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Farm
Journals
Memories in the Corner
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Butterfly Hollow Farm ____ The Path Leading Us Here ____ How The Farm Got Its Name ____ Restoring the Old Farmhouse ____ Where The Beefalo Roam ____ Saddle Up The Horses ____ Saving Wilderness and Farm Land ____ Farm Journals ____ Sharing The Farm ____ Guest Book ____ Site Map ____ |
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One by one we’re lifting the wide planks of Ash lumber that have been stacked on our porch drying and are finally nailing up the ceilings on the wrap around porches. Our work pace is much more relaxed these days, now that we are living in the farmhouse. Over the last week or two this has been our primary project and it would seem like a fairly quick task to accomplish. But, let me tell you…. We’re having to rip and straighten just about every piece of wood and cut it to length, which usually takes two measurements…one before the cut and the other after attempting to lift it in place and then realize that it has be trimmed just a bit more. No sweat though… we’re averaging three or four boards in place and then a rest in a rocking chair, a glass of ice tea and a stroll through the garden and eventually begin the process over again. It has felt good to have my hammer in hand again and today we’re putting the final pieces to the front porch and will be moving on to our screen room and then to the back porch in the next week or so. We were both enjoying the perfect September weather, swishing around the remaining ice cubes in the empty tea glasses, looking at what we’ve accomplished today and getting ready to begin another round of boards when we heard a car coming down our gravel drive. In pulls two of the sweetest ladies we have met in a while. We’ve had many folks compliment us on the farmhouse and what we’ve done to this once abandoned farm, but the words of praise that came from today’s visitors were the “pat” of all pat’s on the back. Jane Hamlet’s eyes told us everything as she walked up on to the porch and began peaking in the windows. “I spent many wonderful days here when I was a child” she shared with us. “My mother always loved this farm and would be so proud if she could see what you have done.” My heart began to crumble with pride as she stepped into the old homeplace and looked through her 60 year old eyes, searching for the memories still left in the corners. Her first cousin Mary Katherine, who accompanied her, also had some childhood memories of the farm and told us about a trail that her father's brother and Jane’s mother wore out going from our hollow farm over to theirs when they were courting. We walked up the stairs to the guest bedrooms and Jane stopped half way up the staircase and mentioned that she used to climb up into these eves when she was a child and spent many quality moments hiding out and reading books here on her Grandfather’s farm. We showed them the room we named after her mother Lily, and when Sharon pulled out the sign we are going to hang on the door that says “Lily's Room” she took Sharon by the hand. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” she said in a soft voice. “I always wanted to preserve this place somehow and I am so thankful that you both had the vision too.” “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” Little did she know, but she already did. Her witness to our farm restoration ended the circle somehow and made us feel so complete inside. We walked them into the guest room called Wash’s Tree House, which we named after her Grandfather. She told us a couple wonderful stories about George Washington Crawford and I began fitting the missing pieces of my history of the house together. She told us of the one important decision that Wash did before he passed away that, when boiled down to it, is the main reason we are at this moment today. When Jane’s Grandmother, Hattie was diagnosed with Leukemia, Wash made changes to the deed of the farm that left everything to their only daughter Lily and also gave her a life estate that would always allow her to live on the farm even if she were to sell it. Wash did remarry, but never changed the deed and when the farm eventually changed hands, the farmhouse stood protected awaiting Lily to return. Because of the life estate, the owners of the farm that followed could not do anything to the farmhouse but let it slowly crumble. It remained vacant and unfortunately Lily was never able to make it home. She held on and kept her farm safe from development until the year we bought Butterfly Hollow. I believe she probably passed away the moment Sharon and I were sitting on the old falling porch and the vision of us one day restoring the old place came a dancing though our dreams. We resumed our perch from the rocking chairs and listened to the sounds of the gate closing behind two very special ladies. We are looking forward to their next visit when we can travel down the back roads a little further and get lost in the stories and pages of yesterday…
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info@butterflyhollow.com
Butterfly
Hollow
Gordonsville,
TN 38563