Uncle Harold's Barn

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When I was a girl living in the Northwoods of Wisconsin, we made several trips each year to Vernon County. In many ways, Vernon County was a "hub" in our universe.

It was where mom grew up on Grandpa's farm. Grandpa and Grandma lived there in the tiny town of Hillsboro. Three of mom's sisters and their families still lived there on farms of their own. And, possibly most important of all, our beloved Burr Camp was there.

As children, we could not realize how precious were those days. To us it seemed life would ALWAYS be the same and we could return at any moment and find all that we loved untouched and unmolested by the fingers of time.

How wrong we were.

As we would travel toward our Vernon County destination, when the flat northern lands would bunch up into steeply rolling hills, Sister Pam and I would begin to lean as far forward in our back seat as we could.

No seat belts in those days.

We would lean forward, straining our eyes ahead to be the FIRST to catch a glimpse of Uncle Harold's barn around the curve. Uncle Harold's barn meant we had arrived in the promised land.


"I see Uncle Harold's barn!!!" we would shout, and then argue over who saw it first.

When uncle Harold and Aunt Vetra lived on this farm, the barn was the center of their dairy existence. "Chores" had to be done twice a day at 5. With more than 30 milk cows, there was plenty of work for everyone at chore time.

When we stayed there, Sister Pam and I would arise with the family at 4:30, don some borrowed "chore clothes" which included rubber boots for mucking about in the barn, and sally forth to do what we could do to help with the milking.

What we could do wasn't much, for we weren't part of the well oiled machine that was milking in Uncle Harold's barn.

Our cousins, on the other hand, who milked TWICE every day of their lives knew precisely what they were doing and did it with utmost efficiency.


Aunt Vetra's house was right across the highway from the barn.

Aunt Vetra too helped with milking, but she returned to the house well ahead of the rest of us to fix breakfast.

Oh what breakfasts!!! Eggs, bacon or sausage, and pancakes or waffles. Let me tell you, milking 30 cows before the sun is up makes you HUNGRY and that is just the BEGINNING of the daily work on a dairy farm. Farmers can eat a breakfast like that every day and still be trim and slim.

Time passed.

My cousins grew up and moved away from the farm.

Uncle Harold and Aunt Vetra remained and carried on with the "chores" by hiring in some help until they simply could not do it any more.

Uncle Harold said his kids would have to "carry him out of there feet first." But when Parkinson's took its toll on his strength, he was forced to eat those words and he and Aunt Vetra spent their last days being cared for in a nursing home.

No one could take over the responsibility of the farm and the awful day came when it was sold.

Now when I drive by, I notice that the folks who bought it aren't keeping it as a working dairy farm. The house is lived in, loved, and cared for but the barn looks lonely and forgotten - - - tall grass is growing up around it. I doubt it has heard even one bleat of a calf in decades.

Sad, this thing called progress.






One day while searching for something else on the web, I had the happy accident of coming across this video of "Dan" (whomever he may be) riding his bike through parts of Vernon County.

As soon as the images began I KNEW where he was. Sure enough! The very first farm he passes through is Uncle Harold and Aunt Vetra's. You will see the house on the right and the barn on the left.

Hang on, it's a dizzy ride!

Enjoy.

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