home is where the barn is.

For as long as I can remember, my heart has always skipped a beat when spotting a barn. The older the better, but I’ll take ’em any ol’ way. And according to this gem of a pastel piece, I’ve been artistically inspired by them as far back as at least the 6th grade.

Farm life fills some vulnerable part in me- while also dropping that blood pressure immensely. The way some people long for the seaside or a spa, I find my soul gets tingly with a good ol’ bucolic setting. Growing up, when there wasn’t a good construction site to romp around in, we (my bro and friends) would find ourselves in 3 out of the 3 old barns in our neighborhood. They have all been torn down now, but I remember them like it was yesterday. –And the traumatic time when we were playing “Wolverines”  tag in the upstairs of one of the barns and I stepped on a hornets nest and the angry bastards stormed into my (purple, monogrammed) sweater and little camo pants and attacked the fire out of me. I think we counted 17 stings. I was 8 years old and about 40 pounds, so it was almost a medical emergency. That was until we got back to my house and my mom whipped out these “emergency” cigarettes she said were in the “First Aid” kit. To this day, I’ve never seen our First Aid kit. Those sneaky parents! The tobacco from the ciggs (so generous of her to part with those, by the way) was used to treat the stings and I’m sure the doctor was called, etc. — Anyway— EVEN THOUGH THAT, I still love the look and feel of that country livin’. I always tell my husband, when my ship comes in we’re headin’ farmhouse huntin’. We are gonna renovate together and live happily ever after. File that one under P for pipe-dreams, por favor! In the meantime, I’m just going to convince him to do ship lap style boarding throughout our home so I can trick my mind into feeling that country calling :)

I’ve lost a lot of my photos taken of old horse and hay barns over the years, so this will serve as my inspiration to capture new images and share. I used to be fearless about pulling off the road, hurdling fences and snapping pics slinging around my ginormous camera. Nowadays I have to be a little more prudent of being greeted by Mr. McGregor and a shotgun. I’ll still have my getaway car running, but these days it’s filled with graham cracker-crusted car seats and my 3 miniature, not-so-covert sidekicks. Sweet. Nothing says trespassing badass like a crumbed-up mom-ride with a bunch of pip-squeaks.

Here’s wishing you a weekend full of what speaks to your plummeting blood pressure. Think you deserve it? You’re barn right! ;)