Suddenly it's almost October.

Hard to believe, after the robbery in August, I lost steam on the tractor projects, though we are slowly replacing everything that was stolen. I have worked myself into the ground to get the farm more secure since then. And just sort of shoved the tractors aside.

August is here.

The Findlay show has come and gone, the garden is producing. And I'm slowly working on projects. The concrete is poured for the fireplace, the wagon bed is done. But a thousand little jobs have to be finished before plow day.

Finally to the C.

Tomorrow, we split the C!!

Not much to say.

We are still rolling along on Windy Hill.

But no major projects have been completed, the wall for the storage room in the big barn is mostly up, and I've dug the hole for the fireplace in the shelter house. Thats about it for now.

Knowing when to walk away.

I've been keeping an eye out for an appropriate vintage combine for the farm, one that matches the rest of my equipment in era,

and would have been the proper size for our farm if we had bought it new.

I found one, and I walked away. The IH Model 93 was very much a product of the proper era,

a machine built specifically for the small operation. Perfect for us.

But perfectly worn out.

Maybe another time.

Steaming in Wauseon.

There are few things in the old tractor hobby as truly impressive as a living steam traction engine. These folks are the top guns of our hobby.

Just an update,

Not much to say lately, it's gotten hot here and I've slowed down a bit on the farm. As soon as I'm acclimated to the *90 temps again we will be back at it.

No, thats not a self portrait, thats John Chapman. Better known to the world as Johnny Appleseed. And a major folk hero to anyone growing up in Rural Ohio in the last century or so. Every old Apple tree across Northern Ohio has been attributed to Johnny at one point or another. One reportedly still survives not too far from here in Nova, OH.

Most folks believe that Johnny planted millions of Apple trees in his nurserys across the midwest, from PA to Illinois, moving ahead of the Pioneer farm families to establish nursery stock. It a uniquely American story, and though an easterner by birth, a uniquely Midwestern story. Chapman is a midwestern hero, preacher, adventurer, businessman, philanthropist, and frankly, something of a nut.

I hope one day the farm becomes the sort of place Johnny would have picked to stop awhile, talk, and take a rest in the orchard.

Setting up the Orchard

One of my biggest goals in life, is to make sure that when I finally get myself set up at the farm, that I can produce a reasonable amount of "Table" food, plus a surplus to sell in town. Reaching back into history tells us that just about every small farm in Ohio had it's own orchard. So one of my 2009 goals was to re-establish ours behind the barn. As I've said in the past, my interest generally falls to the heritage varieties. So I've collected a McIntosh, a Wealthy, a Jonathon, and today a Winesap and a Red Delicious. Along with a Bartlett Pear.

Old tractor fever...

No, this is not a new one, this is Farmall #2, a very um,... well weathered '49 Farmall C I discovered in a friends fencerow last spring, (2008), well I diddn't really discover it, as I'm fairly sure they knew it was there. It had been intended as a parts supply for a Farmall A. But after some soul searching and scrounging fundage I came up with $100 to put down and enough conviction to talk the owner out of parting it out.

It took me two months to pay off the rest of the $500, me not being flush with funds at the time. But I did it, and one summer afternoon we pushed, with great difficulty, my new prize onto my far too lightly built landscape trailer. Managing in the process to lift the hind end of the Cherokee a full three feet off the gravel drive. After the ohh so very cautious 15mph, 16 mile trip home. I walked across the road to beg and plead Uncle Ted for help, happily successful we dug out a tow bar and lit up the 806 Farmall and rushed back to rescue my new toy, and save the remaining spring leafs on the Jeep.

I proudly manned the controls of my new pet, dreaming of the day, soon to come I was sure when I would pilot it across the fields under it's own power. Sure, in 30 yards I rolled both tires off the thing, but that was a minor detail, right?

Optimism, dies a quick, very very painful death. What at one point had been a lightly stuck motor had transformed into a locked solid chunk of rust. She's been soaking in penetrating oil for a year now and nary a drop has seeped past her petrified rings. I suppose I need to get around to splitting her one of these days and seeing what can be done about the situation, but sometimes a project sadly gets moved to the back burner, someday, old girl, I promise.

A recipe for an immobile life....

Here is an interesting pic for you today, a snapshot of my '53 International Harvester "Super" C, for those not in the loop, it's a rather archaic farm tractor. It's also a battered, rusty, artifact we dragged out of a junkyard. Happily though, this one runs! My history obcession tends to run away with it's self, and a couple of years ago, it ran right into collecting old farm tractors. Hefty beasts these, even more cumbersome than the basement full of vintage ten speeds, but not, thankfully as immobile as the collection of industrial lathes I have somehow taken in.

