This is where I "grew up," or, at least the years between 6th and 12th grade. My parents built this place on two acres of land they bought from my grandfather in 1968, so it'll be 60 years old in four years. That sounds like a long time.
The front porch, mud room on the side and garage were all added later. We had wooden 2x10 steps up to the front door and back door for much of my time there.
It's odd, but I can't recall if any of the additions took place while I lived there. They were all added by my parents, because I recall going through the garage attic where much of my "stuff" was moved at some point, either by my parents or my brothers.
The place has a full basement where I used to pound out CQ on 80 meters CW as WN2FEB, I can still recall the smell of mildew and ozone, and the chill on my shoulders.
Not long after we moved in, we discovered the basement flooded. They installed a sump pump to manage that. Drinking water comes from a well, and it was very hard and had a distinct odor. I recall when we vacationed at Gramma's from Michigan, I didn't like the water because it "smelled." Turns out, you get used to it, but everything white eventually turns orange.
The trees in the left side of the frame were planted as saplings. They originally outlined our "picnic" area where we had our picnic table. Nearly everyone had a picnic table outside in those days. We'd often eat outside, bugs be damned.
Later it became the location of a used above-ground pool my dad bought and had set up. Back behind the garage was the chicken house, which we bought and had moved from wherever they bought it from. We had a few dozen chickens and sold eggs for a while. One of my chores in the winter was to trudge out through the snow to the chicken house to collect the eggs. As cold as it might be outside, the chickens kept the chicken house pretty warm.
One of my other chores was to also shovel all the chicken shit out into a wheelbarrow, and then spread it on the garden.
Speaking of shoveling, I also had to shovel snow out of the driveway so Dad could go to work. We used what was called a "grain shovel." It had a huge blade with a flat front edge and scooped sides. Mom would melt paraffin on it so the wet snow wouldn't stick as much.
Anyway, "Good times," as they say.
Originally posted at Nice Marmot 07:49 Wednesday, 26 June 2024