I stopped the car, barely believing that the huge barn could still be standing. Perhaps its lace-like construction was too full of holes to offer any resistance to wind or time. Every imaginable scrap of wood and sheet metal had been used over the years to cover its skeleton with a patchwork of scars. Yet, it is still in use. Still serving its purpose, still being cared for.
Whether parsimony, necessity or love fuels the work, there is a beauty and tenacity in the ramshackle edifice. It reminds of the people I have known who stand against the buffeting of life. Their scars, whether they see it themselves or not, only add to their beauty.