Box 250

Of course you know that seeing a sunrise from an unobstructed view is only exceeded by viewing a ravishing sunset.  We are at the farm now, our four acres of land and the farmhouse are waiting impatiently for our attention.

But wait, did you know that some mornings the dew sits in great clusters on top of the clover creating a field of diamonds?  Did you know that you can hear the corn fields alive with a thousand whispers when the soft breeze blows?  Did you know that trees hug back?

Without our, Imax dream glasses, the farmhouse looked like something from an Alfred Hitchcock film. The house and grounds had not been tended for eleven years.  It was quite a large house that displayed readily the vestiges of powdery white paint that mother nature leaves on weather beaten houses.  The groundhogs fought their eviction mightily.  The birds chirped and squeaked their displeasure at moving out of the biggest bird house in their cosmos.

It was– sacred space– as we walked through the house quietly that first time together.  We knew that we were the second family to live on this property.  The present house was built upon the beams of the original log cabin.  The prior residents (not the owners) had purchased the property from, William Penn. This was a good ‘property marriage’ since the children moving in could trace without exception, a direct line to the kin who also purchased land from William Penn along the Cocalico Creek.

The grounds had to be cleared of all manner of rubble.  The father cautioned care in not tossing things away.  We needed to salvage the old nails which were antiques.  Some of these nails were used in the refurbishing of our farmhouse.  All antique window glass was treated with respect and used when possible.  If not possible then put aside carefully for future use.  The tobacco barn was itself an antique with an arched basement where the tobacco was stripped when dry.  We who did not grow tobacco, used it as a wine cellar.  But, of course, we grew French Hybrid grapes and sold them to wine makers.  Mom remembers driving loads of grapes to the nearest winery in that old pickup truck.

While removing thicket  and debris, we discovered it to be a stone foundation of what might have been an old greenhouse..  We all pitched in to dismantle this ancient foundation of field stone.  We then piled these rugged stones in great stacks.  Those great stacks of field stone were transformed into a beautiful fireplace in the living room that had a chimney  on the outside exactly three inches above the roof peak so that there would be no down-draft. Over a period of twenty years, friends piled into that living room to celebrate Christmas Eve and many other occasions.

We were magnificent.  The first summer, in addition to restoring the house, a huge garden was planted.  Enough food grew in that garden to feed, Napoleon’s Army.  All these garden wonders had to be canned or frozen. Then there were the eight sassy Leghorn Hens that laid their eggs wherever they wished.  We were, you see, indulgent City Folk.  Later, we felt that the hens should have a rooster that we named, Rufus.. That rooster was the meanest libertine any hens had to put up with.  As a matter of fact he was the meanest rooster on  earth and attacked any of us who came remotely close to him.  The father managed to stare that rooster down until that day when the rooster  went into attack mode after, dad.  That rooster was stew the next day.

More  another day.

I

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~ by mosswood on April 20, 2012.

One Response to “Box 250”

  1. Smiling…thank you for the memories. I look forward to each and every post.

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