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Reflections From A Barn

Nov
8

I drove out in the country yesterday. Around here, the country means unpaved switchback, curvy, twisty roads with plunge-to-your-death dropoffs right off the road. Guard rails? Puh-leeze! No such thing. What makes me go out there? My family goes back in these West Virginia hills 200 years. My great-grandfather’s farm is a couple miles from here. You drive out this unpaved crazy road, ford a river (and I mean FORD a river, there’s no bridge) and there it is, hundreds of acres of family history. On up the road is my great-great-grandfather’s farm, and his house is still standing. None of this property is in my family anymore. I drive out there looking for For Sale signs, dreaming about taking back a piece of my roots. Maybe I will…….

I want a barn of my own. You? What do you have a hankering for in your secret heart of hearts?

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Posted by Suzanne McMinn on November 8, 2006  

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  1. 11-8
    9:14
    am

    A library room in my house, shelves filled with books. And a padded window seat so I can read them all in comfort. :)

  2. 11-8
    10:28
    am

    Great picture again today……and hope that one day you can get your own barn, and nothing would be so great as getting it on a part of your heritage…… :)

    Oh Cheryl S. that sounds like a great wish……..a library room…….I can just visualize it…….. :)

  3. 11-8
    2:21
    pm

    Great pic!
    I want to move closer to my grandchildren.

  4. 11-8
    2:53
    pm

    I used to have a dream of buying the old family farm here in Arkansas, too. Now it’s being subdivided. *sigh*

    I would love a big library in my house, too! Lord knows I have plenty of books for one. :)

    And a media room with one of those honking big 60″ plasma HDTVs! Heaven!

  5. 11-8
    4:13
    pm

    I actually have the same dream. I want to buy back the family farm. :)

  6. 11-8
    6:23
    pm

    Oh, Cheryl described my dream exactly :yes:

  7. 11-9
    12:13
    pm

    A beach house somewhere warm… Is that too much to ask?




The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....



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