Saturday I went to a nearby farm estate auction.  Normally as the season begins to break we have one of these in our area almost every Saturday, but with the coronavirus, this is one of the myriad activities put on hiatus.

             I didn't intend to buy anything so went early in order to look over things before the sale started.  I didn't get a bidder number.  The deceased farm owners were distant relatives of Teresa's, so there was a smidgen of family connection there.

             Probably 300 people finally arrived by the 9 a.m. start time and it was a gorgeous, perfect day for a sale.  These are always bittersweet to me.  The  well-kept home, barn, and outbuildings indicated the kind of careful maintenance you see among old-timers.

             Knowing my own shop, tools, and equipment, attending these sales always makes me feel awkward, like I've desecrated or violated someone's space.  Yes, it is just stuff after all, but it's a couple lifetimes of stuff.  Carefully kept, stored, and used for various farm enterprises, it represents the ambitions and chores of an entire family for several generations.

             Homemade horse crops, handmade hoe handles, hog scrapers, butchering knives and fire pits complemented an assortment of hoes, rakes, shovels and pitchforks with enough variety and volume to start a hardware store.  No doubt some of these dated to before the Internal Revenue Service--can you imagine what life might have been like prior to the progressive income tax?

             Several steel-wheeled trailers, horse-drawn plows and McCormick-Deering seed planters adorned the equipment rows.  Everything was well worn but it was tired, indicating a long, slow decline as the farm family aged.

             Picking over their life and offering one set of wrenches after a set of hammers after a set of pliers and a bucket of assorted bolts brings into sharp focus the difficulty of multi-generation continuity in family business.  I wonder how many times Mom or Dad fussed at the children, complained about prices and not making any money?  I wonder what life the children chose?

             On the flip side is the opportunity this turnover offers to a new bright-eyed bushy-tailed entrepreneur.  Transitioning owners is critical to new opportunities for a new generation with new ideas.  The massive assortment of tillage equipment (discs, plows, subsoilers, harrows) eclipsed the couple handfuls of electric fence supplies.  On our farm, we have massive electric fence supplies and virtually no tillage equipment.  Welcome to the new world.

             What I enjoy most about these sales is the cadence of a good auctioneer.  These callers are part showman and part articulated elocutionist and as a wordsmith and performer myself, I never tire of hearing a great auctioneer's song.  The staccato syllables punctuated with pregnant pauses and symphonic sprints are a marvel of language and communication.  After enjoying the cadence for a few minutes, I left the sale and the crowd of expectant bidders.

             Who will now caretake this land?  Will it be a farmer who uses poison, or one that uses compost?  Will it be one that builds some small ponds in the valleys or one that plants corn on the hillsides?  I'm hopeful that it will be a loving steward who caresses this part of nature's womb with thoughtfulness and appropriateness.

             Have you ever attended a farm estate sale?