My Ice House and George Washington
Preserving the past.
There was a loud crack then a crash, well maybe more of a thud.
This has been farmland since the 1800s, a dairy farm at first, then at some point a horse farm, and most recently growing commercial corn. The property had been pulled apart, split amongst heirs and sold off piece by piece, like many of the family farms across America. We bought the last 10 acres, the site of the original farmhouse and the only piece to be continually farmed.
There’s something special about property with history, and even though the original farmhouse was razed in 1960 and replaced with a brick ranch, hints of history still remain: some to be discovered in the walls and floors, some in the ground like horseshoes, or part of an old horse drawn tiller.
Then there was the little brick structure next to the well. We were told it was the ice house, one of the last remaining vestiges of the original farmstead dating back into the 1800s, the old bricks made on-site from the clay soils. It was small, just 7x7, resting on a stacked stone foundation. It wasn’t in good shape.
Our plan was to always respect and honor the past. The land would continue to be farmed, but organically, regenerating the soil. The old corn crib on the property would be incorporate into our farm/brewery logo. But I didn’t know what to do with this ice house it certainly was not stable.
Then we heard the crack. It appeared that the only thing holding the ice house together was a couple of old boards propping up the roof and the day they broke the ice house came down.
I’m sad about its demise, something was lost so it seems. Now a pile of bricks remain.
Fast forward a few years to this Thanksgiving dinner with my daughter, son-in-law and grandkids. The topic of discussion — George Washington loved ice cream. And how did he enjoy ice cream before refrigerators? Ice houses.
