The main barn is huge. I’ve gotten used to it, because it’s always around, but it’s on a whole other scale from my tiny farming, and I don’t know it that well. Upstairs, in the cavernous main space, mysterious rigging and wooden contraptions that probably have something to do with hay float in the shadows 30-40 feet up. There are hidden stairways, built-in ladders, chutes and trapdoors in the floor. In a little corner in the back where it stays cool, I store garlic and onions during the summer and fall. I also take a long view of the garden field from the top of the gangway leading in. The barn was built in 1949, after its predecessor was accidentally burnt down by the idly discarded cigarette of a wandering stranger (“hobo”? “itinerant rural homeless person”?) who’d spent the night. The main structure is all wood—mortise and tenon—with no nails or other metal fasteners involved. I’ve picked up lots of details and stories centered around this barn. It symbolizes farming, it makes this place look like a farm, but to me it’s mainly just…space. That’s a little weird. As I took stock of the last of the onions and the seed garlic today, I decided to spend some time on really looking around. Explore now!