One Man's Trash is Another Man's Trash

The clean up of The Poor Farm continues...and continues...and continues. We knew when we bought the place nearly three years ago it came "as is." People, for a very long time, had treated this place like the town dump. It may have been the owners, the renters or just drive-bys after the place was reposessed, it no longer matters.  Now, its all ours to deal with.

Last summer we hired some young folk to haul off TWENTY pickup loads of debri. We did not pay them, they instead took the loot that was recyclable , cashed it in and kept half of the loot. A good deal for everyone. Over these last few months, we have continued our discovery work and moved all metal findings to a group pile, which does not look too bad from a distance, somewhat reminiscent of a metal teepee. But with close inspection, the historic teepee dissolves into the metallic mish-mash we've harvested from our seven acres.

When I say "we" it has been primarily Keith since (this is where she pulls out the school card again)  I was in college full time. Now, I am not. Thus, I've had the pleasure of adding to our collection. Sometime in the near future we'll again visit the recycling center. That's if I can keep myself from pulling some items back OFF the pile and giving them new life.



For instance this metal door. Window? I love it's stucture, its heft, but I have no clue what to do with it. All I can think of is a guillotine for five. Of course there would be the expense of blades. How medieval of me.



Then there is this thick, twisted, metal cable. I imagine using it for door trim, or a clothes line for my oriental rugs, if I had oriental rugs.



How about this three section sink? A planter perhaps? Snack bowls for company? It's over three feet long, a mighty grand place for chips and gallons of dip.



The ideas, as well as the steam punk junk, goes on and on.