Showing posts with label farmhouse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label farmhouse. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 24, 2023

Home sweet farm home

Progressive Dairy asked me to write an article. Here it is:

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There are a lot of memories and nostalgia surrounding a farmhouse, since for generations your family gathered there. Our house is 145 years old, and my kids are the seventh generation in our family to live in it. My great-grandma was born in it, my great-aunt got married in it, my parents improved it, and now it houses three teenage boys who jump to hit every door frame each time they go through a door.

What people often don’t talk about is that, along with the happiness, there are also issues.

Read the rest: Home sweet farm home

Friday, April 20, 2018

Six things you find at a farmer's house

Taken right off the wall for a photo opp
Now that I’ve been on the farm for eleven years … and grew up on a farm … I notice things about farmhouses that I don’t see in every house.  Which of these do you have – farmhouse or no?

Separate entrance
My house is 139 years old, and it has a lovely back entrance directly into … the basement stairs!  As a result, Kris enters the house in his barn clothes, removes them downstairs, and comes upstairs into the rest of the house.  No boots and no barn clothes ever enter our regular living area.  As an added bonus, our washing machine and dryer are down there.  (Yes, the benefits of old houses never end!  Would you like to see the creepy cistern?  The cement walls?  The water that’s designed to drain across the floor like a small river?  The fun never ends!)

The farmers I know that build new houses .., always put in a separate entrance, complete with washer and dryer in the same place!  If you’re coming home from work and you’re not covered with dirt or animal manure, then by all means use the same entrance.  But that brings us to our second one …     

Shoes-off rule
When you’re on a farm, you’re going to get your shoes dirty.  There’s no avoiding it.  Even our driveway is gravel, and our garage isn’t attached.  In farmhouses, you take off your shoes, because chances are, you were working with animals or with mud or somewhere that you don’t want anything tracked into your home.  I allow exactly one person to wear shoes in my house, and that’s Kris’ grandma, because she can do whatever she wants, whenever.  Everyone else?  Leave them at the door. 

People who are used to coming on farms – builders, salesmen, insurance people – they all know it.  Everyone leaves their shoes at the door. 

My friend – who’s a farmer and does not have this same rule – thinks it’s ridiculous that I don’t allow shoes but I go barefoot and my kids go barefoot.  Point taken.  But dirt just doesn’t stick to feet like it does to shoes, and yes, I make my children wash their feet when they come in. 

Freezer full of meat
The meat is here!  We have a stocked freezer, because we have steers.  My kids think chicken and pork are such delicacies because it’s all steak and roasts here, all the time! 

Farmers have their own meat, and they also often fill their freezers with 4-H animals, so people can have a variety.  I remember my mom calling me from work to ask me to take meat out of the freezer to thaw for dinner, and now I thaw meat for my own family.  There’s always something for dinner – even if it’s still frozen.

Barn clothes
When my oldest boys were in kindergarten, we were visiting a friend with a farm.  She called to her kids, “Get your barn coats!”  My son turned to me and asked, “What’s a barn coat?”  The fact that he didn’t know was a testament to how young he was, because of course now they all have barn coats.  And barn boots.  And barn clothes. 

Once you wear your clothes to the barn, they’re pretty much just for the barn.  Clothes never move in and out of that position.  They get relegated to barn status.

Kris will wear jeans until the holes in them are just too big.  He will wear shirts from races we’ve done a decade ago.  The boys wear the ugliest clothes they own, which are so perfect for the barn and nothing else other than the rag pile.  My friend had a ‘farmer day’ at school, and she sent me pictures, and she was wearing the exact boots I wear to the barn.  Such accuracy! 

Farm truck
Most likely, there will be a truck parked outside a farmhouse.  I don’t know how you do some things without a truck, like picking up a calf.  It’d be hard to put it in a regular car, but I’ve seen it on the internet!  The farm truck is filled with every tool that you will ever need.  Everything is in there.  If the world is ending, run for a farm truck, because it has everything you need to survive.

Random antique implements
This is standard in a farmhouse, mine included.  Bale hooks, ice tongs, saws, pulleys, you name it – you can find it on a farmhouse wall.  I even hang some of my great grandma’s wooden kitchen tools on my wall as decoration … and then pluck them off to use them when I bake pies!  (That was the most domestic sounding sentence I’ve ever written.  Thank you.)  I inherited my farm implements when my parents moved out of my house and I moved in, and we keep adding to them, like when my children find them in the haymow or granary or pasture or possibly, the farm truck.

Our houses are weird and wonderful, or as people say, they have a lot of character.  They’re full of character!  I love my house and on our farm, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.  And I’d say that even if it didn’t have a pool.  Maybe. 

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Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Farmhouse bug

We live in an old farmhouse. I chose to live here, so I don’t have many complaints, but this year the boxelder bugs are awful.

Stage one, or education: Look, boys, a boxelder bug. They don’t bite. Use this tissue and pick it up and put it in the trash.

Stage two, or familiarity: My boys made Lego apartments for the boxelder bugs. I asked Ty to throw one away and he told me no, it was his pet. I told him then he would never run out of pets.

Stage three, or mild annoyance: There seem to be a lot. We start flicking them away from us or at each other.

Stage four, or major annoyance: A friend was coming over and there were so many at that moment that I started counting them as I picked them up. There were too many to fit into one tissue. Moved to using wet wipes.

Stage five, or wet wipes cost too much: Every time you turn around, you see one. I got out the vacuum cleaner and left it in the living room for easy access. What a nice, decorative addition!

Stage six, or involving the kids: We also got out our handy bug vacuum, which sucks up and kills the bugs. My sons took over and used it at least 20 times a day.

Stage seven, or declaration of war: One tried to eat Kris’ grapefruit. One perched on my adorable baby’s head. Kris resealed the front door to help prevent this next year.

Stage eight, or the stage I didn’t know existed until right now: As I’m typing this, one just flew into my forehead and fell on my keyboard. Worst of all? I wasn’t even surprised.

I blamed it all on my house, and how living here is a lot like living outside. Boxelder bugs aren’t just on boxelders, they also love maple trees. My house is also smack dab in the middle of giant, buggy maple trees.

Then, a happy moment! Today on Facebook a friend posted: “Dear Boxelder Bugs, I didn’t mind sharing my home with you at first, but you have taken advantage of the situation. You have moved in by the hundreds. Please leave or I will resort to squishing you.”

Why does this make me happy? Because she lives in a brand new house in a brand new neighborhood. It’s not my old farmhouse’s fault after all. I don’t feel so alone!

Not that I ever feel that alone. Not with all these pets around.