friday afternoon house talk

In terms of farmyards, Kayla and I are awfully lucky.

At some point in time, I'm not too sure when, the majority of farm families around Endiang abandoned the old farm houses and yards and moved on to what I suppose were considered greener pastures.

For the most part this meant long, squat houses and yards sheltered by poplars on three sides, the fourth side generally facing the road. A caragana hedge lines the driveway. Farm equipment is parked around the back.

Which means that all around the country there are old abandoned houses surrounded by lilac hedges and old maple trees. Inevitable these houses have shady porches, elaborate windows, and spectacular views - all of which are now enjoyed primarily by the bats and swallows.

For some reason our house didn't suffer the same fate.

Actually, let me rephrase that - our house escaped that fate longer than most.

Because when we moved in the bats and swallows were the chief residents. You could see the sky through spots in the ceiling. My foot once went through the floor in the living room.

But we fixed it. The house that sat empty for nearly ten years was restored, if not to its former glory, then certainly to a state that can be enjoyed.

But for me the house is not the main draw. I fully expect that one day we will have to admit that time has won and let the old girl give up the ghost.

No, for me the major draw is the farmyard itself.

Because our yard keeps that old farm sensibility - all the necessary outbuildings within easy walking distance, windbreaks planted in a way that preserves the view, a scenic and tree lined driveway.

Whenever I get frustrated with our old house (three or four times a week on average) I just step outside and remember how lucky we are to live there. Our trees are always full of robins and chickadees, orioles and waxwings. The wind (which hasn't stopped in four months) blows a little more softly. The sloughs and ponds that surround us are always full of ducks, geese, and frogs.

When I was nineteen I was sorely tempted to pack my bags and go live in the woods. Build myself a squatters tent on the coast and commune with nature.

As decrepit as our house is, nature is still right at my fingertips, the air is still fresh, and the living still pretty easy.

And whenever I pine for that squatters tent I just remind myself that my house is only marginally better at keeping out rain and bears.