Anyone driving by the old Juhl place on County Road 8 last week saw an unusual sight — an old granary being pushed slowly across the yard by a bulldozer.
She put up a good fight, she did. The building was so well made the second story remained completely intact — right up to the time the excavator shoved her into the burn pit and began smashing her.
I felt a little guilty watching the show. Being a descendant from frugal, sensible people, wasting things is not what we do. A guy could have dismantled the old building board by board, nail by nail, and (maybe) had a nice pile of old wood and some sheets of tin in a few months’ time.
Or a guy could call the bulldozer people and be done in a day.
The granary was not the only shed on the old Juhl place that met its demise last week. The old shop, the old horse barn, the old hog barn, the trees in the old fence line — all gone and replaced by one of my favorite things — a flat spot.
I’ll admit there were a few nostalgic moments. My husband and I saved the two-by-twelve boards that made up the floor of the hayloft in the old horse shed. As we pulled up the floorboards, I couldn’t help but think of the fun our kids and their friends had playing there. Never mind the hours and hours our youngest daughter spent in that building with her horses.
Even the old tree line had a few fun memories. Our son once built a tree fort in the renegade poplar tree that grew out of the lilac hedge. My husband believes some of his long-lost tools were probably still at the base of that tree when the dozer pushed it over.
The hog shed that we called “the Hamp barn” actually began its life in Luverne — right about where I live now on the very north end of town. Grandpa Edmonds (who was frugal and not inclined to call the bulldozer people) moved the shed to the country in the 1970s where it lived a happy life — until now.
When we were newlyweds, my husband and I would “sit with a sow” in the Hamp barn and watch the rats dance across the edges of the pens. Good times.
In its later life, the Hamp barn was home to chickens, rabbits and runt pigs rescued from the finisher. In its very late life, the Hamp barn roof began to peel off. Trees started to grow out of the rain-soaked, rotting hay bales in the loft. Volunteer trees grew in front of the doors, making it impossible to open them. Broken windows allowed birds to nest inside.
It was bittersweet watching the sheds go one by one. The grandkids won’t play in the hayloft like their parents did ...
But that’s OK. Time — like a granary being pushed by a bulldozer — moves slowly forward. Next spring, green alfalfa sprouts will emerge from the flat spots.
And life on the farm goes on.