The Man, The Houses, The Renovations

Hubby was taking bids and interviewing carpenters to do the finish woodwork. At my father’s funeral we met one of my first cousins that was looking for some work.  We set a date for him to come out and see if this job was something he wanted to do.

Joe drove up in a big Ford truck. He opened his door and out jumped his little white dog. Right away he won my heart. I love dogs. Hubby took him around, showing him what needed to be done in the house. Joe would say, “Yah, I think I could do that.”

When he left we weren’t sure about his abilities? He was very different from the other contractors that gave us bids. Most contractors brag on how wonderful they are and that they could do most anything. We found out the hard way that they are mostly full of flattery. Joe didn’t say anything about how good he was.

We decided to have my cousin Joe do the work. He was a simple, single, rough and tough, strong guy who sort of looked like and reminded me of my dad. He had thick, tough, calloused hands just like my dad’s, so of course this guy was special to me right away. Four months Joe worked for us full time.

Not only did we gain a great friend, but laughter began to fill the walls of our house. Our house started to become a home, and to our amazement, Joe did an outstanding job. The job was far better than we ever imagined or deserved. Joe was not an ordinary carpenter—he was a skilled craftsman. Hubby wanted to have the same woodwork that was in the original house. The wood was thicker than what you could buy in the stores today. Joe had rough-sawn oak that was perfect for our job stored in his barn, so he sold it to us. It was lots of work to get the rough boards ready to make into trim, move it, stack it, then plane all four sides many times. Move it, stack it, and put it through a sander many times. Move it, stack it . . . I think we handled each board about fifty times before it was ready for trim.

Then Hubby ordered online a custom molding knife from a company in California. He sent them a profile drawing of the trim, because he wanted the same profile as the original trim in the parlor.  The molding knife goes into a shaping machine. Joe would put a piece of wood in the shaping machine and out would come a beautiful detailed piece of trim.  I couldn’t guess how many more times Joe handled each piece of wood.

As much as we had, we still ran out of wood, so we had to locate a place that had wood like we were using. We went to Amish country and stopped at an Amish salvage food store. We looked around and got a few things. We told the man as we were checking out what kind of wood we were looking for and asked if he knew of a place we could get it.

“Oh, yes! Down the road, first street, turn left, and it’s the second farm on the right.”

We drove to the farm. There was no sign out front to indicate that there was a lumber shop, but we drove in anyway hoping we were at the right place. The shop was in the back, behind the house. Hubby went in to check it out, and I stayed in the car. About twenty minutes later he came out and asked me to come in because the Amish man who owned the place was my first cousin on my mother’s side and he wanted to meet me.

My home is finished with wood from my first cousin on my father’s side and my first cousin on my mother’s side. Something I never thought would happen, and never dreamed could happen. What a blessing for us.

Joe also had some special pieces of wood that he had saved over the years, and he gave them up; he used them in our house. We feel so blessed for his generosity. They hang in a special place, with love written all over them. I have learned from Joe that unique pieces of wood to carpenters are like beautiful material to quilters. You hang on to them because it’s hard to cut into them. That is, until you find just the right home for them.

Then after Joe put up all the trim, I had to fill all the nail holes. After that, we had to sand, varnish, sand, and varnish again. In some of the rooms, we painted the trim. It seemed like it was an endless job.

The trim is so sturdy that my grandsons, do chin-pull-ups on our family room doorway trim. I say, “Good thing Joe put up that trim because if someone else would have done it, I’m sure it would be coming apart.”

“You know the walls aren’t really that bad. We can patch them up, here and there, and then paint. I like the old plaster look.”  I suggest as Hubby and I were examining the house for renovation.

“Uh-huh.” Hubby quietly responds.

“The kitchen cabinets need a lot of scrubbing and painting, but we could make it work.”

“Uh-huh.” He responds again, as he keeps on investigating.

“I just love this window and door trim in the parlor and hallway. That’s what makes this place special. Some fixing up and some paint, and it will be beautiful.”

“Uh-huh.” 

The whole time we were going through the house I was the only one really talking. It seemed like his mind was somewhere else.  Because of his response, I was assuming he agreed. What I didn’t know then, what I was suggesting and what he was thinking, were two different things.  Well actually, that is typical of our relationship. I want the easy way. He takes the longer, more difficult way. Doing it his way has the best results, but it always takes soooooooo much more time. He always does things right, and there are no short cuts for him.

