Dappled sun bathes the weathered farm on this winter evening. The corn crib leans as if waiting for the perfect wind to finish its job. Paint on the out buildings is chipped – a tale of the elements that have worked so hard over the years. Missing blades on the windmill hamper the spinning unless an angry wind blows. Then, you can hear an eerie screeching as the old windmill refuses to cease. This farm was homesteaded in 1884 and has passed the test of time. Think of the things the farm has seen, the many people it has known, and the storms the farm has Weathered.