Our Maryland Farmhouse

real food recipes, heirloom gardening and farmhouse adventures

Gaining Traction

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Katie’s been the impetus behind this whole blog idea; I started one many years ago to document our adventures in 24 Hours of LeMons (Yes, LeMons, that is not a typo, but a play on words) racing, but it hasn’t been terribly active lately.  And up till now, she’s done all the work on this blog too.  So I thought I’d contribute something today.

While she’s been busy swooning over white farmhouse sinks and putting nightshades into glass jars, I’ve been out getting multiple cases of poison ivy and pulling muscles I can’t name and didn’t know existed.  You see, when you become the owner of an old farm, you get not only some land and (hopefully) a house to live in, but you also often get…other buildings.

Big, ugly run ins:



Ramshackle sheds:


Rickety garages:


Leaning corn cribs:


More run-ins:


And what appears to be an old cinder-block barn, that was at some point converted to additional living space:


Of course, none of these buildings has had any work done to them since the last century, and all were filled, to varying degrees, with trash, rotted firewood, old Red Bull cans, scrap metal, auto parts, lumber, shoddily-built shelving, cardboard, trees (yes, living, growing trees), *cough* evidence *cough* of animal and rodent dwelling, and much, much more.  I cleaned out so much trash, it filled the bed of this truck:


4 times just going to the dump with it all.  And for the organic materials (wood, paper, etc) I started a bonfire one Friday afternoon and fed it all weekend with combustible crap I dragged out of the buildings. Is there some unwritten law that says, if you’re a farmer, and you have lots of sheds, it’s your responsibility to fill them with as much rubbish and debris as possible? I think that there must be.  

And did I mention the poison ivy?  Apparently it grows very, very well around here, and even with my usual precautions (long sleeved pants and shirt, leather gloves, hat, dust mask, leather boots) I still managed to come down with a rip-roaring case of P/I our very first weekend here.  It was so bad that the following Monday I was escorted by my caring wife to the local ER where they doped me with all manner of anti- allergy drugs which, thankfully, worked.  Just this past weekend I came down with _more_ poison while clearing out some weed trees and other yard trash, but luckily an abundance of showering and soap kept it pretty well contained.  Man.  Leaves of three, leave that #*!$ be.  


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