Living here, on the same farm where previous generations have lived before me is humbling and strikes a serious chord of curiosity inside me. Ever since my childhood I have been discovering this farm. While playing in the trees as a child, I would find pieces of metal, remains of fences, bones from animals that used to live here. While keeping myself busy in the shed, I would find old tools, old doors, old equipment.
All of these things were new and intriguing to me then and still are. However, now I'm an adult. I'm aware that this land wasn't always my families land. At some point before any Mennonites showed up here, this land belonged to a tribe of Native Americans. I don't know who, but I'm interested to learn more about that. To know more about not just what I find on the land, but the story of the land itself.
Often I consider the farm a treasure land. I like rusty things. I like wood that's weathered and worn. And lucky for me, I've got a fierce pirate living in my house to keep watch.
We have fun poking around outside. Walking, just to see what we'll find. I never know what will catch his attention.
This rusty metal seed sign is a treasure in my eyes; a piece of junk metal to others. I have hope for this sign to look better...we'll see.
Where pigs once lived, today I found the brown and pokey remains of a weed. Isn't the detail amazing? Sometimes seeing God's creation in the bleak days of winter makes me realize just how many details there are to appreciate.
Some of the treasures on the farm require squinting your eyes. You know what I mean, when you squint your eyes things sometimes look like they might sparkle, right? Well, just recently this old and small skid steer, a John Deere 60, was brought back to life. The farmers have used it for hours to make two building usable again. I remember the 60 from my childhood and I thought it was huge and powerful. But when you compare it to the yellow JD skid steer behind it the size difference is laughable. Times change, equipment gets bigger, but the irony is that sometimes you just can't live without the old stuff.
I love this shed. I'm not kidding. And I know that sounds crazy, especially because I'm generally freaked out when I'm in there. Weird, huh?
My intrigue/love of antiques and old stuff comes from this shed. I've always been drawn to cans like this:
not to mention the old doors, equipment and whatever else that's stashed in there. It is a treasure trove. My kind of treasure land.
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