The Old Saddleroom
And this. 
But sometimes old stuff is, well, not so great to have around. It can be dangerous. But at the same time, it’s also hard to lose. If you know what I mean. To illustrate this confusing statement, I shall relate the story of the Old Saddle Room.
As I understand it, the old saddle room was the original building here at Granite Glen. So I guess it wasn’t called a saddle room back then.
One room, one foot off the ground, with one door, and two push-out shutters for windows. About three metres by 3 metres. Absolutely tiny in comparison to the sprawling weatherboard home in which we now reside.
…
I don’t know who lived there – I imagine it was a single man (I cannot picture a woman in this tiny, bare dwelling) some 80 or so years ago. He would have manned this outpost of a much bigger holding, overseeing cattle and maybe droving on them horseback to different pastures as the season (and manager) required. No trucks, no real roads, just tracks and fences. And self-sufficiency. And toughness.
…
For my entire life, and the entire time my father has been here, it has been The Saddleroom. Tucked into the corner of a much bigger shed, it was a place housing wonderful piles of equine equipment, smelling like horse sweat and leather cobwebs and Gee Why.
A place to hide out and dream of winning ribbons on shiny ponies and to polish saddles.
…
Unfortunately Mother Nature had set her sights on the saddle room also. First it was just the cobwebs delicately strewn around the bare rafters. The weather chipped away until nails began rusting and loosening their grip. Then the planks began detaching from the floor and walls.
Mice and rats made nests unseen in the corner and behind a chest of drawers as the saddles and bridles came and went on their daily workout. Snakes coiled through the floor and up over saddle racks. Mostly carpet snakes, but not always.
Floor boards had to be walked on gingerly – making sure no weight was put on the rickety timber between the joists.
…
And so with my little ones now in residence and keen to explore, I took a deep breath and made a difficult decision:
“Tear it down before it falls on someone,” I said.
I winced as I said it. ‘Cause this is Serious History I was asking to be demolished. I fully expected lightening to strike as I uttered the words. But sometimes common sense has to win out.
And so one rainy day at Granite Glen, my menfolk donned their Drizabones, girded their loins and tore the old building down.
As I (very helpfully) sat on the sidelines and took photos, I wondered how the person who had once called this strange, bare-timbered place “home” would feel. Would he have been amazed it had stood so long?
Or be outraged that his historical hut had been desecrated and destroyed?
I hoped it was the former. After all my childhood dreams had lived in there too.
At least I have the images that showed it once existed.
I hope that counts for something.
11 Comments
Anonymous
The pictures count. Babies safety comes first!
Remudamom
Katie (in NY)
It’s necessary but kind of sad. I get it. We have a barn that held the work horses, when there were work horses to be held. I found huge discarded shoes there when I was little. Now I won’t let the kids in it, I’m afraid someone will fall through the loft and brain themselves. I’d hate to see it go though.
Jenni
Yes, it does count for something. You’ve recorded history there. Thank you for sharing it. I love old stuff:o)
Rhea
I enjoy pictures of old things too. That old shack (old saddleroom) was pretty cool. It’s fun to imagine who lived there and their story. Neat photos!
Jayne
You’ve got the photos to remember and cherish, and to show the kids when they’re older 😉
Andrea
Pictures count big time! I love it! But mice, yikes!! I saw two in our feed room today! Yikes!! We lost our barn cat! Love your photos!!
debby
And nice pictures they are!
Drizabone. That’s a great brand name.
Andrea: about time for a new barn cat.
BB: was SSB always a rancher, or was this a new thing, once he met you and you decided to move back? He looks quite comfortable in his role. Just unutterably curious about nearly everthing.
And not to be telling you what to do, but isn’t it about time for another puppy post? With your wonderful pictures? Because they grow up so fast? I want to see what Mine has turned into this week.
Bush Babe (of Granite Glen)
Debby – there are at least three posts in your questions today!!! In brief:
Drizabone is a brand of oilskin – they are as Aussie as Akubra hats and The Man from Snowy River. Still talking French to ya??
SSB was brought up on a cattle and pig property less than an hours drive from here… but I never knew him!! It’s a long story and I have yet to contemplate how to tackle that one!
Puppies… what puppies?? Huh?
debby
WHAT PUPPIES???????!!!!!!
(Don’t make me come over there…..)
Hal Johnson
Thanks for the photos. I love old stuff too. I regret that I’m prone to get-there-itus when on a road trip. Lots of mental snapshots, but not many photos. Maybe I’ll start working on that.
A Novel Woman
Lovely photos! I had to laugh because I photographed an old rusty woodstove at the lake this past weekend. And bits of lichen on a wooden picnic bench. It was the colour and textures that caught my eye. That lovely patina you get on old metal.
Love your blog!!