But my half dismantled farm tractor is not the point.. mostly. My point is, heaven help me if I ever have to move, somehow in my life I've assumed the mantle of unpaid, untrained and very unofficial museum curator to the Midwestern race. From the box of old Bell Telephones to the garage full of woodworking equipment I have enough stores of antiquated stuff to keep three or four 1950's Illinois farm family's well provisioned and comfortable, Everything down to the books to teach them how to use the tools, (and educate the whole family somewhat comprehensively for that matter). Battle scars of the unstoppable flea market picker are the thousands of books I somehow amassed on unconnected subjects, from flying to fishing.

What I need, is a gigantic time capsule, A King Tut's tomb of middle America, that way, 10,000 years from now people will know what a Zebco 33 Spin-casting reel is, or a Bell 500 Rotary phone. Then I can start collecting stuff all over again.

In the mean time, I think there is an Apple //+ under my bed, stacked beside the pile of Successful Farming from 1964......

RNW

Not everything here is rusty tractors.

Not quite, lately I've become interested (Again) in old time heritage apple varieties. I planted a few trees this spring, a Wealthy, a Jonathan, a McIntosh, and a Bartlett Pear. I'm looking for, and planting to plant a Rambo, a Northern Spy, a Willow Twig, and a Red Delicious, and others. Ohh, have to have a Rome Beauty too. The goal being to stick close to varieties common in Northern Ohio in 1900 or earlier.

Growing up, every year a fall tradition was making apple sauce with Grandma, every year Grandma would get a load of McIntosh apples, or Jonathans if thats all she could find. Mom and I would peel like psycotics and grandma would cook, now, you had to be able to read through those skins or Grandma would give us heck.

Apple sauce, and a cider press, I'll have one if I have to build it myself.

Now that I have blundered off into nostalgia, I'll take a moment to note the farm apple tree, ours, (I've mentioned before) might be a century old for all I know, it's grown out of size and has been producing small fruit. I hope to correct that once it's size is back under control though. It's family I regret to say, is unknown, but I believe it's something close to a Mcintosh, definately a cooking apple. I also intend to graft off the old tree to keep it going.

One of it's offspring, well three of them, grew up behind the big barn on the edge of the lime pile, and they are terrific, don't think they are anything in particular, just a good farm apple.

Next winter I learn grafting, should be interesting.

A chance find...

Alright, sorry about the less than artistic picture.

Sometimes, I feel the need to justify my having three farm tractors. Even though I don't farm, I try to find jobs for them. The windy Hill project is something of an extension of my need to justify owning one tractor. We had a farm, I wanted a tractor, so the whole plan grew from that seed of an idea.

Windy hill is something of a living history project. Our goal is a period perfect collection of mid 50's era International equipment. All in working operational order. We have had mixed results so far, but the old disk is a happy bright spot in our short history.

Last year, I was over at an older Farmers place a few roads over. Talking old tractors, live steam, trains, tools and everything else you might want to ask someone who was born with a wrench in his hands. Walking his fence row, following the trackbed for the biggest home model railroad you will ever see we came upon this little disk. "Whatcha gonna do with the old disk Mr P." ...says I, I was going to cut it up last week if I hadn't come down sick" Quickly a deal was struck for the disk and I was off, once again to con Uncle Ted into coming to my rescue.

Amazingly, when we hooked up and dragged it from it's resting place ...everything turned. Ted, usually skeptical of my "finds" was impressed for once. So was his Dad, Paul walked out and described using the exact same model behind his Dad's Farmall H in 1950. You just can't get more living history than that.

Plowday brought a warm sunny October afternoon and freshly turned ground, I pulled the H into the sun, we hooked up and for a few hours it was 1950 again in Ohio, we took turns working the ground we just plowed down on my '51 H, with the disk it might have come with new.

Gathering of Ancients

Just liked this pic I took.

The way it was.

Dad and I went to a tractor show Saturday, it was short on what I usually look for, namely parts, tools, and flea market stuff, but long on immaculately restored tractors in showroom (Or far better) Condition. Beautiful, spotless, perfect machines.

Not to be critical, but, they were not built that way, show tractors are in a way, like movie actresses, people just don't look that good in real life, and IH never made a tractor that perfect. When they were built, they rolled them out in a hurry, they had to look good long enough to get sold. It was far more important to run well and pull implements than it was to shine like a factory fresh Oldsmobile, And seldom did these machines live a sheltered life after they left the dealer.

I like looking at show tractors, I don't want one, don't want to have to worry about it like that. Mine are all ugly, they are three shades of red and two more of primer. You can tell what I've fixed by the new paint, fresh from an IH rattlecan. And whenever I get the chance they get fresh mud on worn, cracked tires, and clean spots rubbed on the drawbar.

Later all,

Up a tree.....

