Today, I started on the master bedroom.

Wow.

I focused first on the “linen” closet.  There was also a row of shelves with cloths I wanted to empty.

Part way through, as I pulled items down from higher in the closet, I was perplexed by the sound if things hitting the carpet, like rain. I eventually clued in that it was mouse shit.

Joy. I guess I should have been wearing mask and gloves.

Then more stuff started falling down.  Pale little pellets.  Seeds of some kind. They look a bit like millet. I had found some under the couch cushion, a few days back. Clearly, mice were storing the seeds, but there was no sign of mouse damage. In fact, we aren’t finding any signs of living mice at all. My brother set up a trap, and it remains empty.

So this stuff has been there a while.

Much of my time taking items out and packing them involved repeatedly wondering, why?  Like, why, among the ancient sheets, curtains and pieces of fabric, is there that one sweater?  Why is that piece of something fabric tied up in a bundle?  Why are these other fabricy things in plastic bags? Why on earth is what looks like one of my bras from when I was a teenager, buried under the sheets and napkins? And why hasn’t anyone simply thrown away some of this stuff?

Well, I can’t say much about that last one.  I’m not throwing anything away, unless it’s really, really obviously garbage.  I don’t want to be accused of anything weird.

I did, however, find a couple of treasures tucked away.

The lacy crochet piece is a huge table cloth.  It was brought out for when my mother wanted the table to look fancy.  I remember as a child, admiring it and asking my mother where it came from.  It turns out she’d made it herself!  I have never in my life seen her crochet something this intricate, though she did knit and crochet often.

What I never saw her do was embroider.  The embroidery in the photo is most likely done by my great aunt.  She was highly skilled at embroider and crochet.  I remember meeting her only once; the only time I ever accompanied my parents for the long drive up to my great-grandparents’ homestead.  I remember her showing me how to use her spinning wheel, so I know she spun wool, too.  After she passed away, a cousin of mine hung onto some of her work for years before she was able to pass them on to me, knowing I would appreciate them.  And I do.  They are among my treasurers.

These pieces will not be packed away.  I will examine the crocheted tablecloth for damage first, then see about gently cleaning them.

After the cloth stuff was packed away, I started on books.  That’s where I found this.

I remember reading this book over and over as a child!  It was one of the first books I remember reading, outside of Dick and Jane at school.  It’s not getting packed.  I’ve already started to read it again, though delicately.  It’s so old, the first few pages have come loose.

In fact, I found quite a few old books that I packed up into one box.  I don’t think it’s going to go into storage.  There are too many books in there I remember from my childhood that I would love to go through again.  There are also a whole bunch of Hardy Boy books (I wish I knew what happened to the old Nancy Drew books; we used to have a most of them), and some other old novels and storybooks.

I was a voracious reader, as a child.

Those are the easy things.  To get to them, though, I have to go through a wild mess of mixed up stuff.

I also found more mirrors.  We are now at 39 mirrors found throughout the house (not counting the ones already taken to the shed before any of us arrived).  Possibly 40.  Do shards count?

Meanwhile, my daughters continue working upstairs and were cleaning the second room with TSP.

The walls are incredibly dirty.

It bothers me to think that my dad lived in these conditions.  Not that he ever went upstairs for the last few years, but the downstairs wasn’t much better.

Slowly but surely, it will get cleaned up.

And we will probably find a few more treasures along the way, too.

The Re-farmer