So, he lets me think he’s agreeing with me and later, he slowly gives me hints of his intentions. Just a little at a time, even days or months later. Sometimes he does things without even telling me. Those are stories to come.  

As you can see, from the pictures, he didn’t agree with my idea to keep the plaster walls. He ordered a huge dumpster, hired a few men, and we took down all the plaster in the whole house. Yes, I helped. Yes indeed, I helped! I bet that’s one job a lot of women can’t say they have experienced. It was a dirty mess to clean up, and I was glad when that job was done.

After the demolition and cleaning up of the plaster, the house was ready for the next stage of construction. The mechanical work which includes plumbing, electrical, heating, cooling, TV/phone/audio and security wiring, insulation and drywall. Those went very well and as planned.

After the drywall was all completed and the workers left the job, Hubby inspected the whole house. Trust me he was watching all the crews and was making sure things were done right. For some reason, he let the drywall guys leave, even though he was not totally satisfied. They did a good job, but he still checked and touched up all the drywall, in every room of the house. Which took him a few weeks to accomplish. Talk about a perfectionist. I also think another one of his personalities traits is a performer. He’s so highly driven.

Our son Matthew told us when he comes home from Iraq that he wanted to work on the farm until we were able to move in. We were so grateful for his offer.  When he came home, he faithfully worked on many different projects. The one thing he did the most was clean up all the old wood.  He removed all the wood trim inside the house and the window trim on the outside of the house. I was saddened that Hubby wanted it removed. I loved the fancy trim. (The story about the new trim will be my next blog.)  This trim was old but beautiful. I just couldn’t throw it away.  It just so happened when we were taking care of both of our parent’s estates, we had a sale.  I sold a lot of the old fancy window trim there.

A little information about my son Matthew. He graduated from college and then enlisted in the Marines. Just when his four years of service were completed, they needed him longer, because of the war in Iraq.  He was in the first group that invaded Iraq.

A mother’s heart ached. There were lots of prayers and watching the invasion on TV. I finally had to stop watching, and I etched this Bible verse in my heart. Psalm 139:16 Your eyes saw his unformed body; all the days ordained for him were written in your book before one of them came to be.

God knew all about my son, if he was going to live or die. Matthew’s days were already established. Any worrying on my part would not help. Trust me it was a happy day when he returned home.

He lived and worked for us as he promised for two years. He brought us much happiness in so many ways.

When Hubby told me his plans for the basement, I was overwhelmed. He wears me out with his ambitions, intelligence, and knowledge. “How in the world are you going to dig down that deep in the basement?” I ask. “Plus, if you dig below the existing wall, how can you put in a footer? A house needs a firm foundation!”

“Digging the basement out is the easy part. I’ll dig it out with my tractor.” He says with an ornery smile. “I’ll figure out the foundation when the time comes.”

So typical of him to give me a vague answer. He always keeps me in suspense. That’s one thing that irritates me about him. I see why he doesn’t tell me because it’s way above my comprehension. But it still is annoying! After his answer, I think to myself. How in the world is he going to get his tractor in the basement? I can’t ask him, because he’ll think I should know. He really drives me crazy! Moments like that, I just forget about it and look forward to seeing what he comes up with. It took him the whole summer to complete the basement. It delayed the process of other things we wanted to get done. But a firm foundation is required for a sturdy structure.

Writing this blog was way above my intelligence. So, I had Hubby write the captions. I must confess it might not be as enjoyable as my other blogs, but I was very impressed with his ability to firm up the foundation. That is why I just had to add this process to my blog. You’ll also see why he had to explain the process. It was even hard for me to understand his explanations below. But on the other hand, I was so proud of him when the building inspectors came to see his completed work. They were impressed, and he passed the inspection with flying colors.

Basement floor dig is complete. This form you see is where we will pour a thick concrete pad for a post that will support the floor above. This just shows one, there are more.

I used two different methods to secure the walls. One, so it wouldn’t take up additional floor space. The other was required because of how the existing stone wall was originally built.

