BUILDING A NEW BARN

I sure have missed Hardscrabble Farmer’s wisdom, perspective and truth over the last few weeks. But it was worth the wait. Enjoy.

Last night I dreamed of buildings. In the dream they were on our farm- a church, a small theater, a haunted house we had once looked at before we bought our place. I went from one to the other examining the flaws and estimating for repairs; rotten framing, new coat of paint, leaky pipes that ran inside the walls. I was overwhelmed by the amount of work ahead of me and in each building were groups of people I didn’t know, a cluster of young girls waiting to dance at a recital, college boys gathered in knots by a fire escape, old men and women in recliners on the porch watching the evening sky.

Everyone nodded at me as I made my way from job to job and at one point an old friend I haven’t seen in years asked me to help him move a fawn across a large field to the safety of the forest before someone accidentally hit it with their car. I remember clearly the mood of the dream- it was neither ethereal nor fantastic, but mundane and simple. I was required to fix what was broken, to make the repairs and work while others went about their lives doing what was expected of them. I recall my work clothes and tools, the turkey leg someone offered me to eat, the fact that nighttime was approaching and there was still so much work left undone.

When I came downstairs this morning it was not quite light but you could see the water vapor ascending from the surface of the pond like a pillar of smoke, obscuring the lower pasture in a lavender haze. I made my coffee and thought about my dream while it was fresh in my mind.

A couple of years ago while we were visiting our family for Christmas the barn burned down. The shock of that loss has long since passed, but the memories of what people did for us remains the clearest and most profound artifact of that event. It took me six hours of driving at speeds that should have landed me in jail to reach the smoldering ruin of what had once housed innumerable possessions and lives. The firemen were wrapping things up, a few of them were hosing off the last of the smoking hay bales that continued to burn, and where that beautiful barn had once stood was nothing more than a blackened pile of ash and twisted metal.

When I got out of the car I was surrounded by neighbors who all seemed to want to hug me and hold me as if that would help fix what was lost. It was already getting dark and as I stood there trying to come to grips with what had happened I noticed a steady stream of pickup trucks ascending the hill, filled with hay bales for our animals. I knew some of the people, casually, but most were strangers to me. This outpouring of concern and unfettered kindness continued for days. In the morning there would be casserole dishes and boxes of baked goods left on the porch, notes tacked to the front door wishing us well, checks in the mail from people we’d met only once or twice. That night as the last of the firemen headed off to their trucks my oldest son stood at the head of the driveway and shook each hand, one by one and thanked them for saving our house.

The past month has been busy for all of us. We have spread composted manure and planted grass seed in the new pasture, brought in enough timber to split fifty more cords of firewood and make boards for the new equipment shed. We’ve slaughtered of the last of the goats and chickens for the year and filled the freezers. We’ve pickled and canned and hayed and dried more than enough to carry our family and livestock through another New England Winter. We’ve set new fence posts and split oak rails to line them.

Through all of this we’ve managed to celebrate birthdays, go to concerts at the harbor, repaint bedrooms, build shelves together, make models, fire rockets, train the new puppy to the livestock, enjoy visits from friends and neighbors, keep to our Friday date night ritual and enjoy every minute together.Through all of this the things we do not concern ourselves with are what celebrities do, what happened to that plane, that football team, that politician, that foreign country, investments, the economy, McDonald’s annual sales, amnesty for 8, 11, 20 or 50 million foreign invaders or a host of other unpleasant and doomy thoughts. These things will continue apace with or without our input or opinion. Our concerns are local because that is how we live and that is our reality.

I am not unaware of where we are heading and I wish it were different, but one of the few things in life that cannot be altered is the time we are born into. This is the phase of a nation in decline and we are along for the ride whether we like it or not. The only thing we can control is what we decide to do with our time and who we decide to spend it with. Most people aren’t aware of where their food comes from never mind where we are going and they will likely remain that way for the rest of their lives.

