Trash, Teasure and tricks...I love this old house

The basement. It's always been sealed up and I couldn't get in there. My curiosity was killing me. Yesterday, I noticed one of the workers left it open with a ladder down into the solid cement hole that is the entrance. They'd had to move around some plumbing at the request of some stupid woman who didn't want her shitter practically sitting in the kitchen. Men call that practical. I call it gross. Anyway, they had warned me not to go down there and said it was a dark labyrinth of junk and danger. You know, me, being a delicate flower and all (shut it). But, my love of mysteries and  antique oddities got the better of me. I should have been more prepared. No one was around, so I propped open the heavy wood door, covered in silver looking tin, and I found a big rock and an old wooden box to put on it and make sure no spooks trapped me down there with no opening for light. Why don't I carry a flash light in my purse? That is now on my list. I had a pin/key light, but, that was just ridic against this darkness. It was blacker than black as soon as I entered the first 'room'. Even with the door propped open. Of course the door is five feet up though a slant of solid and pretty modern cement work that looked normal. By the way, the door is hidden outside, by side of the deck. There is no inside entrance to the cellar. This was common back in the old days. They called it a fruit cellar and only used it to store hand canned veg and fruit to get them through the bitter Iowa Winters. It was also the 'twister' cellar, where every one ran to if a twister looked too close or on the wrong path. Good to know, really. It opens from the flat ground. If you didn't know what it was, you'd assume it was a large piece of scrap tin thrown near the unused deck with a few scrub trees grown up around it. (Those trees are waiting their end..by me..when I find time.) Which, by my Pagan beliefs, means I must make amends to nature, and I will. Just give me time, gowddammnit nature!

This first room was medium size and the most cluttered with junk and trash. Castoffs from many different ages. From 1600's to welcome to the 1990's. I am an equal opportunity junker. Yes, a historic piece that gives me clues to the house is pretty dang awesome, but, isn't that yet another ceiling fan laying under that insulation in the corner? Yes, it is. And it has white paddles. This will make the forth one I've found and the only white one. One of these motors has to work (law of averages) and which ever one works, is getting white paddles. So there. I am old...and hot. I needs me a fan in the kitchen, not a chandelier. I uncover and count them. Yep. All there, in good shape. I also dig up two more lighting fixtures, 70s style, but, not bad. Unbroken. Glass. Tulip shaped. Those I pile in the corner near the opening for 'just in case'. Still. I feel this is slim pickens from a house this old. A house where the cast off junk went into the cellar. It's clear, they did not throw food stuffs or the contents of chamber pots down here. Probably because some old lady of the house would have tarred and feathered them. No, it's just what was past it's use and wouldn't burn.

I really wanted to point out the house pilings. Yeah, you know that the three different cellar walls with timber would have held this place up until the second coming, but, that wasn't enough for someone. Do you see the pilings? Holy shit! They have easily been there for more than a hundred years. They are HUGE and look like the masts on large sailing ships. I can't get both arms around them and they are solid. They will be there forever. They had brought in one extra and I wanted to take it out, to use as a conversational garden bench. But, alas. It would take a machinery and a wench. I sat on the ground and tried to make it roll by pushing with my feet and legs (I have very strong legs) it would not budge. Not even half an inch. I smell the wood. It had been homemade treated with something that smells like rum and tar. They're shiny and waterproof. More secrets there.Whatever it is, it has lasted this long with no inscet damage or chips...so, hey, it makes me feel safe. I'll take it. I like them. I like imagining who snarked them from the shipyard and somehow brought them home.

I've done a little research and back in the 1600s, this place was one of the first colony houses, before Iowa was a state, when people made their own laws. The house would have been made of Iowa clay with a true thatched roof. The foundation would have been made of the many rocks they found clearing farm land and the cellar would have been small, only placed under one room. Big enough for Winter food storage and some extras hay for the animals. And also for the family to stand and sit on the hay in case of a deadly storm. Good enough for me. I will rake it clean and throw some of the old car seats down here along with water bottles and a radio to track the storm. A deck of cards and some old blankets and pillows and we should be quite comfortable, should a tornado decided to hit us.

