I love barns. It's not simply the architecture, the classic lines, the purposeful design, or even the post and beam construction that lures me in, (though the post and beam construction still leaves me in awe,) there's something more to a barn than the carpenter's line and structure.
Most towns in New England have several historic barns still in use, restored or being lost to time. As I pass them I can't help but think of the hands that came together to build them, "raise them" as often spoken. Perhaps it's this community spirit that still resonates from these structures. And maybe that's one reason why modern post and beam construction, where the workmanship is done in a factory, machine processed and shipped to site, and with the aid of hydraulic machinery assembled much like a child's link and log set. Though lovely, these structures lack the spirit and soul that resonates from even a collapsed 200 or 300-year old barn. One might still sense a special quality to these modern barn-like structures, but I believe that has more to do with the timbers, the wood itself, rather that the combination and spiritual side of man and nature creating something purposeful.
The truth is this: Rarely has one man built a large barn alone: the task is daunting, overwhelming, physically demanding and nearly Herculean in scope. Herein is why barn raisings were as much about a town or community as they were about the farmer or cattleman: centuries ago, it took a village to raise a barn; it took the bonds of family, friendship, neighborliness, and true community to build such a purposeful structure.
Trees and Stone: The Elements of A Barn
And then there is the wood itself. Thick trunks that are straight and true, hand cut, felled by axe or saw or a combination of the two. And the purposefullness of clearing fields where foundations would be built, often from the very rocks labored out of field and soil, a taxing challenge that required brute strength, blacksmith iron bars to be used for leverage, and ox or horse to pull and move stone earth to the construction site.
Everything needed for building a barn was often near or about. Only the blacksmith's talents for hinges and latches were needed from away. As the farmer prospered and technology advances, the barn might be embellished with trim work, or a weather vane and lightening rods, but the essentials of the barn itself required little more than wood, rock, and community.
Perhaps my fascination and love of barns started as a boy. Whether it was the tobacco barns of the Connecticut River Valley, or the apple cider presses that were housed in barns along the Farmington River in Connecticut where we would travel each fall to taste fresh made cider. Most memorable and influential were and are the classic New England barns of the Vermont countryside. I discovered these on my own, driving a cousin's dirt bike through the back roads of Barnard and West Woodstock. Each structure, each farmstead, active or abandoned, sang out to me, leaving an indelible impression that has guided me to the farmhouse and barn I live in today dating back from from circa 1755.
There are many fine qualities in the architecture and components required to build a barn. I believe they represent the best of who we were as a people, when we were better neighbors, but more importantly, they represent a time when we were each other's keepers.
