Barns – Part II

When I was fifteen my parents bought land from my grandparents’ neighbors, Delevan and May Ives. What I didn’t know then, but have found out recently, was that the land where my parents built our new home in 1960 had once belonged to my Hall ancestors. Part of this property included a barn, which my dad used for the next thirty years to shelter his horses. In 2008, when the barn needed major repairs, my father and brother decided to have it taken down, restored, and relocated closer to the house.

"Crump Barn, around 1990," Carol Crump Bryner, pen and ink, 2014

“Crump Barn, around 1990,” Carol Crump Bryner, pen and ink, 2014

As George Senercia took down our barn, (see “Barns – Part I”) he realized that the same person who built my grandparents’ barn also built ours. The clues were in the way the timbers were hewn and the framing structured. George became convinced that my great-great-great grandfather Aaron Hall – who also built the barn on my grandparents’ farm – built our barn around 1810, some years before he constructed the barn farther up Whirlwind Hill.

By the time they started working on our barn in August 2008, George and his group, “Northford Timber Framers,” had restored over fifty barns in New England. The work is done by volunteer labor – men and women trained by George in his weekend workshops. George, who had a heart transplant in 2004, makes each barn raising a spiritual experience. For him the old timbers are the “Heart of the Barn,” and give life to the new structure in the same way his new heart gave life to him.

It took two years to clean, sort, and prepare the framing and build the new foundation. All the work was done slowly and thoughtfully, carving numbers into each timber to facilitate the putting-back-together. To put the barn back together, timber framers used tools and methods that would have been employed in 1810. Hand-carved pegs took the place of nails, and manpower the place of cranes and forklifts.

Hand-carved pegs

Hand-carved pegs

New and old parts were joined together simply and solidly.

Wooden peg joining new and old timber

Wooden peg joining new and old timber

Some of the timbers (each made from an individual tree) were long and very, very heavy. To lift them, the workers used pulleys, chains, and stone counterweights. Our counterweights were named “Fred” and “Barney.”

Fred

Fred

Barney

Barney

On a very hot weekend in July 2010, my brother and father and I held our barn raising.

Carol, Charlie, and Kirt - morning of barn raising

Carol, Charlie, and Kirt – morning of barn raising

Cousins and friends and workers came from all over New England and around the country. Among the hundred or so people there, sixty were volunteers who worked for two days in the intense heat. The rest of us watched, took pictures, served food, ran errands, brought water, and cheered the progress.

To big cheers, workers raised the first bent on Saturday morning.

Raising of the north bent

Raising of the north bent

Work progressed throughout the weekend. It took as many as twenty people to lift one beam.

Getting ready to lift the beam into place

Getting ready to lift the beam into place

On Sunday afternoon the Stony Creek Fife and Drum Corps marched down Whirlwind Hill and up our driveway to play for a short christening ceremony in the new barn.

Stony Creek Fife and Drum Corps marching down the driveway.

Stony Creek Fife and Drum Corps marching down the driveway.

George placed the American flag on the roof, and then we celebrated with food and drink and a huge cake covered with strawberries.

Crump barn on Sunday afternoon

Crump barn on Sunday afternoon

For two days we were immersed in an unforgettable experience. The past and the present met on this spot, and time seemed to slow down. Now the barn looks like this.

Crump Barn, 2013

Crump Barn, 2013

As a memorial to my ancestor, George carved Aaron Hall’s name into one of the restored timbers. Every part of this barn has meaning, but for me the barns are not the same barns they used to be.

George, with his new heart, may very well be the same person he was before surgery, but for me, these are not the barns I knew. It’s a question I really can’t answer – this mystery of place. It’s all well and good to say that you have restored a structure and it “lives again,” but for me, the heart has gone out of the barn.

Where I find this heart is in my memories and in the pictures that remind me of the life the barns once held. The most magical moments in the Hall barn came each year on Easter Sunday, when my brother and cousins and I were let loose in the haymow to search for the painted eggs that my Easter Bunny grandfather hid. I can smell the hay, see the shafts of light piercing the dust, hear the swallows swooping in and out of the high window to their nests in the rafters, and feel the excitement of finding a hidden egg. We were never able to find all the eggs our grandfather hid, but when George dismantled my grandparents’ barn, he found nestled in the hay brightly colored eggs left behind so many years before.

Cousin Sue and Carol, Easter Sunday, 1949

Cousin Sue and Carol, Easter Sunday, 1949

On Friday:  October Window

10 thoughts on “Barns – Part II

  1. Michael Foster

    What a wonderful, wonderful entry and a great chapter in the Hall/Crump saga. My parents visited at some point during the construction and came back with glowing stories about the impressive new barn and the unforgettable experience of a barn raising. The pictures are marvelous and I am so glad this event was so thoroughly documented.

    There are so many themes here that are worthy of comment. I especially like the parallels between George’s own reconstruction with his heart transplant and the new life he gives to these ancient, hand-made structures. I am sure that some of the old ghosts are released when a barn comes down so that it does not feel the same as it did where it originally stood. At least some of the energy must still be there, though, added to each beam and brace through the sweat and labor of the builder. Onto that foundation has been added the efforts of all the volunteers who reassembled and raised those old beams while replacing broken and worn out components. The barn now stands as composite of the new and old, waiting to absorb the energy of the new lives and experiences that will pass through it.

    Reply
    1. Carol Post author

      You’re right – there is still some of that energy there. The inside of our new barn has such a wonderful feeling to it. Some of the change comes from going from a working barn to a barn with a different purpose. No cows, alas, for either of the restored barns. Thanks, Mike.

      Reply
  2. Molly Jones

    I am so fortunate to have been there for part of the celebration! Happy memories of the barn raising and of you and your dad, Carol. Molly & Tyler

    Reply
  3. Jocelyn Young

    After the years of hearing about this event, I was thrilled to see actual photos and the story of the crafter of the new barn. Each of your posts brings me closer to my “farming” family of Utah and the memories of gathering black walnuts, and playing on the old coal bin doors! Thanks for sharing your family stories with all of us. Jocelyn Young

    Reply
    1. Carol Post author

      I hadn’t realized that your Utah family was a farming family. It must have been kind of dirty on those coal bin doors. A Utah farm seems like it must have been so different from a New England farm, but that’s probably not the case at all. Thanks, Jocelyn.

      Reply
  4. Netzy

    Those dowels look like big colored pencils! I have empathy with you about your mixed feelings about the barn being “original” and not really “original” to you. Great pics!

    Reply

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