The Crow's Nest Epilogue Blood Farm 12

Epilogue Blood Farm 12

            The final venue for my personal and professional hunt for particles from the Blood Farm estate content’s… empty black hole domino down fall off the edge of the earth Alice stated “then it is gone”… has continued only in the choppy waters of chance at coastal Maine antiques shops.

            The actual farm buildings, 100 acre property and untouched Federal house were quickly and quietly sold through the “trusted” and its lawyer.  It sold to become a second “farm in the country” home an older “well established” couple from the Portland area residential coast (Cape Elizabeth) who have words like “Portland Symphony” ALWAYS associated with their name and… never were seen at Uncle’s auction.  They… “gutted the place” meaning they took out the old wood and piled it in the yard where it “DON’T WORRY:  WE’LL GET RID OF IT” disappeared.  Alice’s kitchen, the jewel of the first floor, was stripped to “the shell”.  The rest of the first floor, including the original “old red” painted woodwork and large fireplace WITH the original “1809 BLOOD” name in chalk on a board behind a ceiling beam… was covered over by commercial plaster boarding that was screwed into this original woodwork.  The upstairs “unfinished” “attic” was converted to “four bedrooms, a laundry and two bathrooms”.  A third floor “finished, lighted and insulated” attic was created above.  A bathroom was also “made” on the first floor.  A house that “NEVER HAD A TOILET” (Alice) now has three.  One old home buff I know said “there is not a quarter inch of original wood left in that house”.  The most highly spoken of loss was the removal of the built-in step back pewter cupboard in the kitchen that was removed whole, put out in the front yard leaning against a maple tree and … was gone the next day.  Therefore, the whole Blood Farm is now “then it is gone” including the removal of the car shed “too close to the road” AND the filling in with stone of the TWO original water wells in the yard.  Blood Farm, today, is… “beautifully restored”.

            I have never been there.  I, also, have never seen the seven, again.  They took their purchases, including …A… “grandfather’s clock”… back to Ohio (?) and have never been seen again.  I have not seen the fire chief again.  I have not seen or heard from the lawyer again.  Margaret’s and her mother’s house was converted to small rental apartments.  When passing through the village by chance, I glance at it.  I glance at the top window where the  Crow’s Nest was.

            Otherwise I hunt the choppy waters of chance in the coastal antique shops…. and a little bit inland flush with the latitude of Uncle’s Auctions.  The likelihood is very small that anything went NORTH of Uncle’s.  My most poignant example is that… on the same latitude with Uncle’s and just over the New Hampshire state line… in a locked case of a better quality long established and knowing antiques dealer’s store… I chanced upon a wooden ware tankard that “LOOKS LIKE THE ONE ON THE Blood Farm TABLE IN THE ATTIC”.  At $850 sticker priced I asked to “see it”.  “It MUST BE the one.” My mind spoke.  Turning it over I found a large and very original “B” carved in the bottom.  “BLOOD” my mind spoke.  “I NEVER LOOKED AT THE TANKARD’S BOTTOM!!!!!” my mind spoke again.  I was… too busy with the tea table and “never did”.  “YOU IDIOT!!!!!” my mind finalized.  The tankard was for sale for years.  “I’M SURE IT’S THE SAME ONE!” I remain to this day.  “Yeah right” is what my check book kept saying.  One day I went in the store and it was gone.  I asked.  She said “I sold it”.

            Like that tankard, I discovered a …small blue seaweed mocha decorated yellow ware mug… in a locked case of a better quality long established and knowing antiques dealer’s store… on the coast.  “THAT’S THE ONE FROM THE AUCTION!!!!  THE SEVEN DIDN’T BUY IT?????” my mind screamed.  I asked to see it.  The case was opened, I picked up the cup noting the $450 price tag and… discovered THE tiny sliver of blue mocha decorated yellow ware… inside the cup.  “I bought it at that auction” she said.  “I had to pay a lot.  Remember those people in front were buying EVERYTHING.”

            “I do” I said.  I did.  I had just assumed they bought this.  They hadn’t.  In this shop for sale… it was “too much”.  I rolled the sliver in my finger tips, put it back in the cup and watched the cup return to its shelf in the locked case and… the case locked.  After that I visited the cup when I was in the area.  I never handled it again.  One day I went in and it was gone.  I asked after it.  “I sold it.”  she said.

            “Remember how it had that little sliver of a decorated yellow ware piece in it?  I really liked that.” I said.

            “Oh.” she said.  “They didn’t want that.  It’s around here somewhere.” she continued and started searching in the clutter on her sales counter between us.  “HERE it is.” she said holding it up in her finger tips.  “Here.  You can have it”.

The End.