Barns

Byron Crawford: Barns open their doors for close-up tours

I have a thing for barns. When we go driving around, we inevitably pass by an ancient wooden structure, weather-beaten, doors open, and you can see the tobacco hanging from the rafters. Or the hay piled in the corner. Or the ancient tractor sitting, useless.

I don't know why I love barns so much. They're like mystery spots. They can be really dirty, or really clean. They can be really old, or new and metal (for the record, I am into the OLD barns).

I've been wanting to get barn pictures with the tobacco for a couple of weeks now; I may try to get out at the end of this week and get some. It is sort of tough, though, because all barns are on someone's property. And that can be hazardous out in the country, just trespassing to go and look into a barn. There are many barns that are solitary in fields, though, and are not guarded or locked...so I may have to get my pictures by that route--driving far enough out to the country and going to find a desolate barn.

Or I guess I could join the afore-linked bus tour...but I'll be going to Berea for a giant art festival on the same day, so that's out. I'm not into bus extravaganzas, anyway.

There is something about barns...*sigh*...I really love them. I hope to own one someday.