On a picture perfect rustic gray morning, late in 2002, Jerem, took a stroll in a nearby farmer's field to clear his head. As he carefully maneuvered around the dried cow pies and huge holes in the ground--features of the western landscape--he pondered deeply about the meaning of life and how he could make a difference--how he could make the world a better place. He paused briefly to lean on an old, dilapidated barn--a decaying but majestically framed feature of the rustic landscape--to view the rising sun and reflect on how lucky he was to live where he did: where open spaces and livestock were not rare and where he could breathe in the fresh air and enjoy the sun peeking over the Rocky Mountains.
He also thought about how it must be like to live in the city--where a decaying rustic barn was something you only saw framed in pictures and photos. Then, just as the sun reached over the mountains, the old weathered barn which he leaned against started to creak and groan and crumbled to the ground--covering poor Jerem in a heap of old broken wood and rusty nails.
Later he nursed his wounds and carefully removed splinters from his skin, Jerem thought of an idea that would be of benefit to the farmer as well as the city folk dreaming of wide-open rural spaces: he would take down the barns that were no longer useful agriculturally and provide the wood and products made out of the wood to those who needed this bit of the country in their home to keep their sanity. Thus All Barnwood was born. . . 3 of the recycled birdhouses are pictured above.
No comments:
Post a Comment