If I Was Blessed with Boredom.

Boredom is not a luxury I often possess, but if it did come to me, I might write property descriptions that don’t truly matter. Once, I wrote about a chicken coop. Today, I spoke of a red barn I used to own:

The Red Barn on Wolcott Road

You will be welcomed by a sweet herb and flower garden at the front entrance. Basil, mint, and daisies dance a gentle tango in circles with the wind, surrounded by deep, black mulch. The muted red stains the barnboards and is complemented by the matte white shutters. There is a small covered area in the front that would work as a patio, bird haven, woodpile, or ice cream shop window.

Open the door to hear a historical squeak as you enter the first floor covered with cool, smooth concrete. To the right is a large bay, perfect for stacking firewood and the seasonal porch windows, screen or glass. To the left is a planting station with a window to allow in natural light for seedlings, complete with rich, black mountain soil and thick wooden shelves for pots, spades, and heirloom seeds.

To the left you will find two more vehicle bays, large enough for a pickup truck, tractor, or ping pong table, sublime for adding some fresh mountain air to the barn. Straight ahead is a heavy wooden sliding door that will take you to the workshop and a coop that fits dozens of chickens. The area is laden with shelves galore and tons of drawers for your tools and hardware, and there’s a wood stove for your January creativity. To the left you will find one of the two push-out windows and another bay door that gratefully receives the afternoon sun. The chicken coop is safe and secure with a handy door to collect your eggs, a human-sized door for convenience, and there’s a miniature, outdoor lockable door that leads to the run for your favorite feathered friends. The area is cool and shaded, ideal for those warm summer days. Sounds glorious, right? Well, there’s more.

The stairs to the second floor are nestled between the three bays when you first walk in. Go up the stairs to find a landing, or nook, to stand a Christmas tree or house a small office. On the top of the stairway is a door that leads to a large room to the left with a hay door and a skylight. In that room are also secret wooden doors to store your most treasured trinkets. Straight ahead is a large area with three windows that face the orchard and mountain stream, and it has built-in shelves and lots of outlets. Once an antique shop, the upstairs area could be used as extra living space, a teen room, or a home office. To the right is another antique wooden door with tons of attic space and another hay door, convenient for your livestock.

Published by Teresa Forester Adams

Hello, my friend. I am Teresa Adams. Currently, I live in Western Massachusetts, but I spent twenty years in Eastern North Carolina near Camp Lejeune and Topsail Island, so I call two places home. The beach with the warm salted air and the New England woods with crunchy brown leaves each call to me, so I answer to both. My name is also Jack and I have just a few trades. Writing is what I do best, but I also love to play songs on my red piano, walk barefoot in the woods that surround my house, and bake sweet treats like cream puffs and crème brûlée. There’s something about opening up a soft vanilla bean and scraping out the delicacies inside. I found a knack for using old items like quilts and jars to decorate new spaces, and I can knit anything with four rightish angles. The old me is someone who used to fight fire with the coolest group of people, and a girl who was married to a hero. I now attend Westfield State University as a non-traditional student with the most loving and talented group of professors and other English majors. When I have a moment, I play a card game called pitch with my four sons, sit with my many chickens who all have their own names like Norma Jean, Peow, and Djin Jarin, and the doors on my Jeep will be off from May until September. It is all wonderful therapy for some difficult writing I sometimes do. In the past year I began my memoir about my life as a war widow and committed to finishing it before summer opens her arms and buds. I will finish the book in order to clear my mind and make room for the next big venture, some freelance work, and upcoming important blog projects, which I’ll do at home. I currently live in an old white farmhouse next to a red barn with three of my four sons. My oldest graduated from North Carolina State and lives at the beach in North Carolina. We are kept company by three German shepherds, two cats who wear tuxedos, sixteen chickens, a few mice who live in the basement, and a bearded dragon, Ringo.

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