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When we moved from suburban Andover to a southeast Minnesota farm three years ago, I worried about how we’d meet our new, more distant neighbors in the country.
Turns out they came to us. Down the long gravel lane they drove in pickups and ATVs to say hello, check us out and sometimes, ask about hunting in our woods. One neighbor, however, had something far more serious on his mind.
He worried that we’d tear down the classic four-square farm house and take a bulldozer to the historic silo and other outbuildings. We reassured him that we intended to restore, not destroy the farm’s rustic charm.
I’ve been replaying that conversation in my head recently as demolition began on the White House’s East Wing to make way for a $300 million ballroom. Our neighbor’s concerns that day drove home an important point.
The farmstead, owned by one family ’til we bought it, has lent a stately grace to this neighborhood for 99 years. It was here before us, and God willing, it’ll be here long after we’re gone. That makes us more stewards than owners, a reality requiring responsibilities and restraint in making the updates necessary for our house’s next century.
