It's really just four old plywood walls, and a dirt floor. In our dreams we had envisioned a majestic old bank barn - but our reality is a pole barn in various stages of disrepair. Still, I often find myself hanging out within it's four walls.
Take tonight for instance. The sheep were fed, and their heads were happily in the grain toughs scarfing down every last morsel. The donkeys had their heads stuffed into the hay racks, trying to mine for the alfalfa hidden in the hay, and the ram was pacing his pen - itching to get out and join the girls.
I stood in the sheep enclosure, with Smokey the barn cat doing figure eights around my ankles. I still had water troughs to fill, but for a moment I was content to stand amongst them, listening to the happy sounds of eating. It was warmer than usual in the barn, surprising as it was such a bitterly cold autumn night.
The barn lights are not that bright, and seem to always cast a yellowish glow no matter how many bulbs manage to remain on. It makes for a cozy place to stand and observe.
A small head butted my thigh, and I looked down to see one of the ewe lambs seeking attention. I softly scratched her head, and continued surveying the barn.
We still had work to do, floors to level and water systems to install - but the addition of the sheep pen had definitely made this old pole barn feel like more of a true barn. The sweet smell of hay, and the musty smell of wet wool gave it a distinct smell, one that I seem to find comforting these days.
Filling water troughs could wait, for a moment I was enjoying simply being in the barn.
