Quilt on the Barn

As we continue to celebrate our Gambrel barn turning 100 years old, a special feature worth sharing is the story of our barn quilt.
Often when we think of quilts, what comes to mind are intricately patterned fabrics lovingly stitched in geometric designs on Grandmother’s bed. Every piece tells a story and ever stitch is filled with time, care, and love. Barn quilts also require a fine sense of detail and historicity, but the mediums are different—plywood and paint instead of fabric and thread. But just as comforting quilts have a rich past, so too does the barn quilt.
The first use of barn quilts dates approximately 300 years ago in Pennsylvania amidst Dutch settlements. At this time, paint was expensive, so barns typically went unpainted—weathering to a natural gray, like ours. Artistic inclinations have a way of sprouting forth despite all obstacles, and color found a way to distinguish barns by the addition of painted quilt squares in prominent locations on the barn’s exterior. Their popularity made it customary to give directions by using the names of the quilt squares on individual barns.
“Once you reach snail’s trail, keep to the right until you see the drunkard’s path. Then you’ll have reached the Mason farm.”
Like Old Time fiddle tunes, each quilt block has a unique name that refers to its history, creation, or the imaginative nature of its initial maker. And, not unlike fiddle tunes, while many blocks may appear similar to the casual eye, careful study will show interesting variations and new twists on basic shapes like triangles, rectangles, and squares. The patterns used in quilting are inseparable from the physics of piecing bits of fabric together to form a coherent whole that still lays flat when finished, and barn quilt patterns keep to these traditional boundaries, including using established block names.
My Aunt Jana (who grew up on the prairie in Nebraska) has a particular fondness for barn quilts—emailing me pictures of her latest finds. And when, as an inter-generational family project, we decided to create our own barn quilt, it was the name that inspired the final pattern choice. Since 1968, when my grandparents purchased the homestead from the Fullington family, this place has always been called “North Star,” which influenced the farm’s official name as North Star Homestead. When Jana discovered that there was a North Star quilt block, it seemed like a perfect fit.
Legend says that during the time of the Underground Railroad, fugitive slaves could spot a “safe house” on their journey by watching to see if there was a quilt hanging on the porch with the North Star pattern. This idea of signifying a safe haven also felt like a harmonious match with our farm’s ethos of stewardship.
The age of the Underground Railroad came at about the same time that paint became cheap, and barns were seldom left to weather into silvery gray anymore. A particular shade of red, as well as a crisp white, happened to be the most economical, and they subsequently coated many a barn across the country. With the coming of cheap paints and the rise of the advertising industry, it became popular among some farmers to sport advertisements (in exchange for monetary compensation) on the sides of their painted barns, rather than the antiquated barn quilts.
But just as fashions have their cycles, so too did the beautiful barn quilts. But this time, instead of originating in New England, the resurgence of barn quilts came from the American Heartland—the Great Planes states, Iowa, and other parts of the Midwest. Many counties in Wisconsin now have maps for taking barn quilt tours, and new barn quilts can be seen on our rolling country lanes every year. While the early pieces distinguished families making a new start in a New World, today’s quilts honor the efforts of women in agriculture throughout history as well as today. Grandmother’s quilts may have worn to tatters, but the memory of her loving hands endures.After a family reunion painting project, it was time to raise that North Star block onto our barn. Often, this is done with the assistance of a cherry picker, but we used a more homegrown solution. Our friend and contractor Jon Sorensen erected scaffolding in front of the barn, fastened a pulley just below the roof, and screwed metal straps to the top of the barn quilt. A sturdy rope was tied to the quilt, threaded up through the pulley, and then affixed to the back of our trusty farm ATV. It was precarious and nerve-wracking, especially with all those tedious coats of paint at risk of being scuffed, but we were ready.
Jon, his son Kyle, and my sister Kara supported the quilt between the barn and the scaffolding and gave my mother and me the “all clear.” We inched the ATV forward a little…then a little more…then a little bit more…as we watched the quilt ease its way up and up and up. Kyle and Kara crawled like squirrels amidst the scaffolding, and Jon was ready with his power drill to secure the barn quilt in place once we reached the top. Everyone breathed deeply and shook their hands free of tension after all was safe.
Years later, the barn quilt is still an iconic part of our historic barn, and we created a slightly smaller version that adorns the front of Farmstead Creamery. So next time you spot a barn quilt, see if you can learn a little more about its unique story. Now you know a bit more about ours. See you down on the farm sometime.