Big Red Barn!
Memories from our Ohio trip
“By the big red barn in the great green field,
There was a pink pig who was learning to squeal.”
—Margaret Wise Brown
When my eldest was but a baby, I was gifted the children’s book “Big Red Barn” by Margaret Wise Brown. My friend, who had five children of her own, told me it was a favorite in their house; so beloved that she bought a new copy each time another child was born, simply because they read it so much the pages struggled to remain intact. Soon it became one of our own favorites and I can recite it from memory.
Our family visited Ohio (and a bit of Kentucky) for the first three weeks of June. Lots of big red barns in great green fields. As we drove Allan would point out, “big red barn!” To which I would reply, “in the great green field!”
Here grass grows to the edge, like custom-made carpet. Edge of the street, edge of the path, edge of the house. Large borderless lots line the street, connected by great green fields. Yet the footprint of a house occupies just a small portion of the land, long yards with vibrant green grass stretch out in front and behind. The proliferate manicured grass begs the question, where are all the lawn mowers? With this much grass shouldn’t every third house be mowing their lawn?
The grass is broken up by clusters of woods. Looking out the passenger window as we drive down the highway, is like thumbing through a deck of cards. You catch glimpses but never completely focus. Tall trees with thin trunks grow densely together. At just a glance, one can see the underskirts of the trees and the shade it provides. Filtered sunlight bounce off the leaves creating a green glittery effect. These woods are clustered behind houses, like a scene straight out of a fairytale where a child goes outback to play and wanders into the luminous woods.
Houses are colorful here. Ohio has red, navy blue, white, and pastels of yellow and green. Almost all houses have shutters painted in a contrasting color to the vinyl siding, which highlights the windows. Although most shutters serve aesthetic purposes, not functional. Simple and straight forward, houses often take the shape of a kleenex tissue box or shoe box topped with a sharp roof.
After the large grass lawn, there are three steps to a covered porch with a swing and an eye-catching colorful front door. Bright colorful flowers in full bloom hang in pots from the porch ceiling, while many American flag banners drape in semi-circles off porch railings for America’s 250th birthday. If you look closely, the bottom edge of the house reveals the outline of a brick basement. A small window sunk at ground level peeks out like my teenager’s shorts under his sagging sweatpants.
Our family had a great time in Ohio. It’s hard to capture all of the memories we made. So instead, here is a list of some specific ones.
Memories
We departed from Ontario Airport, a small quaint airport. You can take in the entire terminal with one glance of the eye. We arrived before the staff, with a sole night-shift employee waxing the floor alone.
“New house, mom? New house?” - Sam’s favorite repetitive phrase he asked each time we left a house and climbed into our rental van.
“I have learned to appreciate conflict. It’s an opportunity, because conflict reveals the heart.” — Bernie Mager
“Faith Like Noah.” Slogan on a tshirt from The Ark Encounter. Humbling to see it covering the torso of my own Noah. Reminding me like a billboard of the courage to trust God in full confidence. Hardships and trials can overwhelm and block my vision, yet I too am called to have faith like Noah.
World Cup games playing in the rental van as we travelled from city to city.
Intermingling parts of my life that were previously kept separate, we picked up my mother-in-law at Cincinnati airport. She got an inside sneak peek into the rhythms and exhaustion of furlough travels.
Checking off a bucket list item of her late husband, we went to the Ark Encounter with my mother-in-law. Walking is harder in older age, so we got her an electric scooter. Watching and filming Grandma roll out of the welcome booth on her electric scooter like she’s an A-list actor walking the red carpet. Aging doesn’t prohibit her from completing something in memory of her husband.
Fireflies at sunset dancing on top of the grassy field. Blinking on and off in steady alternating rhythm.
Googling why barns are red and learning how they mixed rust or animal blood with the paint to help preserve the wood of barns during the harsh winters.
A 4th of July church event advertised on a Sunday morning, hosted at a family farm, invites the entire church to camp out overnight. Bonfire, camping, s’mores, fireworks, a full celebration.
Entering a nondescript building, with no sign or marking, to a loud bowling alley. Mingling with a 50+ party size of mostly strangers playing on 3 lanes. Then stepping outside to quiet. The contrasting peace of the scene screamed at my senses. The rustle of the leaves dancing in the breeze, reflected the sunlight. Cotton like seeds blowing in the breeze like fluffy rain.
Reading a novel from a favorite author that reflects the region—set in the glory days of the factory belt during the 1920s, before industry decline and the factory belt turned into the rust belt.
My husband reading a biography of the Wright Brothers while in Dayton, Ohio, and visiting the National Museum of the US Airforce.
My oldest enjoying volleyball. A carefree and fun bonding time with new friends who were so serious about the game they kept a portable volleyball net in their car.
My son’s desire to bring his guitar on the trip, but due to travel restrictions we left it behind in the Philippines. Yet God provided a guitar in almost every place we stayed. Even broken eyeglasses that needed emergency repair brought him to wait at a guitar center where he could play any guitar in the store he could reach.
Hospitability of others, staying in small farm with Poppy the cow in the back meadow who gave us fresh milk every morning.
A dedicated gameroom in the basement of an Airbnb, outfitted with a vintage arcade table, foosball table and shelves of boardgames.
Thank you for the memories, Ohio!