~o~
Saturday 12th 62F. Heavy overcast and misty. With lighter winds fiddling with the top branches of the garden trees. Rain and showers. Possibly heavy, with thunder, is today's forecast. A large area of rain is sliding north-eastwards on the radar. With my location just outside the ragged western boundary.
I had no suitable image so here is an image taken tomorrow. Of an old, half-timbered farmhouse. Typically four-sided around a square yard. With animal sheds and barns on the other three sides. Because it was built on a steep slope, the house itself was constructed on a raised platform of field stones. To provide a flat foundation and floors.
The corrugated, asbestos-cement roofing is very typical of Denmark. It took over from almost universal, rural thatch, from around the 1950s. Though it was developed earlier at the start of the century. It was light enough to be laid on new roofing battens. Without needing new trusses or rafters.
The low, narrow portal to the interior of the yard became a very serious handicap. As farm mechanisation required much larger machinery. Than the traditional, horse drawn implements. Harvesters in particular became much taller and wider. Sometimes a whole length of building would be demolished. To allow easier access. At other times the farm would be sold off as a previous generation of farmer retired. Usually sold to a larger holding.
A pattern repeated through the centuries of farming. In Denmark the generation taking over a business has to pay taxes to buy the property. The farmhouse and its attached buildings would then usually be sold off as private households. Or left to rot if beyond repair. Or the farm was left without a successor. Known as a Dødsboer. [Dead persons property.] Some such buildings were an eyesore as they steadily decayed. Often in the middle of a village. The number of active farm businesses continues to shrink. As others grow ever larger. Modern farming requires huge investments in machinery. Which, in turn, demands very large fields to make farming economical. Leading to the loss of trees, hedges, footpaths and outdated properties.
There are still countless examples of these old style, farm buildings in many Danish villages. As well as huge numbers out in the countryside. The almost closed square would have large doors closing the portal as required. In harsh winters this provided shelter within the yard. At other times the portal would be opened. To allow a draught from the wind. To help with manually handling the harvested grain crops.
A farm is called a Gård in Danish. Meaning "yard." Engl. Pron: Goard. Usually with a prefix to suggest an earlier owner or some aspect of its situation. e.g. Elmegård. Elm Farm. These names avoided confusion between which farm was being discussed. Just as the English used many different names for its farms. e.g. Cherry Tree Farm.
A rather restless night. The new [recycled] bed may now be firmer than before but was not uncomfortable. Merely different. Up at 7.00. My back is not quite so bad this morning. A walk would be a good idea. Despite the forecast.
I have to dump the old, sprung mattress at the recycling yard. They open at 9.00. Some shopping to do afterwards. As my larder shelves are gathering dust. Leaving me with few options for dinner.
9.00 65F. Just back from my walk and enjoying morning coffee. My walk was a grey affair but dry. Apart from the spray from my shoes on the backs of my calves. The roads were very wet in places. My back pain was much less obtrusive today. I will try not to make it worse while manhandling the old bed base. So I'll bring the open trailer as close as possible to the door. Thereby taking advantage of the height of the steps to avoid unnecessary lifting.
10.00 The mattress has gone. Light shopping to follow. I also bought some compost. For planting out the buddleias and a water lily for the carbuncle pond.
13.00 21C/70F. Still heavily overcast. Returned from a failed mission to find a better mattress at ever more distant charity shops. The lanes were full of harvesters. So large that the huge wheels, or tracks, used both verges. Without even touching the tarmac at times. They were breaking branches off roadside trees. As were stretched trailers, piled high with big hay bales.
14.00 A huge wodge of heavy rain is advancing on the country. It won't miss me this time. Should arrive by about 16.00.
16.20 The inclemency was, in truth, a bit late. Though it still manged to put on a good show. A very soggy thrush was obviously completely mesmerized. By the heavy droplets splashing onto the water surface of Carbuncle Pond. It remained fixated while standing on the hideously raised edge. Oblivious to all that was going on around him/her/it/*. Even remaining blissfully unaware of the variation in level across the perimeter. Of the foolishly oversized, plastic dish. [* Insert a suitable pronoun of your own choosing.]
For dinner I fried diced chicken and mushrooms. Boiled potatoes and added a couple of halved, fresh tomatoes to the plate. Sadly no photos will be forthcoming. So I have no evidence of its creation. Nor its consumption. You will just have to take my word for it. Burp! Will that do? 😄
~o~
