The Barn Tree

Arriving at the farm early in the morning, the siblings exited their vehicles just as the sun began to work on the dew-laden grass across the rolling hills. Their parents used to say that the work day began when the first ray of light struck the the top of the eastern hill, creating a glistening pattern of refracting diamonds.

The son ground his shoe into the gravel as he exited his vehicle. It was a long ride from the funeral, two hours to the nearest town. Their parents were both gone now and they had left the farm, the fruits of a lifetime, to their children.

The siblings hadn't visited in years since the life no longer suited them when compared to the wonders beyond the subdued wheat fields and shuffling flocks. The daughter looked over at her brother as he kicked the gravel away upon arrival at the small parking space up the hill from the farmhouse.

Neither spoke for a moment as they contemplated their childhood home. From this distance, the land looked picturesque. Hills of grass and wheat surrounded the several buildings that had made up their entire world as children. A small two story house, an aging gray silo, several outbuildings, and a red barn. A small flock of sheep grazed nearby. The little clouds orbiting the large barn contrasted dramatically against the painted red walls standing more than fifty feet high. It was always a curiosity why their parents had built the old barn to be so large.

Despite needing some cosmetic attention, the farm was fully functioning, with several staff already starting their day heading into the fields or tending to the sheep in the milking shed. Intending to put their inheritance up for sale, the siblings were drawn back one final time due to the message included from their parents along with the deed:

"One more lesson for you both; waiting in the barn."

Weaving their way through a few errant sheep that protested at being disturbed, the siblings approached the large red door with white painted accents. The siblings were told that their parents had stopped utilizing the structure for its intended purpose and moved all of the animals out from the stalls inside five years ago. Since then, the staff primarily worked out of the handful of other stables and sheds on the acreage. Gripping the white painted edging and doing their best to avoid any splinters, the siblings worked together to push open the red large sliding door. Before their eyes could adjust to the darkness inside, a number of barn owls burst from the darkness and began angrily swooping around their perceived intruders. With waving arms and a few confident strides forward, the owls were quickly deterred back toward the inside of the building.

What the pair saw next within the light streaking from between the wooden beams was both puzzling and awe-inspiring. Rising more than forty feet into the rafters from the center of the building stood a majestic oak tree with its branches, lush with green leaves, spreading graciously throughout the loft. The rays filtering in from the outside illuminated the hazy particulate filled air. The sight was made even more impressive with the barn owl parents dashing in and out of the emerald canopy to the backdrop of hooting fledglings.

Neither sibling could come up with a reasonable justification for how such a beautiful specimen could be flourishing within the dimly lit space. The roof prevented proper watering from the rain and the limited light penetration from the tiny gaps in the wood panels couldn't possibly sustain such a large tree. None of the startled staff they brought over could provide an explanation either. It seemed as if the origin of this remarkable tree lay with their parents. But what of the lesson? The siblings spent the remaining hours of sunlight theorizing over why their parents had wanted them to see the tree, and what they could have possibly learned from the experience.

As night fell, the siblings began walking around the trunk with their hands feeling the coarse ripples of the oak's main body. They slowly became aware of the dancing lights of fireflies speckling the darkness that had enveloped the tree's canopy. The beautiful sight stirred a longing for the hope and excitement of their childhoods. Each flicker of an emerald orb was another dream...another opportunity. The wonder of youth.

Waving to his sister as she departed the property the next morning, the son expected to see his own family heading down the dirt road any moment. Instead, he saw a small column of cars carrying visitors from town. Word had begun to spread, and they had all wanted to see the phenomenal tree themselves.

After the local arborist confirmed the unprecedented nature of the "Quercus alba's" existence, the son, with his sister's support, began a campaign to share their gift with as many as he could. Eager to see the tree again and share the rediscovered excitement of their childhood home with her family, the sister promised to return as soon as possible. In the meantime, the son would permanently relocate to oversee operations. The changes happened quickly, with local word of mouth on the miraculous "Barn Tree" spreading rapidly across the community.

Popularity meant that the original gravel parking area had to be paved over within the first few weeks of discovery in order to accommodate more visitors. A nominal entry fee was used to cover the paving cost and staff were reassigned to manage collection and line management.

