Wednesday, March 3, 2010

I've Got a Bit of A Barn Thing

I spent countless hours playing around in the haymow and down in the secret hiding place of our barn, as a child. As I grew older, I ignored it. It was dusty, I was wise to the mice inhabitants. It had officially lost its luster.

Over my college years, I wonder if I ever set foot in the place. It was still, of course, a prominent part of the landscape, but not a part that I particularly appreciated. I glossed right over it. I took it for granted.

I'll bet I hurt its feelings. (Do you ever do that? Attribute human emotions to inanimate objects? Oh, I'm a big fan. As a child, I used to feel sorry for my shirts that I never wore.)

Fast forward a handful of years, past marriage, past our stint in DC, past the purchase of our new (in town) home; I received this wee painting as a gift from my best girl, Sarah. It came from Larry's barn (her Dad's barn means Business). She knew me well enough to see straight through to the heart of me. She somehow knew my country-girl roots stretched down our quaint brick street, hightailed it out of town, and buried themselves square in a pasture of hay.

This priceless gift touched my soul. I felt lucky to be the recipient.

It quickly inspired a search for its long-lost siblings.

My pal Ebay came through in a big way.

I think barn paintings are best unframed, with worn edges.
It's even alright if they hang a little cock-eyed.

These humble barns speak "home" to me.

This one was painted by a lady named Pearl. I have always loved that name and would even consider it for a daughter. (I think it all started back in 11th grade after reading The Scarlet Letter...my friend Jessica took to calling me Pearl, or The Pearl of Great Price, while she got stuck with "Chill".)

As luck would have it, I eventually ended up with a barn of my own. Nevermind that it should probably be encircled with yellow Caution! tape. It's my barn...at least until Cory wins the battle and has it torn down...and I think it's lovely.