Getting ready to pour a footer pad under the existing wall. I cut a door opening in the existing wall for a doorway that leads to the new room under our family room. That is where all of Naomi’s canning goods are kept, and where my office is.

This is a wall that was put in sometime in the late 1940’s. Note there originally was no footer under the cinder blocks. This is showing my form that creates the footer. Then later a second pour will connect the new footer and the old wall together. The temporary support post was there to prevent the existing wall from collapsing.

This shows that I was digging under the old stone walls a good ten inches and then pouring concrete that was about fourteen inches thick. The original stones were about eighteen inches thick on the bottom layer. Therefore, I had about eight inches still resting to the packed dirt. This kept the stone foundation in place while the new concrete was hand mixed and poured into a temporary form. If you look closely you will find half inch rebar sections that was used to insure each new concrete pour that will connect with its neighbor. No stones moved out of place while this was being done and fifteen years later there still has been no movement. Also, no treasures were found during this archaeological dig.

A good view of the dirt having been dug out and now ready to place the plywood form and then mix and pour the concrete. Digging out the dirt required an electric hammer chisel. The dirt was packed so hard that you had no chance of digging in there with a shovel.

Just another view of getting ready to pour a space that would complete a wall. These times were times of celebrating.

Here you see the concrete pads installed and support posts in place. The old basement stairs were removed during this time to allow the construction. Floor drain tile was installed around the perimeter both inside and later, on the outside. The result is this basement is always dry. When this home was purchased parts of this basement had over 6 inches of water covering the floor and the ceiling was six feet just off the floor. Post construction we now have an eight-foot ceiling and in a new area we have a ten-foot ceiling. There is no sump pump needed since all these drainage pipes lead to the road ditch. Yes, the tractor did most of the work.

More gravel being brought in and placed prior to the concrete floor being poured. The work was far from being done.

­­­­­­Drawing up the plans for the house took a whole year. I tell ya, finding an architect was hard. We interviewed three. One wanted “This Old House” TV show to come out and do the job. He contacted them, but they said they wouldn’t go to Ohio. The weather was too unpredictable with a renovation this big. Tell me about it, they were right about the weather.  Some plans were just too crazy. One architect wanted to take the same structure that the barn had and put it in the living room addition. Really? I don’t think so.  We told them what we wanted, but I don’t think they were listening, because they came up with some strange plans. Well, one finally listened and came up with what we wanted.  But, Hubby did find a few things wrong with the blueprints. The roof pitch was wrong. It did not match the old house.  Good thing he found that before things were under construction.

We were making extreme changes to the house, so we had to have the Twinsburg Architectural Review Board accept the plans.  I was sort of nervous, because it was a historical site and I wasn’t sure how strict they would be. But Hubby was sure it would pass. Sure, enough it did. 

We added a living room to the back of the house. The north side of the house we added a master bath and walk-in closet. The south side of the house we added a garage and a bonus room. The addition walls were SIP panels. They came ready-made to be assembled on site.

SIP panels- A structural insulated panel, or structural insulating panel, is a form of sandwich panel used in the construction industry. SIP is a sandwich structured composite, consisting of an insulating layer of rigid core sandwiched between two layers of structural board, used as a building material. Wikipedia

There were so many things that went wrong that I could list, but it would not be helpful. Writing is relieving my stress, but writing about the issues we dealt with, would only arouse frustration and stress.  That is one thing I am trying to avoid.

Most builders are not used to building around an old house. They want to tear the old down and build new. It is extremely difficult, but it can be done. It just takes a good general contractor to be on the watch for all the mistakes. Hubby did just that. It even got to the point that he was overwhelmed. I believe, he thought, I’ll just fix the things myself, once they leave. I see how hard he works and I was not going to let that happen. For some reason, the builders didn’t think the problems were an issue. They thought they were done. I made a few phone calls to some people who were in charge. I also made a long list of all the things that were wrong and confronted the builder about it.  Giving him the list and seeing all the problems listed on paper, might have made a statement. I am not an assertive person, but I was so under stress with the builders, that I was not going to be quiet. Guess what? They took notice and fixed all the problems.