Without a plan, 

I doubt that anyone living knows when the last time the old Apple tree at the farm was properly, or even semi properly trimmed, save for maybe Ted. And it's been decades since it put out a proper apple crop.  But withe the work I've been doing to establish a new orchard at the farm it seemed only prudent to start working to bring the old tree back into shape and get it productive again.  Next year I hope to propagate scions from the old tree onto new rootstocks, what fruit it makes are a nice medium/tart cooking apple, well worth the effort. 

Now, believe me I'm far from an expert, but living close to orchard country I know even a full size apple is not supposed to be allowed to reach 25+ feet in height, they will do it if left unattended, but the big operations don't let them do it. 

My brother and I headed out to the farm, equipped with a couple alloy step ladders, saw, pruners, and the extendable pruners. As soon as I walked up the sheer magnitude of this overgrown, unpruned monster hit me, though I look at it every day I suppose I never saw it. 

What I had hoped to be a fairly short job, turned into a four hour fight in the wind, with me, 10 feet up in said tree hanging on for dear life, all to take  the top '3 or so off,  it made a nice trailer load though. 

Grease, mud and Heaven only knows.........

In my face,

This is no easy hobby, my recent bout with unemployment has given me some time to catch up on some farm projects, and add a few more to the list. One of my new projects last year was the rescue of an extremely vintage McCormick Deering model MF Grain Drill from an implement salvage yard in Indiana. AT first I thought it was in better condition than it turned out to be, so it sent me on something of an adventure in spare parts hunting.

Grain Drills are not Tractors.....

And there is no aftermarket, no wonderful catalogs full of spectacular restoration parts, no listings on e-bay a mile long. No, all we have are the back lots at implement dealers, and scattered YTMag classified ad's and a scant few overgrown junk yards to keep us going.

And it forced me to act against my beliefs.

I parted a restorable (marginally) piece of machinery today, in any other circumstance I might have tried to repair it and make it useable again, but I have one old grain drill in need of parts and no time or funding or need to save both of them. The mid 50's Model MFFF drill died to save the late 40's McCormick Deering MF. It will live on as a supply of spares, and there will be enough left over to save another machine down the road if I run across one.

P.S. Happy Birthday Samantha!

Challenges of old iron; part 2

Success! 

After a whole load of brainstorming (some of it on a iron hunting trip today) I decided that I would take one more stab at fixing the carb before dropping the $170 odd dollars on a new Zenith.  So this evening I went back out to the barn, took the carb apart (again), and with fresh eyes examined the float situation, lo and behold the float was slightly offset to one side, a closer examination showed that one of the brass mounting tabs was clearly bent.  A bit of bending and back together it went, back on the tractor and with slight trepidation, I pulled on the starter. The old gal rolled over and fired off.

It was a good day on the farm.  It's been a busy couple weeks,   

The challenges of old Iron

Aka... Blood, sweat, bandages and a bent carb.

My good friend "D", stalwart accomplice in many of my rust retrieval efforts tries to revive my latest haul a few weeks ago, in the junkyard I found it in.

My need for a running loader tractor drove me to hunt down a running machine. We found the Super C, (we being another regular character and myself ) resting and rusting in the "Good junk" area of our local ag salvage operation. After they proved to me it ran, (It did run) I made the trip to ag credit and begged a loan, conned Uncle Ted into helping me and off we went.

Farmall #3 came home.

All that was well and good, and one cold March weekend I became the proud owner of a mid 1950's International Farmall Super C. I drove it off the trailer, around the barn once and into it's slot in the barn. Then we started trying to patch it up. All antique tractors pose challenges, this one needed a rim replaced, which involved me and Dad manhandleing 500lbs of loaded wheel assembly off the tractor and onto my trailer.

To be honest, it needed/needs a load more than that, I've been chasing gremlins right and left on what was supposed to be an "Easy" project, cables were frayed, plug wires were botched, sparkplugs were mismatched, all the fun little projects of it's previous owners had to be undone.

Today was the 14th project day dedicated to trying to fix the Super C's Carburetor. Now, generally I have a talent for carburetors, rarely to I have to fiddle with one more than a few minutes to make it act like I want. This miserable Carter, this horrid abomination has proven my undoing. After my standard, full cleaning, polish and new paint. a parts kit and new packing procured at murderous expense from IH ($60+ in parts), and a few hours work I thought I had succeeded, until, that is,. we bolted it back up. My customary farmall carb rebuilds always fire on the first turn, no...it just started pouring gas all over the barn floor. Several times now I've had it apart, including seven attempts just today.

Finally I have come to the conclusion that the carb itsself, is warped. I believe the float is stuck in either the up, or down position depending on how I have it assembled.

Anticlimaticly, I failed to fix the problem, and I'm off to the junkyard to find a Zenith.

