Abandoned Farmhouse

The poem opens with an apparently neutral observation about an unnamed man who used to occupy the abandoned farmhouse. His shoe size indicates he was “a big man” (Line 1). The next line reveals the shoes have been left “on a pile of broken dishes by the house” (Line 2). The shoes don’t say they have any damage, and the narrator provides no reason for their abandonment. The reader also learns from “the length of the bed” (Line 3) that the man in question was tall.

Big, tall men are symbolic of strength and capability to many. Possessing these culturally valued characteristics could not save the farm from its abandonment, however. And though there can be comfort in identifying a culprit for the farmhouse’s abandonment (if a reason is found, perhaps an unfavorable outcome can be avoided in the future), in the poem’s case, nothing is that clear.

Despite offering a list of observations, the poem sows doubt about the accuracy of surface observations. It is impossible to know the full story of another’s life, the poem suggests, especially when they aren’t there to speak up for themselves. At the same time, the poem suggests it is important to look at the world and observe.

The first stanza continues to share details. The Bible is present in an upstairs room. It tells readers he was “a good, God-fearing man” (Line 4). He had faith, at least at one time. The poem then notes the Bible has “a broken back” (Line 5). This could mean it had been read so often it fell apart, or it could have suffered some damage during an outburst, through neglect, or by accident. Broken or not, it was left behind “on the floor below the window, dusty with sun” (Line 6). Its current state is equal to the pile of dishes and the shoes. The man’s faith may have been broken at the same time—or it may serve as evidence of the speed of departure. If a man of faith didn’t pick up this holy book there must have been incredible urgency. Kooser draws attention to the limits of our perceptions, observations, and desire to know by revealing through the poem’s details that truth is impossible to know.

The fields do say the man was “not a man for farming” (7) and offer evidence to support their claim. The fields are “cluttered with boulders” and the “leaky barn” agrees with the negative assessment (Line 8). The phrase “not a man for farming” is telling. It can be interpreted as not being suited to farm work. It can also underscore the man’s disinclination toward labor—much was left undone. Again, the poem folds multiple interpretations and ambiguities into what at first appears to be a simple, straightforward image.

The second stanza reveals the presence of a woman in the house. She is announced by the “bedroom wall / papered with lilacs” (Lines 9-10). The pattern points to an appreciation of beauty and a delicate femininity. It stands in contrast to the cluttered fields, though in the end, the wallpaper can offer only fake flowers. There is no more real growth there than in the fields.

The woman and the man had a child, who is brought into the poem by “the sandbox made from a tractor tire” (Line 12). Readers familiar with life on a farm may recognize the classic bit of repurposing ingenuity. The sandbox shows the place wasn’t completely bereft of joy or care.

The woman, unlike her husband, is linked to caretaking. Her kitchen was tended to. The shelves were “covered with oilcloth” (Line 11) and her cellar was stocked with “jars of plum preserves” and “canned tomatoes” (Lines 13-14). Those goods say, “Money was scarce” (Line 13). She had to be resourceful to survive.

The “rags in the window frames” (Line 15) indicate how cold winter was. The farmhouse is located on a “narrow country road” (Line 16). It says, “It was lonely here” (Line 16). Life at the farm was rough.

The sense of isolation is palpable, especially since it is expressed here, not by people, but by things. A contradiction lies in the heart of the poem. Though it is filled with things, absence is the standout feeling. The tone is melancholy and resigned.

The last stanza begins, “Something went wrong, says the empty house” (Line 17). It does not know what. That kind of knowledge is outside of its understanding.

The house stands in a “weed-choked yard” (18). The vivid image hints of violence—or at least suffocation. The pressure grows as the stanza continues. “Stones in the fields” (Line 18) add their weight to the judgment of the man: “he was not a farmer” (Line 19). The jars are “still-sealed” (Line 19) under the earth in the cellar (Line 20).

Everything seems trapped, hemmed in, and pressed down until a mystery trigger was pulled. At that point, the end comes quickly—like all that restrained energy was released in a burst. The jars and cans in the cellar “say she left in a nervous haste” (Line 20). A poor family wouldn’t leave precious food behind unless they were running.

The final four lines include a question: “And the child?” (Line 21). Readers may be wondering the same thing. The child hasn’t been mentioned in eight lines. The farmhouse says, “Its toys are strewn in the yard / like branches after a storm” (Lines 20-21). The pronoun choice emphasizes how little we know about the child. Using “it” in this context is likely an artifact of the time the poem was written and is not a reactionary statement about gender-neutral inclusive language. The child is not depicted as Other, and yet they are given no name, no gender, and no age. Like the child’s parents, the only way to know them is through their former possessions. The child’s lack of agency and power in the situation makes the loss more poignant.

The toys, “a rubber cow, / a rusty tractor with a broken plow, / a doll in overalls” (Lines 22-24), look like they have been blown about by a storm. The state of the toys reflects life on the farm. The farmer’s tools are poor and the child’s toys have seen better days.

The question “And the child?” leads to others. What could have possibly happened to make a family leave behind what few toys a child has? There is no answer. All the farmhouse can offer is a return to the ambiguous and ineffectual conjecture given at the beginning of the stanza: “Something went wrong, they say” (Line 24). What that could be is left to the reader’s imagination. The family may have had to snatch the child away and run. Something may have happened to the child. Maybe too many losses piled up and everything broke all at once.

In the end, the careful observations and vivid details paint a picture. The observer can formulate theories about cause and effect and can spin stories about it. Empathy and imagination are powerful gifts and yet neither can give us any definitive answer. Maybe that’s okay, the poem says. We can’t know everything. What we can do, however, is open our eyes to our surroundings and contemplate the shape of our own lives.