Not only did the builders cause problems, but the weather played a huge part in delays. It seemed that when the weather was good the builders were not available. When the weather was bad they were available, but then they couldn’t work, because of the weather. Are you getting my drift? All-in-all when the builders were done, SO WAS I! I never wanted to have anything to do with construction or renovation, ever, ever again! (We weren’t even close to being done. That was just the structure of the house. We still had all the renovations to do inside the house.)

Okay, I am taking a deep breath. I am still trying to be content in my uncontentment. Building the structure of the house was fifteen years ago. Even as I am writing this, my Hubby is renovating another farmhouse, and he also added a kitchen to his business last week. Yes, these are the confessions of a renovation addict ‘s wife.

A nice, elderly lady drives in our driveway gets out of her car walks up to me and says. “Hi. Could you please open your barn door. The Barn Swallows are in distress!”
“What are you talking about?” I asked the lady. I was startled that someone would drive in and tell me what to do. I had no idea what she was asking me. I was outside burning wood, so she took the opportunity to stop and inform her new neighbor about those precious birds.
“See the Barn Swallows flying around here?” She points in the sky. “They want in your barn. They come back every spring. Now, since you have the barn restored, and the doors are closed, they can’t get in. Can you open the door, so they can go in and make their nest?”

“I’ll do that.” So, I opened the door and sure enough, those birds flew right in and made themselves at home. They come back every year. They are just adorable, and we enjoy seeing them each year. Hubby does get annoyed at times because they do make a big mess. So, he has to make sure not to park his tractor under their nest. He doesn’t always like to keep the big door open all summer, so he opens a window. I wasn’t sure they would find the open window, but they did. I think one year we had three nests in the downstairs barn.

The lower level of a barn is called the milking parlor. We don’t have cows, so we don’t use that term. The whitewash paint was chipping, so we had the whole lower level power washed. Whitewashing was used in dairy barns for centuries because it was necessary for maintenance and it was safe for animals. Whitewash paint is powdered lime mixed with water.

The gutters in the barn, where the cow manure goes, were full of all sorts of debris.  There was also piles of a mixture of wood, hay, a dead possum, dirt and manure. Those piles all needed to be hauled away and the area cleaned.

I was on the phone one morning, with my partner in crime and she asked, “What are you doing today?”

I said, “I have to start cleaning out the lower level of the barn because we need to get it ready to power wash.”

“I’ll come over and help you.”

“No, it’s a mess! There is no way I want you to help me.” I pleaded.

I got my work clothes on and went to work in the barn. To my surprise my
partner in crime shows up to help me clean. I actually was embarrassed to have her work in such a smelly, bad condition. “Well, you sure don’t listen, do you?”

“Nope.” She said, with an ornery smile. I try to convince her to go home, but she didn’t listen and just started helping me. We did have fun. That is if you what to call cleaning out a filthy barn fun. The cleaning included laughing and screaming all at the same time. The screaming was caused by two ladies uncovering a possum. The laughter came when we realized it was dead. 

Searching for our dream house, we never thought we wanted a place with a barn. We were looking for a house, not a farm with four buildings. Once we bought the farm, we knew it had hidden potential, but we never imagined the wonderful adventure we would have. Our historical barn entertains family gatherings, garden club events, weddings, square dances, men’s cookouts, hen parties and all sorts of hootenannies. The upper area of the barn called the haymow is where it all happens.

As you can see, there were lots of improvements to the barn. The hay loft had no floor, just a few boards thrown here and there. We took it all down and built a new loft, floor, stairs, and railings. We used rough-cut pine timbers, freshly cut from my cousin’s woods. He cut the wood with his own sawmill. We put up the black curtains to cover up storage. Behind the curtains are a couple of hundred chairs that were going to be thrown away, but someone rescued them and gave them to us. They have been very helpful, especially when we have activities in the barn. Also, our friends borrows them when they need chairs for their parties.

There were two wood braces that were attached to the floor about five feet out. Hubby thought they were in the way for any activity in the barn.  He asked my cousin to move them. The braces were attached high on the side wall and out of the way. Also, half of the floor was replaced, which made for a nice, smooth floor. The other half has the original wood.

As we were restoring the farm, we found lots of stuff. Most of the stuff went to the road for the trash man to pick up. There was a lot of stuff that we recycled. There was also a lot of wood that was not worth saving, so we burned it. My son Matthew saved somewhat good old wood and piled it out behind the barn. Over the years people would stop in and ask if they could have some of the wood. We were glad to share.

