Barn______________________________ Laura Lee Brother The old barn hasn't changed much from the outside: it's still faded gray with missing boards which give it a gap-toothed grin as it leans against the blue band of the sky. As I step out of the frozen white glare into this place where sunlight glows golden on dust spiraling toward the ground, the door creaks closed behind me and the slap ofthe rusty chain which holds it to the barn echoes high in the rafters. Now I take the time to notice the echo of the chain fade upward, and to notice the myriad oflight floating through the cross beams. This barn is my solace and peace; some of the best times of my life have been witnessed here, and some of my worst too. This barn always listens and we are comrades , bound together in old age and peace and the memories which float on the dust. In my childhood, this barn hummed with activity: my activity. I took this proud tobacco barn, which had also pulled tours of duty with both sheep and cattle, and I made it into the horse barn of my dreams. I bought books at horse shows describing how saddlebred barns were kept, and my favorite and most trusted guide was written by a woman who had been a groom. I actually kept this book out at the barn, and referred to it like a lawyer with his law books. My dad had divided the shed hugging the left side of the barn into two stalls, and I can remember countless weekends shoveling foot after foot of manure out the windows into the spreader. My insistence that these two stalls be kept clean was only the beginning. I used to think my dad didn't care that the stalls were four feet deep in manure, but now I realize that he didn't have time. Anyway, moving that four feet of manure became the disciplinary method of choice at our house. As the family became more involved in showing horses, I, along with my mother, insisted that these small stalls were not going to do at all, and that big roomy box stalls like they had at the real horse farms needed to be constructed. I supervised as my dad and brother filled up the left side of the barn with stalls, and it was left to me to move all the Laura Lee Brother grew up on a beef cattle and tobacco farm in Mt. Sterling, Kentucky. Although she currently teaches English at Jefferson Community College, she is anxious to return to the family farm both to farm and pursue her writing. 46 bits and pieces of farm equipment to another resting place. The things I discovered—mildewed burlap bags, nuts and bolts, old leather reins, stirrups, brushes, lots of spiders, and occasionally a big scary looking rat! Oh, but it looked nice—those big box stalls, and the smell of wood everywhere. I had seen the intricate raking of the horse show set at the Kentucky State Fair. You could walk through the barns there and think you were in a four star hotel. The barn area was raked into perfect straight rows, and there was always somebody watering it to keep the dust down. It was wonderful. So, I became the queen of the rake. I would start at the front of the barn and rake row after row all the way to the back, choking on the dust with enthusiasm. My dad always said that when I set out with the rake you could see the dust fly for miles—oh well, the horses liked it; they weren't used to such antics and I always had an interested audience. Now I think there is nothing more graceful than a spacious barn draped in cobwebs, but when I was young I dusted my barn furiously as my mother dusted our house. I used old tobacco cloth that they used to cover the beds, and I climbed way up in the cross beams to knock down cobwebs while the horses snorted in their stalls below. Because tobacco cloth is so flimsy, I...