Okay- Call me weird and it is a long story, but I bought the Laurel, Montana grain elevator about 5 years ago. At that time, I was the CEO of a wireless internet company. We needed the height from it (115 ft tall) to broadcast internet through the Yellowstone Valley. The first trip up inside the thing was definately a "I need therapy moment..." It was completely full of pigeons and their extended familes. From the bottom, you climbed an 88 foot ladder to the lower headhouse. Then another 10 foot ladder to the upper headhouse. Then another 20 foot ladder to get out on top. The roof is galvanized tin...and slicker than snot on a doornob...not a spot you want to spend much time when it was windy or stormy either. The best place ever for lightening to strike....(Make sure your life insurance is caught up...) It was scarey enough my husband wouldn't go up there with me....What does that tell ya? (By the way, YES, that's me on top working on stuff up there!!)
Anyway, to digress, when we were little and lived on the farm with my gram, we spent our summers building treehouses. (My mom would send us there every summer to get us outta her hair. Did I mention lately I loved my mother...so much....I miss her...) The rules according to gram were, we couldn't use any of grandpa's tools that plugged into an outlet..the tools better end up back in grampa's shop, and we could only use wood we found outside laying around...no good wood out of the shops or barns (dang!). So we skimped and scrounged...gathered wood, nails, tools and carpet(another story)....we would tie it all to our backs with ropes or drag it behind us on sleds and head out and spend all summer building treehouses...multi-story treehouses even. It was great fun.
So, 30 years later enter the grain elevator into my life..and you know what it was to me? A big treehouse! Exactly the same...with more liability insurance though...But there were mutilple levels....it was high(heights don't bother me...thanks to the Harvestor on the farm...a whole nother story...it will make my gram shudder....we will save that story for another time....)there were elements of danger everywhere you turn with hidden trap doors for 13 grain bins, no lights anywhere...completely dark and scarey...a broken man elevator...rickety ladders...small spaces to squeeze through...It is a tinderbox waiting for a match...and no saftey elements in it at all because back when they built the grain elevator (in 1912) OSHA wasn't a thought in anyone's mind....It was great! Every tomboy girl's dream to prove she is as good as a man at almost anything....=)
So, to get to my point, I am sad today....the grain elevator sells. I will miss it...I won't miss the monetary upkeep...$750 a month for liability insurance and utils....not to mention the City of Laurel calling for every little thing they can nail you on....while they let the town go to heck other places...they worry about my little old grain elevator on main street...the city has such bigger problems...like 2 unsloved murders maybe??? Shouldn't they be taking care of those?
Anyway, it was my big tree house...(I tried to get Sue to climb it with me...she dares me to do other stuff on occasion...why'd she chicken out here? Not so sure...still teasing her about it...)...I loved the smell of the grain dust, the 100 foot bins...staring down into the darkness of them with a head lamp and not being able to see the bottom...sooooo eerie...., all the old equipment in the top that was so fascinating...(it has to be worth some money...I just know it.....but can't get it down from there as it weighs a ton!)....the turbines in the top to move the grain up to the top....I could go on and on...not to bore the rest of you poor blokes reading my blog....
So where does this all leave off? I will miss the grain elevator so much. Ecko (the best friend a girl could ever have!), and I climbed that grain elevator so much and spent so much time working in it and on it hanging off the top in our safety harnesses. I will miss the smells, the wild cats running from Jenny(Ecko's dog) as she played in there; the mice occasionally freaking you out by running across your shoe or in front of your feet....(A true test of your faith is if you DON'T cuss in these situations...), the smell of old wood, gas and oil mixed with grain dust....And so this chapter of my life closes.....all my treehouses are gone....I will miss them so....*sigh*
Every kid needs to know how to build treehouses....it should be a requirement to be an American....
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