Why barns?
Mickey Chilton
Photographer
As a child, I spent my summers on my grandparents’ farm in the Possum Trot Community. They had two barns.
One was a milk barn where my grandfather would milk a few cows every morning and every evening by hand. The
other barn was simply called the big barn. It served many purposes. It was storage for hay, a corn crib and my grandfather’s mules, but most importantly, a place for his grandchildren to play hide and seek. Another game was kill the
rat. My cousins and I would hide in the corn crib with a BB gun and a flashlight, being very quiet and still, waiting
till we heard a sound, then quickly turning the light on for the big kill.
My grandparents left the farm and passed away, but as I have traveled that road from Spring Place to Possum
Trot over the years, I have seen what once was a great part of all farm families destroyed only to put up some metal
and steel, what I would call a barn with no soul.
A few years back, a lady I met said she had a husband who was bedridden. He loved the country, especially old
barns and old cars. I would send them pictures of barns I had taken. They would then send the photos to a puzzle
company that would make puzzles so he would have something to do in his bed.
I really cannot say why I take photos of barns. It may be that they are disappearing from the farm and I want a
record of them before they are all gone. Or maybe it is something more selfish. Maybe I just want to remember the
days of my youth on the farm, feeling safe and at peace, the type of peace only a child knows and a man longs to remember.
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