The Minnesota Farm Woman

When I was growing up, I wanted to be an archeologist. On any given summer day, I could be found sifting through the sand surrounding our burn barrel in the back yard, finding assorted treasures such as chipped marbles, buttons, and singed animal bones. As an adult, I once borrowed a metal detector and was happily digging up nickels in a Florida state park when the rangers stopped me and threatened to confiscate them. Apparently, searching for buried treasure on state land in a historic county is against the law. Oops. I am always watching roadshows and picker shows on television and hear the stories of those who move to old farms and find things in their attics and barn rafters worth thousands of dollars. Well, we moved to an old farm, and we haven’t found anything except broken glass and rusty metal. I spend my summers picking up this junk, only to find more every year once the snow is gone. This fall, I have spent a few days moving my garden storage area from one shed to another. Ordinarily, at this time of the year, I am sitting in front of the fire with a good book, but the unusual balmy fall weather has extended my outdoor activity. When you are a homeowner, another word for outdoor activity is WORK. First, I hauled three wheelbarrow loads of wood scraps and old leftover pieces of lumber to the burn pile. It’s funny, but I thought it might make a good woodshed just before I realized it used to be a woodshed. Next, I moved the pile of old pieces of metal that I have picked up over the years from the corner of the shed to the trailer. Hopefully, HE will get the hint and make a trip to the recycle center before the snow flies. I raked the dirt floor from corner to corner, loosening up more wood chips and (no surprise here) lots of broken glass. I carefully dumped and sorted through a bucket of rusty nails, hoping to find a treasure beneath them, but there was nothing there but rusty nails. I found a few small toy trucks buried among the dirt and the glass. I found some old and some not so old rusty tools. I found a mouse nest made with lots of chicken feathers and straw. I found plenty of spider webs. Luckily, I didn’t find any spiders, but I know they were watching me. Emptied from top to bottom and from end to end, the little shed will be ready for its new/old role as a woodshed. It is not quite empty, though. Hidden in one of the corners is a collection of small toy trucks, an animal bone of some sort, and an old rusty chisel of unknown vintage. In a few years, my grandson will be old enough to do some exploring on his own, and if he’s anything like his grandma, he’ll be looking for a treasure. I hope he finds one.