Maryland's Disappearing Barns

When he steps into the old white barn his grandfather built, Stephen Reeves can remember climbing way, way up, into the rafters, to help hang tobacco leaves to dry. The tin roof is perhaps 30 feet high; he remembers, as a little boy, trying not to look down as he reached for the leaves the men were pushing toward him on long poplar stakes. And he remembers how hot it was up there on a summer day.

Thanks to C. P. Zilliacus