This Old Barn
Faithful friends and loyal followers know that I’m a fan of old barns and an enthusiastic promoter of the Iowa Barn Tour. Perusing my photo gallery for inspiration, I landed on this shot taken in the lower level of the first barn we ever toured back in the fall of 2013. It was situated on a farmstead that had been in the same family for 150 years and it was a stunner. Before then, I wasn’t even aware that barns had ‘walk-out’ basements.
From the stanchions, used to milk the cows that were herded into the lower level at the end of each day, to the storage cubby-hole to the wooden gate to the ‘old-timey’ design of the roof joists, the space here – bathed in the beautiful fall light streaming in that morning from the many ‘daylight’ windows of the basement perimeter, was both charming and mesmerizing: so much history and tradition and reminders of a much simpler time.
The Joys of Discovery
Rainy weekend and a soggy week ahead…
Waiting for clear skies and warmer temps again to repeat the joy of a newly rediscovered pleasure, one that invigorates and stimulates both my body and my mind: riding the trails and thrilling to the sights and sounds of nature, the freedom and exhilaration of movement, the calm and quiet especially at night when you pull off to the side of the trail with nothing but the sound of crickets chirping, frogs croaking, cows bellowing in the distance and the realization that you’re there to experience what would otherwise be unknown to you.
I purchased my bicycle in 2009 and rode it for maybe a couple of years before other concerns muscled their way into my psyche and free time. Why did we let our bikes sit in the garage, untended and unused, all these years hence? No matter. We’re enjoying this now and that’s what important. The doing, the being, the NOW.
Gazebo
Mowing Shoes
Our garage, much like the garages of most folks I suspect, is a catch-all for all manner of accumulated possessions, tools, gadgets, toys, cast-offs and what not. Comfortably ensconced atop a rickety shelving unit is a turtle planter (waiting for weather conditions ripe enough to allow me to fill it with dirt, flowers, sunshine, hope and love), a garden tchotchke (one of three that I purchased at Earl May a few years ago, each resembling a kind of robotic woodland creature) tucked away in the upper right corner of the frame and my trusty, grass-stained mowing shoes: New Balance #381.
Trash Amnesty, that much anticipated rite of spring cleaning, is our cue to dig a little deeper to see what else is lurking in the shadows of our garage (and other dark, hidden spaces) so that we might create additional space for yet more stuff to fill the void (of our lives?).
My mowing shoes, however, will stay right where they are: Ready to spring into action whenever the lawn needs trimming.
Great Midwestern Trail
Stopping Along the Way
Traveling the gravel roads that circumvent and intersect the bike trail route we rode this past weekend, my husband and I enjoyed each new sight and discovery we made as the road turned this way and that, as we crested every hill and as we drove throughout the countryside, including this broad vista where four-legged beauties quietly grazed.
Sunday drives, sometimes associated with days long past, are a leisurely pursuit ideal for ‘hunting’ with camera in hand and my best friend at my side.
Varmint
We saw these little critters everywhere we hiked in Colorado’s glorious Rocky Mountains. The literature and guide maps all caution against feeding the wildlife in the park but apparently there have been far too many people who just never got the memo.
These ground squirrels – I believe that’s what they are – are not shy about approaching anyone and everyone for a handout. Fearless, and apparently hooked on the goodies doled out to them by the hordes of well-meaning (but misguided) tourists that visit the park each year, they scamper underfoot, up rocks and branches, into backpacks left on the ground and will easily take food proffered them with not an iota of hesitation. Cute though they were, I resisted the impulse to feed them since I’d read that it really isn’t in their best interests and besides, I’m sometimes a real stickler about playing by the rules especially when it comes to respecting the beauty and grandeur of nature and her inhabitants.
Still though, you have to admit. This little fella is pretty adorable.
An Enjoyable Task
Tonight, we mowed the yard for the first time this year. I love the neat, orderly look of a freshly trimmed lawn. I love the smell of grass. I love the physical exertion required to push the mower, in sometimes playful, elaborate patterns, across the length or the width or the diagonal of our property’s dimensions. (I opted to mow the length of the back yard this first time out. A quick glance out the window, just now, tells me that Bill chose to do the same for the front.)
My contribution to finishing this task took just under thirty minutes. Not quite enough to satisfy my self-imposed daily exercise requirements. Perhaps I’ll have to tackle the whole thing next time around. I will, however, let Bill do the more demanding chore of mowing along the fence line (his preference, anyway) so that I don’t chew up the wheels on our new mower – like I did sometimes with the last one – by getting too close to the screws along the bottom plate of our wrought iron fence.
For now, though, I’m pleased with the results and the energy expended to get the job done. There will be plenty more opportunities in the weeks and months ahead to repeat what’s essentially, for me, a most enjoyable task.
The Last Church in Churchville
Husband and I stumbled across this beautiful old church tonight which I later discovered was the subject of a local newscast in 2014 to chronicle it being the last church in Churchville. Spare and lean, this tightly constructed house of worship looks to have been lovingly cared for over the years.
Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Churches or Any Religious Building
A Sawyer's Daughter 
Chit Chat