Gone

A wicked wind blew through our area this past weekend, taking down many tress, and to my dismay, the big red barn at Swords.

 

 

 

The sound that mammoth structure must have made while coming down...well, I can't even imagine.  Huge, pounding timbers and screeching metal.  The wind that day sounded like a freight train through the trees; the barn coming down would have been other-worldly.

 

 

 

I visited Swords today to see the fallen barn.  As I walked all around it, I felt my heart heavy in my chest.  I'm sad to see such a landmark go.  It makes me think of the life the barn once had, the purposes it served and the lives that depended on it.  This barn held stories that I don't even know, and beyond that, was a permanent marker in many people's mental maps of the area.  Driving through Swords now, one might not even know such a thing as a massive red barn ever stood there.

 

 

 

I'm reminded of the importance of telling stories - connecting with those around us who know the local history of where we live.  I feel a connection to this place that I haven't felt in any other place I've lived.  I think that's because of the accessibility of it's history- it's still on the surface, so to speak, and I can visit and wander in it.  I am also connected to several people who can tell me stories of days gone by.  That history holds an importance that goes beyond words, deep into the heart and soul of the people that have lived, worked and loved here.  Beyond that, it stretches to the present and future generations.

 

The big red barn at Swords is just a old structure that gave way to time and the elements, sure, but to me it represents so much more.

 

 

MINE

My son Henry has very recently internalized the concept of "mine", and he often walks around the house holding a favourite toy saying "mine, miiine" over and over again.  This is, of course a normal part of toddler development, and an opportunity to teach about mine, yours and sharing, but it also reminds me of the way I feel about Swords.

 

 

 

I woke up the other morning with a desire to visit "my" Swords.  Now, I know there are many people in the area and beyond that can lay more claim to it than I, but I still feel a strong connection.  I feel drawn to the place, and when I see footprints or evidence of other people at the site, I think "no! Mine!".  Just like Henry and his toys.

 

 

 

This time last year my interest in Swords was just beginning to spark.  With the snow melting, my desire to be up there has returned. My goal this year is to find out more about the personal stories of Swords.  When I look up at he windows in the old store, I can feel the lives that have gone before.  There is a strong presence  there.

 

 

 

Our neighbour has many things to share with me, and we spoke at Christmas about getting together sometime to chat.  I think I'll have to pay a visit soon.

A Mid-Summer Dream of Swords

I had a dream about the old general store at Swords last week.  In it, someone was restoring the entrance, and it was all locked up - everything changed.

I am often by Swords on my runs, and so I had to go around the back for a peak at the door in my dream. It was changed.  The tether that keeps the door latched was gone.  I'm not sure what else has changed - if anything.

Swords right now is leafy green and lush.  The only building making is presence fully known is the general store.  The others are shrouded in the verdant leaves of summer.  The second house isn't even visible from the road.  One would not know it, or its outbuildings existed, so deeply hidden in the woods they are. 

Summer holds Swords' secrets close.  And the deer flies and mosquitoes make sure no one sticks around too long to investigate further.

Look close and you can see the peak of the blood red staircase in the second house. Every time this staircase catches my eye, my stomach flips.  I'm always caught off guard.