In Vermont it is easy to come across a farm. Since a young age, I have admired the big red barns on the side of the road. I would watch as the farmers work and it amazed me how the work never ended. There are not enough hours in the day for a farmer to get all they need done, but still they are up bright and early starting something new the next morning.


When I was little we moved to a farm house in the middle of nowhere. The house was huge and old. The barn though, was the most admirable piece of the land. Resting on a hill, housing the animals in need, the barn served its purpose. For myself, the barn was an escape. This secret wonderland made it easy to pretend that everything going on in the world was invincible, and the only thing that mattered was where I was in that moment.

Although I no longer live on that old farm, I know it has touched my families life. My sister now is going to school to be a dairy farmer, and someday hopes to have a farm of her own. Living in Vermont it is impossible to escape the farmlands, but who would

GardenGnome's picture

Hi Madi, I like how you come

Hi Madi,

I like how you come back to the barn throughout the peice. It looks like the last couple words got cut off though, is it supposed to say, "but who would want to" ?