Author: Donald Guenther
Obtained: 10/25/2013
I remember growing up we once had a big old barn. The barn sat next to the little myrtle downhill from the house about a hundred yards. The house looked out onto the bay with two myrtle trees obstructing the view. My brilliant older siblings named the biggest of the two myrtle trees the Big Myrtle Tree and the littlest the Little Myrtle Tree. They didn’t lack for imagination and they now wonder why their younger siblings aren’t all anxious to swallow their every word.
The barn was run down and the boards rotten. The large empty building scarred me as a child. The ground soft from manure kept us from venturing into the lower section of the building. The upper section had a milk stall where mom and Ronny milked our cow. Accompanying Ronny as he milked our cow Gussie was fun as he would squirt warm milk into our mouths. We thought that to be a treat. Gussie didn’t seem to mind either. We later ate Gussie our pet cow.
One day the barn was deemed unsafe and must be burnt down. We didn’t question the decision but looking back I’m surprised mom stood for it. She’d have to milk the cow in a make shift stall under a maple tree. I always liked the way she made the cow behave with a switch if the cow kicked or swatted her with its tail.
The barn had to go. Out came the gasoline. If there’s one thing the Guenther boys could do it was light a fire using gasoline. Dad wasn’t one for blowing on a fire to get it going. He had absolutely no patience. He’d start our camp fires with a good dose of gas and we’d stand back as he touched them off. To this day that method is by far my favorite approach. Davy once lost his eyes brows learning the technique.
The older boys couldn’t get the gas cans out fast enough. Around the barn they went and the time had come. The fire lit. The barn went up in the flames. The fire was so big I can still remember how impressive the sight and how hot the fire. The fire burned for a few days and the younger sibling enjoyed helping feeding the smaller flames.
The best part about the barn burning was yet to come. Mom saw an opportunity of a lifetime. Composted manure mixed with ashes would make for one heck of a vegetable garden. The following year she had the area plowed and planted a huge garden. The garden started growing as she’d imagined but by the time harvest came around little of her precious veggies were left. Seems some of the younger members of the family had noticed how their older siblings went about sampling tender veggies. Green onions and carrots small and pulled fresh from the soft fertile ground were delicious.
With 14 children unleashed the garden got hit hard. Those foolish enough to stand back and wait for the final product were disappointed. Guenthers weren’t ones to hold back when it came to good food. Dad would eat the frosting off the cakes; the kids steal ice cream from the freezer and sneak blackberry pie. We saw nothing wrong with our behavior. We experienced no shame.
During the coming cold windy rainy mornings I bet mom missed the old barn as she milked under the maple tree leafless in the winter.