God's presence in this place

I love this photo.  Gary Engholm, whose family lived here for 18-20 years, who together with his wife Greta re-made and re-fashioned the entire 2 acres that we now call "home".  And his father-in-law, who lived less than a mile down the street in another beautiful (and historic) house.

This was after a wonderful visit, where Gary and Paul shared so many delightful details about life here that I can't remember them all.  It was so much fun to walk through house, yard, garage, barn, and see the twinkle in their eyes as they remembered family moments.

One thing that sticks with me....the historical evidence that God has been at work here, at this location.  

The first person who bought this land in the 1840's....Rice Rowell Whittier, a pastor who was an active founder of the church in Greenwood.  

Gary shared with me how God spoke to him in certain locations inside the house and on this property, to lead him towards being in the ministry as a pastor.  

Jeff and I have felt God's presence here in the beauty and peaceful qualities of the property.  Since that first year when we moved here, I've felt somehow that this place is where God wants us to be for this time in our family's history.  Being here has caused me to once more take note of how beautiful the night sky is, to marvel at the sound of a horned owl in the grove of white pines, to notice how the wind changes, and what type of weather is blowing in, to see the caterpillar on the blade of grass or the cicada shedding its skin on the bark of a tree.....  

It is a place where, despite the hard work (and sometimes heartbreak) of caring for animals, and the distance that we drive to get to school, church, work....this place seems to be full of God's presence. 

Who knows where He will lead us, when it is time for us to move on!  It's in His hands, as it has been all along.  :)

 

Laura

The previous owners show up on our doorstep....

This isn't so much farm-related as house-related. I always figured that the previous owners of our house would come to visit one day. We never met them.  Between when they sold their house and when we bought it as a foreclosure, there was at least one other owner, maybe two.  At least one sale fell through.  The bank took possession.  Winterizing was done too late to save the radiant heat in the slab floor of the garage.  If not for the landscaping fabric, the entire property would likely have been covered in weeds.  There was mold remediation done in the house at some point, probably because of burst pipes in the basement when the bank owned it, and before the winterizing was done inside the house.  The place couldn't have survived many more years of sitting vacant.  And then we "rescued" it, I suppose, because what was underneath all of the neglect of 5 years or so was worth buying and making ours.  :)

The woodwork in this house is breathtaking. The man was a carpenter extraordinaire.... The barn was his 2 level workshop, complete with spray booth, curing ovens, insulation, drywall, and a heavy-duty furnace. The house could be a model home (except that a real family like ours lives in it!) He thought of everything, and then some.  People exclaim over the old details in the house, and I am quick to tell them that those "old" details are really about 20 years old, and I give all the credit to the carpenter who made this house what it is.  With an eye to every single detail, and careful craftmanship.

I am not the best housekeeper in the best of times, and I just KNEW that when they showed up on my doorstep one day, the house would be messy and cluttered and husky hair would be blowing across the wood floors and dirt would be in the corners of the kitchen.....

Well, that day was today, husky hair, dirt, clutter and all.
Gary and Greta Engholm, a beautiful couple who lived here for almost 20 years and "remodeled twice" (in their words), raised 3 girls here, planted almost all of our gorgeous trees, landscaped this lovely retreat-worthy property, lovingly crafted and painted this beautiful place that we are blessed to call home.... I was going about my after-lunch routine when a little car pulled into the driveway.  There they were, with the question "Do you know who we are?  This was our house, once."  And my exclamation accompanied with a huge smile (which brought a little bit of surprise from them) "You're the Engholms!!!"  I stopped just short of telling them how often I had started typing out a letter to tell them just how much I love this house.  Because they might have packed back into their rental car and screeched out of the driveway, knowing that I had researched that chapter of our house's history, and found their new address, and knew too much about them.....  Or not.

They stopped by, all the way from Colorado, at the beginning of a short vacation in this area. 

And as I cringed at the thought of what they might see, I invited them in and tried to make mental notes of every single thing they told me about the history of our home.
I hope what they "saw" was memories, and not the haphazard pile of games in the living room corner, or the "muck bucket" of slop for the pigs, which sits on the kitchen counter in plain view.....  Shall I go on about the pile of mail on the counter, or the remainder of Easter decorations that haven't been put away?  Or the slight smell of the barn because my barn boots were in the corner.  

