It is no secret that I want to have a barn dance here in our barn loft. I’ve been talking about it for a few years now. We’ve understood that, at one time, barn dances were hosted here and neighbors gathered for a meal and some good natured fun!

Weathered rough steps rise steeply up to the loft, the hand rail an old, splintery two by four. Tongue and groove boards supported so many loads of hay hauled up through the the south loft door under the eagle’s beak. Near the north loft door, the boards have become warped, catching the boot toes of the unwary, but they can be repaired before a dance! 

Would people come? I think so. We are drawn together; it is our nature. When we open the loft doors, a clean breeze takes the musty smell out into the yard and right now the sweet smell of alfalfa and oat hay fill the loft. Still, I can see the ladies in skirts and boots or jeans and blouses and the men in jeans and boots and maybe a cowboy hat or two, moving to some music and spending a pleasant evening enjoying the company of friends.