History Revealed

Windy Knob hasn't always been the sharp dressed wool raisin' farm that it is today.  Shocking I know, but a lot of work has gone into restoring it and helping the farm to puff its' chest out and be proud of the character and quality that has stood here on site for almost 100 years (barn 1912).  The sheep of course haven't been restored, they are just plain new.  Windy Knob Farms was Windy Knob Orchards for most of its existence, under the direction of the Wick family with master minds Frank and Doris.  You can read more history on our website to learn more about it, but I wanted to share with ya'll this image I saw the other morning.  While pouring my morning cup of coffee, I perused the pastures from the kitchen window only to see the shadow of the lone sweet cherry tree casted up onto the barn.  And there it was.  A moment to stop and reflect on what was, and what has become.  The farms way of telling me, yeah you've shinned me up good but don't ever forget I've been around a lot longer than you.  I was humbled and proud all at the same time; realizing how much work has been done to these grounds long before I was even born.  It's like showing up at the end of a project and tucking your thumbs in your beltloop and boasting "Yup. I'll take it from here."  No.  The vision was made, and I've worked hard to keep that image; not changing it, not making it better, just dusting it off so to say.  It was a serene moment with the sun rising up over Grand Traverse Bay, and the cherry tree stretching to catch as much of the morning sun rays it possibly could, leaving its' tall shadow down the gentle dewey hill, across the driveway and up onto the barn wall.  Enough to make me stop and appreciate everything thats special about this place. 

But get this.

Its even better.

So after a long day of haying (hay-ing: usually occurs on the hottest days of summer, loading 40 pound bales of hay into a truck bed using Tetris like strategies, followed by unloading said bales up to an even higher loft in which case space is of the essence and must be strategically stacked), we gathered in the doorway of the barn.  The tall double barn doors were shifted down, opening the door way to its fullest extent.  It was midday, so all the light in the world filled every usually dark nook in the barn.  When you first walk into the barn, you tend to look up.  And in looking up, you'll see the massive beech tree trunks that have served as the loft supports for the previous, I don't know, 80 years I'll guess.  In this loft, is a pile of old wood.  Its like the Home Depot clearence section; anything left over after projects for the past 80 years ends up thrown into this storage loft.  

But as we stood there, one of us noticed a piece of the scrap pile that seemed to have a color.  And the gap between the Beech tree, was in the perfect position (and now exposed by that generous sunlight pouring in) to expose a letter.  A letter that looked like a K.  On the other side of that massive support trunk, you could follow this scrap piece of a wood, and see another letter.  Well by now the three of us are basically standing on our heads trying to turn upside down to read what seems to be some sort of sign.  Dan jumped up in the loft and began to frantically chuck wood, in an effort to get to the bottom of the pile.  However, from the top of the pile, you don't get the benefit of the massive sun rays.  Instead Dan was working with the dark, the cobwebs, a few wasps and the bats that live up there.  So I shouted from below, directing him to the left, no not that piece, the other one, now move that, throw that one aside, yeah! That one.  Pull it out. 

As Dan dropped it down, I was able to read the K, followed by the N,  and an O...  It was the original Windy Knob sign.  This barn protected sign, painted in a forest green and creamy yellow lead paint, had sat in this storage pile for God know's how long.  It was such a reward.  I mean it too. I'm smiling just typing this, because its like a treasure to find this sense of belonging, original character that can't be made or created.  Its the original Windy Knob sign for Pete's sake!  And now it sits, with all of its farm freshness in the new Dining Room.  What's old is new again.