On the way home from a difficult trip to visit my 89 year old father in the hospital, my son and I stopped on the side of the highway to appreciate these old buildings. The wind was blowing and my hair swept across my face. I imagined a couple living in this little house with their young children. Mom would have stood where I stood – wind blowing her hair across her face. She would have been out to collect the eggs from the chickens and to the milk the cow. Had a coyote taken another chicken?
She couldn’t look for the chicken right now as the cow needed to be milked. Two times a day she milked the cow. It made it hard for her to ever go into town with her husband. The children weren’t old enough yet.
In the barn she maternally strokes the cow and then sits on her small stool and methodically collects the milk into a metal bucket. Innately she appreciated the gift that the cow provided her and her family, but the drudgery of the milking and the cleaning of the straw was wearing her down.
The house is charming and small. Today it is instagram worthy and quaint but it must have been “home” back in its day. The fire would have warmed the house on those very cold bitter winter nights. Smoke billowing up the small brick chimney. Beds, a table and chairs and shelves covered with jars full of canned preserves to help get the family through the winter would have filled the space.
My son and I shared a few moments enjoying the history of this site. We have driven by so many times but it is a different experience to get up close and personal with it. We quietly took it all in. I cleared the hair from my face and we headed back up to our car. It was nice to travel back in time but I am happy to return home to my present time.