They noticed how well the cabinets had worn, and how the beautiful wood floors in the kitchen were now sealed and protected, and (with a chuckle on Gary's part) how he never finished this bit of molding, or that bit of detail.  She told me the paint colors they had used (mostly the same, but the living room walls were aubergine, and someone in between them and us painted them a softer yellow).  She exclaimed at how we had left the beautiful faux finishes on ceilings and walls.  They remembered which daughter had lived in which 8x10 bedroom up in what was once an attic.  He told me about the trap door and the layout of what is now the living room and how there is beautiful wood underneath the cheap carpet that someone put in.  He told me about every light fixture (this was an antique from this place) and doors (these came from the old Crystal Lake library) and brass hinges (antique), and how he hand-cut the rubber stamp which made all the green leaves on the entryway walls.....  I loved it.

I invited them to come back again during their visit to the area, hoping for more time to ask questions and hear everything that they might be willing to share.
I do hope they take me up on the invite. Without their vision for this place, it would undoubtedly have been a "tear-down" long ago. With the love that they poured into it, it was made into the amazingly wonderful place that we have called "home" for the past 3 1/2 years.
If I don't see you later this week, Gary and Greta, thank-you, with all of my heart, for this place that we hope our family can love as much as yours did!

 

Laura

The short lives of so many barn cats

Pretty sure we've lost another barn cat. He's been gone for almost a week.  I took this picture of him and his pal, when they were snoozing in the silo the day before he failed to show up for the morning food.
They coyotes have been very bold, right up against the fence lately. Maybe that's what happened, although he was a big tom cat and pretty quick.
Usually the cats get hit on the road (two of ours so far in 3 years, plus a stray that had been hanging around). I cringe to use the word "usually", but it's the story that we hear from other people with farm cats all the time.
One (we think) got poisoned by antifreeze or something over at the farm across the street (they had a huge party, were doing car repairs all weekend, the cat disappeared for one full day and then was found on our driveway the morning after the night of the big fireworks at the party, not a mark on him.)

 
This one sort of had an "idea of a name", but I honestly don't remember what it was.  We didn't really name the kittens that we got last spring. It's harder to name them when you know you'll lose at least one each year...
I didn't get him neutered, which should have been done 6 months ago.  He fathered the kittens that one of our other cats is pregnant with, he was just a big orange and white friendly tom cat.... I just wish I knew for sure what happened to him. 

We do take care of them.  We have them neutered (usually), the livestock vet gives them a yearly rabies shot (not the 3-year shot, because we never know if they'll last that long), we pet them and make sure they're reasonably friendly especially when they are kittens, I feed them to keep them around, and they catch plenty of mice, and eat the pigeons that the boys shoot in the silo, and they are just a fun, welcoming presence on the farm.  Orange tabby, friendly kitties, sunning themselves in the garden or waiting for us at the back door.  

And this one seems to be missing.  :(

We still have Spartan, who came to the farm to live in the barn before we even moved into the house.  His twin brother Charlie was the first one we lost.  Spartan has been here for 3 1/2 years now.  Charlie was just past 1 year old when he lost his life, running back to our house from across the street when he heard the screen door open first thing one morning (the signal that it would soon be feeding time in the barn).

Then there's Aslan, who we took in with his 2 brothers the next spring.  One of Aslan's brothers (the short-haired tabby, with the short-temper and irritating way of relating to the other cats) was hit out on Greenwood Road when he was barely a year old.  The other was beautiful, silky orange and white fur, not terribly friendly but so regal and stunning.  He is the suspected anti-freeze death (or maybe it was heat stroke, if he got shut into a neighbor's shed for that one, very hot summer party-and-fireworks day).

Last spring, we brought in the long-haired orange and white "male" which is pregnant now (yeah, it turned out to be a she), and the brother who made babies with her (the big tom who is missing).  The second photo is of our pregnant kitty, who we never thought to double-check to see if she was really male or not.  Well, now we know....

This spring, next week to be more exact, kittens should be born to that pretty little cat.  People are already asking for them.  I'll gladly give them to anyone who can offer a good home with safer living situations.  Some will stay here, and we'll try to be good farm-cat owners and get them spayed/neutered and feed them just enough to keep them close to the barn.

