There is something supremely beautiful and quiet about shearing sheds, when they are empty. I’ve always thought they are so atmospheric.
When I was younger, I often headed up to the shearing shed on my Nana and Papa’s station and just sit and think, or even walk around and feel the smooth wood, smell the lanolin smell. It might sound weird, but just sitting and absorbing the feeling of the shed, is enough to give me goosebumps.
I spent some of last Sunday cleaning up this particular one. It’s a relic from the past and I feel so sad that it isn’t used to it’s full potential any more.
This photo might look extremely boring to you, but it’s the back of the shed were the sheep are kept, leading up to shearing. This particular one s an eight stand (it can host eight shearers). That means it needs to be able to hold alotta sheep for them. Not many sheds these day would be able to hold one thousand full-wool sheep.
Because cropping is more popular than stock these days, (in my neck of the woods, anyway) this beautiful old shed isn’t being used much (except by us, who agist stock on this farm). And that makes me sad. Such amazing structures not being used.
I almost feel like the shed is achingly sad itself!
Everywhere you look there is glimpses of the past. This table is where the wet wool, or fly struck wool would be dried, then baled. It’s not used any more because this type of wool is usually thought to be of NCV (or No Commercial Value.)
There is beauty in everything but I think a shearing shed, when it’s quiet and reflective, is one of the most beautiful structures on a farm. Imagine the stories it could tell!