Aaaargh! We’re never moving again! What we thought was going to be an easy melding of two households into one, has proved to be a nightmare times two. Remember that 40’ x 60’ pole barn on the farm that I was bragging about, the barn that was going to give us all the storage and welding space we needed? Well, you guessed it. Chock full. And this was after two, “Everything Must Go” garage sales, curbside giveaways and donations to the Salvation Army (Quarter Maybe More Store in Mt. Pleasant.) I’m filling the chicken house now — the smaller shed beside the barn that Ginnie and I were planning on raising chickens in come spring. Anything with a roof on it. The mice came out and personally thanked me.
As you may have surmised, I’m a pack rat. Clue number one: when you still have boxes full of college crap that you’ve moved from house to house for going on 50 years and not looked into, you may be a pack rat. Same with clothes: if you believe that some day you’re going to fit back into those bell-bottomed blue jeans, it just might be time for a trip to Goodwill.
Buddy’s adapted well to his new farm life. Our morning walks through neighborhoods ripe with fire hydrants and street signs, has been replaced with romps through cornfields and waterways. He leaps over corn rows, chases mice and rabbits, and proudly claims ears of corn dropped by the combine as his find-of-the-day. There’s a small creek (pronounced krick on the farm) running through a corner of one field, and we’ve managed to kick up a pheasant or two, one sleepy-eyed owl, and a raccoon on the prowl. Buddy goes berserk, and pretends he’s the big, bad hunting dog. We even found hedge apples, and brought a couple back to the farm for “keeping spiders out” — although I’ve been told that’s a myth. I also read where a farmer/chemist over by Bloomfield is making cosmetics from hedge apples, also called Osage oranges, horse apples, and hedge balls. One nice thing about walking Buddy through the cornfield that I discovered real quick — I don’t have to pick up after him!
The sunrises and sunsets on the farm are breathtaking. Compared to town living, where the sun rose over the Wall Mart Warehouse, the sunrise over rolling hills of rich, black soil brings forth the thought, “This is the day the Lord hath made, let us be happy, and rejoice in it!” At about 6 a.m. the rim of the eastern horizon begins to glow in pink, warm light. The western sky reflects a soft, multicolored purple. Pretty soon, a rim of bright orange peeks over the eastern horizon, to reign over a new day. How can anything go wrong in all this fresh air and beauty? I’m still amazed at how much farther I can see in the country, as compared to town.
Our new country farm house, replete with its cathedral ceilings, which makes for plenty of wall space for artwork, wasn’t home until I moved Rudolph to the farm. Rudolph is the bigger-than-life reindeer I made out of rusty sheet steel. We can now see Rudolph from our kitchen-sink window. He looks so much happier with rich, black, Iowa soil in the background. I hope no one traveling the highway takes a potshot at him during deer season.
Then there’s the dinner bell. With a post hole digger, I hand dug a hole in the back yard and set the dinner bell in concrete. When I’m out in the barn welding, Ginnie can ring the bell when supper’s ready, or if she needs me. Of course, we have cell phones nowadays. But I like the idea of the bell better.
Have a good story? Call or text Curt Swarm in Mt. Pleasant at 319-217-0526 or email him at
curtswarm@yahoo.com