Restoration with Love
A farm comes back to life
It must have something to do with the aging process and the loss of my last parent. Becoming a grandparent and considering my legacy definitely come into play. It has everything to do with the need to go home; the need to preserve and embrace a tired and almost lost chapter in the story of my childhood. With a new-found sense of urgency, I know I must somehow rescue the barn!
As a young man returning from his tour of duty in Europe during WWII, my father made plans to move his young family to 50 acres in Indiana, land that had been in our family since 1897. Very soon after building a small house, the next natural step of getting established as a farmer was to build a barn. With help from his brother, Dad built the gambrel-roof barn in 1950. By the time I was born in 1956, a herd of registered Polled Hereford cattle were the occupants of the barn. As a child, I climbed into the haymow and threw the bales down; I walked down the manger shaking flakes of hay and dumping feed in boxes, occasionally giving a quick pat to a pretty white head. I threw straw in the stalls for bedding, shelled corn in the crib for the pony, encouraged the goat to stand on the sill, and bucket-fed the neighbor’s orphaned calf, all as a part of who we were and what we did. |
After leaving home and getting married, I found myself raising my family in town. All of those memories and chores that shaped me were left behind and gave way to a life of raising active children and pursuing a career.
Dad died suddenly in 1976. The livestock and all that was required to care for them were gone. Over the next 30 years, the barn became an empty shell housing the memories of what used to be. It became the place to park the mower and pile unwanted junk. Sometimes Mom would go out and “clean”, trying to make sense of it all. She lived in the house on the farm as long as she was able, moving to assisted living in 2001. |

In 2002 my husband, Rick, and I purchased a nearby farm and moved just 2 miles away from my old home place, which we then acquired after my mother’s death in 2007. To my dismay, I would drive by our barn every day and witness the slow decay. I only had to walk through to feel the loneliness. If the walls could talk, I knew they would ask for someone to help. I knew the walls were looking for someone to come to the rescue before they suffered the same fate of the neighbor’s old dairy barn: demolished and burned after rotting and crumbling away.
One day in the summer of 2010 Rick suggested harvesting a few of the poplar trees on our farm. He too had been silently upset by the state of the old barn. He explained how we could have lumber cut. He measured and calculated the linear footage that would be needed. He knew that refurbishing the barn would bring back the respect it deserved. Together, we began to explore the idea of rejuvenating the old barn!
That autumn, the trees were carefully harvested – hauled out with a skidder and taken to a local sawmill. Four months later, the lumber was delivered to the home place, unloaded and put inside the old barn to await a break in the weather.
In February 2011, with tears running down my cheeks, I pulled the first old board off of the barn. With his arm around my shoulder, Rick said, “We don’t have to do this, we can stop right now.” But I knew we were to the point of no return. That afternoon, while I worked to remove boards, Rick began measuring and cutting, one board at a time. I would help “hold” so he could drill a pilot hole and secure the new lumber with screws. The hard part was behind me now; we were moving forward with the preservation of the barn and the preservation of memories.
That February afternoon was the first day in what would ultimately become an 18 month project. Rick would work when the weather wasn’t too cold, too rainy or too hot. I would help when my schedule allowed, which wasn’t very often. Our small grandsons would frequently “help”, and that was good too! Our goal was to finish the barn in 2012.
“It’s slow going,” Rick would say to the neighbors who often commented on the progress of the renovation. Occasionally during warm weather neighbors would stop and walk through, amazed at how “good it was looking.” Paul, who has lived his entire 68 years just a couple of miles down the road, said, after church one Sunday, “It sure is good to see you fixin’ up Ham’s barn.” I hadn't thought of my Dad being called “Ham” for decades! Another neighbor and his wife, both in their 80’s, stopped one day just to say, “Thanks for caring.”
The east side was done – complete with a barn quilt given to us as a gift from my brother. The south side was fitted with beautiful stalls with gates. The side facing the house was dressed-up using the old hardware from the original doors. The corncrib door was remade with slats, just as it was when it held ear corn. In the spring, a neighbor who owns a small construction business made a big improvement by roofing it with new tin. At last, August 2012, Rick built and hung the last sliding door.
The barn is now alive with new occupants – a herd of 22 Miniature Herefords! The birthing stalls were well used the last two summers with the arrival of calves. The new bull was unloaded in the barn as well. The drive-through protects the round bales from weather, and the hay loft keeps this year’s square bales. Chickens bring life to the barn lot, once laying 44 eggs under a round bale before being discovered!
The farmhouse is now home to daughter Amy, her husband Michael, and their young sons, Gus and Jonah. Instead of cobwebs and echoes, the barn is now filled with energy and chatter and an occasional moo! There is talk of goats for the boys in the spring. I’m wondering if they will stand on the sill.
The barn is rescued! That chapter in my life is not lost. It has been lovingly preserved, and I am way too busy creating memories to feel empty.
One day in the summer of 2010 Rick suggested harvesting a few of the poplar trees on our farm. He too had been silently upset by the state of the old barn. He explained how we could have lumber cut. He measured and calculated the linear footage that would be needed. He knew that refurbishing the barn would bring back the respect it deserved. Together, we began to explore the idea of rejuvenating the old barn!
That autumn, the trees were carefully harvested – hauled out with a skidder and taken to a local sawmill. Four months later, the lumber was delivered to the home place, unloaded and put inside the old barn to await a break in the weather.
In February 2011, with tears running down my cheeks, I pulled the first old board off of the barn. With his arm around my shoulder, Rick said, “We don’t have to do this, we can stop right now.” But I knew we were to the point of no return. That afternoon, while I worked to remove boards, Rick began measuring and cutting, one board at a time. I would help “hold” so he could drill a pilot hole and secure the new lumber with screws. The hard part was behind me now; we were moving forward with the preservation of the barn and the preservation of memories.
That February afternoon was the first day in what would ultimately become an 18 month project. Rick would work when the weather wasn’t too cold, too rainy or too hot. I would help when my schedule allowed, which wasn’t very often. Our small grandsons would frequently “help”, and that was good too! Our goal was to finish the barn in 2012.
“It’s slow going,” Rick would say to the neighbors who often commented on the progress of the renovation. Occasionally during warm weather neighbors would stop and walk through, amazed at how “good it was looking.” Paul, who has lived his entire 68 years just a couple of miles down the road, said, after church one Sunday, “It sure is good to see you fixin’ up Ham’s barn.” I hadn't thought of my Dad being called “Ham” for decades! Another neighbor and his wife, both in their 80’s, stopped one day just to say, “Thanks for caring.”
The east side was done – complete with a barn quilt given to us as a gift from my brother. The south side was fitted with beautiful stalls with gates. The side facing the house was dressed-up using the old hardware from the original doors. The corncrib door was remade with slats, just as it was when it held ear corn. In the spring, a neighbor who owns a small construction business made a big improvement by roofing it with new tin. At last, August 2012, Rick built and hung the last sliding door.
The barn is now alive with new occupants – a herd of 22 Miniature Herefords! The birthing stalls were well used the last two summers with the arrival of calves. The new bull was unloaded in the barn as well. The drive-through protects the round bales from weather, and the hay loft keeps this year’s square bales. Chickens bring life to the barn lot, once laying 44 eggs under a round bale before being discovered!
The farmhouse is now home to daughter Amy, her husband Michael, and their young sons, Gus and Jonah. Instead of cobwebs and echoes, the barn is now filled with energy and chatter and an occasional moo! There is talk of goats for the boys in the spring. I’m wondering if they will stand on the sill.
The barn is rescued! That chapter in my life is not lost. It has been lovingly preserved, and I am way too busy creating memories to feel empty.