I love barns. I have had a life long fascination with them. I remember telling my mother I was going to live in one when I grew up. I didn't achieve that goal but I do have one in the backyard. I think she is special.
She was built by my husband's ancestors around 1817. The barn is entirely pegged and has tree trunks for posts. The first floor has stalls that over the years served cows and then horses. Now it is often filled with the laughter of teenagers.
The exterior is sided in walnut that no doubt was found on the property. My father-in-law thinks I should paint her but I love the worn color she is. There is a quiet elegance to it. I just don't think she'd look the same painted red or white.
The barn serves as storage for the large collection of two wheeled vehicles (bicycles and two motorcycles) that my husband is so fond of. He often jokes that a bike shop might be nice in the shed end of the barn.
The second floor of the barn is special. It is the sanctuary for my sons and their many friends. Living in an affluent town, the barn is something most kids don't have and the boys love that. They are picky about who is welcome. Only a select group has access to it - something else they love. In the summer, you can hear the laughter emanating from the open doors of the second floor. It has served as a concert venue (for shows aptly called Night in the Loft), a theatre (thanks to the projector) and club house. It will be bittersweet this summer to see many of them scatter, leaving the barn just a bit lonely.
I can't help but think that the ancestors would appreciate the fact their hard work is still being appreciated after all these years.