The strangest thing about the cellar, is, it wasn't supposed to be a crawl space. You can tell. I can tell because I was nosey. I found a crudely built, but, very sturdy wall of shelves in the from room and on closer inspection, I took a piece of tin I found and used it as a hand shovel. Indeed, I was right, the crude shelves go down a lot farther than it appears. As if this space is much deeper. Sometime, when people stopped relyeing on home made canned goods (did a general store appear in town?) they decided the modern age was upon them and they began to cast off anything they thought was old fashioned and useless. The working men I know called it a crawl space, it sent shivers through me. Crawl spaces are awful and if you run into a Water Moccasin or Copperheads, or just a pissed off mama coon, it's hard to get away. Don't even mention a skunk. EWW.  But, I'm a short person and I didn't have to crawl. I just crouched and walked. In some places, I had plenty of room to stand up.

I found the second room. It seems there is now a room for every room in the upper house. I don't believe this was original, two reasons. The first I explained. They didn't need it for storage or tornandos. It was the onslaught of the late 1,900s that brought about crude plumbing. And so, they took sledge hammers and broke though the cobblestone foundation, which was now covered with homemade uneven brick. Probably made from Iowa and Missouri clay, and they made a hole big enough for a normal sized man to step on some bricks and climb through. I'm small now and it was plenty large enough for me. I took a stick and jammed all the spider webs full of eggs off and made my way into the next room. The next room was good sized, but, a true crawl space. It set much higher than that first room. It was much less messier. Only torn out pink insulation, I suppose from the celling in an attempt to keep the wooden floor warm. I have uncovered the wooden floor and it is OLD and not pretty. Plenty of breeze space up though the uneven planks, it cannot be saved, though its sturdy and in it's own way pretty. I plan to patch every crack and cover it over. Anyway, the second room I crawled though was clearly the bathroom. It must have been the nursery or possibly a pantry. I slithered over some roll of plastic that had been put there by a thoughtful plummer and joyfully inspected the work. Hell to the yes. A man who listened to me. My toilet has been re-routed to the other side of the fairly large room and my shower will be right in the middle! I was told by Mr. Joey, this couldn't be done. Well, it IS done and while men may wonder how I will deal with a square shower in the middle of the bathroom, they do not see the beauty of a private toilet cubical with a lovely old window beside it for ventilation. I have saved my old lovely window. I am happy. Besides, I avoided that goofy bathtub shower which would have covered the window and  franky, I have days when getting over that tub to take my shower would have been way too difficult. Joey would not listen to me...but, his dad did. He doesn't even question me. He just says, 'You're weird' and then he does it. He figures it's MY house and he doesn't care as along as I pay him. And he's FAST, he works like he has superpowers.


Anyway, I was all over that cellar, I spent about two hours rooting around. Wish I had better pics, but, the camera acted up in the pitch dark. I noticed that the new pluming is all metal and iron to match the existing antiques. Hey, if it hauled poop with no problems for a hundred years, lets, leave it to do it's thing. The whole thing looked pretty tight, except for one window that was broken and boarded up. And one crack in the masonary in the front part. Easy fixes. It was dry as a bone, even with all the rain we've had. The furnace looks new, only problem was, coons were using the duct work as a jungle jim and tore it all out. I can fix that, no problem.

The greatest part is, not only was it dry, I found no life down there. It was clear some young coons had played down there, but, there are too many people showing up now. They're wild, they won't be back. I actually did manage to find some real treasures. Let me show you.

Look! An old home made pie safe! It was buried in the dirt and I dug and dug in the dark, working on instinct. I finally was able to feel it, and I dug some more! Once I got it out and realized what it was I was so happy. It even has home made knobs! And little shelves for the pies. The sides are screen wire too! The back had rotted off, but, I can fix that. It thrills me to think this was once in my kitchen! It will be again as soon as I get it cleaned up and repaired.

I also uncovered this, I call it a setee. It may have been a bus seat or a model A seat, I dunno. If you do, tell me. It used to have green fake leather. The springs lift out. The iron frame and feet are just so  cute.It's going to be redone and sit on my deck.

I also unearthed this beautiful Mona Oil sign. Some of that is dirt. It was buried. It's in fair shape and I think its petty and unique. I'm going to sell it.
There are so many things buried down there in a crawl, crowch space that seems like it used to be a lot deeper. A mystery to solve someday when I'm bored.