Norwegian Farmer’s Son…May 31st

May 31st…“DOES YOUR FARM STILL EXIST BACK IN MINNESOTA?

#668 Aerial of Kiester farm 001

Sadly, no.  The only thing consistent in life is change, and with that change came the eventual demise of our family farm back there in my childhood State of Minnesota.  First, our barn mysteriously burnt down within a year, or so, after we moved out to Washington State.  Next, for a time, our beloved home had been rented but eventually was left abandoned and empty.  Tragically, it became a party house for local youths to have their beer parties in and they trashed the house so badly that it was offered to the local fire department to be used as a practice burn……..so now it was gone also.   Over the decades, building after building succumbed to the aging process and fell under rot and heavy snowfall on its roofs.  The beautiful windbreak of trees were cut down and sacrificed for a few more acres of land to plant crops on by the new owners.  One of the oldest buildings was the last to go………the granary and remaining buildings were bulldozed, till now, nothing remains of our farm except a hint of where the driveways used to be.  I’m sharing a poem I wrote to convey some of the feelings I experienced when I heard the home place was completely gone.

#667 MN home farm
Summer of 1968.  The last time Elliott and his family (on vacation) saw their Minnesota farm in its complete glory.  Already, one can see corn has been planted into the cowyard next to the barn.

POEM – “Quiet Now” by N. Elliott Noorlun

Quiet now, except for the wind, Coursing ‘cross the soil,

No longer a farm or family, Where once our father’d toil.

T’was a glorious time, When voice and sound, Of family did thrive,

As daily symphony of life, Would bring our farm alive.

Yet came the day, When destiny, Called our family West,

To new horizon that our father felt, For us would be the best.

Thus as our tires exited, The graveled driveway fine,

One could almost hear the sound of pain, Of a farm in lonely whine.

From renters to vacant, One could muse, As our home would silent mourn,

Until a fire would see it gone, And from its moorings torn.

Other buildings stood valiantly by, As decades came and passed,

But in the yearning for productive land, We knew they could not last.

Returned now to the soil, Which Indians once did roam,

Yet our memories burn faithfully, Of that dear childhood home!!!

#77=Kiester farm, February 1959, looking NW
Looking Northwest across the front yard at Elliott’s childhood farm home near Kiester, Minnesota.

 

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