There were also things that we just couldn’t throw away. We saved them, wondering what we could do with it. One day I get this idea to hang the things up in the barn for display. Mostly to get it off the floor and out of the way.

I had a neighbor who was my partner in crime who volunteered to hold my ladder while I hung the treasures. She was my helper who handed me nails, hammers, and items. She also would check to see if things looked good before I would crawl down the ladder. It took us a few days, but we were very pleased with our accomplishment.

When we were clearing out the attic in the house, we found a picture of a gentleman. It was all dusty, upside down on a board, way in the back. We asked people from the Twinsburg Historical Society if someone would know who this gentleman was. They didn’t. Leon thought it might have been the hired man who helped his grandfather build the barn. But he didn’t know for sure. I just couldn’t toss this picture out. So, I hung him in the barn. He watches over all the activities that go on.

A few months after we bought the farm, I received a very curious letter in the mail.

January 27, 2003, Att: Naomi Stutzman. My name is Leon Bennett. I was born in the house you own on Liberty Rd.  I have pictures of the barns and other buildings going back to before I was born in 1926. My grandfather built the barn and two or three others on the road. If you want to make copies of my pictures you may call me most any morning and we can make arrangements to meet and maybe I can give more information of the place. Yours truly, Leon

Well, of course, I phoned, and we planned to meet at his home. He was an elderly, happy man with a very pleasant personality.  When he told his stories, you couldn’t help but want to stay by his side and listen. He had a slight limp and used a cane to steady his walk.

“Would it be alright if I came over to look around your place?” He asked. “I cannot tell you how happy I am that you plan to restore the barn.  I would like to see the inside of the barn if that would be okay.”

“Absolutely! You can come any time you like.” 

Soon after our visit Leon shows up at the farm. He took us on a tour through memory lane. “Oh my, I remember that banister!  I used to slide down those banisters, but mom didn’t like that I did it.”  He said as we walked in the hallway.

“Is that why they are a little wobbly?” I ask. He just chuckles as he looks in the front room. “This was the parlor that was always clean and very nicely decorated.  Mom never let us go in and play.  It was only used for special occasions or when we had company.”

He told us where the kitchen originally was and where a wall was removed. He showed us the room where the hired man slept and then pointed out the room where his sister slept. “I can’t believe the hired man slept upstairs and my sister slept upstairs also. I guess my parents trusted him.” Leon said. “I slept in the upstairs hallway.” The upstairs had a large landing, around the banisters, which lead to the bedrooms. That is where Leon slept.

Leon became a regular visitor almost every week while our place was under construction.  Every time he came, he enjoyed just walking around the property. Sometimes all by himself. You could tell the place aroused fond memories of his childhood, just by the look on his face. The pride radiated as he gazed at the restored large barn his grandfather built.  

Reminiscing he said. “I remember taking a horse-drawn wagon full of hay up the barn hill into the barn. We used a horse and the pulley system that is attached along the ceiling of the barn to unload the hay and put it in the haymow.” The barn he treasured as a child, was not going to disappear. It was being restored, as a keepsake of his skillful grandfather’s handiwork.

For three years Leon came for his visits. When the house was being restored, he would walk right in and look around, just checking out what was being done. He enjoyed seeing the progress as the house was getting close to completion.  One day he walked in, but what he didn’t know was we had moved that week. I didn’t think anything of it and didn’t want him to feel embarrassed, so I didn’t say anything. The next week Leon rang the doorbell.  

As he came in, he said. “I think you moved in last week and I walked right in your house. I want to apologize.”

“No problem Leon, you became a very welcomed friend we love to see. You can come anytime you want.”

The only difference between men and boys is the cost of their toys.

After the barn was restored, Hubby said, “Hey Honey, I need a tractor. I need it to do work around the farm.” He gave me several reasons why and his plea was understandable. So, we took a day to go to the Kubota Tractor Farm and Garden Store.

“Hey, Honey!” he calls, “I picked out just the right size. Not too big and not too small. Come, get up on the seat and see how nice this tractor rides.”

