Down the Lane: A Story of History Reclaimed
Gravel lane leading back to memories of a time when character was developed through hard work.
As I child, traveling to my grandparents northern Indiana farm was filled with wonder. With my face pressed against the glass in that old green ford van, we drove through miles of farm land on old country roads as we passed pastures and fields. As we drove, I imagined myself standing at the fence watching my own cattle one day. I dreamed of feeding the farm animals, brushing the horses, and cleaning stalls with a piece of straw hanging out of my mouth.
When we would arrive at the farm, turning down the long drive and crest the top of the hill, my little boy excitement couldn’t be contained as I’d leap from my seat and out into a world of exploration. I was in farmland heaven!
One of my favorite parts of each visit was walking through the barns and listening to Dad tells stories about his morning chores. We’d walk past the milking stalls and he’d demonstrate, with an old bucket in hand, how he used to sit down next to the old cow and milk her morning and night. He never failed to mention how much he loved eating spoonfuls of cream as he’d skim it off the top. Grandma’s homemade vanilla ice cream made from that cream was a wonderful reward for his long hours of hustle there on the farm.
Old Kentucky barn stands to serve a way of life, protecting the family’s future.
Old stories swam through my head as I explored those old barns. I’d stare into the corners where Grandpa’s tools had been laid, and wonder what project had been started and then left for another. I’d see dusty chains, buckets, feed sacks, and lights hanging from the walls as fragile cobwebs were lines connecting dots around the room. I could only imagine what those old walls had seen…what they’d endured.
Old barns carry a glimpse into the past for me. Built to last, those old buildings weathered some incredible storms. They protected a way of life. My family’s tools, equipment, animals, and futures were protected by those old boards.
That’s why I hate seeing an old barn falling down. As I drive down old country roads today as a father and see seasoned planks hanging to those leaning frames, I wonder what those boards once saw. Those old rusty nails once driven by hand now hold memories of the past. I wonder what sorts of stories they’d tell if they could talk.
It’s no wonder I love reclaiming old barn wood. I find every knot, crack, nail hole, or blemish a glimpse into the past. I find our customers’ pictures of their barn wood floors and barn wood shiplap walls and ceilings drawing me joyfully back to childhood. I take a little trip back down an Indiana lane to a time when my heart was pounding with excitement. It takes me back to those old barns where my dad taught me the value of history, hard work, and of the little things.
When you see our reclaimed barn wood flooring and barn wood shiplap, you’re seeing a glimpse into one of my favorite parts of my own childhood. You’re taking a trip down that country lane and whether you know it or not, those boards are telling you stories of character. I’m passing those stories along to my children these days. Today, I’m passing them on to you.