This is the story of a pair of wrought iron screen doors,
handmade circa 1948. . .One for a Mom and Dad's front door. . .
and one for the newly married daughter who lived behind them.
The Mom and Dad were Alice and Earl Magers. . .my grandparents.
The daughter and husband were Irene and Curtis Duncan. . .my parents.
The doors served the owners well for many years. . .until security and storm doors came on the market.
Then the beautifully crafted wrought iron doors were removed and stored in the barn. . .
where pigeons roosted. . .mice made their winter nests. . .
years of dust and dirt and grime built up on their swirls and turns. . .
Gone. . .forgotten. . .
UNTIL. . .
The Farmer's Daughter, who loved to climb and poke around in the barn lofts,
discovered the aged and dirty doors under stacks of cast-off tin and cypress. . .
That was the day their new life began.
She talked her Super Carpenter Honey into replacing the rotted wood. . .
Then she scrapped and painted the old doors to their former beauty. . .
and added them to her 1930s Farm Manager's home. . .
the "M" on the front. . .the "D" on the back.
And there they remained for many years. . .
Until time and the elements worked away much of their wooden frames. . .
So much so that only the handmade wrought iron could be salvaged. . .and brought inside. . .
where the Farmer's Daughter felt they had earned the right. . .
to remain sheltered and appreciated for the rest of their lives.
THE END. . .OR IS IT THE BEGINNING. . .AGAIN?