Barn quilts: two favorite things merged

Barn quilt beauty posted at the Barn Quilts of Sac County site

Is it Saturday already? I'm not at all sure how that happened. We have started the move into the new building, and things are beyond hectic. Hecticity? Hecticness? There has to be a word for it. Let's just say that you can have the irresistible force (a 3-ton hoist) meet the immovable object (a fossil block the size of a Harley, still in its plaster field jacket). Winner: neither. Draw. The hoist could lift the block, but could not move it forward. We moved over 60 field jackets into the new building in the past two days and seem to be on track to finish the project on Monday, with one notable exception: a fossil block the size of a Volkswagen Beetle, slightly flattened. Look for details from the survivors sometime next week, when we are out of traction.

It will be a long summer of moving, and I'll post highlights on the weekends.

In the meantime, how come no one ever told me about the Midwest gems known as barn quilts? Quilts painted on wood and attached to barns and other such structures! Now I have a new reason (as if I needed one) to stop without warning in the middle of rural roads, tick off farm equipment operators and scare the cattle. The Kansas City Star Quilts team has posted a tribute here. This sent me to an Internet search, in which I found out that many places, including the relatively close-by rivals Sac County, Washington County and Humboldt County, Iowa, have a major presence in this field. Architecture of the open places, meet painted quilts.

I think I'm in love. Now I have to find out if these cross the Missouri and make it to West River, South Dakota.

Barn quilt posted by Mary Howell of Lebanon, Tennessee, at the KC Star Pickledish site

Scenes from Sioux Falls II: architecture of the open spaces

House, South Dakota, surrounded by sudden spring greenery

Driving across the southern half of South Dakota, west to east and then back, is an odyssey in hard-scrabble vernacular architecture. There is no place in the state that provided an easy life, and these deserted structures are mute testaments to the harshness of prairie life. Some of them are unexpectedly beautiful, by purpose or by accident, with colors as striking as the quilts of Gee's Bend. Since starting this project, I am always taking the tiny blue highways and looking behind trees--where there are trees--and around curves--where there are curves.

Barn, South Dakota

The violent weather in the state this past weekend reminded me just how tough it was to survive through the winter and spring. Every season brought its dangers and its beauties. There was never any guarantee that this season would not be the last.

Barn after heavy rainstorm

These shots are just a tip-of-the-iceberg sampling of the lovely, lone sentinel buildings on the prairies. Every one has its story, but many of those are lost. Their whispers are wordless.

Barn

Abandoned barn

Working barn

Christ Episcopal Church, Ft. Thompson

Abandoned church

Grain elevator. If ever a shot demanded black-and-white photography, this is it.

Hilltop buildings

Cabin

House with metal roof

House and outbuilding

House

They have survived their builders, outlived their families, and even outlived their purposes. Don't drive by them too quickly--they are the last of their kind.