Rural Packratism

Hoarding in the country is the norm.  I have grown to see neighbours collect old tires, barrels, stacks of broken wood, old windows and doors, scrap metal and one neighbour in particular who has a lawn full of broken down vehicles and trailers.  None of these items are placed strategically with a purpose of being lawn ornaments, but rather strewn about in disarray with no order.  I try not to judge.   
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Every farm I have ever visited has “stuff.”  Luckily, we have a designated pile of stuff, to keep some order in the chaos that can take place when items are collected from auction houses, dug up from the ground or kept with the hope that they will one day come in handy! 

We inherited a pile of junk when we moved to the farm.  One man’s junk is another man’s (or woman’s!) gold.  I must say that there were items I found that have become very valuable to me: rusty horseshoes, clay flower pots, livestock supplies, beautiful barn board, old chippy windows and doors, which have now been turned into painted signs, stylish chalkboards and picture frames.  I painted on one of the window panes “What I learned growing up on the farm was a way of life that was centred on hard work, on faith and on thrift.  Those values have stuck with me my whole life.”  When you are left to improvise, many objects left as junk can be recycled into useful items.  Being thrifty can be a good thing and forces you to be creative!      

Under mounds of aged dirt, grass and manure I have unearthed everything from screws and nails, water bottles, pants, underwear (yes, underwear!) and children’s toys, to antique wagon wheels, feed carts and galvanized pales.  I think the owners before us and before them and before them...may not have been the most environmentally friendly farmers.  A piece of land that once housed a dump pile has been turned into a cedar rail, ranch-style lunge ring.  Another has-been piece of lawn was able to get its green back, when we turned it into a nice outdoor pen for the dogs.  It took a few trips to the dump; several loads of trash and scrap metal, but also some treasures were collected beneath the ruins.  These treasures were re-located to a lane-way behind the pole barn, where the hoarding can be kept secret to the average passerby. 

There are days I have been tempted to gather every last piece of “stuff” and rid it from the property, but what if I need an old piece of wood or an old tire or a piece of steel to patch the coop?  That “what if” question keeps the pile high and mighty, albeit contained in its mess behind the old barn, where no one else can see.  Oddly enough, I can tell if someone has tampered with the pile, as it is a farmer’s duty to know if anything has moved without their approval...and I am my father’s daughter!  My parents have their own pile of “stuff” and sometimes I think they bring items that are not good enough to be used every day, but too good to waste, and add it to our pile.  Oh, the guilt that comes with de-cluttering!      

When I walk my dogs past the tidy pile of crap down the lane-way I can only smile, knowing that it is kept for good purpose and it is in my genes (damn genetics).  It slowly sinks and rapidly rusts, but stays put in its place until the next “what if” is revealed.  As I see it, as long as the house does not become a war zone of once-loved items and the lawn remains with enough grass showing to be cut, I am not a packrat!