re-purposing

Did I ever mention that we live in an old farmhouse?
Yeah, I'm sure I did.

Anyway, one of the perks of an old farmhouse is old barns and the old stuff in them. This sounds so romantic in an antique-y sort of way until you realize that most of the old stuff is antique hay and antique manure.

There was also a plaid upholstered armchair that we eventually burned. (Sorry, Friend #32...) It was a very, very ugly armchair; one which I imagined the farmer's wife finally banishing to the workshop of the barn with a vengeance and the huffy flip of a dishtowel. ("When you want to use it, I guess you'll just hafta hike out to the barn, for land sakes."-The Farmer's Wife.)

But in our explorations six years ago, we did find a few fun things. (Besides the hay & manure, that is.) A few old medicine bottles. Old dairy records. And that's about it--except for what I'm about to tell you.

With a shout, I gleefully laid claim to a pile of oxen yokes covered in grime and dust. I knew what I could do with them.

But. I didn't do anything with any of them until THIS MORNING. I don't know why it took me so long. The actual cleaning of the grime & muck, the hanging of the apparatus, and the balancing of the potted begonias took about 30 minutes. (I used a few stray rocks.)

I have a few more of these. Anybody want one?