The Dairy Barn

Measurements: approximately ~5" × 5" × 5"

It was never just a barn. It was how they made their living.

Every morning, he led the cows from the pasture into the timbered stalls. Broad-shouldered, weathered, a man who smelled faintly of hay and woodsmoke. She walked beside him, apron tied neatly, humming as she carried pails that clinked in rhythm with her steps. Together, they worked — hands red with cold, laughter muffled under the low rafters.

The barn stood firm against snowdrifts and storms, beams blackened with age, doors carved by hand. Above the stalls, a loft stacked high with golden hay.

At dusk, lanterns glowed from its windows, a signal across the valley that the day’s labor was done. They would sit on a rough-hewn bench outside, mugs of fresh milk in hand, watching the cows settle into the rhythm of evening.

Small handcrafted wooden barn. No two are exactly alike.