I loved watching this! My grandfather, born in 1917, was a 3rd generation blacksmith. I grew up playing in the old family blacksmith shop in Francisco, Indiana. I'm 55 years old, but I can easily remember the heat of the massive forge as he'd use the big bellow. He was naturally ambidextrous, easily hammering with one hand, flipping whatever he was creating with the other, then switching hands to repeat the action perfectly. He had various "tools" driven by a giant belt different size pulleys all operating on one switch. The sound of all of them running when he'd flip that switch was like a washing monster coming to life. I had really long hair that had to be braided and tucked in a hat or rolled into a bun before I was ever allowed in the machine room. Walking along the hitch wall was like navigating a fun house due to the sloped floor specifically made that way to allow the waste from the horses to be easily washed out. The floor was made from the hardest wood and was tar black from the forge. The last horse was shod in that shop in 1963, but you could still pick up the smell of horses there when he passed away at 97. The little town was supposed to keep it a landmark, failed to keep their promise after the land and building were given to the town. It's all gone now. I refuse to drive by the property when we go back and tend to the family graves at the cemetery.
It's always a joy to see fie horses doing a good job at plowing. Thank you for bringing that. It's one of my favorite activities with m team on our farm.
That would be me on the back like the girl at 2:10. I road on trackers like this as a kid in the 70's. I'm in Kalamazoo County, and St. Joseph County, Michigan. My Amish friends are named... you guessed it... Yoder! Our family farm has been in the same family since 1850 [and still going...]...
