Guest column: If this house could talk

Have you noticed the “farmhouse” décor style making the rounds these days?

A small part of me feels a bit of amusement at this idealized, pop-culture version of “old fashioned farmhouse life,” but I take very seriously what seems to be a society-wide yearning to capture the simplicity, comfort and nostalgia that farmhouses represent.

The real, historic farmhouses I know don’t fit the idyllic picture of the current decorating style. Sometimes there are plumbing issues from ancient pipes and the plaster walls have less-than-perfect cracks (the occasional ceiling cave-in keeps life interesting). Oh, and did I mention they can be cold and drafty?

I’ve had the privilege (and you could say misfortune, depending on the day) of living in farmhouses my whole life, and I have a special fondness for them, warts and all. There’s something impressive about these homes that have stood for over a century. Like other farm buildings, there’s no denying the fascinating history old farmhouses could tell if only they could talk.

Yes, they have plenty of idiosyncrasies. Some doors need a little nudge to open because of swelling wood and settling hinges, the woodwork has some scuffs and the floors have paths worn by years of footsteps.

But there’s more to it than just the physical realities of old houses. I can feel years of life and love within these walls. Bountiful dinners created in this kitchen, spread on the table for hardworking farmers with sweaty shirts and rolled-up sleeves. Warm evenings around the radio or television, or maybe gathered around someone playing an instrument making their own music. Reading, crocheting, darning as the family gathered together at the day’s end.

I can see holidays when the dining room table was filled with the farm’s bounty and stretched out for extended families, sitting elbow to elbow. Laughter and conversation from gathered relatives made the music of the evening.

Life has never been all idyllic, so I know there also were quiet, hard times mourning a lost loved one or putting pencil to paper figuring how to make ends meet. Struggles, sadness and hope along with joys and successes, were all shared within these walls by people working through life together. It’s hard to fully fathom the depth, the warmth and the beauty of years upon years of life lived here.

We meet the family and their stories from days gone by as we pull out the black and white snapshots, telling stories of people our younger family never met but who lived in these same walls years before. We spread the same table today, with family coming together from near and far, still laughing, still remembering.

Voices still fill the house with music. Muddy boots still come onto the porch, sweaty farmers still sit at the table to eat after a long day in the field and the dishes are washed at the same sink while looking over familiar fields and pastures. Friends still find an open door, warm conversation and an extra place set at the table when they drop by.

Over a century old, this house is still a sturdy, warm home to the next generation of a hardworking farm family, and only time will tell what stories they will write within these walls as the years go by.

So, no, nothing in an old house is perfect, and I doubt it’ll be a showpiece on a magazine cover featuring the trends of picture-perfect “farmhouse style.”

Still, you’d have a hard time convincing me that it’s not something to treasure. It holds the countless beautiful stories written in the well-worn, well-loved rooms of this old house.

Martha Hoffman Kerestes is a farmer and writer in rural Streator. This article is reprinted with permission from her monthly newsletter. To subscribe for free or read more, visit www.marthahoffmankerestes.substack.com.