I've begged to stop at a farmhouse and ask the nice lady (never the farmer--he's too worried about the weather and all) to let me wander around for a bit. It's hot; I won't be long. I've even begged Richard to let me pay (yes, pay) for a hay ride on the off-chance that I'd get a peek into the barn loft. Maybe get lost inside, miss the ride, ramble around. I got a resounding no to that idea.
You know there has to be some interesting things in those lofts. Bales of hay or straw. Maybe even a bit of cotton. Some seed. Horse feed. Cow manure. Something is up there. You don't build such a big--and I do mean big--barn if you don't plan to use the space. So I want a peek. No, actually, I want a look-see. A look-see in country terms is to go digging around. Poking behind cobwebs, maybe. If there are spiders, probably not. It's really looking. "Looking with hands," my momma would say.
Finding something interesting and wishing you could have it, knowing the whole time you're just window-shopping.
"You have a barn," he says, referring to my (inherited) daddy's barn. But I know what's in my barn. I want to know what other people put in their barns. Anyway these barns are different. They are way bigger. They are taller, wider, rounder. Plus, I want to know how these barns are put together. I want pictures. I want to ramble around. There's room to ramble in these barns! There has to be more of their somethings.
There were people working, and tractors and fields and hay and cotton and just about everything I imagined that would be in one of those big ole barns. But there were no surprises. No special something that I have a feeling every real barn is holding. This post is already long, I'll tell you about that adventure another time.
I'm writing this post in Missouri or Tennessee, somewhere. There will be no barn rambling for me on this trip. Richard woke up at 2:30 this morning ready to go home. Oh, I know that business...it means I'll be home tomorrow--exhausted, road-filthy, gray and haggard, very old looking. A thousand miles in two days will do that to a person. But it's the way he rolls, and he's my ride home!
Goodbye big ole barns!