About midnight, under wet clouds, whump thunk sounds muffled their way through open windows. The Husband got up to peer out the back, searching for who invaded our night space, and after some time he said, “I think that old barn isn’t there anymore!”
I got up to peer out and couldn’t see the usual huge latticed silhouette of a hay storage barn, but maybe it was due to the really dark skies in that direction. So, back to bed.
The drizzly morning revealed the pitiful sight of a collapsed-within-itself-hay-barn, like a massive crashed Zeppelin air ship, unburned, or similar to a wall-less three ring circus tent. A sad picture of the fall of something that was once needed, once served a purpose, but a continued unconcern had left it to decay and crumple alone in the dark.