The Old Barn's Photo Session

Lily was laying on her back, taking pictures of wildflowers from underneath. She was trying to capture the sunlight through the petals. She was also patiently and peacefully watching the clouds as they went by, waiting for the perfect, puffy backdrop. Her back began to ache, and the sunlight was no longer revealing the intimate details. So she packed up her equipment and headed out.

As Lily sauntered up to the farmhouse, she found Mrs. Jackson on the porch, in a flower print dress and nursing shoes . She was swaying in the middle of the two-person swing. Mrs. Jackson looked up from her knitting, smiled warmly at Lily, and asked, “Did you get some nice pictures, Dear? I’d like to see them when you get them printed.”

Lily chuckled, realizing Mrs. Jackson was thinking about 35mm film. “I’ve got some good ones, and I’ll do some editing on my computer when I get home. I did a set with black and white to give it an historic feel.” Lily walked up the porch steps and said, “I focused on the exterior and the surrounding area today. Would you mind if I come back tomorrow and do some work inside the barn?”

Mrs. Jackson smiled. “That will be just fine, Dear, but be sure to wear old clothes and a pair of boots. A menagerie of stuff has been left there for decades.”

Lily stowed her equipment in the back of her reliable, well-dented Bronco and drove off down the dirt lane.

At home, she downloaded the session work from her digital camera and did a first review, pleased that many of her images captured what she had intended. She took notes about edits she would like to make before delving into postprocessing. When she got to image 74, her eyes opened wide. On her monitor there was an image of a pale, white aura over the barn’s roof. There were a few of the puffy clouds to the side, but this was something different. It appeared to come from the barn. Her jaw dropped, and she moved her face closer to the monitor. Were her eyes deceiving her? Of the many thousands of photographs she had looked at over the years, she had never seen anything like this.

Lily heard the apartment door open and knew that her fiancée, John, was home from work. She heard his car keys clunk on the table and called out, “John, John, come here! I’ve got something interesting to show you.”

He walked into the room, loosening his tie, and asked, “What is it?”

She said, “Come look at this image I captured today.” She points to the monitor and draws an arc with her finger, pointing out the haze.

John shrugged his shoulder and said, “It’s probably just the smoke from a nearby farm.”

Lily shook her head and said, “I was all over that property and I didn’t smell a whiff of smoke. Mrs. Jackson said I can go into the barn tomorrow. Would you like to come along since it will be Saturday?”

He said with a mild affirming head nod, “Sure, I like the country. It could be fun. We can get lunch at Ma’s Diner while we’re over in that neck of the woods.” He grabbed her hands, helped her stand, put his arms around her waist and kissed her gently. “I love your adventures. Besides, after 50 hours in the office this week, I could use a little fresh air.”

The next morning, after breakfast of eggs toast, and fresh mango, John asked, “Your vehicle or mine?”

She wrinkled her nose and replied, “Trust me, my Bronco is more suited for this trip than your Accord." She grabbed a camera bag and directed "Here, take this.” She handed him one of her camera cases. She grabbed her tripod and her other case and headed out the door.

An hour later, as they were bouncing down a deeply rutted, dirt road, John said, “I’m so glad we took your vehicle. How much longer do we have to go?”

She pointed up ahead and said, “It’s just around the next bend.

He asked, “How did you find this place anyway?”

Lily responded, “The owner got my number off a flyer in the beauty parlor. She called me up and said that her family’s barn is set for demolition, and she wants some photos to help her remember it. She said it's like part of her family.”

She parked the Bronco in the driveway and waved to Mrs. Jackson, who was hanging more flowered dresses on her clothesline. The two walked up to the widow. Lily said, “Mrs. Jackson, I’d like to introduce my fiancée, John. He’s going to help me out today, with your permission.”

Mrs. Jackson replied, “Oh, that will be fine, Dear.” She glanced at John’s nice sneakers and said, “Mind your step, Dear.”

John’s mouth twisted in a wry smile and said, “Yes, ma’am,” with a head nod.

John carried the camera case and followed Lily to the old barn.

