The heart of the farm

     I grew up on a small farm in Nebraska.  My parents still live there, but 2 of my brothers do the farming.  Agriculture has changed.  They no longer raise livestock, which is really great from a vegan's perspective.  However they will soon be tearing down the 90+ year old barn.  It has fallen in disrepair, would be quite costly to renovate, and has no use for them. 
     I have barn memories.  My brothers and I played up in that loft, which was used for storage of straw bales.  There was an ancient saddle probably from my Grandfather's generation.  I would ride that saddle, imagining and dreaming of someday having a horse to put it on.  A couple of Christmases, after we had opened presents, I snuck out to check the barn just in case Santa had brought a horse my parents weren't aware of.  He never did, though. Santa was evidently as practical as my parents.
     I remember sometimes finding the delicate remnants of pigeon eggs nestled in the straw after the birds had hatched and moved on.  I recall the sounds of pigeons cooing from the cupola and seeing dust motes drifting in the sun rays in that darkened space.  The loft was a great place to hide from my folks to get out of chores.
     Once my Mom had a visitor at the house.  Her 2 kids, my 2 brothers and I found a hidden hen's nest with rotten eggs in the corner of that barn.  You can imagine what transpired....a rotten egg fight, followed by tossing ground corn at each other when the eggs were gone.   When over, we were all slimey, smelly, corn and dirt covered.  I remember the 5 of us being tossed into the bathtub together.  I don't know who started it, or why, but it was so worth it. 
     Later my folks had dairy cattle for about 15 years and the barn became a milking parlor.  I remember being out there on a few frigid winter mornings.  There was a diesel space heater going...if you stood close enough to get warm, you risked setting yourself on fire, and if too far away, you froze.  I didn't have to help with milking cows much, though.  My brothers did that.  More often, after the milk truck came to pick up the milk, I had to clean out the big bulk tank with chemicals and very hot water, also not a fun job.
     Farming has definitely changed.  It is now big business.  When we visit, and walk around the section on the dirt roads, most fields are planted from roadside to roadside.  There are no longer fence rows of wild plum thickets and chokecherries, or ditches filled with wild roses and wildflowers.  No wild trees sprouting up to provide occasional shade. The country school I attended through eighth grade and two nearby farmplaces have been bulldozed and planted over with endless rows of corn.
     The barn is old, and must go.  Someone will tear it down and reclaim and reuse the lumber.  But not all change is progress. 

"My barn having burned to the ground, I can now see the moon."
                                                         from a Chinese Proverb