We decided to settle down for two night in northern Vermont so we could do a scenic drive up toward the Canadian border today. We had finished a great lunch at a very busy Cajun restaurant suggested by a women having a barn sale and were just about ready to turn east and then back south when we crested a hill and saw this old barn. I could hear it calling my name.
I had some fun thinking about the best way to capture the texture and color, taking a few photos. I wondered about who built it, how it was used, about all the winters that weathered it’s exteriors. I wonder who hung the saw blade and snow shoes – who had used them in the normal course of their existence?
We had turned onto a side road to get safely off the busy road we had been on. When we turned around and started back I saw the most beautiful part of this complex of barns.
I have enjoyed looking at the old homes and barns in these New England states, how they were added onto as a need for more space arose. I marvel at how added walls butt up to the existing building and roof lines merge, sometimes gracefully, sometimes not so much. And I wonder what stories are attached with each new addition.