Some things are just too far gone.
It can’t all be saved, and many beautiful things – once important, like this barn – will eventually exist only in photographs. Most others simply disappear without so much as a final portrait.
Such is the case with this barn. I drove past it yesterday at 45 MPH, but quickly decided to make a u-turn in order to examine it for a few minutes. Not having my camera meant using the iPhone, but these snapshots are better than nothing (you can see the rest of the Flickr set by clicking on the photo). The structure was literally being blown apart as I watched… wind pulling down one century-old pine clapboard after another. At this rate, I suspect it’ll be gone in another year or two.
And that’s ok; while it served a noble purpose beginning in the 1880’s or 90’s – which based on architectural details is when I suspect it was built – today there is no hay in the loft. Most of the animal stalls are 3 foot long splinters stretching out into a muddy field.
It’s just a relic, now. A photographer’s muse. An exquisite poem in firewood.
Our Safari, on the other hand, was also an abandoned relic until recently. But it now finds itself in the midst of a dramatic second act. You could posit that it was saved by virtue of its mobility. Or because its aluminum walls can quickly be threaded with new wiring for lights, while new kitchen appliances bake little pizzas to serve with crisp salads in the refrigerator. Its saving grace lies in its ability to once again be practical.
Whatever the reason it didn’t end up like that barn, waiting to die in a windswept corn field… it feels good to be embarking on this great, big recycling project.
Below is a look at the original layout (as seen in a mid-1950’s brochure) followed by a sneak peek of our new floor plan.