that these barns have witnessed over the years.

My favorite old barn is one that we pass every time we head into Shelbyville. It sits at the edge of Aiken Road, just before Highway 53, across from Wild Carrot Farm. It stands empty most of the year, but is filled with golden tobacco hanging from the rafters in the fall. I've written about it before and we stopped to take some photos last September.

I should clarify and say that this barn was my favorite. Here's what we saw when we came up over the hill today: a very sad sight indeed.

The almost constant rain of the past two days and strong wind gusts were evidently just too much for it. Like a very old and tired person, it just collapsed – falling in on itself.  A mass of old posts, beams, wood siding, and tin roofing came crashing down. The only thing that appeared to be inside the barn was a large – and neatly arranged – stack of ancient tobacco sticks.

Next to the barn was a old tree, snapped in two.

My heart ached to see this old barn reduced to a pile of rubble. I feel like I've lost a friend. I'll miss it terribly.