Old Barns, Red Barns and the Stories They Tell

By Sandy Black

Author Sandy Black weaves Old fashioned storytelling through the eyes and voices of Old and Red Barns, the resident cats, and their families. History and humor help tell the unknown stories of barns that dot the American landscape in hopes that the reader might just ‑and that driving past old barns may never look the same.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MainSpring Books
• Release date: May 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781641337144

Sandy Black

Sandy Black is a recognized expert on knitting, both by hand and machine. As designer and director of the successful Sandy Black Original Knits label from the late 1970s to the 1980s, Sandy sold her innovative fashion knitwear to prestigious stores in the USA, Japan, Italy, Germany, Australia, Canada and the UK. After twenty years in business, she became a university lecturer, leading undergraduate and postgraduate academic programmes in textiles and fashion in Brighton and London. She has written pioneering books on knitwear in fashion, the socio-cultural history and technical evolution of knitting. Sandy is currently Professor of Fashion and Textile Design and Technology in the Centre for Sustainable Fashion, London College of Fashion, University of the Arts London.

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Copyright © 2022 by Sandy Black.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-64133-714-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022904728

2022.04.01

MainSpring Books

5901 W. Century Blvd

Suite 750

Los Angeles, CA, US, 90045

www.mainspringbooks.com

The Five Children Whose Names All Start with the Same Letter

It’s cloudy and a carefree day. The combines can be heard across the fields working their way to our small farm. Kitty Mom, I wish you would stop moving those kittens around, you’re gonna wear their little necks out! No one’s going to hurt them!

What’s that noise? Sounds like Mr. Crensall in his old truck coming up the lane. The carburetor and muffler sound as if they are in their usual need of repair. Mr. Crensall and his family have owned this farm for nearly a century. The old house has not seen life for nearly twenty years. He comes down to check on us once in a while to make sure no four-legged or two-legged intruders decide to take up residence. Mrs. Crensall, before she passed, would bring Kitty Mom some milk in a tin pie plate.

Wait a minute . . . there’s someone in the truck with Mr. Crensall. Kitty Mom, O’possum, come here. There’s a lady getting out of the truck. She is going inside the house, and then walked all around. She is smiling, and now she is pointing at me. I can’t hear what she is saying, but I heard, Tomorrow Mr. Blyck and the children will come over.

Did you hear that, Kitty Mom—children! Oh my, I know I’m not going to sleep a wink tonight.

The sun is shining and I can see a spattering of white clouds. Hurry up, Kitty Mom. Now you listen—you need to be on your best behavior. No hissing. O’possum, you might want to stay awake to see this since we know you only pretend to sleep most of the time anyway. Listen up, everybody! I hear cars coming up the lane. Oh my goodness! Oh my, I can’t believe my eyes! Mrs. Blyck brought her husband, and—just a minute, I’m counting—oh, a little blonde girl who has a pink bow in her hair and pink socks, and oh my, one, two, three, four boys are tumbling out of the car and running in all directions."

I hear Mr. Blyck talking to Mr. Crensall about buying the old house and land. Hey, look over here, look at me! I have a hay mow for hide-and-seek, I have stalls for horses, even a rope to swing.

Buy me, too.

Mr. Blyck is looking at me. He smokes a