Others sense that something is wrong but won’t make the changes required to prepare themselves for the inevitable. Fewer still have done the hard work of examining the details, of studying the data and relating it to the lessons of history in a way that puts things into perspective, but even these people remain tied to the modern world in a death grip, holding on to the things they think will allow them to escape the coming storm without having to change a thing.

Our decision to walk away from our old life was also a decision to walk towards a new one. Our plans are not based entertainment and escape, but on labor and reality. We no longer depend on other people far away to satisfy our dietary needs, but produce what we eat from our own soil, with our own hands. Rather than be identified as consumers, we think of ourselves as producers. We value the time we spend with our children and each other above all else and it it is far more satisfying than any other distraction or purchase could ever be. The time we give to various friends and neighbors to help with things they cannot do alone could never come close to what they have done for us with their casseroles and hay bales, never mind the risks they took when they fought the fire in our barn and saved our home.

The barn contained a lot more than hay and equipment. I had built a small studio where I could paint when I had the time and it contained all the drawings and paintings I had done over the course of the last thirty five or forty years. I had also stored my Mother’s possessions that I hadn’t the heart to go through after her death, stacked neatly in boxes waiting for a time when I could. There were mason jars filled with heirloom seeds passed to me from at least five generations in my family past and all of it is gone now, ashes to ashes. Such is life.

The Sun is up now and sky is clear and down in the pasture near the pond the cattle are grazing, heads down to the sweet grass. There are sounds of my children moving in the house, getting ready for another day and they are happy sounds in my ears. I have more work to do today than I can possibly accomplish, but I look forward to that particular kind of human failing. The old barn is long gone, but we built a new one with timber we harvested ourselves, with the labor of our friends and family and I think it is a fine one. I also think that I understand my dream last night, what prompted it and where it came from and if anyone could ever truly say that dreams come true, I believe that I can.

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Francis Marion
Francis Marion

Another great pice HSF. Thanks for what you do.

GilbertS
GilbertS

Sounds kind of like my morning! I woke up early. It was chilly, but I had to do the chores, too. I don’t have a barn or acreage, merely a sub-quarter acre in a suburbs, but there are still things to be done at O-darkthirty. it’s garbage day, so I cleaned out the animals’ boxes (2 cats) and dumped the waste in an empty litter box in the trash. I took out the trash. Cleaned out some old stuff in the fridge and dumped that, too. Then, instead of my usual cold cereal, I cooked some eggs and some bacon and Canadian bacon I got from Hardscrabble. Ohhhh man, was that good!

Thanks for the bacon-it was a great way to start the day!

Ronnie Rudd
Ronnie Rudd

We also live on a farm, produce and stay vigilant. Too much of our time has been squandered gazing into the terrible future and squirming in the present. The wisdom of loving family and abiding in the here and now resounds. Our eyes are increasingly turned toward God and our prayers are less lamentation and more worship. There is a knowing, an inevitability that in the end all is well…as is the journey.

Tommy
Tommy

I woke up, one kid was angry and pissy about something, one is doing homework that was ‘done….totally’ the night before, stubbed my toe, cut myself shaving, had one of our dogs growl at me when I moved him off my side of the bed, left early because of the slow driving shithead boomers I’d surely follow through a 22 mile construction zone, thinking about how exactly I’m going to get a couple of deadbeats to pay me what they owe. Quick check, ain’t even noon on hump day. Unlike H/S, ain’t no syrup dripping off my reality – but good for him, should I dare to dream?

Dennis J. O'Boyle

Thank you, Hardscrabble Farmer, you raise some vital and important points. Most of us agree with you and with this article from The Rutherford Institute:
https://www.rutherford.org/publications_resources/john_whiteheads_commentary/an_unbearable_and_choking_hell_the_loss_of_our_freedoms_in_the_wake_of

Aquapura
Aquapura

I woke up this morning. Had a nice breakfast of eggs and sausage. Drove into the center of a major metropolitan city. Walked sidewalks among the white collar paper pushers to my office building and now am sitting at my desk looking out the window at glass towers 50 stories high while listening to big city commotion on the street below. Most of my life, at least since I was in senior high/college, I dreamt of this life I have now. Working in the city, right in the action and bustle, managing my own group of employees, accomplishing the “American dream.” The reality is, it’s exhausting and I go home every night with no sense of accomplishment.

