TWO DIFFERENT BARNS
BY...Helen Whittington '61

     How well I recall the old, faded-white, two story, pine barn topped by an equally faded red weathervane. Its every board reeked with the mixed scents of misty hay, liniment, and manure. Cobwebs connected beams with the dusty windows and the bird nests hidden in cubby holes. Old, forgotten harness hung half-hidden in a dark corner, where hungry mice made their feast. Saddles, worn until they were shiny and comfortable, hung on their racks, covered by sweaty blankets. Spilled oats and scattered hay, ground in with sawdust, had long ago buried the cement floor. The old, familiar rooster, the seldom-seen barn owl, the dripping water spicket, all these gave that old barn a peaceful, homey feeling--a feeling of being close to nature.
     Peaceful and natural our new barn was not. I hated it. It stank of fresh wood and creosote. There were no owls, sparrows, or pesty mice, no smell of leather, sweat, or liniment. Nothing distinguished that burn from any other single-stored shed. But nature always manages to move in where she can, and this barn was no exception. In just a few weeks mice, spiders and their cobwebs, birds, and dust began their invasion.