Mass Organization Against Insurmountable Odds

My day began simply enough, helping Hubby hunt for another lost tool.  He has hot pink paint and will paint this the same color as his tongs if we ever find it.  I suspect after he sharpened his blades he drove away to Bush Hog with tools on the deck and they are some where on this farm. I looked in a garden cart sorting tools from trash...Hubby is infamous for tossing with talent.

The wagon was full of ants and eggs.  They did not like me disturbing their nests and were frantically hauling eggs to their imagined safety.  I had to find a new job until they settled down.

I stupidly picked this one to help Hubby get organized.

So I began...one square foot at a time.

First job was to empty the left corner, 

move an oil barrel and find what Dad had stored inside.

I dredged with a stick and hung oily items to drain into the barrel.  We had steel traps, log chains, and truck chains.  I still have something I can't quite remove.  It will be a hard earned surprise.

Remind me that I said Dirty hands are happy hands.

This was totally disgusting.

The barrel is probably more valuable than the items I rescued.

I had company.

Four square feet of stuff sorted

and many, many feet to go.

I know I will regret saying this but

Dirty feet are Happy feet.

I Worked

in the old house.

On a farm multiple buildings always means something needs repairing, sorting, or improving. This house was where my sister was born and where two siblings were born that we never knew. 

Thanks to varmints and dogs chasing said varmints there is some disarray inside this small three room house where three generations have stayed at different times.  

The death of Mom, the watching of Dad until his death, the ice storms, the tornado, and health and life in general has kept me from doing a proper job keeping the outbuildings in order.

One year the chickens laid eggs in the attic. The dogs have continued to search and seize any trespassers that entered the old home.

After the tornado the loose tin caused some water damage.  The roof was repaired but water has caused a floor joist to fall.  Know this is a box construction house.  No two by's.  No four by's but a simple floor joist system and roof rafters with board and batting connecting the two.  Paper and cloth was used for insulation if you can even call it that.

Primarily used for storage I have my work cut out for me. I am slowly sorting things that have ruined from over sixty years of storage, saving what I can and repairing as I go.

One room is on a slant so I slide in, grab a box and run uphill to get it to level floor and repeat and repeat. I sort and stack in a solid room.

I sort, reduce, protect and stack.  I would carry a sack to my throw a way pile while keeping the "good" stuff.  When I needed air I would carry a box of bottles from my other project and place it in the lean-to kitchen.  A thousand steps, a million steps....maybe more.  Until the muscle cramps and promise of rain stopped me.

An old wringer washer

a wood cook stove

A complete school desk from a one room school house

I've written how two small houses were pulled up the creek by horses and a sled joined by a common roof. A lean-to kitchen was added.  This was in the early thirties so there is no way to tell how old the house or houses really are.

  

I remember being warm in winter with no insulation.  I remember the smell and taste of Mom's biscuits.  I remember Dad setting us out during the first snowy morning to run around the house to keep our feet warm all winter. .I remember hauling water from the same spring we use today. I remember the weight of all the quilts in winter and the cool breezes of summer. I remember the love.

In this house with each box and bag, I remember.  Yes, I remember.  This is the reason I work in this old house...to save those memories and perhaps, just maybe, make more.

Just in case you were worried, I have not lost my marbles.  In fact I may possibly have five or six generations of marbles, so I'm in good shape.