A Sunday Afternoon Ride - Summer Kitchen, Schoolhouse, Barn Quilt

We took a Sunday afternoon ride last Tuesday.  You know the kind of ride where you drive with no particular destination, just to see the world around you?  It was a clear day and it sounded delightful.  These are dark, heavy times in America and I knew a break, even for a few hours, would lighten my outlook.  We headed south toward the tiny village of Harrisburg, then west.  We took no map and didn't use a phone for directions until we were ready to return home.  It was an aimless, leisurely drive.

A few miles south and west of Columbus we left the city behind and came to tiny towns surrounded by farmland.  The farmlands are dotted with farmsteads, many built before 1900.  I was surprised at how may of them had summer kitchens.  I took a photo of only one -- we whizzed by the others.

A summer kitchen is a small building about the size of a one-car garage which, in times past, had the accommodations of a regular kitchen.  They are situated near the house.  A summer kitchen was used when a farm wife didn't want the heat of kitchen work -- baking, cooking, heating water for laundry, etc. -- to heat the living space beyond that provided by the summer weather.  The kitchen stove from the farmhouse was often moved to the summer kitchen.

You can tell a summer kitchen by its placement near the house, by the regular doors and windows, and by the chimney.  They've gone into disuse and often look like small barns or garages these days but they don't have the wide doors required for a garage.  I've seen summer kitchens in both Ohio and Pennsylvania.  I always look for them when we're driving in the country.

It was wonderful to see the tractors harvesting hay, creating great round bales perhaps 5' tall.  We also saw one farm making the smaller, rectangular bales but I didn't get a photograph. 

The hay smelled fresh and sweet.  I wondered about the term hay fever but decided it probably wasn't related particularly to hay itself.  If it did, poor farmer with hay fever who needed to bale hay. 

I didn't want to ask my daughter to stop every five minutes for photos -- there were that many beautiful sights -- so I only took a few.

When we reached the corner of Burnett Perrill Road and Miami Trace there were two photos I wanted to take and my daughter willingly stopped.

There was an old schoolhouse.  Someone is taking care of this building.  Isn't it in grand condition, even without glass in the windows?! 

It sits on perhaps an acre of land.  It was easy to imagine the children of more than a decade ago walking or riding a horse to school.  Had there been glass in the windows I would have peeked inside.

From this photo you will guess that either the sign was crooked or the building was leaning precariously.

It was a barn with a a barn quilt securely affixed to the end.

We wondered how the barn continues to stand, it seems to be leaning so precariously.  It's true that a tornado would probably flatten it or scramble it to pieces in a quick minute, but I suspect demolishing it by hand would require lots of work.  I remember my brother telling me about a outbuilding, a small shed, on my parents' property that was leaning far to one side.  My father decided to take it down and he and my brother set to work.   My brother said it looked like it could be easily pushed over but it wasn't so.  It was very hard work to take it apart.  No doubt it would be the same with this barn.

Here's a closer look at the barn star.  I don't know why I didn't walk around to the side and take a photo of just it.

I hope you're doing whatever's necessary to keep your spirits up and not feel overwhelmed by the challenges America and its people are currently facing.

--Nancy.
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