December 28, 2023.
It’s a day that is now seared into the history of our family’s farm. Three days after Christmas, our spray barn went up in flames. I was already back home in Indiana (waiting for a furniture delivery that ended in disaster, but that’s another post for another day). My mom texted me a photo:
At first I was rather confused. Why are there flames? I don’t remember exactly what I wrote, but I responded with something stupid like, “are those flames supposed to be there?” Mom’s response text made it all come into focus. The spray barn–loaded with all the recently purchased chemicals for the 2024 season–was on fire. (Also another post for another day, my mom’s delivery of bad news.)
The newest farm tractor was also in the spray barn that day. It didn’t normally live there, but for one reason or another, that’s where it was on the fateful day.
I’m truly glad I wasn’t there to actually witness it. I know how I felt 40 minutes away; I can’t imagine actually being there. Even now, not quite three years later, I’m struggling to write this. I’ve started–and then stopped–a number of times. But the story is one worth telling.
The spray barn was specially designed to handle emergencies like these. The floor was sloped so it would catch as much chemical as it could, instead of it running out of the barn into the field. It worked, though it was eventually overwhelmed. A neighbor (who had experienced a similar thing and immediately knew when he saw the black smoke) helped dad direct the liquid into a quickly dug hole and then pumped it out into a container.
The firefighters arrived but could do nothing. Water on the barn would mix with the chemicals and make a bigger mess. Instead they kept the surrounding infrastructure wet and cool so nothing else caught fire. Other than trying to pump up some of the chemicals, there was nothing anyone could do. Except watch it burn. Watch the tractors go up in flames and melt (literally). Watch the plastic containers of fertilizer melt to the ground. Watch the preparations for the 2024 season go up in smoke.
As hard as that day was, the next two years were a hard, constant reminder of the loss. Believe it or not, the easiest part was creating an inventory of the personal property and replacing the tractor. Then there was the insurance company to contend with, the environmental clean-up companies that wouldn’t do the work, and the Michigan Department of Environment, Great Lakes, and Energy to appease. Every single thing was such a fight.
Part of me wants to share the details, use it as therapy, and expose the companies and people who failed us in that time. But most of me can’t relive it. So I won’t.
It wasn’t until the end of 2025 that the last check was sent and the new building was finally erected. It’s currently waiting for concrete. Just like the original barn, this one was built to withstand the worst case scenario, too. I nearly cried when I pulled into the driveway and saw it for the first time, right where the other one once existed.
I didn’t personally have a financial stake in what happened. It wasn’t my livelihood on the line. But this is why I went to law school and worked so hard–so I could step up for my family when it was most needed. I took that burden very seriously. And I felt it every time I had to do battle. We prevailed, but there was a hefty cost.
My loyal readers may have noticed that I haven’t done much blogging in the last two years, aside from my monthly AGDAILY piece (and kudos to my editor for his patience with me). Every time I sat down to write, to create, to reengage, I couldn’t. Because I knew I hadn’t yet resolved the barn fire.
I’ll be honest: I don’t think The Farmer’s Daughter USA will ever look, feel, or read like it did before. My life changed in other ways during those two years. In some really good ways. And those things now have a new priority in my life. The world has changed too: the issues are different, the content is different, and creators are different. (Do people still read blog posts?)
Still, I want to show up for this. I’m still passionate about modern agriculture and rural communities. I love advocacy. And I miss writing for myself.
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