On the hopeful side for our currently missing male, there are neighborhoods to the north and south of us, just a few corn fields over.  He was friendly enough that maybe he showed up at someone's doorstep and was welcomed inside. We can only hope....

The third photo....both kittens that we brought home a year ago.  Names can't be remembered, but the boys spent hours holding them and taming them and making sure they were friendly.  One will be a mama in the next week.  One (the one in front) has disappeared without a trace.  Maybe his babies will remind us of him.

 

Laura

Prince Johan the Magnificent

Just a few photos.  He's a cutie at 1 week old, full of spunk, and thriving on Bessie's rich milk.  He teases Taffy through the fence, dashes around the tiny pasture with his tail kinked in the air, and peeks out from behind his mama when I'm too close.  And then collapses in a little heap, curled up like a fawn.  

 

Laura

Milk!!!

Just have to share.... Bessie stopped giving milk back in December, soon after her one year old calf Caspian was sold. We've been without farm fresh milk since then.
Last week, the long-awaited Dutch Belted cutie was born, and I've been holding off on milking Bessie until she and Johan/Jonny-boy establish some semblance of supply and demand. 
Well, she was not happy, but I milked her today. Got one gallon for us, and gave the second gallon to the pigs (I know, a waste, but I only had one clean gallon container with me) 
Little Jonny still had plenty, and I could milk out 2 gallons again tonight if I wanted to without cutting into his nursing requirements.
You'd think, as much as we've complained about store-bought milk, that the other 3 family members would have been fighting to have some of Bessie's milk with our dinner, but.... 
I had it all to myself.
And it was delicious. 
'Love that cow!  :)

 

Laura

Bessie's baby

He's here, he's here!  He finally arrived!  

I'd been watching Bessie like a hawk, since over 2 weeks ago.  Not to say I'd given up hope, but it was no longer disappointing to go out with flashlight and camera at 2 in the morning, only to see no real progress.  It was kind of becoming the "norm", to trudge out to the barn numerous times during the day, evening, night, and see what looked like a promising change only to find out that....well, it's not time for the calf, after all.

But then today.....

I checked on her this morning before making lunches.  She gave a soft motherly "moo" and searched in the bedding behind her.  That's a good sign that delivery is close!

The dogs and I went back out at just the right time.  I was still in my "Yeah, right, it won't happen TODAY either" mind-set, and there she was, under the tree where Ruby was delivered just 3 years ago, in labor with this calf.  

The hooves....were huge.  It's the first thing you see as the cow strains to pass the calf through the birth canal.  My first thought was "It's another bull-calf".  A bull calf is fine.  A heifer-calf (female) would mean that Bessie might be on her way out as the new female moved into position as the Dykstra milk producer.  So a male is just fine, and means that Bessie has some more time here with us.  

I'm so glad that I took those hog-panels and blocked off Bessie's area from the pasture.  You can see them in the photo behind mama and baby.   A newborn calf can stumble through the 3 strands of electric wire (not charged, because Bessie respects them without the electricity pulsing through them).  Dogs come and go if the panels aren't in place.  The fencing gave Bessie a bit of distance from the watchful presence of Shadow, Taffy, and Rocky.  No privacy, but at least some space.  It was nice to witness the birth without shooing dogs away or having to drag them out of the pasture.  

So the waiting is over, the little guy is here (I'm pretty sure it's another bull, like Caspian was 18 months ago).  I'll double-check after typing this, but the evidence that I saw at a glance seems to suggest "male".  Any details can be left to the imagination.

I had such a feeling of de ja vu, watching black and white mama cow mooing softly over black and white baby calf, the same sounds, sights, location, actions, stumbling (on the calf's part), fumbling (on the calf's part), cleaning (on Bessie's part).  Except that it was a brisk spring morning and not during a heatwave in July, it could have been Ruby's birth all over again.  

I once again had the honor and privilege of bearing witness, as another small life entered the world.  God is good.  

So, welcome, calf #3, to our little homestead.  The impatient wait is over and now you can stretch your long legs and snuggle up to your mama.   

(If you're anything like Caspian was, you should know that I WILL win you over, despite whatever notions you have of being shy with me.)  :) 

 

I love you already.