On July 11, 2011 I watched as the barn I grew up playing in, dreaming in or just running away from the world in was burnt to the ground. The barn was built by my great grandpa, Alfred Peterson in June of 1933. At one point the old farmstead was a bustling working farm complete with horses, cows and chickens but I only knew it as the abandoned farm where my grandma grew up. To me it was my playground with the house being my two story playhouse and the barn being this magical place filled with memories of my ancestors. As I grew older and out of the “playing house” stage I would escape to the old yard. Usually looking to escape from reality for a bit I would go lay in the tall grass on the east end of the barn and just stare at the sky for hours at a time. I secretly dreamed of my future wedding which was going to take place in that very spot….the barn covered in white twinkling lights, the loft a big open dance floor, the stables below set up with open bars or private seating areas. All under the same sky and the same stars that I had spent so many hours under years before. But things don’t always work out the way you dream they will. The farm and along with it, the barn was sold to someone outside the family. While it was hard to “let go”, he has brought life back to that old farm and someday his kids will have as many great memories out there as I do. He tried really hard to save the barn but it ended up being too much work and too much money so it was decided to burn it down and make room for something new. I am excited to see what becomes of that farm now but will forever look at the spot where the barn used to stand and wish it was still there.