 |
Eilif's Tractor
|
The farm is sold. End of chapter in family history. Eilif Miller had bought the farm in the late 50s or early 60s. A work refuge for him: planting trees, building ponds, raising barns, mowing vast swaths of meadow, growing garden crops, raising children (the supplementary work force)...the joy (for him) of hard, physical labor. The farm. Upstate New York, half hour to Albany, in the Helderberg Mountains, long drives from main homes in New York, Maryland, India, Paraguay
 |
The Porch
|
I did not spend many days at The Farm, but it was always there in the background. "Eilif went up to The Farm to get the Christmas trees ready for sale." "He got the tractor fixed." "Hazel is doing a lot of canning this harvest...lots of beets."
After five years in the trust since Eilif's death, Peter (the eldest) was able to sell the farm. To a family who wanted the land for hunting, fishing. They knew they wanted it when they hiked to the upper pond that Eilif had built (with family help) and saw the thick marsh grasses, the deer tracks where the animals come to drink, the thick forest grown up around it.
 |
The Lower Pond
|
We made this last trip to gather up some of Charlotte's personal books. I had a last interaction with Eilif when an attic ladder he had installed fell apart (the steps pulled away from the nails (not screws) that held them in) beneath my weight...and that of a box of books...and I crashed to the ground. I never did much work at The Farm...Eilif had probably wanted me to do more...so this was his final payback.
Ahhh...not often we have such direct commerce with the ghosts in our lives.
=