My grandfather lived a life not too different than HSF does running a small dairy farm. If he were alive today I’m sure he’d think I’ve accomplished the American dream. He never went to college or gained the credentials I have today and I’m sure that I make a salary he’d envy even adjusted for inflation. Still, I think his life was more fulfilling. Unfortunately nobody wanted the farm and it was sold off after grandpa passed in the late 80’s. It wasn’t great farmland and the homestead wasn’t all that special either, but how I long for those childhood summers spent on the farm living the simple life.

Thanks for the stories, they take me back.

TJF
TJF

“I am not unaware of where we are heading and I wish it were different, but one of the few things in life that cannot be altered is the time we are born into. This is the phase of a nation in decline and we are along for the ride whether we like it or not. The only thing we can control is what we decide to do with our time and who we decide to spend it with.”

My favorite three sentences from HSF’s post. Even those of us who don’t have a farm, animals and land that may sustain us, these three sentences are applicable to all of us.

archie
archie

that’s a great story HSF. thanks. whenever you post, i am reminded of our “family” farm in british columbia, a cattle ranch, a place i have never seen. when i was growing up it was well understood that if anyone in our extended family had a drinking/drug problem, was going through a divorce, mid-life crisis, ran afoul of the law, etc. he or she would be sent there for “rehabilitation”. no therapy sessions or grief counselors. nope. you’d get on a plane to seattle or vancouver, take a smaller plane to prince george (i think) and then go by truck another few hours into the bush where you’d be deposited into the welcoming arms of my uncle or cousin, grateful for a free hand to help out for a few weeks or months.

and so when i came home from my first semester in boarding school with a 1.7 GPA, my dad sat me down and very calmly asked whether my time would be better spent on the ranch. he smiled at me. i said of course not, no. he then urged me to “apply” myself. from that point on i most certainly did. it’s a shame i never screwed up, (like my brother, who stole money from my dad, skipped school, booked a flight to boston, and spent a weekend partying–yup, he got sent out there for 2 months and got his ass straightened out) because i’m convinced i would have liked it. the ranch was featured in a documentary about horses about ten years ago. i got a lump in my throat watching it, the staggering beauty of the area, and thinking how my dad had it all wrong. but i may still get there yet.

Billy
Billy

Sorry to hear about the barn, HS. Ours had a big old hole knocked in it 5 months ago. Still not fixed, but they’re supposed to start this week. Can’t put anything in it – well, at least in the front half – until it gets fixed. Still finding debris here and there.

Hunting season ramps up soon, so I’ll be prepping gear…

Discovered a leak in the mud room ceiling last time it rained. Now the wife wants the whole mud room gutted and redone.

Haven’t had a whole lot of time for outrage over stuff… just busy.

Rise Up
Rise Up

I agree with Admin/Jim, HSF’s posts are always worth the wait.

Living through a fire is no picnic–happened to me a decade ago. Chimney fire in the middle of the night. Happened to be during a 30″ snowfall, too. The firetrucks had trouble making it to the house, and the hydrants were frozen.

I joke that I evacuated the wife, child, dog, and mother-in-law out of the house–in that order.
But seriously, it was devastating. 1/2 of house burned to the ground, the other half had to be taken down due to smoke damage. On the bright side, many important papers and pictures were on the smoke damage side and were salvaged. Plus we had a full-reimbursement insurance policy, so all the stuff was replaced at 100% cost.

I agree with TJF on those important words from HSF about the nation in decline and just going with it. Doesn’t appear that we can do much about that. Only a total collapse will let us rebuild a more meaningful way of life, which is why I long for it, hard as it will be to get through the shitstorm.

