Why yes, I was. Literally.
After my family moved to North Carolina in 1990, they spent a year in a rental house before deciding to buy a farm. Being that my mother was a horse-woman, and my father is familiar with construction, they sank their teeth into a huge project: A 24 stall red tin Saddlebred barn. They remodeled the entire facility in the English Tudor style and made huge landscaping changes, as well as adding a second sand arena to the surrounding property. Thus began my mother’s long career in selling and breeding horses.
The farm before getting remodeled- house sticking out on left
What was most unusual about the barn though, was the house that was attached to it. A hallway within the house led you to a door that opened up into the center of the barn, which essentially winged out with 12 stalls in each direction. This was an exceptionally convenient set up for a breeding facility, as my mother used to put heavily pregnant mares in the stalls that shared her bedroom wall. I can remember many sleepy nights being woken up to come watch foals being born. This convenience also led to certain mischief, up to an including walking my Shetland pony up the stairs and into the house once. Thank goodness she didn’t poop!
The barn/house – the windows on the right wing denote stalls that were turned into a lab after we left
At a certain point in time, as seems to happen, my brother and I got to the age where sharing a room was no longer ideal. Probably my parents were sick of hearing us bickering all the time. The solution? Take a stall and turn it into my bedroom.
A bird’s eye view. House = green; my bedroom = pink
Don’t worry, I didn’t sleep on stacks of hay bales (though I probably would have been happy to). The stall was properly dry-walled and carpeted and painted a pukey shade of pink that befits most young girls. My memories of living in the stall bedroom are many- hearing the clip clop of horse being walked down the asphalt aisle behind the wall, many nights hearing barn cats running in the hay lofts over my head, and various creatures (including a bat) making their way into my bedroom and catching me unaware.
My mother always used to joke that I was the one girl who really did grow up in a barn. Partial truth that may be, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.
Red on the Right 