Hands of time
There’s an outhouse inside my barn. It’s been there for awhile. No, I’ve never used it. It’s not so much a privy as it is a shed for garden tools. Unfortunately, it weighs about 500 lbs. They unloaded it here — inside the bank barn — about five years ago. It has yet to make it to the garden.
Some things just aren’t worth nagging about. You have to pick and choose battles, you know.
Pigs are more important.
We’ve cleared out a corner of the barn for the pig pen. I’ll be moving the kids out there this weekend. Just kidding! Truth be told, this is the future site of 4-H pig haven. I’m trying to convince the girls to name them Pancetta and Prosciutto.
Farmguy installed some lights over the weekend. And then they got to sweeping … and sweeping … and sweeping up years of dirt and dust.
And then …
They found these …
and these …
… and this.
And now we’re wonderin’ who and when and how long ago.
Mostly, we’re just loving this old barn with its beautiful stone wall and big, bold beams and the cobwebs and critters and holes in the roof. Oh, how I wish I knew its stories! But I’ll happily settle with making new ones.
Old barns. They’re near the top of the ‘few of my favorite things’ list.