Past, Present, and Future

For the first two years of our Working House journey, we have mainly focused on the past – our memories, the history – and a little on the present – holes in roofs, collapsing chimneys. Our motto is “old things, new dreams,” and lately we have been consumed with the “old things” ... as they are very needy. But I’m ready to turn my attention to our “new dreams.”

Caroline has her height marked on the wall at the farmhouse

The Past

Our properties are time capsules and time machines. We cannot enter one without being transported to the past. Through our own memories of our childhoods, or the palpable vibrations of the history that came well before us, we are constantly being thrown (often unwillingly) into days gone by. Our past is also where pain and regret live. Regret that we didn’t act sooner, or take better care. When we dig even deeper into the legacy of these places, we are reminded that we occupy only a moment in the lifetimes of these homes. Our memories and experiences cohabitate these spaces with the memories of those who came before us and will later mingle with those who come after. It is humbling to think that we are merely the temporary stewards of these properties and they will live on well beyond our lifetimes.

Virginia Creeper attempts to take over the neglected milking parlor

The Present

It is so easy to get bogged down with the daily to-do lists for the properties we were left with (some of which were/are in various states of disrepair). But in constantly playing catch-up, we lose our sense of purpose and lose sight of the big picture. As I weed-whacked my way through the forest of thistles at the farm the other week, I became completely overwhelmed with the simple task of maintaining the status quo, let alone moving forward or dreaming of more. More!? It’s already too much. Especially in summer, when you turn away for a minute and the house is covered in Virginia Creeper and the honeysuckle has taken over the shed. Every Tree of Heaven sapling is mocking me as it emerges from the soil while my back is turned. Each season comes with its own challenges – downed trees, flooded basements, infestations – but summer has a special ability to make you feel like a complete failure. Mindfulness teaches us to live in the present… but I have learned that is not sustainable for my business mind. The present is just too much. We will keep marking things off our lists, but the promise of the future is why we’re really doing this work.

The Future

Before the end of this year, we are hoping to offer our Victorian as a short-term rental and the Mid-Century Beach House as a seasonal rental. And the big “New Dream” is slowly unfolding at the farm. We have been working to get the systems up and running, and have successfully (for now) solved our water, plumbing, septic, and electrical issues. Up next is our 1790s Bank Barn restoration (coming next winter!) with further dreams of pond habitat restoration, returning some farmland to native prairie, a foray into regenerative agriculture, and a complete transition to solar energy. The ultimate dream for the farm is a rural retreat where we can hold events, classes, and perhaps even offer a small campground for folks to stay, learn, and connect with community and nature. This is what is truly exciting about our work: the dreams. Yes, it’s the work of the past and present that will hopefully make this dream possible. But we have to keep our heads up and looking forward, otherwise we might just drown in our present.

Our dreams for a rural community center at the farm