On the drive to work, I pass a multitude of really cool barns, some of which are more than a century old. I love them, and I keep kicking this idea around in my head that I want to get the owners’ permissions and do extensive photo documenting of their every aspect. It’s an idea I’m in love with, but it gets shuffled down in priority – there will be time later.
One little structure, probably a barn used predominantly for storing a tractor or two and nothing more, popped up on my radar a couple of weeks ago. It was interesting in that it had a nice tin roof, and the side boards were peeling off – it was on the verge of collapse. “I should get to that one soon,” I mused as I drove by, forgetting a mile down the road.
Earlier this week, after heavy winds, all that remained of the little barn was its tin roof sitting atop a collapsed pile of boards and supports. “Rats,” I fumed.
It still looked interesting, though, with the perfect tin roof atop the rubble, so I made a note to come back – sometime.
Two days later, the tin roof had been stripped off, leaving only the rotting wood behind.
I really need to get started on this project, before more of these old treasures are lost for good.
In other news, I only have a few thousand more words to go for Nanowrimo – in terms of word count. The story itself is probably only 2/3 done, and holy wow, it’s pretty awful. Oh well. In the kick-off on October 31st, the organizer had us draw our inner editors. This is mine:
Even though he is, ostensibly, locked up, I think he is still capable of sending me telepathic messages. For the most part, I think I’m winning, though. I wrote a line of dialogue that had both “yonder” and “adjacent” in it, and did not go back to change it. Ha, so there, editor.