Rustic barns and the beauty of aging
Thursday, December 8, 2022 at 09:41AM
Back last Friday from another “back road” drive from Minneapolis to Atlanta by way of Sac CIty, Iowa to visit my family over Thanksgiving and after. About a 2500 mile round trip. Thankfully, I was not in a hurry.
I started this post as a rant about the need for our country to just clean-up. Only about 25% of the farmhouses near where I grew up in northwest Iowa that I remember from my childhood still remain standing - the rest torn down and plowed over for the additional acreage gained, the housing unneeded by the corporations now owning the land. Many of the remaining older homes are badly in need of a good paint job. And it is not just the farmhouses, but the paintless barns, the decrepit machine sheds, the rusting animal enclosures that create an air of desolation. Rusted tractors, wheelless pickups, and junked farm implements litter the untended groves. Large turkey and chicken "barns" stretch close to the roads, uniquely lacking in style or grace. And the industrial sites along the Mississippi River (I’m looking at you, Quincy) rival any ugliness of agricultural lands.
But then I started re-reading William Least Heat-Moon’s narrative of traveling America’s backroads in the late 1970s, Blue Highways*. And Heat-Moon reminded me of those pleasures of a slow drive on rural backroads - the leisurely pace, the modest beauties of farm fields, pastures, and wooded lots. I find the cooking of small town cafes, the lack of traffic, and memories of former workplaces and homes agreeable.
I am a fan of rustic barns. (I even have a book of them.) The sight of them takes me back to a childhood of swinging on haymow ropes, milking cows, and putting up hay. The odd gray pickup truck on blocks can be decorous. Like a human face with good structure and character ages well, so do old farmsteads. The forlorn windmill, the religious billboard, and the smell of fresh spread manure on a recently harvested cornfield create a time machine, throwing one back into what seems like simpler times.
When I return home, it is to a suburban townhouse development that is a bit anal-retentive in its regulations about what one can and cannot do (Christmas lights, parking, siding colors, etc.). The place always looks very nice. Prim and proper. I am sure such tight rules increase our property values. But do they do so at the expense of interest and character, even a kind of beauty?
*Would I had a tenth of Heat-Moon’s observational abilities and writing skills. If you have not read this book, or have not read it for many years, pick it up. It’s truly an American classic.
Reader Comments (4)
I loved blue highways too—thanks for reminding me.
Hi Jane,
Reread it if you haven't for awhile. I think I am enjoying more the second time.
I hope you write up your African adventures!
Doug
Oh, you’d love my Dad’s artwork, then! He’s painted lots of these old rustic barns in watercolour and ink! He takes commissions, too! Bill Stephens Watercolours.
Ps… linking to my dad’s artwork via my profile /name…
https://www.billstephenswatercolours.com/product-page/original-watercolour-painting-farm-on-highway-124