Crowding began to occur, with the guests wrapping around the silo and out into the wheat fields. Capacity was also limited since the barn owls bristled when more than several individuals were near the tree at a time. It was soon decided that the stalls would be emptied out and their walls struck down in order to make more space within the structure. Before the additional footage could be utilized, the owls had to be cleared out. The removal was accomplished by a pest control firm that carried the creatures from their home in several dozen steel cages to the delight of those waiting in line. A cheer rang out as the final cage, packed with the creatures and their young, was carried away and the all-clear was given that capacity could be increased without further harassment.

Even with expanded capacity, the continuously growing demand to see the Barn Tree meant that a great many guests spent much of their time outside waiting around with only the sheep to keep them company. The son determined that the animals themselves could be used as a separate attraction in which to reduce congestion. By selling much of the farming equipment and more than half the flock, the remaining farm animals, from the sheep to the horses, were reorganized into a petting zoo in and around the former milk shed. The silo and storage sheds next to the building were soon torn down and dug out to be replaced with food stalls, bathrooms, and picnic tables. Within two years of discovery, the farm ceased to be and instead became a regional attraction.

It was a warm summer evening, the son's favorite time to visit the Barn Tree, when he first noticed leaves on the floor. Their presence out of season was peculiar. Working his way through the crowd that was gasping at the firefly show, he began picking up the dried dead leaves in annoyance at the imperfectness they represented. Thinking little of it, the son reminded the nearest attendant to make sure the area was swept every night.

By the next week, he was notified that some of the tree's branches had snapped overnight. The son rushed to the barn just as his caretaking team were hauling the last bundle out the door, each branch filled with clinging dead leaves. Properly alarmed at this point, he saw that there were now multiple brown and decaying spots marking the canopy in a patchwork.

Every arborist in the state was hired to investigate. A consensus was firmly reached that the construction of facilities around the barn had irreparably damaged the tree's root system. It was expected that the beloved attraction would fade within months due to the general unbalancing of the unique environment that gave rise to the tree in the first place.

Pulling into the empty parking lot a few months later, the sister exited her vehicle and stepped onto the pavement that overlooked the former farm. The sight before her was mortifying and compounded by the fact that she had not been back since the funeral; life always seemed to get in the way. Prior to hearing the disastrous news from her brother, the sister never really had any reason for concern and was more than satisfied with the steady income that flowed from her share.

Everything was unrecognizable except for the red barn, its flaking paint now discernible from the parking lot. The old agricultural buildings that dotted the area during her youth were gone. The silo was gone, its once towering presence leaving a strange absence in the sky. The milk and storage sheds were all gone. In their place were a number of paved pathways snaking their way throughout the property and linking a number of amenities and small amusements that now lay empty.

The farmhouse itself had been cordoned off, with yellow caution tape strewn across the old front porch. It seemed as if a demolition had been planned but recently abandoned. With several of the old brown columns snapped, the porch was also barren of the rockers and swings where the family used to spend their evenings. Cups, plates, and other pieces of trash, emblazoned with a Barn Tree logo, were littered everywhere.

It was the silence that finally caused the sister's heart to hollow in grief. The subtle breeze felt deafening without the bleating of sheep, the rumbling of a tractor, or the galloping of a horse. Losing her balance slightly, the sister felt her daughter tug at her sleeve and subtly nod toward the barn with its door now ajar.

There was no need to go further than the doorway. The sister could clearly see that the oak was no more. What had majestically rose toward the roof was now nothing more than a husk with barren branches and withered leaves. The decline in visitors must have mirrored the rapid decay of the tree. She looked down toward her brother as he sat on the floor with his arms clinging around both knees. He was alone with the consequences of his actions. Their actions.

The trio sat together in silence until the setting sun gave way to a darkness that crept into the barn and snuffed out what little visibility remained. Waiting a few moments, the siblings looked fixedly for any glint of light to appear. The darkness remained, and with it came the final realization that they failed their parents.

Without turning away from the Barn Tree, the son whispered to his niece in a sorrowful tone, "We left you nothing, child."