Barns have an infinitely magical air to them. Old or new, red, brown, or grey; perfectly kept or very well-worn, they seem to change with the seasons, their patina only becoming more refined and beautifully rugged with time. Something about them is both captivating and charming.
Maybe it's because they usually appear both well-loved and tired, or because I like to think the animals from Charlotte's Web live in them. Perhaps because they tend to sit stoically and peacefully upon large plots of land like oases. (Or possibly because my name is homonymous?) No matter the reason, I know there is a long-lost story lurking behind every shingle, door, or broken window pane, and I only wish they could share their tales.
Barnes' Barns is an ever-growing and often revolving collection of some of those edifices that have captured my heart.
New Canaan, Connecticut
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