“Really? Not sure I want to. This is for you, not me.” It looked and felt big, as I hoisted myself up on that tractor, with Hubby eagerly helping me.

Sitting there he was convincing me; how perfect it was.  “You can also use this tractor. We can get attachments for you to mow the lawn. You can use the front end loader to put in your weeds and dump them. That way you don’t have to carry them. This is a great size for you to use also.”

“I would rather have a golf cart.” I confessed, silently, so the salesman couldn’t hear.

“Oh no you don’t want a golf cart. Once you get used to the tractor, you will love it.”  Trust me, he didn’t need my approval, but I agreed and knew he needed the tractor. So off we went to make the big purchase. He was like a kid in a candy store. Not only did he buy the tractor, but a few other attachments. Like a front end loader, rototiller, backhoe, mower, box scraper and a blade scraper. The salesperson was giving him great deals if he bought them all at the same time. Well, of course, he had a good reason for each and every one of them.

This is so good. I thought. Once we get to the house and I need to buy new furniture, I will have some leverage.  I will remind him of his tractor shopping spree.

It is true, he couldn’t have done IT without the tractor. He used it for digging trenches, digging holes, moving dirt, hauling wood and you name it. He used it for almost every outside job. Without it, the project wouldn’t have gone forward.

He also loves just playing with the tractor. One day, he wanted to dig out a stone that was in the field. He started digging with the backhoe. He dug all around the stone, but he couldn’t move it. Instead of stopping, he kept digging. He dug and dug. To his surprise it was not a stone, it was a boulder. He dug down four feet all around the boulder. Now he had a problem. There was no way the tractor was going to lift that boulder out of the hole. Somehow he always lucks out. The contractors from the new development wanted to use our property for drainage. They needed to make a culvert. So he talked them into using the boulder to help construct it. Yep, they moved it for him.

During the time we were under construction, I heard of a song by Kenny Chesney – “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy.” So I bought the CD and played it for him. There was a very pleasant, happy look on his face as he listened. I really do enjoy staring at Hubby as he’s chugging along. Sometimes on hot summer days, I take out some ice-cold water for him. I wave him down, and hand him the refreshments. I look at him and say, “Hey Honey, you’re working hard and getting lots of sun. Looks like your getting a farmer’s tan.” He gives me a happy, love ya look and I can’t help but sing, “I think your tractor’s sexy.”

There is a reason tractors are special to both of us. At a youth baseball game, I was sitting on a bench with my girlfriends. I noticed the third basemen. I guess he also noticed me. After an inning, he came right up to me and asked me to go on a hayride with him after the game. He was in charge of getting the wagon for the hayride, because they were using his dad’s tractor. He needed to go and hook up the wagon. I was the lucky one to go with him. He lifted me up on that tractor and took me for a ride. That was our first date. Yes indeed, at that time I really did think his tractor was sexy. Life for me was never the same after that tractor ride.

By the way, I do use the tractor. One time when I was mowing the field, I couldn’t believe all the looks I was getting from the passing cars. Then I realized why he likes his tractor so much.

There is a well-known saying; “Many a fine barn has built a fine house. But a fine house has never built a fine barn.”

The barn was the farmer’s livelihood, if he had a barn he could then make money to build a fine house. But if he built the fine house first he didn’t have money to build a barn. So, Hubby wanted to restore the barn first.

“Really? Why?” I ask. “You’re not a farmer!”  I was totally surprised that he thought that the barn should be the first building to be restored. My thought would be the house.

“If we restore the barn first, I can store all the tools and equipment in the barn while we are working on the house.” He answered. Somehow, he is always so right on.

Hubby knows his limit. He knew he could not restore that huge barn himself.  To do the repairs he needed tools and equipment that he was not willing to purchase. In the long run, it would be cheaper and safer to have someone else do the work.  We started researching how to restore a barn and we found the Hartville Barn Boys, a father and son company that specializes in restoring barns. The father’s name was John, so I would refer to him as Barn John.

They came during the winter months and worked in the cold. They amazed me, with the magic they performed. It took them around three months to complete and they were done the first of March, 2003.

The barn sandstone foundation was fine, but all the wood that was making contact on the stone foundation was rotting. They lifted the whole barn, took out all the rotting wood and replaced it with new wood. They used a laser to level the building.

