Some years, in the spring of the year, Mama would set up the carpet weave in the upstairs of the granary. This setting up of the weave took help, so Aunt Lizzie Falk would come out to help. Aunt Lizzie smoked a corn cob pipe and she stayed with us until the setting up of the old loom was finished. Mama would spend whatever time she could spare weaving pretty carpet, using the many balls of carpet material she had prepared during the winter. -Roy Falk Westfalcon Farm has revealed many hidden treasures since my parents bought the family farm in the spring of 2013. Thanks to the well-kept journal of my great-grandfather, Roy Falk, we have been able to link the stories in his journals to treasures around the farm. One such treasure was my great-great-grandmother’s (Christine West Falk) weaving area that was left untouched in the upstairs of the granary. Mama The loom, with wood worn smooth by the years of use by hard-working hands, is still attached to the old log beams that hold up the the granary. The Old Loom Old wooden bobbins sit perched upon hand-forged nails. Pencil markings adorn the granary walls that whisper the secrets of the loom patterns used, the number of yards consumed, and the quantity of rugs woven. When I look at the granary, I often imagine my great-great-grandmother putting the old loom to use up on that second floor. Granary I imagine her hands working diligently with the homemade rug material. Spending the little free-time that she did have weaving rugs for her family, and perhaps making a few dollars by selling the extras to neighbors. When I stand in the granary, nostalgia washes over me as I see the special treasures that have been left for our family to find. I feel the worn surfaces of the old loom, I picture my great-great-grandmother placing the bobbins on the nails as she weaves, and I read and re-read the writing on the walls. The smell in the granary is warm. A combination of old wood and the grains that used to fill the granary. I wonder, is there still a hint of smoke from Aunt Lizzie’s corn cob pipe?
Family Roots
The Farm: Moving Back To Their Roots
Have you ever had one of those “everything happens for a reason” moments that gave you the chills? Well, I have a story to share with you that still gives me the chills, and I truly believe that everything that happened in this story, happened for a reason. Now, this is the introductory post to the family farm. This story really sets the stage for future posts, so I’m not going to leave anything out of this important beginning. I hope you enjoy the story! The Beginning In the year 2000, my mother had an inkling to start looking into her family’s genealogy. She simply wanted to know where her ancestors came from and where they settled. Many hours were spent combing the internet, looking through books and articles at various museums and libraries, and ultimately, my parents flew off to Sweden to see the homeland, visit new-found relatives, and of course pick through the records that are so diligently kept in the Swedish archives. Somewhere along Mom’s research trail, she came across an old plat drawing that showed a piece of land that her great, great grandparents, Lars and Katarina West, had homesteaded (December 5, 1884) when they emigrated from Västanå, Sweden. This homestead ended up staying in the family for three generations. Lars and Katarina gave the farm to their daughter, Christine Selena and her husband August Falk on the premise that they would allow Katarina to live the rest of her life with them. Along with taking care of Katarina, August and Christine went on to raise their family on this homestead. This land happened to be about 40 miles from where my parents were currently living in Minnesota. Not long after finding the old plat, Mom was able to find an address that was currently listed as being on the property. Bud answered the phone when my mom called and he and his wife, Elvera, graciously welcomed my family to come up and see the farm. A few weeks later, my mom and several other members of the Falk family went to visit the farm for the first time (2009). When my mom arrived at the farm with the family, they were welcomed by a long, pine tree-lined driveway that lead to a beautiful old farm, which included a giant windmill, a pole barn, an old wooden corn crib, a couple of metal corn cribs, an old white barn, a white granary that was as cute as a button, and a little brown farmhouse. Bud set my mom and the rest of the Falk clan free on the property so they could explore the grounds. I remember my mom telling me two particular things that really had an impact on her the first time she saw the farm: the first was that she found out that the barn had been built by her family in 1917 and was still in great shape; and the second was that many of the West and Falk names (along with the dates) had been etched into the old bricks on the barn inside the separator room (see Figure 1). Many of the names were etched in the early 1900’s. An incredible surprise! Now, there is one thing I remember my mom always saying to me when I was growing up: “I love old barns, and I could see myself living on a farm if I ever find one with an old barn in good shape.” My parents went on to visit the farm two more times in the next few years. After the second visit my mom was fairly certain that if the farm ever went up for sale that she would like to buy it. A couple of weeks after the second visit, my mom asked my dad if he would be willing to move up to the farm if it should go up for sale. I can’t imagine how Dad’s face must have lit up at that moment. My dad has been dreaming of land, barns, and a workshop for years. Let’s just say that they made the call to Bud and his wife, Elvera, right away to tell them about their interest in the farm if Bud and Elvera should want to sell. Fast-forward about five years from the first time my mom visited the farm, and here is where that “everything happens for a reason” moment occurs. Everything Happens For A Reason Both of my parents had recently retired from their careers and had decided to fill much of their time with volunteering in state and national parks, wildlife refuges, and in any other location they could find where nature abounded. This particular year, they were working in a visitor center, completing maintenance projects, and teaching classes about butterflies to elementary-age children at the Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge in Alamo, TX. They volunteered there for three months before they planned to slowly make their way back home visiting other parks along the way. Well, they ended up needing to come home early, so they decided to drive home in two days instead of the one-to-two weeks they had previously planned. Mom and Dad arrived home at about three o’clock in the morning on Sunday, March 23, 2014. The next day, Mom and Dad received a phone call from Bud. He was ready to sell the farm. Soon after the phone call, Mom called me and told me about the phone call from Bud. I couldn’t quite tell if she was still tired from her long car ride back from TX, or if she was in disbelief about receiving a call about the farm going up for sale. I’m sure it was a little of both, but Mom told me that she really felt that they were supposed to be back from TX to get that phone call. God works in mysterious ways. Everything happens for a reason. Early the following week, Mom and Dad drove up to the farm to meet with Bud, and to