The house has undergone some remodeling and updating in recent years. It was just a few years ago that running water and indoor "facilities" were installed. Don't be shocked, no one has actually lived in the house for longer than I have been alive. Prior to the indoor plumbin' upgrade, there was an outhouse...that is until one year at Halloween it got stolen and wound up elsewhere. Growing up, my sister and I would go out with my grandparents and great-grandparents to help in the garden, mess around out in the pastures and by the ponds, and to have incredible meals in the kitchen. For many years, there was a big wood burning heating stove in the front room and a ginormous (to my little kid eyes) wood cookstove in the kitchen...please note that if you fall against said stove while running around the table, you WILL get burned!
The farm was homesteaded by my family in 1861. In recent years, the acreage has been decreased due to "progress" aka new regional airport.
It seems that it takes three men to fix one gate post.
The best dog in the world, Molly, is buried under the tree on the left. She had to be put down five years ago. The boys and I decided the best place for her was the farm. She loved coming here and having the freedom to run unleashed and chase cows. We covered her grave with the overturned wheelbarrow.
At the risk of going all "Scarlet O'Hara/Tara-esque" on you...the farm is a part of my soul. To me, it represents family history, traditions, and is the embodiment of all that I believe in: a simple life full of hard work, laughter, family, self-reliance, avoidance of unnecessary fake trappings of fake/commercial life. It was a place of refuge for me in recent years when I needed time and space to contemplate changes for my life. It is a sanctuary. I am blessed to be fortunate enough to have access to such a place.