On the drive to "camp" as a girl, there was a barn that was a landmark, telling me we were getting closer to the turnoff to the lake. Over the years it looked more and more bedraggled. The old asphalt shingles had come loose, it leaned to the side a bit, but with an air of an accomplishment, like a child standing on one foot. "Look at what I can do!" her stance said.
Perhaps she had been a store at one time, or a storage building for goods being shipped by railroad. Nestled into the crossroads of two roads and the railroad tracks, she had been built in the days when railroad was the main way to ship goods inland. She has/had stories to tell for sure. She was built in a time when buildings were pegged together, when the main "crop" in Maine was lumber, and it was plentiful.
Last year, a sign appeared on her back. "For sale by owner" it said. I remember laughing at the time, thinking, "Who would buy it and what would they do with it?"
This year, I saw she had slumped to the ground. I don't know if this barn fell last year's big ice storm, or if she was pulled down. But riding to camp one day I saw a crew of men pulling wood off the fallen structure and loading it into trucks, probably to sell as reclaimed lumber. I'm not laughing now.
Goodbye, Old Girl. I will always remember you. May you go on, albeit in pieces, to witness and tell more stories. Pictures of what is left: