My mom and I often disagree about taste and style particularly when it comes to architecture. She can not understand why I am such a huge fan of barn homes. As long as I can remember I have always had a love for barns. Barns are romantic symbols of our past. If not your personal past, then our country’s past. The days of the small family farm seem to be gone, as more and more of them are gobbled up by large agricultural conglomerates or developers. The antique barns we see by the side of the road are silent sentinels of days gone by.
Having grown up in rural areas, the barn has always been a part of my existence and some of my fondest memories are of being allowed to go sleep in the barn. My cousin and I would grab our blankets and pillows and go camp out in the hayloft over the horses. We never minded the “au du animal” that pervaded the atmosphere. All we needed were our bags of chips, flashlights and imaginations.
Now that I have grown barns still evoke a sentimental tug on my heartstrings, bringing me back to my childhood when times and my needs were simpler. I didn’t have to worry about the trillions of calories in those potato chips, the red dye in the M&M’s, or the fat grams in those PB&J sandwiches. I often laugh at the memory of my mom asking me “Did you grow up in a barn?” whenever I had left a door open, and now find myself asking my children the same question.
Let’s face it; the barn is part of our cultural heritage. In today’s complicated world, it’s a symbol of a simpler, more elemental lifestyle.