A BARN IN NEW ENGLAND by Joseph Monninger and other Barn Thoughts

Every now and then I read a book that draws me in deep. A Barn in New England has done just that. It put me right at the location and the experiences that author Joseph Monninger writes about. From the very first moment he and Wendy view the barn in the dead of a snowy winter day, where I could smell the cold, to the longer summer days and nights of installing a fence, planting gardens and renovating the barn with insulation, new beams, and a new kitchen I felt as if I was right there, helping with all of these tasks. To be honest the reason it was so easy for me to relate to this story is because Lauren and I have been talking and dreaming about doing something quite similar in nearby Maine. We’ve looked at a number of houses over the past two years with barns and haven’t quite figured out how to make it all work but we are still trying. Lauren gave this book to me as a Father’s Day gift and it has proved to be one of my all time favorites.

Being in an old Post and Beam Barn to me is perhaps what many feel when they step into a church. It’s a spiritual experience, Nirvana. One of my first experiences as a 7 to 10 year old was visiting the horse barn of the Ames Estate in North Easton, MA where I would bring my bike to the caretaker Paul Simmons who would fix my broken chain or flat tire. I can still conjure up the smell of the hay, the wood and the leather from the tack shop. It was so quiet and peaceful. With the nearby tall mature shade trees it was also nice and cool on a hot summer day.

A few years later my family moved to Lakeville, MA and I was lucky enough to get a job during the summer as a 12 to 13 year old working on Wilkes Dairy Farm earning $1.30 an hour. My job was to weed the vegetable garden and sometimes feed the cows in the barn when they came in for milking but my favorite job was haying. Picking up bales of hay in the field which weighed probably between 40 and 80 pounds depending on moisture content and where they were cut and throwing them up to another person on a flatbed truck as it rolled slowly up and down the field. The higher the stack of hay got on the truck the higher I would have to throw that bale. Boy did I build some muscle back then. The afternoons were usually sunny, hot and humid so we would sweat hard and the chafe from the hay would stick to our sweaty arms, face, and neck. Then we had to take the truck to the barn and unload the bales in the hayloft. Like an attic the hayloft was often hot as you stagger stacked the bales so they would tie in together much like cinder blocks. At the end of an exhausting day it was down to the coolest part of the barn in the shade where we would chomp on big juicy pieces of pink watermelon where the juice would run down your chin, chest, and on to your arms. I was one sweaty, dirty, juicy and tired farmhand but it felt so…oh good.

In my late teens I rented a house near Freedom, Maine where a local neighbor raised chickens and ducks on a commercial scale. Big three story barns with a thousand chickens and lots of chicken shit and wood shavings to clean out once the chickens were hauled off to market. As you can imagine it could be considered a nasty job but with a dust mask and appropriately timed breaks to drink Old Milwaukee beer we seemed to happily get the job done in amazingly quick fashion.
So perhaps because of my fond memories of the smells and good feelings found in a good old barn I long to have one now of my very own. One I can bang a big nail in the beam and not feel like I am doing damage to anything. One where I can hang my poster of Farrah Fawcett (may you rest in peace, Farrah) that Amber and Tommie gave to me as a birthday gift a few years ago because they knew I wanted one for my barn dream. One where I can have my own workshop and build things out of wood; guitars, furniture, anything I want. One where I can invite friends and family over and drink Old Milwaukee beer. One where I can find Nirvana.

I Want to Build a House

I want to build a house. I want to build it cheap and I want to build it in Bethel, Maine. That's a simple affirmation, right? What, How and Where, but Why?

I've worked on and built many things since my teens; concrete septic tanks, ocean seawalls, a chessboard, spice rack, metal bench press, acoustic guitar, and various home renovation projects. Lauren and I have seriously considered buying an old house, like 100 plus years old and fixing it up but something in my mind has me thinking about building a house from scratch. The advantages are we would get to design it first to our liking, most old homes have floor layouts we wish were different. Old homes are usually drafty and energy inefficient and we could build one that's very "snug" so when it's zero outside we would feel comfortable inside and not go broke paying for heating oil. We've gotten a bit wimpy the past 5 years living in San Diego. Old homes often have old musty basements with dirt floors and lots of spider webs, all of which I love but I can use a new full concrete basement to greater potential. The other thing is older homes tend to need more maintenance than newer homes. I'm almost 51 now and I'm thinking instead of having things to fix for the rest of my life if I build new and build well then I'll have more time to hike those beautiful mountains and drink good beer.

So why cheap? Well, duh! Why not? When I say cheap I don't mean using the cheapest materials. I'm mean using quality materials in ways that allow it to be a bargain for me. The fact that I want to do as much as I can on my own will make it cheaper for me. We can build it small because most of the time it's just me and Lauren in the house. We can build it one story because that is cheaper, easier and quicker to build.

Finally, why Bethel? The reasons are endless. It's beautiful. It's green in the summer and white in the winter. It's nature, it's small town, it's real. It doesn't have a million and one things to do like San Diego but I seem to enjoy what I do there a million times more. It has mountains, clouds, rain, the green, green trees of summer, open green fields with wild flowers, cows, bald eagles, kayakers, hikers, musicians, locals, color, spectacular foliage in the fall, Suds Pub, the Funky Red Barn, Carter's Farm Stand with the best meat in the world and where you pay by the honor system by leaving your money in the can. Hello America, where have you gone? White churches with white steeples and lots of white snow, Snow White snow, Sunday River Ski Resort, a road named Paradise and of course the river, the Androscoggin River. If the river wasn't here, Bethel wouldn't be here, but it is and it's perfect. Bethel has a town Common, an oval green park with a gazebo where music is played and children play, a bell, a fountain, and a flagpole with the flag. They have an art show here each year and the annual Mollyhockett 5 mile road race ends here. Behind the Bethel Inn across the street they shoot off fireworks each year. It's as close to a Norman Rockwell scene as I can imagine living in and so I want to go.