Even though my main purpose of doing the taxes has been unfulfilled, my trip to The Farm hasn’t been for naught. I’ve been reading and knitting. And, I’ve been figuring out a way to send my posts as a sort of newsletter via email. There’s some prep work on my end before that becomes a reality, but I made some progress yesterday. With the way Facebook’s algorithms so haphazardly send my posts to people, many just are not receiving them. This might be a great solution. If you are interested in receiving these emails, you can scroll down on my website to the box that says “Become a Rancher” and register your email if you haven’t done so already. Thanks so much, y’all. You can help this little project grow by spreading the word to friends and family. I really appreciate it!

I snapped a picture of the treasures I found in the old smokehouse. None of it is worth a thing to anyone save for the memories they bring to mind. There’s the bottom half of an old wooden box. And look at those welding goggles! I remember my Pop-Pop wearing those when he welded something on the old Model A that he turned into a farm truck. I’ll never forget that summer day in 1969 when he let me drive it down to the road and back. He wouldn’t let my boyfriend drive it because he didn’t trust his “lead foot.” 

It was a temperamental beast. It didn’t have a muffler and when you cranked it up, it went “Crack! Crack! Crack!” You could hear Pop-Pop coming from way back on the hill. We had family come from Illinois that summer and it was a big deal to pile as many people in the back as we could and go for a ride back to see the old home place. The road was SO steep, we had to lay down in the truck bed with our feet on the tail gait. In some places we were nearly standing up!

We had rain all night and most of the morning yesterday. I could hear the water roaring over the waterfalls up behind the barn so I grabbed my phone and went up to get some pictures. Along the way, there was a Mylar balloon stuck on some rocks in the creek. We’re ten miles from nowhere here so who knows where that thing started its journey. I walked the length of the creek to the road. There’s the frame of an old walking bridge that led to the garden across the creek and it’s rusted and sunk down several feet into the creek itself. There were all kinds of limbs, trees, mud and rocks caught up in it. The creek was running really high, so I got the shovel and worked on it awhile. I finally broke through enough to let the water rush out and in about fifteen minutes it was down by a foot. Crisis averted.

There’s always something that needs doing here, and even though my family doesn’t own it anymore, I’m still the caretaker and do whatever I can to keep it up. I try to breathe life into the old girl, but I’m sure you’ve seen old houses that just die when their people are gone. I’ve seen it happen a lot here because it’s so damp and all. But I honestly think a home has a spirit of sorts and when its usefulness has passed, it just fades away. I hope to keep her as habitable as I can for as long as I’m able.

There is one thing about this house that has always been a problem. It is so poorly insulated that it’s either too hot or too cold. The furnace kicks off and on all night and it’s located in the basement right underneath the bedroom I sleep in. I kept turning the electric blanket up and down all night. It’s only bothersome in the winter. There’s no air conditioning in the summer. Grandma used to open the back door and the front door and a cool breeze would come right down the holler. She called it “nature’s air conditioner.”

The screen doors still squeak and slam shut with a bang. The sound of the rain on the roof is the same now as it was the very first time my mama carried me across the threshold into Grandma’s waiting arms. She would rock me and sing “Bye oh, bye oh…baby bye” to the tune of Rock of Ages. I, in turn, did the same with my children, my grandchildren, and now the great grandchildren. My kids remember summer trips here, but my grandkids don’t really have an interest in West Virginia. They are Colorado kids, born and raised. They’re a different breed.

I am so blessed to have had this extra time visiting my past. I know full well most don’t have this opportunity and I am truly grateful to Frank and Beans for allowing me the courtesy. I’ve had my “farm fix” for a while and I’m ready to head back home today. Mr. FixIt is anxiously awaiting my return. I need to cook him a really good meal tonight!

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”By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.“

Proverbs 24:3-4 NIV