A Gathering Place

It's amazing what you can find on a ranch.

Especially when you suddenly find yourself with thousands of acres of land that hasn't been maintained or tidied for years. We have WORK ahead of us. "Hoarding" is a common issue in this area: not being able to let go of stuff due to the idea that "we might need this someday" or "we could fix this up and use it." This is compounded by two things: abundant land and the non-existence of laws against having a junk yard on your property.

There are varying degrees, however.
Sometimes I wish I would have studied more Psychology because it fascinates me to try to figure out what makes people tick. I love trying to understand why they do what they do.

There was a common saying during the Great Depression (for obvious reasons):
Fix it up,
Wear it out,
Make it do,
or Do Without!

I was raised with that idea and although I am grateful for the opportunity to learn how to be conservative with money and resources, I have always rebelled and fought very hard to avoid clutter...and isn't it an on-going battle for ALL of us?

I just hate clutter.
I hate junk.

"One man's junk is another man's treasure," was something my mom always said, and I believe that too. I would much rather take the old stuff I don't use to a second-hand store or Recycling facility than to look at it while it fills up my house and yard. If (by some strange chance) I find a need for it in the future, I know I will buy another one, as my budget dictates. Now, there is stuff to keep for that once-in-a-while use and then there is that stuff that should be thrown away.


There has to be a balance, right?
Okay, THAT was a tangent, but you get my point.
Maybe you understand my sensitivity and resilience to clutter.


So, back to the story:
I was not-so-shocked a few days ago to see my "child of the depression" dad find an old rusted iron swing (on the ranch) and set it up outside the ranch guest house.

"Thanks a lot for that, Dad," I silently thought in my best sarcastic tone, while I secretly started to plan when I would be hauling the piece of junk to the scrap yard.

It drove me crazy to have it sitting in view. "You don't have anywhere else to sit out here yet" was my dad's argument and, you know, he's right. So, there I was silently hating the rusted piece of metal in my driveway.

I hated it until one day when I looked out my window and noticed Hayden and my dad sharing a snack. They sat on the swing together for a half-hour: talking, laughing, telling jokes and reading the newspaper comics while feasting on strawberry milk and potato chips. After the snack, they stayed out there for hours while Hayden played with the garden hose and my dad sat and enjoyed the clean, crisp fall air.

And then my heart softened and I realized: If that old, ugly, rusted swing can be a gathering place for two people (whom I love) to share special moments across an 80-year time gap, then maybe I can put-up with it for a LITTLE while longer.

Chatting and snacking.