Driving up to New Hampshire to ski or hike, most out-of-staters see nothing but trees. After all New Hampshire is the second most forested state in the nation, with nearly 84% of the land area covered by trees.
But off the highways and away from the National Forests, New Hampshire has 4,100 working farms. And on these farms, they usually have a fine old barn to photograph.
Most of these farms produce livestock such as cattle or hogs. They also produce dairy, maple syrup, hay and corn among the most popular crops.
I once served a noble purpose.
Now I jut sit empty and idle.
Once I was the pride of the county.
Now I am all but forgotten.
I once stood erect, tall and proud.
Now with the wind I lean to and fro.
I was washed in bright red and trimmed in snow white.
Now I’m bathed in gray’s, weathered, torn and beaten.
My mighty roof once protected the hay and precious live stock.
Now the sunbeams pierce my roof and the rain streams in.
Upon my floor once danced ladies and gents in fancy step.
Now crickets sing and mice dance through out instead.
I was built by strong hands, board by board, on the straight and narrow.
But time has twisted my planks, pulled my nails and weakened my spirit.
My owners once cared for my every need and whim.
But alas they are gone now, but a distant memory.
Passerby’s would once marvel at my proud stance.
Now they just gawk and mutter the most hurtful words.
My hinges, rope and pulleys were the finest, not a squeak or moan you would hear.
Now my hinges are but rust, my pulley frozen in time and my rope? My rope has long since melted away.
My loft was steady and my ladder too, no load was too much for the two.
My loft is now old, but a hint of her glory days, and the ladder? Long since taken for a tree house I believe.
I once lived in the lives of my wonderful owners.
Now I only live on in memories and old faded photographs.
Where my future was once bright, sure and certain.
I can but now count my days and dream of times gone by.
© Oct 2014, Joseph Paul Estes
