Posted By FarmerJ on June 27, 2009

Imagine our horror when it was brought to our attention this was happening to Darling Husbie’s shop while we sat upstairs on the other end of the house completely unaware while eating our dinner.

This was the scene at the farmstead Thursday evening about 8:00 p.m.  One of the many strange, ironic things about this fire is that not more than 15 minutes before this photo, I was outside on the upper deck on the house and could see or smell nothing to indicate this fire was in the making.  While I was outside, Husbie was looking out our master bedroom window ~ which faces the shop location ~ and he didn’t see anything, either.

Thank the Lord for our neighbor a mile away.  He saw the fire from his house and came over to see if we were okay or needed help.  There are knocks, and then there are knocks.  His was one of those knocks ~ the kind that you just know something isn’t right…like a frantic pounding.  Husbie went downstairs and realized what was happening.

When he came flying back upstairs to tell me what was happening, he had a look on his face I hope I never see again as long as I shall live.  He told me our neighbor was already calling 911 from his cell phone.  I’m not sure why, but I felt like I still needed to call myself.  I don’t completely remember making the call, but I know I did because much later that night I found my half-eaten plate of food in our bedroom by the phone.  I somewhat remember the dude at the Sheriff’s office sarcastically telling me he’d already received a call about the fire, but he couldn’t launch the fire call if he had to keep answering the phone.  Okay, dude.

At the point captured in the photo above (which was less than minutes after we were made aware of the fire), the tall two-story bay was completely engulfed, and the roof over that section and the east wall had collapsed.  Other neighbors were arriving telling us they had seen the fire from Grand Island ~ about 15 miles to the southwest.

We’re still waiting for any sign of fire trucks coming our way.  No luck.  At this point, the front two sliding doors on the tall bay had fallen over, the other three bays were completely engulfed and the entire roof had collapsed.

By now, we had discussed ~ and I had become worried ~ about the amount of fuel in all the various vehicles and equipment in the shop…heck, one of the vehicles alone had over 40 gallons in the tank.  I just knew it was going to explode and the flames would spread to the house.  About that time, several loud bangs and pops were occurring.  Husbie told me later that all that commotion was the tires on all the various things exploding.  More neighbors had arrived…people we had never met.

Yep, we’re still waiting for the fire truck to arrive.  But, obviously, at this point it was too late and they almost didn’t need to bother.   The only wall still standing was the west wall ~ being held up by the dog house Husbie had built for Bear Bear the Chow when we first moved here.  At this point, everything was gone and it would be easier to clean up to just let it finish burning down.

Finally, 25 minutes after the 911 call, the local fire department’s truck arrives.  To add insult to injury, when they turned on the water, it was gushing out the bottom of the truck rather than spraying out their hose.  So, still no water on the fire.

About 3 minutes later, a truck from another community farther away arrived and began spraying water on what was now basically nothing more than a smoldering pile of outrageously hot steel and metal.

At some point I snapped out of my semi state of shock and saw that not two, nor three, nor six, but eight fire trucks from three different communities, two ambulances, and approximately 30 – 35 privately owned vehicles were at the farmstead.  It all seemed like a staged scene out of a movie ~ but unfortunately, it was very real.

Here’s the sobering aftermath.  This photo was taken from the very spot I was standing on the upper deck just 15 minutes prior to that frantic knock at the front door.  See why I am so bewildered as to how at least something wouldn’t have caught my attention?  No smell of smoke, no sound of wood crackling, absolutely nothing.

To add more insult to injury ~ despite getting a decent rainfall during the night ~ I’d noticed while taking Abigail out to do her morning business that another small fire had gotten itself going in a corner of the rubble.  Husbie hooked up the garden hose to extinguish it.  This nightmare was the ‘gift’ that keeps on giving.  Ugh.

This photo was taken from what was the northeast area of the shop ~ the back of the tall two-story bay…near the area we believe the fire started.

This photo was taken from just west of center at the north side (back) of the shop.  You can’t really tell from this photo, but the vinyl siding on the house is warped from the radiant heat.  Again, you can see the deck where I was standing, as well as our master bedroom window that Husbie was looking out at the same time.

This photo was taken from the southeastern area of the shop ~ just west of the tall bay.

This photo was taken from the southwestern corner.  See anything salvageable?  There’s not.  The one and only thing that may end up being saved is the 3-point auger, but we can’t disturb anything yet as we are still waiting for the insurance adjusters to pay their visit.

It’s been a truly devastating experience, and one that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.  The most painful loss ~ and there is much loss ~ is the Mighty Dodgeous Ramasaurus aka the Ramus, our beloved 1977 Dodge Ramcharger 4×4 my Darling Husbie rebuilt from top to bottom, from front to back.  Being his little helper, rebuilding the Ramus is when I learned and memorized the firing order of a small block engine.

In addition to the Ramus, we lost Gizmo, Son #1′s 1986 Plymouth Turismo; Spanky, the 1955 Ford 860 tractor; Tinkerbelle, the 1942 Ford 2N; Wilma, my new White 50″ garden tractor; and, Scooter, the MTD 42″ garden tractor. Motorcycles, a quad and lots and lots and lots of tools.  All gone.

My heart is breaking for my beloved Husbie.  He literally gets ill when we look at the remaining piles of ash and melted metal.  He’s an incredibly strong man, with even more incredible coping skills ~ but this is pretty painful.  We will get through this, though.  Despite the tragedy, there were numerous blessings we are so very thankful for.  Praise the Lord!

I’m sorry to be writing this instead of what I’d planned on sharing with you Thursday evening ~ which was our excitement over our first harvested broccoli heads and a recipe for an awesome broccoli salad.  Stay tuned for that.  It was delicious!

Categories: Shop Disastrophy & Recovery
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