The Barn Collective and Peavy Road

Our traipse about yesterday took us down to NY's southern tier, one of my favorite places in the whole world. On our way home again we purposely took Peavy Road, even though we haven't a clue where the family homestead once stood.

This is the farmhouse where my dad's grandparents once lived, up in the hills on Peavy Rd. One of his cousins confirmed it several years ago.

After taking a close look at the porch detail, I am certain this old photo of my dad as a little guy (probably around 1935) was taken at the same house. I'm guessing there were two porches and have found several old photographs of folks either on a porch like this or in front of one. I recall once reading how you could tell a lot about locations of old photos by little details the photographer wasn't paying attention to.


 Most of Peavy Road is still dirt, just like it must have been when my dad was a little boy.

There were several Amish farms dotting the landscape, two of them with For Sale signs out front. The barns are impressive.

I really want to get out of the car one day and ask to step inside a working barn. I'm not sure I'll ever be brave enough, but you never know what opportunity might arise.

And now, a Peavy Road Story...

Once upon a time two young boys decided to take an old horse cart for a ride down the big hill on the road at their grandparents farm. (It was a mile downhill to town.) The older one had the job of steering the cart, and the younger worked the "brakes" which was a large rock held against one of the wheels. They hadn't gone far when, as they began to pick up speed, they came to realize that the brake was not working. Thankfully, the older had the presence of mind to turn off the road and into a farmer's field and tragedy was averted.