When I drive by an old barn on the side of the highway I am always struck by its presence. For the next several miles I wonder about its history, its purpose and its owner. More than a collection of wood and nails, these structures sit as silent story tellers of days gone by.
We passed this barn several times while visiting the Ozark Mountains in Arkansas. Each time, I would turn all the way around in my seat to look at it until it was completely out of view. I was fascinated with its untold story and determined to capture a photo of it. We came back later, just before sunset. The setting sun was beaming behind it in a blaze of glory. It was like a stage spotlight granting the barn one final bow before the curtain closed.