I’m joining in with Tricia at Bluff Area Daily for Barn Charm Tuesday.
But first, an update from last week’s barn. Much speculation was made on the R~I~P. Curiosity had gotten the better of us and we vowed to find out what it stood for. As chance would have it, a casual conversation with a friend provided Jim with the answer. “Oh, that’s Ralph Popp’s Hereford farm!” Ralph I. Popp. So there you have it.
Now onto this week’s barn. I pose the question, what makes a barn a barn? The original purpose of the building or the final use?
This Federal style home standing naked against the clear blue sky absolutely drew me in. I can almost hear children laughing as they play, or see a husband and wife, worn down by hard work and worry, sitting at a rough sawn wood table, giving thanks to God for having given them the strength to survive another harsh Missouri winter. And all these years later, it still stands proud, providing shelter to animals, and storage of grain and hay from the elements of nature. It is definitely a barn.
Here is the same barn from a different angle. I am amazed at how vey different the two photos look.
I hope you enjoy my barn this week!
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| Bill, Tessa, Jim, Deanna, Alicia, Greg at Cooper's Oak Winery |
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| Greg showing off his new boots |
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| Reagan escaping down the drive |
I’ll admit it. I have a kitchen knife fetish.
Fresh home made bread demands one certain knife. Meat requires a different type. I even use a different kine of knife to cut an angel food cake than for, let’s say, a chocolate cake. There is a paring knife from Jim’s mom with a blade thinned by years of use that is great for slicing tomatoes and onions. Jim made a number of knives over the years. One has a sturdier blade that I like to use when cutting turnips. Whatever the knife - it has to be sharp!
My dear dad is partly to blame for this fetish. He was very precise in which knife he used for what… and it had better be sharp! Probably my first indication that he had become overwhelmed with taking care of my mom and his own health issues (that we weren’t even aware of at the time) was the day, while fixing supper for them, I reached for a knife to slice potatoes. Oh.My.Gosh. It was dull. Never in my life had I encountered a dull knife in my parents’ home.
Dad taught me how to use a knife. He also taught me how to cut up a chicken when, in my early teens, I would much rather have been reading a book than dealing with a bloody chicken! But that was dad. He insisted, and I didn’t dare say no.
So now I have a knife fetish. You would think with this collection of knives (I just pulled out the ones I use minus steak knives), there would be no need for any more. I certainly didn’t know I had a wish for any more knives. But sometimes you wish for something without realizing it. Right?
What did Jim give me for Valentine’s Day you ask? Why knives, of course!
Nice, sharp, molded to the shape of my hand, knives.
What I like about these knives is the ridges in the blades. Food, especially the dreaded starchy potato, when sliced, does not stick to the blade. It is amazing! What am I going to do with the rest of my knives? Keep each and every one, of course. They each have a purpose.
And they are sharp!
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| Brown Sugar and spices for the apples... a little more butter, please... |
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| Honey mustard glazed rib eyes on the grill |
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| Table for two - candles lit, wine poured, salad ready to go |
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| What do you think? Did Whiskey get a bit of fat from those steaks? |
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| Two out of three ain't bad |