Jacking up various parts of the barn, they then cut off the bottom of the rotting supporting beams. They made a cement base at each, then lowered the jack stabilizing the barn.   

They replaced all the missing wood siding before they put up the red steel siding. That made for a nice finished look inside the barn. They replaced all the windows and huge barn doors.

The slate roof also needed great repair. Hubby wanted to keep the slate roof because he wanted the old look. I was not sure. Granted it was unique, but to fix it and keep it up would be costly. After I saw the finished project, I think he made the right choise. They replaced 600 gray-green slate.  

The “Bennett” name and date “1904” was originally written with black slate, on the front of the barn roof. Hubby decided not to keep the name, just the date on the roof. The Hartville Barn Boys also repaired the slate roof. 

It was the talk of the neighborhood as they saw an old, dull, dilapidated barn, gradually transforming into a beautiful, colorful and useful barn.    

I must admit I love the restored barn, but I also admire the picture of the old, dilapidated barn. That is why we kept the interior of the barn looking old. So, when you walk inside the barn, you will feel like you are stepping back in time.

When the farm transferred September 5, 2002, Hubby sent me to the farm to take photos of all the buildings.  Then I took the film to a place that would develop in one hour.  While I was waiting I decided to go to the library.  I wanted to look for pictures, in books, of houses that were the same structure as our farmhouse. We wanted to get ideas on how we could fix it up. I looked through many books and couldn’t find anything. Defeated, I left the library with lots of other decorating books and went to pick up my developed photos.

Looking through all the photos, I came to the one that was the front of the farmhouse.  The next photo, to my surprise, was of the house on Bissel Road. The house I loved.  I took a double take and realize the Bissel house was the same structure as the farmhouse.  I had forgotten all about the Bissel house, that I had taken the photo, and that it was in the film. It almost looks like a before and after picture. Really? I could hardly believe it. I had an awe moment. Here I was looking at the library for pictures that would help us plan our house.  While all along that very moment was a photo being developed, one perfect for us.

Even though I was thrilled that we purchased the farm, I still had a little concern that the place was just too much work for us.  But, after having that awe moment, I heard God whispering to me, “You will be able to handle it and it will be a blessing to you.” Well, after that, I felt complete peace.

Trust me, this place was a gift from God. He protected us many times and we didn’t even know it. The fun part was how we found out.

The following spring, on election day, I went to my regular voting place. They inform me that I am no longer on their list.

“Are you registered?”  They ask.

“I sure think I am.”

They look again and say, “Your husband is on the list but you’re not.”

“What?  Are you kidding me?” I ask in bewilderment.

It was a mystery. Until one of the ladies asked, “By any chance do you have another house registered in your name?”

“Well, yes. We just bought Abram’s farm.” I answered. “But we’re not living there yet.”

“That doesn’t matter, if the house is in your name, you have to go to the voting ward location that your house is in.” They checked where I would have to go and told me to see if I was registered there.

When I went to the new voting area, sure enough, I was on their list. As I was giving them my information. A lady, who was working the registration table, eagerly said, “We were hoping you would come in to vote. You must be the one who bought Abram’s farm.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, I wanted to meet and tell you my husband bought that place when the development first was started. He put a down payment on the farm, and that week he had an accident. He broke his knee. We decided that there was no way he could work on the place in his condition. So, he canceled the purchase agreement. He lost his down payment.”

“I am sorry, and I am so sorry your husband broke his knee. How is he now?” I ask.

“He’s still having problems with his knee and I am glad he didn’t get the farm. He couldn’t have handled it. I guess that’s life.”

`We talked some more, and I left smiling inside and out. Not because that poor man broke his knee, but shocked and overly thankful how the farm was reserved just for us.

We don’t really know how or when her husband bought the farm. Or why it didn’t go right back up for sale.  We were told the farm was empty for one year before it was put up for sale.

I love God’s gentle whispers that let us know of His blessings. All that we have, comes from God who loves to give good gifts to his children. These stories left me in a state of complete amazement and trust in God. The farm could have been taken away from us two times, but He saved it just for us.  We thought it was just a run-down farm that needed to be restored. Both Hubby and I grew up with barns on our property.  Nothing special to us. But we would eventually find out that this farm would become a unique place.