I consider myself lucky to have grown up on a farm near Comber, Ontario. I am now an elementary school teacher at Jack Miner Public School in the town of Kingsville, Ontario. Although teaching is now my profession, I have many fond
memories of life on the farm. About five years ago, I wrote a poem about the old barn that is still standing on our family farm. I regret that I was not able to share it with my father, Wilfrid Marentette, before he passed away at the age of 93. My father was a lifetime farmer and the barn was an important part of his life. The farm was worked by my brother Norman, who has since retired. Today, the land is rented out and the barn stands mostly empty. I am sure there are many people that can relate to the sentiments expressed in the poem that is titled, “Those Weathered Boards Remind Me.” I hope that it will bring enjoyment to many readers and perhaps even bring back special memories of their own.
Those Weathered Boards Remind Me
Out in the country
South off Highway 2
Half a mile down a side road
A farm comes into view
There stands the homestead
The place where I was raised
And the old barn that’s still standing there
Really shows its age
The boards are worn and weathered
Time seems to have a way
Walls, once a brilliant red
Are faded now to grey
To a person from the city
Or a stranger driving passed
The barn has little meaning
A mere relic from the past
In this barn Dad made a living
As milk flowed from the cows
And the sweat of many a man
Raised hay into the mows
Though I was just a little boy
When the milking chores were done
As years went by and I grew older
It was a place for fun
With ropes for swinging, beams to climb
And forts built in the hay
Days spent in this rural playground
I treasure to this day
And the one day from my childhood
That stands out most of all
Was the day Dad bought my pony, “Prince”
And helping to prepare his stall
The barn stands mostly empty now
No chores are done today
There are no men hard at work
Or children as they play
The weathered boards are still standing
Sometimes, when I close my eyes
Scenes from the past flood my mind
And it’s then that I realize
To most who see it, it’s just an old barn
Of its value, they have no measure
But these scenes are a part of our family’s story
And it’s these scenes I’ll always treasure
By: J.P. Marentette
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