The Old Red Barn

The old red barn, standing mute for years, still sporting the squeaky weather vane. Its paint long cracked and peeling, now all but disappeared. Six generations of father, son, and grandson have worried and fussed over its care, resisting temptations to renew, rebuild, or remodel the symbol of heart and soul. The farm foreclosed for back taxes, now twenty acres remain of six hundred. The old Massey Ferguson now long quiet, too large to plow the small garden worked. Too expensive to get it running anyway, the sentimental attachment, greater than worth. A tear slowly traversed the young owner’s cheek as he signed the transfer to the restaurant chain. The barn would have to be moved to make room for a ramp off of the new cloverleaf. © Oct 5 2010 For Rick's "the old red barn" contest