A Grand New World



Back at the farmhouse door

And so it goes that each era ushers another one forth, each with intricacies so unique the years prove as almost a grand new world.

Which, of course, each era is.

This house (what you see of it) is our house, in the here and now. It carries our "tone" and reflects our time and needs. For example, we needed a garage; it never had one and we wanted to protect our vehicles. We hadn't paid a lot for our home in its ramshackle condition (in 1988) and not-so-funny-enough the prices of our vehicles (together) were exceeding the cost of the house; it was time to shelter our means of transportation!

So we did that, and we're very happy with the natural flow between the house and the garage. We step off the porch and in a few short strides we are ready to go to town when we need. It's convenient, with pretty green space in-between. It bespeaks our time of wanting to live in seclusion, yet be close to services and a way to get to the road that takes us to them easily.

There is everything to love about this, and we don't want it any other way. But I also enjoy imagining the era before us in our exact spot. For all the imperfections, those years present images of times most of us wouldn't want to live in as our "now" realities, but would still love to immerse ourselves in, if we could, just once in awhile.

It is that very narrow space between the house and the garage that used to be, we've been told, a "road to town"--and not anyone's very private driveway.

I love to picture that!! I love to envision the old-timers of the area sweeping through on horse and cart, or in the first automobiles, to merge with the woods on the way to Boyceville for their weekly needs.

It makes perfect sense, its angle and accessibility. For the few residents of several back roads, this simple rustic road would have saved miles by its weave through this land. Its eventual hook-up at one of our property's corners to another more public byway would have resulted in a shorter way to town and an easier excursion.

We're told this was the way it was, so in my mind I've thought of it often. It's such a narrow trail, but I remind myself the garage wasn't there, and neither a car or a cart would be very wide. It would have taken a generous, practical nature in people to be welcoming to frequent traffic so close to the house, but I've always been told the family who lived here was just that. They were humble Slovakian immigrants, salt-of-the-earth folks, who would never have felt better sending friends and neighbors "the long way around."

In my mind, I've often seen the woman of the house, upon hearing horses hooves or the rattle of a motor, walk to the kitchen door to see who was going to town that day. I've seen her pause long enough to give a wave, or maybe even step off the porch to pass a little small talk. I've seen her in her apron, getting back to work, never disgruntled at the traffic that came her way.

I admit it...I romanticize that image, and it's very true I'm very glad that "road to town" now goes in another direction. I'm not glad Boyceville and other small towns have fallen in viability, no. But it was this spot's very seclusion that lured us into the adventure of leaving all we knew to come to a place we'd never been before. SO, I can't pretend I would love for that road to come by my kitchen door now, no. Not at all.

That era has come and gone, but just as the family who built our farmhouse came from a far-off land to their "grand new world", so did we. We will take it, imperfections and all!

Here is a picture of our house with an open porch, more as it would have appeared in the days "the woman of the house" might have left the kitchen, to give a friendly wave to her friendly neighbors, on their way to town. Or so I imagine, or so I romanticize!!