barn, you were the best place to live in that late spring/early summer glory. every night, owls hooted, bats, incredibly, flew in the open side and out the place where a window once was, directly over the bed. mariachi music took turns with band practice as the distant sounds that lulled us to sleep. but oh the joy of reading by candlelight, bonfire dinners, and watching the sunrise from my place in bed.
now, barn, you are farm-central. office is in one wing, soon to be packing room, storage in the other. all around you is starting to sprout, to grow. poppies and nastursiums on one side, the field irrigated and seeded to the driveway side. little tree from seed from you dear friends, it too slowly grows, tall and strong.
and don’t forget dustbowl lane! planted with a spade and crossed fingers, you continually surprise.