Stucky

I felt a sense of deep sadness reading about The Barn.

Makes me wonder, “Why does bad shit happen to good people?”

But, HF, as always ….. prevails.

What a beautiful sentence he wrote — “Rather than be identified as consumers, we think of ourselves as producers.” Man, oh man, how sweet that is!

overthecliff

HSF if you are 1/2 as good a man as your writing implies, you are a good man. It is a privilege to feel like I know you. I knew a man like you once he was my father-in-law.

Nancy
Nancy

What a wonderful story. A barn lost, friends made. We have sold our farm, cattle, horses and goats. Chickens go Sunday. We are leaving. Likely for good.

The winters will be very cold for some time, so get in some extra long underwear and an extra pair of boots. Make room for family, the economy will bring them to you.

Be patient, be good and be aware of your own needs. Many will be lost and unable to think clearly. Don’t let yourself be among them.

MWIR

overthecliff says:

HSF if you are 1/2 as good a man as your writing implies, you are a good man.
===========
OTC let me tell you HSF IS a good man.
That said I would like to share something with you all, remind us of what we lost, but maybe, the good Lord willing, we can get back again:

And once upon a time, in a land called America, the people would come in from their mountain cabins, farms, and mill towns with their young ones to joy in the closeness of community on warm sultry summer nights. The American dream was never about grand mansions, designer wear, exotic vacations, health clubs, silicone implants, Viagra love affairs, fortress malls, boutiques, forever war, the prison industry, or slave labor junk stores. It was about a man being able to make a living for his family. It was about a simple life of small town living, where people congregated on Main Street for the Fourth of July parade. It was about swimming holes, country lanes, fields of corn, teachers who challenged the young to greater heights (not social engineering! ), doctors (not technocrats), marshland songs, a whippoorwill, splashing streams, and woodlands with secret paths. It was about rain washed streets; where barefoot children splashed in puddles, blew magic bubbles, caught fireflies, and played hide-and-seek long into a muggy summer’s night. It was about concerts in the park, the clink of milk bottles, and visits to Grandma’s house; with her blue hair, flowered dress, and flour dusted apron. It was about the certainty of love with the slamming of a screen door, a child running in flowered meadows, and at day’s end, neighbors gathered on darkened porches, holding tight the wonderment of the day. It was about Hometown. — Judith Moriarty

Stucky

THIS ARTICLE WAS POSTED ON LEW ROCKWELL TODAY !!

CONGRATS! WOO HOO!!!

Mary Malone
Mary Malone

What a beautiful commentary/post, HSF.

The story of community – how neighbors who you barely knew came out in droves to help your family in its time of need sounds like a scene from a lost era, a time long ago.

We live in a NJ city – when Superstorm Sandy hit, a 100 year old tree was uprooted by the 165 MPH winds and came crashing down on our home.

We were up at our farm at the time – our neighbor, a widow, called to tell us the news. She was too afraid to go outside, because live wires were hanging everywhere. But she did what she could.

She was the only person in our neighborhood who expressed any sympathy for our plight, or tried to help at all.

The large branch of the tree crashed into our roof, pulling dormer off bedroom window. Three floors collapsed under its weight. We could not live in the home for 6 weeks – so we commuted 3.5 hours each way from the farm to NYC to work each day.

Not a casserole, kind word, gas card or any act of kindness was offered from neighbors, family or friends. In fact, we get comments that the remains of the tree should be cut down. I tell people it’s a sculpture. Heh.

We’re nice people – friendly, kind and help others.

So, it’s not like we were difficult to approach.

People are very strange here in the Big City and suburbs. This was a real wake-up call to my husband and me – we know we are truly alone and if another disaster occurs, its up to us to do what we have to do to get out of dodge and/or survive.

Not a pretty picture. I prefer your world. You are truly blessed.

Rise Up
Rise Up

Real people, real lives…a perspective and remembering a grandfather:

http://www.snotr.com/video/14057/My_Mom_s_Motorcycle__My_Rode_Reel

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