Thanks for your patience while I'm figuring out how to make Alphabe-Thursday work more smoothly. I was excited to see that everyone visited other blogs - I think this is going to work but it may take a few more days for me to figure completely out including downloadable buttons, etc.
I am in the midst of a total blog re-design AND trying to finish up all the things I've been procrastinating on for my Dad's 80th Birthday party which is next Friday. Gulp! Oh boy. Caterers, centerpieces, finishing up clothes, costumes, nametags....the list is long and I am checking off items slowly. I want to tell you everything I'm doing for it because it is going to be amazing...but first I need to get it all done.
I thought I would share a few days of Farmhouse Tales with you to help free up a little time so I can get my lists finished.
And please don't feel bad if I don't answer your comments! I have been trying to but I just need to focus on this big event!
I appreciate everyone being so understanding. And please know how much I appreciate all of you! I am having so much fun with this blog and you are the reason for that!
And now... We moved to the old farmhouse in the spring. It was an old, old simple structure built almost two hundred years ago and built to last forever.
The beams that formed the structure were massive and hand-hewn. I might have found it difficult to imagine timber of that girth but some of the immense cloud-touching trees were still growing on the property. Several of these remaining giants had been measured in size to see if they might hold the honor of being the largest in the state of Ohio. One particularly massive Carpathian Walnut tree lost that tribute by only half an inch.
Sometimes it seemed to me that the trees defined the age of the farmstead even more then the actual buildings.
When you climbed the steep stairs into the third floor attic the true history of the old farmhouse became apparent.
Immense beams were assembled with nothing more then wrist thick pegs set into chiseled grooves. The floor of the attic was constructed of boards of amazing width. I was told the lumber was butternet, maple and walnut. They were beautiful. Illuminated by the soft and watery light from two little attic windows, the grain of their being spoke truly and clearly of the forests where they were once harvested.
An odd scattering of hand-forged, square-cut nails here and there on the cobweb adorned beams whispered a small mystery. Who had put them there and for what purpose? Had herbs and garlic harvested from gardens long past been hung there? I would never know for sure. The hands that had pounded them into the wood were long gone.
Remnants of an old slate roof topped the roof beams. Although the modern shingled roof hid their presence, the heart of the house revealed them to anyone who cared to look. Their pewtery patina glowed just slightly in the dusty air.
Between the attic windows unevenly mortared rows of rosy, old bricks formed the chimneys. The bricks, once structurally sound, had become soft and almost velvetty smooth. Although they no longer appeared sturdy they were interesting to explore. How did this small animal track get into this particular brick? Who had scatched the initials “BW” here? And why was this single brick adorned in faded blue paint?
To be continued...
And please give Alphabe-Thursday a try. The link button is at the right hand side of my blog. This week and next will be "practice" and then hopefully it will all be set up and ready to roll!
An Anthem of Ancestry
2 hours ago