We lay in bed last night listening to our house groan and creak like a ship at sea as 80mph winds and rain blasted Nova Scotia. Laura lay wondering if the house was going to fall down and scurrying from the boys room back to ours. She disappeared and slept in Charlies double bed for a few hours as their room, being on the leeward side, was much quieter.
I lay awake worrying about the fate of the little barn so when Evan signalled that morning had broken I got up and peered out the tiny bathroom window with dread. The barn was still standing but the roof was waving like a crowd of Mexicans in a football stadium. Half an hour later the right wall crumpled and the whole roof flipped off, leaving just a few jagged shards thrusting skyward, waving like a threatened crab on a sandy beach.
To lose any infrastructure on a farm is always a blow. I had done a lot of work on the barn the previous week and was feeling optimistic so we had made plans for it – you know, somewhere to house the goats, maybe a Jersey cow or two and of course lambing in the spring. Also, and key to our getting any animals it would have been somewhere dry and airy to store the hay. Now it’s another area that we have to worry about the boys going before figuring out a way of tidying it in the spring.
In another respect however it has freed us from the tyranny of someone elses farm plan meaning that we really will be starting from scratch so can put the buildings we need in the places we need them. I walked round the farm last week and found one fence post that wasn’t rotten, and to be honest I wanted to give myself hope so didn’t really push it that hard. Knowing that I have to completely redo ALL of the fencing plus ALL of the outlying buildings really has given us a clean sheet to work from so I’m currently sitting at the window waiting for the sun to come out and light up the benevolent rainbow with the magical pot of gold we need to do all this work. As I said, I’m an optimist…