View from a Prairie Home

By Hege Herfindahl, Columnist

As I wake up, my heart plummets all the way to my feet. Because I remember. Sleep was a drug that kept me from reality, so sometimes it is the waking up that is the worst time of the day. That and hearing the day’s news. My child’s cancer. It is terminal and every day it spreads. A little more. And my heart aches and I ask God, “why, why us? Why him? Why not me? “It is not natural for a parent to lose a child.

But like I wrote last week, the why prayer is pointless and painful. It is the how prayer that is useful. How to get though another day with a broken heart. How to be helpful and strong. How to look at the sunrise and feel grateful. I try very hard to find things to be grateful for. I have my family still. They have been and are very loving and helpful. They are hurting just like me.

Today, I am home. We left Rochester for a few days to try to recuperate a little at home and to maybe do some gardening. In the midst of it all, this old house embraces me and comforts me. It is a hundred years old and we have lived here for almost half of that time. So, today, I will not write about cancer, but about my sanctuary. 

When I first saw it, I smiled. It was sitting in the midst of some rusty cars and burning weeds. Its paint was peeling and the roof leaked. But as far as the eye could see, beyond the charming little grove of trees that surrounded it, the prairie spoke to me. I saw it for the very first time in June. When the air was full of birdsong and the smell of wet grass. When the prairie winds made the leaves flutter. And above it all, the sky, so blue and cloudless that looking up, I felt dizzy. And there were wildflowers everywhere, because no one at that time were really into regular mowing. I looked around and it felt like I could see all the way into the horizon, no houses or hills to obstruct the view. 

At the time, the house belonged to Grant’s parents, but when they found out we wanted to move here, they gladly moved to a different prairie house recently vacated by Grant’s grandfather. And the house became ours!

Slowly, with not much resources besides muscle, youthful enthusiasm and ideas, we started claiming the house as ours. We never tore down walls and did major remodeling. Mainly because we didn’t have the money, but also because we wanted to preserve our home. I grew up with a sense of reverence for old houses. They had been built with real lumber, solidly with care and a sense of place. In each room of the house, there are windows facing two directions. Because this was the time before air-conditioning. In the basement there is a wood-burning stove (which we have replaced more than once) but which is attached to huge ductworks that reach all the way to the second floor.

When our house was updated to accommodate a geo-thermo heating and cooling system, the guys working were impressed with the ductwork and didn’t have to do much to improve it. Now, unlike many big two-story houses, the temperature is the same in the downstairs and upstairs, which makes it comfortable. 

This year, we installed a solar garden, so our house is now carbon-neutral. We refinished our attic for extra bedroom space and our porch so it could be used in all seasons. But the rest is largely cosmetic.

I love working outside, adding new trees to our grove, so that if one variety gets a disease, other trees fill in. I also have added a few flower gardens and some very simple water features. 

So, when my heart breaks, I hunger for home. The old house with the big heart.