just a barn

Two boards standing straight up. A pair of grooming scissors. The metal rack that used to hold the saddle I was once so proud of (it was dressage, not western like everyone else had). The thin metal frame of my saddle. A broken metal bit. Some soggy Reader's Digest pages from the magazines Mom used to read while feeding the horses. The melted remains of a red lead rope. A misshapen metal hay rack. A water spicket. Piles of nails and ashes and horseshoes. That's about all that's left of our barn.

It was built shortly after my eleventh birthday to house my gift -- a four-year-old Paso Fino named Bandit. On Wednesday afternoon it burned to the ground. Two 13-year-olds, two Roman candles, really dry wood, and horse poop don't mix.

Fortunately, no one was in the barn when this happened. A live ember must've smoldered for a while because the fire didn't even start until a few hours after the fireworks were shot. It took the firefighters a good couple of hours to put the fire out, but, thankfully, no one was hurt.

Bandit is fine. Our neighbors have been nice enough to let him hang out with their horses until we can get our pasture cleaned up.

What I will probably miss the most is the beautiful wooden nameplate that my old riding teacher made for Bandit's stall. It was a black with his named painted in white. On either side of his name she had carved and painted a horse prancing away. They looked exactly like Bandit, right down to the white check mark on his forehead. I wish so much that I had a picture of it. Of course the real Bandit had broken off the front legs on both of the fake Bandits, so it wasn't as pretty as it once was; but at least it had character, ha.

A lot of good memories were made in and around that barn, but it was just a barn. The reins were just reins. The bridles were just bridles. The saddles were just saddles -- even my fancy dressage one.

Thank goodness it was just a barn.

The barn in happier times. We'll miss you, barn.

P.S. I was at work when this all went down, but, thanks to our friend Patty (a.k.a. the first lady of Bartlett a.k.a. the Barlett Fire Department paparazzi), I will be posting pictures of the fire soon, as well as pictures of the barn's remains. I'm getting a little stressed thinking about all I have to blog about . . . the last of our Turks & Caicos pictures, our trip to Hot Springs, the fire, and now Camp Granna! Hunter and Avery arrived at Camp Granna on Thursday night, so we are quite busy. Oh, and Happy Elvis Week to all you Memphians. ;-)