The Old Farm

Sometimes I wonder about the previous farmers. What was it like for them in the early 1900's managing their cattle farm. Did they like it? Or was it just something they did? Would they be happy we were starting a small farm on the remains of their sprawling one, or would they roll their eyes?

I know from an couple of encounters with a nephew of some of the previous farmers that it wasn't a profitable farm. At least, not at the end. He walked us through the farm house telling us things we knew, "this was the summer kitchen that they incorporated into the rest of the house." and "there used to be a beauty parlor at the other end of the porch" and some things we didn't: "this was the birthing room" (our main bathroom) "My aunt was born here." This same person gave us a photocopy of a photo of our house before the summer kitchen was enclosed, before the dormers were put on, and before the three maples (one now deceased) were planted in front of the house. In that photo there are no cars in the driveway only a few chickens scratching in the ground. He told us that the previous farmer would walk their cattle each year to an auction held 13 miles away and uphill both ways (there is mountainous train to cross over). To us walking that distance seems incredible, but to him I'm sure it was just one more task to complete. We learned that much of main street (which runs past the house) was owned by the Webb Farm at one time, but in order to keep the farm afloat they had to sell bits and pieces off every few years. Of course, most of this we cannot back with actual historical proof (yet), but it is interesting to consider.

I pray we fair better than the previous owners. I think of them often as we remodel the upstairs bathroom. I look at the foot wide boards and wonder if the tree came off the property. I look at Mud Puddle Pond near our garden and think about cattle dipping their noses into it to drink. I look at the unevenness out the outside of the house and wondered if they thought of future generations when they kept adding on. Did they do what they did just to survive, or was there a greater purpose? Were they heartbroken on the day they sold their last head of cattle and sold off the last piece of land? Was it their choice to stop, or did their age bring their farming days to an end?

Dad asked us to think about the future of the farm. Would we keep it up when he and Mom couldn't?  Would we break it apart one more time to build our own  homes?

I would like to think that we could get to a point in the next dozen years where we grew all our food. That we would only need to go to the store to buy that which we couldn't grow: soap, baking things, ect. Personally I don't hold on to the dream that we will be able to profit monetarily from our farm, but I will by no means discouraged anyone from trying.

We look to the future as we lay in new fencing, put up new buildings, refurbish the barn to fit our needs, reclaim the pasture and rework this land into something useful. We do this for a better tomorrow and to pass something useful to the next generation.