If Old Barns Could Talk

The sun set last month for the final time on what we always called the Palmer barn.

During our days of active farming, we loaded cattle and bulls through the rickety old barn. 

After we retired, Randy's sister sold the property to the Millers, who took over our farm ground and cow-calf herd. 

Tye texted Randy the morning they set the barn on fire. But Randy was out of town at a co-op meeting, so we just saw the aftermath later that day.

In truth, we couldn't believe that the Kansas wind hadn't already brought the old gal to her knees. Though the barn hadn't been in good shape for years, she still held on through wind storms that brought other compatriots down, including a landmark barn along the Zenith Road and the barn at our homestead. (Click the links for more on those barns.)

After windstorms, we'd drive by the Palmer barn and were always surprised it had survived yet another blow - literally and figuratively. 

The photos below were taken in 2015, when we ran cattle through the barn to load trailers.

After we got them gathered in the pen, we herded about 10 at a time in the barn ...

... and into the waiting cattle trailer.

In 2013,  we drilled a new well in the pasture and added a solar panel after the water well near the barn gave out.

From a September 2013 blog

So, it was time - probably past time - for the barn to come down.

From the south, looking north

From the east, looking west

I talked to Tye later that day, and he said it was kind of sad to see the old barn come down. I agreed, and I also remarked that we were impressed with how many old barns in Iowa had been reburbished and still stood tall and proud as we traveled through that state.

"But they raise 200-bushel-an-acre-plus-corn up there," he said.

True enough. 

I found an ode to old barns as I searched for quotes. The prose by Pete Mason probably says it best.

Goodbye, old friend.
 

Perspective Changes

 

A sliver of pink seemed tucked between the seam allowance of ground and sky. As I walked by an eastern window in the house, the pink ribbon of light was enough to have me hurriedly slip on tennis shoes for a closer look.

It was the opening overture of the day, with birds providing the harmonies. After clicking a photo of the silo, I drove to my sunrise tree for a different perspective.

As I drove back into the farmyard, I thought about how different the view is, now that the barn and granary are gone.

 

At the beginning of this month, my March blog photo was one I'd taken in July 2007, also looking toward the east from our driveway. Several years ago, I added the Irish blessing to the photo, which, for me, conjured up visions of pots of gold and leprechauns at the end of the rainbow. 

This was the first St. Patrick's Day when the view was different. In the 2007 photo, you can see the silo in the background, if you know where to look. Ten years later, it's the main attraction, especially in the faint light of dawn.

The view isn't the only thing that changed as we tore down the barn. Working baby calves gave us our first opportunity to try out the new lanes we installed to sort and load out cattle.

April 2011

In the "olden days," we backed up the trailer to the barn. (OK, I didn't back the trailer. Randy did.)

In this shot, you can also see the old granary on the lefthand side of the photo.

Fast forward to our first load out from the corrals at our house in 2017. Now, instead of backing up to the barn, Randy backs into a lane.  In order to work the baby calves, we have to first sort off the mamas from the babies.

Before, the cattle were skirted around the barn to enter the pen from which we sorted mamas and babies.  

Now, they enter the same gate, but the view has changed.

If the smile is any indication, the farmer was fairly pleased with his design. 

One downside of the new method is that the babies can see their mamas. When the barn was still in place, we ran them through the barn and into the trailer. The mamas knew where they were and made a ruckus. But the babies couldn't see them. (It's not unlike human babies and their Mommy radar!)

When we were trying to get the babies inside the trailer, it may have helped to have another gate to help with the pushing. (After I took the photo below, I put the camera in my pocket and helped push.) Randy thinks the dark of the barn helped with loading, maybe because the calves had more "tunnel vision."

The mamas are more seasoned pros when it comes to getting loaded in a trailer, so they loaded fairly quickly and easily when it was their turn.

All in all, the new logistics were a success. And it's a subtle reminder that when things change, it's not always a bad thing.

For more on the barn, see All the King's Horses and All the King's Horses, Part II.

All the King's Horses - Part III

All the king's horses
And all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again!

With apologies to Mother Goose, maybe they should have found a farmer.

As I wrote about before, the old barn at our farmstead served two families well. But, as the grand old lady was taking her final bows, Randy hired a local company to pull it down. Since the barn provided the lane for loading cattle into trailers, we needed a new method.

Randy sketched out a plan and ordered some new fencing and gates. He and Ricky worked on installing it, including some time welding some of the closures together. (No eyes were harmed in the photography of this blog post. From the time I was a little girl, my dad told me never to look at the welding spark. Randy reminded me again as I watched him.)

With my familiar landmarks gone, I am a little like a hiker on a cloudy day without a compass as I stand in the corral these days. But the new lane is now ready to use. 

Right now, the heifers are at this location, awaiting their debut as mamas. Their first babies will start arriving at the end of January.

We'll use some new gates - along with some old ones - to sort mamas and babies as needed into the calving shed or to separate pairs into different corrals. 

The old wooden gate was near the southeast corner of the barn.

You can see the wooden gate and its proximity to the barn in this 2014 photo.

The gate is still in service, but it certainly looks different without the mammoth barn beside it.

I'll be helping Randy back up the trailer to the lane, rather than the barn, as we've done for so many years.

Hopefully, Randy's plans will work as well in reality as they do on paper!

Cattle loading and the barn - April 2011

All the King's Horses: Part II

December 2013

Good lighting can make old girls look good. Rosy up the cheeks with a little pink blush and stroke on a little blue eyeshadow. Add a little mellow mood lighting, and the wrinkles almost fade away. But in the harshness of full light, the blemishes are there in full view. Yes, an old barn definitely looks its age then. (What did you think I was talking about?)

April 2015

After a  2015 windstorm, the front of the barn was bowing deeper than a curtsying dancer. We knew its days were numbered. Then, in August, the cupola and hay loft simply gave way to gravity. There was no dramatic crash. Or, if there was, we didn't hear it. One moment it was there - shaky, of course - but still standing. And then it wasn't.

Randy started renting the barn and corrals before we were married, probably 36 years ago by now. In its day, it was a grand old barn with lots of different stalls and compartments. James and Katherine Johnson used it as they raised Hereford cattle and pigs at the place they called home for decades.

And, even though it was past its prime, the old barn had sheltered mamas and babies during snowstorms  and cold weather for years.

Last winter, we built a new calving shed. We could see how this story would ultimately end.

Last year, our ladies-in-waiting heifers and newborn babies were housed in the new accommodations rather than in the old barn that had been a resting place for animals for so many years.

This fall, Randy contacted a local company to dig a couple of trenches to bury the barn and the old granary.

They arrived last week to begin the process, using a bulldozer to dig a trench north of the granary and another east of the barn. 

It took less than a day for the backhoe to knock the granary down.

As we were leaving to go to Kinley's Christmas program, all that remained of the granary was the cement from the foundation. Randy is having them haul the concrete to use as erosion control on a duck pond dam.

This ended up being our last glimpse of the barn. By the time we got back, the lot was cleared. 

The barn now looks like a giant game of pick up sticks. It's kind of hard to believe it's reduced to this pile. On a calm day, we'll burn the wood, and the remnants will be covered up with the dirt.

I'm having a hard time getting perspective in the corral without the old barn to mark my location.

This week, Randy began marking the lot and ordered the new fencing we'll use to load out cows and calves.

I walked out in our yard on a frosty morning one day this week and pointed my camera to the east. The barn no longer provides a silhouette for a new day.

And so life goes.