Burning down the house

Shortly after our arrival, I did a post with random shots of the farm, cleverly entitled Farm Shots.  In that gripping pictoral essay, there was a picture of the "broken house" (really, really old shed) that Dexter loved to visit for a big outing across the road.

Over the holidays, the shed was deemed a hazard and it was declared time to get rid of it.  I suspect decrepitude had little to do with this decision and a lot with getting 16 family members the hell out of the house and air everyone out for an hour, but nonetheless, it was the big excursion to go across the road to witness the conflagration.

Armed with diesel, matches and sleds full of whiny kids, we managed to stagger over and line up for the big event.

We had heard for years about how the shed had been built by our forefathers with only wooden pegs - no nails at all.  Pretty darned impressive it had lasted 80 odd years.  Also, a bit of a disappointment that upon inspection, massive spike-like nails were discovered on the corners. We'll attribute those as a later addition as it was, after all, relocated during the years and of course would have to be buttressed for that.

All that to say...boy was that sucker sturdy!!  Never mind that gallons of diesel wouldn't ignite it...it seemed at one point all the adults were pushing on the thing trying to push it down and it wasn't budging.

After about half an hour and everyone's whining reaching a fevered pitch, we headed in, except a few diehards who persevered to see to the demolition.

It was only after warming up and hangin out in the kitchen that we noticed it was the three oh-my-god-we-married-into-the-family spouses who had not returned home, choosing instead to play with flammable fuel in -20 weather.  Coincidence...?