The Racing Barn

When I look for things to photograph or to write about, I tend to look for things that connect with me in some way.  I tend to look for things where I can envision a story or at least ones that make me want to try and think of a story.   This old barn is one of those things.

From the age of it, it should probably be in less pristine condition.  It has been many of years since it has been used and time should be wearing on it.  Fortunately, it has become part of a park and is often being repaired and restored to keep it in good condition. It is possible the family of the barn could have kept it up in memory of their father and grandfather, but that is neither here nor there to the point.

The point is that from the outside of this barn it is just a boring, white, uppity kind of place.  There is no real life to on the outside.  There is something missing on the outside.  It is beautiful, but on the outside it really is just a building.  Now on the inside, the inside is what inspires me and lets me dream. 

Every time I walk into the entry way of that old barn, I can just feel this life and this passion of a busy race barn. The owner is walking in and out of his office barking orders at the stable hands as they all prepare for the big race that is only days away.  The stable hands, themselves, are rushing around.  They’re feeling water buckets, dishing out grain, and hauling hay.  A little jockey is walking around trying to decide which of the three horses racing in the race that he wants to work with first.  

Then there are the horses.  All 24 stalls filled with the most prestige thoroughbreds in the business.  The prize winning champion is in his stall closest to the entrance way.  They have their noses pressed against the windows lining the inside of the barn.  They know that it is feed time and they are waiting anxiously.  Some of them neigh and some of them are pawing at the door.  Others just wait patiently blowing air exasperatedly out of their noses.  Turning around as the gate of their stalls open and the hay comes flying in.  They no longer care that there is a person standing there, they only care that there is hay at their hooves.

As I walk along the corridor of that barn, I can feel the wind rushing by as one of the thoroughbreds is getting his exercise by running around the indoor track lining the stalls.  The barn fills with the sound of pounding horse feet as more than one horse takes to the track with a rider in tow. It is the perfect place to run on those rainy and snowy days. 

The barn becomes noisier with the sounds of voices and laughter coming from the stable hands and the owner.  They visit with each other and with visitors and potential investors that come in and out of the barn.  The sound of children also fills the air as they run around playing the picnic areas.  Everyone always comes to watch the horses, all of the horses with their beauty and strength and their power that pours out through their stances.  It is one of those peaceful things that make me happy.

I have never actually been to a race barn, but I reckon that is similar to the way that I envision it.  Owning horses is a dream of mine and for now that is all that it can be.  Still this barn seemed filled with life.  A life that I like to pretend is because the spirits of the race horses buried on the property still roam the grounds.  I don’t know if they do and most the time I’m not even sure if I believe in ghost, but I do believe in the life of dreams.

This barn always seems to open a bit of my heart when I need it the most.  I don’t know if it is what I think is there or the history that it holds or maybe even the dreams that I see when I walk the through the barn.  All I do know is that there is still life inside that barn even though the life of that barn retired and moved on long, long ago.

The End
~SMH~

Copyright 2012 (writing and picture)