When we started restoring things, most of the outbuildings on our farm were just too far gone.  This old tobacco barn was one of the ones we couldn’t save.  Built from hand-hewn logs cut on the farm, and mortared with mud and stone, the old girl would’ve stood a long time had the roof not gone bad.  But once that happens, it’s just a matter of time.  The first picture is from three years ago, and the second is from a few months ago.

When we began our efforts, several other barns like this one had already fallen.  Sadly, we just had them pushed into a pile and burned, as we had to do with the packing barn, the grainery, the stable and hay barn, the old kitchen, several tenant cabins, and most of the original farm house (other than the front section).  But fortunately two of the old tobacco barns were still in good enough shape that we were able to put new roofs and sheds on them, and they still survive as evidence of an old lifestyle that is fading out of memories.

No one can get through a tour of our farm without being dragged by me into the old barns, which still smell like cured tobacco forty years after the last crop was hung in them.

Love Wins