Wagon ho....

Every farm hay wagon. Even if it never again see hay, you just have to have one.

In the begining, my grand plan had me and my sweetheart getting married on the future hay wagon at some future plow day. But my lack of a stable career and a bad bout with depression drove me to let her go. We had it all planned out, but sadly(EDIT: Best decision I ever made) I let things come between us and I once again face the world alone.

I still kept searching for my future hay wagon more out of the need to keep pushing on with something positive. Yesterday, I answered a craigslist ad, a day late to get a sickle mower for $25, but I did get this old running gear for $50. It was broken in two on the connecting bar, I made a splice with some steel stock and she's as strong as new.

Wish I could fix my heart as easily, thats all from the farm today.

Homebrew archeology

Today was a strange one, after a run to the tire dealer to have some work done, Me, my younger brother and our Mom went out to set floor joists for the new storage loft. There was plenty to be done, the loft work, some adjustments on the new tractor, and finally planting a Macintosh Apple tree I picked up on sale this morning in the new orchard I'm setting up. I'm a firm believer in heirloom preservation, but that kind of fell apart this spring as time and budget came into play, so I picked up some trees on sale at the home center. I did manage at least a Bartlett Pear and some decent apples. No Ohio farm is complete without a Bartlett Pear and a Macintosh apple.

Now on to the real strangeness, after the last nail of the day was driven home, and between the rolling thundershowers that were racing through the area today we put our spades to the soil. Very quickly we discovered again that my chosen location for the new orchard had at one point been the informal landfill for one or more sets of tenants that had lived on Windy Hill in the past. Last week my Brother and I thought we had found a buried Econoline truck, and various other artifacts have surfaced from pick axes to the dash panel of a '57 Chevrolet!

Todays find's amounted to broken 60's Pottery, and not the privy hole I was hopeful of, probably dumped sometime in the mid 80's, and a saltshaker, (intact). My Brother was getting into the spirit of the dig and our hole ended up quite some bit bigger than was required for my tree.

Just as a note, we don't call my brother captain Peps without good reason, he's the worlds greatest addict of Pepsi-cola, and the most devoted collector of Pepsi...um...stuff. Everything from bottles of every description to complete store displays fill his universe.

Which brings us back to our tree hole. About a foot down, and rather off to the side from where I wanted the tree, I found what I thought to be part of a glass bottle. As we uncovered more of it, we quickly discovered that it was indeed, a late glass Pepsi bottle of the 1980's and amazingly, completely intact, label and all. All due care was taken in uncovering this discarded relic so my bro could add it to his collection. I was surprised, he was thrilled, and finally, the tree was planted.

Bringing home the Farmall.

After getting the old place in shape, and having a couple of Garden Tractor plow days. The urge to find a "Real" farm tractor began to assert its self. There was never any question to what kind. I was baptized long ago in Harvester Red. Though I didn't grow up on a farm, It didn't take much for me to become a committed partisan in the agricultural brand war.

The search began casually, initially just watching the local paper, you know you are in a rural area when all the local papers have a special section for Farm machinery. But the search only bore real fruit one evening at work when I happened to be thumbing through an auto trader. It popped right out at me, '51 Farmall H, $950.

Going that next morning to see the H was like stepping into a Norman Rockwell print, the warm, red orange light of dawn, the cold, crisp November air, no more perfect setting could have been imagined. A few days later, a friend of mine helped me haul it home.

First think about, well pretty much anyone in my family is, we never do anything half way. All of us also share in the same love of, and fascination with history. So content I was not with a solitairy tractor sitting in the corner of the barn, no, Windy Hill must have a complete, and very period correct set of implements to go with it, well as soon as I figure out what those might be.

In the fall of '07

Soon after our first Farmall arrived, the '51 H . The roof is still rusty, the barn still hooved up from frost.

Windy Hill Farm is my dream, it's slowly becoming a reality, but not nearly as fast as I want it too.

In 1989, my Great Aunt passed to her reward, My Grandmother inherited 80 acres, (One average Ohio farm, traditionally). Kept the house rented out, until they burned it down.

In '04, my folks inherited half that farm, and my journey began.

At first, this all started because my Dad has an extra dose of Obcessive Compulsive Disorder. Somewhere in Pop's genetic memory the German farmer dna has become hyper activated, and of course, in it's finest example, Nature, along with decay, disorder and generally anything not perfectly neat must be ruthlessly hammered into obediance.

In due time, the weathered barns wore a fresh coat of paint, the roofs are once again gleaming silver, and most of the holes are patched. Soon after, new doors were fashioned, then the barnyard was cleaned up and mowed down close.

Then the real fun began....

AW

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This space will feature my Farm blog, prepare for lot's of cool old iron and red barns...ect