The Barn Comes A Tumblin' Down

Our farm is in a sad state of affairs.  A couple of years ago, one of our big sheds collapsed under a pile of snow.  Our other shed is leaning precariously.  And our poor barn, I'm sad to say, has finally collapsed.

(Wah wah waaaaahhhh)

Not that we didn't know it was coming.  From the day VikingDad bought the place, 8ish years ago, it has been crumbling slowly into an inevitable state of entropy.  Too broken to be worth fixing, we slowly watched its structural integrity dwindle until this summer.  A couple of years ago, the upper level became too unsafe to store hay in anymore.  Last year, the interior began to crumble.  Early this summer, the roof caved in.  And, finally, the whole barn collapsed (in either August or September.  I have a piss poor memory.  I have it written down someplace but I'm too lazy to look it up.)  Thankfully, no animals were harmed!  But now we have a huge wreck on our hands that we have to clean up.

(What a mess!)

VikingDad has to clean most of it up, the farm being his pet project and all.  But, last night he lured me into helping him with the tantalizing tidbit that I could "make boards explode by hitting them with a giant axe."
Whaaaaat?  Why did no one tell me you could do that?  I love explosions!  I love giant axes!  I love hitting things!

(Boom, baby)

So I decided to go out there and help him make boards explode.  WildBoy and WildGirl wanted to come too because VikingDad was burning the non-salvageable boards, which meant fire (and where there's fire, there's roasted marshmallows).  So I got them dressed (WildBoy was, of course, nekkid), got the marshmallows, and tromped out to help VikingDad.

OK, so the boards didn't exactly explode like I pictured it.  It's more like, if you hit rotten wood hard enough with a giant axe, the pieces go flying everywhere.  It was still really fun.

The first time I tried to make the boards explode, VikingDad had me hit one of the thicker, less rotten boards, so when I tried to make it explode, what actually happened was I nicked it slightly.

(This was my expression.)

VikingDad just laughed.  Soon, though, I found a couple of thinner, more rotten boards, and went to town on them.  It was very therapeutic!  I have to say, nothing beats the feeling of making things fly apart as you hit them.  We had a great system.  VikingDad climbed on the roof and threw down the boards.  I chopped the boards into manageable pieces, and the kids ran amok. 

(I love big axes and I cannot lie.)

WildBoy and WildGirl helped too, by carrying the broken boards over to the burn pile and occasionally feeding the fire.  (And, of course, they ate marshmallows, climbed on the wreckage, climbed on the hay bale, pretended that some of the board pieces were guns, and played tag.  All perfectly healthy activities for Barbarian children.)

 (Pretty much a jungle gym.  With the added risk of tetanus.)

We were visited by some of the inhabitants of the farm on occasion.  Pot belly pigs, goats, chickens, and cats all wandered by to watch our activities.

(A couple of pigs by the burn pile.  Surprisingly, they left the marshmallows alone and just wandered around.)

 (A particularly ornery Angora goat named Misty.)

We only went back in the house after it was too dark to see.  What a fun Sunday night!