As they opened the side door to the barn, Lily gasped at the stunning beams of light radiating through the gaps between the roof planks. She set up her tripod and got a few shots, and then asked John to open the main barndoor fully to let in more light.

As he was about to do as requested, he whispered, “Did you hear that?”

Lily whispered back, “I thought I heard something, but I’m not sure what.”

John murmured, “There’s no wind, so it shouldn’t be the timbers creaking.

Lily offered, “Maybe it’s an animal. Let’s be quiet and see if we hear it again.”

Soon, they heard a low, gravelly voice, seemingly coming from the rafters, and all around them. It inquired, “Do you hear me?”

John and Lily scanned for the origin and then glanced at each other, dumbfounded.

Lily stammered, “Y-y-yes, w-we h-hear you. Who are you?”

“I am me. I am what you see. Why are you here? I have very few visitors these days.”

Lily took a glance at John and chose to be the spokeswoman. She said, “I am a photographer. I am here to take pictures of this beautiful barn.”

The voice chuckled, making the boards rattle and dust filter down from the hayloft. “But I AM the barn. Please call me "Barn."

Lily and John looked at each other with wide eyes.

John asked, “Who’s playing this joke on us?”

The outer walls began to flutter, like the wings of a butterfly. The mechanical hay carrier began to swing from one end of the barn to the other and back. The voice intoned, “Do you doubt me now?”

Lily exclaimed, “No, I mean, wow! This is amazing! Do you mind if I take pictures of you?”

“Why are you so interested in my image?”

Lily turned to John and then raised her eyes to the rafters and said as gently as she could, “Because you are scheduled to be torn down next week, and people want to remember you.”

“Torn down? No one told me that." He sighed with a mournful tone. "Maybe it’s just as well. Out of my 150 years, I’ve sat nearly alone for these last 45.”

Lily sat on an old haybale, and hung her head low and said, “I’m so sorry.” Then, she perked up and suggested, “Why don’t you tell us some stories from your past?”

After a pause, Barn began, “When I was first put up, I was very busy. There were cows, horses, and chickens. My hayloft got a good workout in those days.”

John exclaimed, “Fascinating! Do go on.”

“The first birth here was a little goat named Eliza, born back in 1892, in the stall to your right.”

Lily snapped several photos of the empty stall. She asked, “How many births do you remember?”

“Hundreds, and even more got started here in the straw.” The low, board-rattling chuckle happened again.

Lily and John couldn’t help but join in the laughter.

Then, Barn got somber. The air chilled. “When the war to end all wars broke out, men gathered here with their woman folk for one last dance between the stalls before shipping out. I remember that the fiddle player was outstanding. From what I heard, less than half of those men came back.”

Lily snapped photos of the area where the dance took place.

Barn told many stories, and Lily took photos of all the spots mentioned. Barn chortled, “You make me feel like a model.

Lily said, “These are going to be great photos. You may be old, but I think you’re very handsome.”

The low voice said, “Just so you know, even a barn can blush. If you would like to improve your display, you are welcome to the old tools in the corner.”

Lily asked, “Are you sure that’s okay?”

“You said I am to be demolished. What difference does it make? I’d rather be remembered than all of me ending up in a burn pile.”

Lily spent the next four hours crawling all over the barn, getting every detail she could find. Satisfied with her photos, Lily hugged a support beam and said, “Thank you for sharing your history.”

John carried out the camera case, a scythe, and a sickle. His shoes were a bit messy, but he didn't complain.

Lily patted the barndoor frame one last time and said, “Farewell,” with tears trickling down her cheeks.

*

“The Old Barn” display was set to go at the Kensington Gallery in Cincinnati, Ohio. As the doors opened, patrons filtered through the display, some sighed with sentimental delight, some murmured and chatted about memories, and some of the younger visitors, though they didn’t fully grasp the meaning of the display, enjoyed the artistry of the photographs. Many of the photos were framed with old barn wood Mrs. Jackson let Lily and John take. The tools were a lovely touch. Some patrons claimed that they saw fleeting ghostly images of a goat, a fiddle player, and other people and animals as they walked around.

Lily and John cherished their day on Widow Jackson’s farm, but spoke only to each other about the low gravelly voice of Barn.