Down it goes!

We own a blessed little chunk, 14 acres, of land in Central Michigan.  I jokingly say “between somewhere and nowhere, and it’s a wonderful thing.”  I refer to it as The Farm, but call it HOME.

The Farm really isn’t much of a faarrrmmm.  It’s more of “we have this land, lets enjoy it.  Lets try it.” It is “old” at the bones.  But it all has “new” skin.  A full body “face lift.”  It has charm.  I like to think it has a history, a story. 

This is what she looked like when we decided to love ‘er.

We tore her down.  To the bones.  Ripped out her guts.  All of them, her heart, stomach, and central nervous system.  Then we infused her with all our love, and built her into someplace spectacular.  A place to raise our family.  A place to call HOME.

My ubber talented, and nostalgia-guided, husband decided his next mission was to salvage the vintage Farm barn.  It was going to need a HUGE amount of patience, time, devotion, money, and imagination.  We found a wonderful man in our area who’s “hobby” is to restore these old barns to their original glory.  After consulting with him, husband had a plan.  He devoted the first few winters to pulling her back in, bringing it straight and tall.  New rafters were built.  Cables installed across the upper floor to pull the sides in tight.  (to “put a belt on her”, so to speak) It really started to look like the project was coming together.  About year 4, we made the leap to purchase all new metal for the ‘ol girl with the hopes that the time was nearing for a new roof. 

And then, on spring, summer and fall came and passed.  Winter was rough.  Snow was heavy.  All of the tightening and straightening we had done was starting to fail.  Gravity was taking over.  I was devastated.  Husband was devastated.  We made the decision, reluctantly, that we could no longer keep ahead of the pace of the Evil Deterioration. 

So over this past winter, we came to peace with the fact that the ‘ol girl had to be taken down, put out of her misery. (insert sadness, devastation, and denial here)

Well……  this is what I found in my drive way this past Friday.

 

The excavator.

The symbol of destruction.

 

 

 

Now, this is the landscape of The Farm.

Here is some shots of the process. (insert sadness, devastation and denial)

And now, its all in one big PILE.

One huge heap!

One monstrous disaster.

One sad Wife.

 

One one positive note, if there is one, our wonderful excavator was able to save my cupola.  He said he wasn’t sure how it survived.  It dropped 40+ feet vertically, and 40+ feet horizontally from its home.  I was giddy!  I told him it was meant to stay at The Farm.  It was its HOME.  I can’t wait to clean it up and put it atop the chicken coop.  It will always have a HOME at The Farm, just a new location.  :)

Well that’s all.  I’m going to go cry my eyes out now.

Sad tidings and love from The Farm.