When we walked through the doors of this place I did not have a huge interest in learning more about potatoes - dehydrated potatoes, processed potatoes, plain old spud potatoes, all potatoes all the time.
But now that we were in the museum there were things that had caught my attention, that had amused me, that had intrigued me, and despite my lack of initial enthusiasm, I was having a good time.
There were worse ways to spend a couple of hours in downtown Blackfoot than drinking coffee and eating muffins and walking through a small train-station-turned-potato-museum.
As I turned to look at the Mr Potato Head dolls that were colorfully lined up in a glass case against the wall I smiled again.
There were very familiar to me.
My boys had liked Mr Potato Head when they were little, and for a few moments I stood looking at these colorful characters with their weird faces and remembered sitting at a kitchen table in Canada years ago trying to make weird potato faces that would amuse my boys.
I stared at Mr Potato Head.
The smile was gone.
Keep moving Karin..................
A potato table................
I wish that I had taken a better picture of these heavy metal hand trucks.
LC bought a set of these a few months ago.
They are covered with old green paint and are in great old condition, and one day next year they will be a base for a coffee table in a sun room...............
More wonderful paintings depicting the life of a potato farmer.
Perhaps that is what life was like many years ago, but nowadays potato farming means huge corporate farms, high tech equipment, and huge storage and processing and distributions centers...............
As LC and I continued to slowly wander from one static display to another we eventually found ourselves standing in the room that held the large equipment that I had seen previously but could not get to.
Slowly taking a look around me it suddenly hit me that this museum was much better laid out, and much more extensive that I had ever imagined.
I had noticed the row of potato mashers lining the top of the entrance to this room as we walked in, and then saw this large glass case filled with antique potato mashers.
They spoke to me in that way that old, rusted, graphic and utilitarian tools always do.................
Climbing up a handful of wooden steps I looked down to survey the equipment that I had just walked through.
Down at floor level many of the large tools that I had just seen were crammed together in a small space.
From this elevated vantage point I could see everything better.
I looked down at this long metal bar that held a row of huge metal teeth and just shook my head.
I had noticed it briefly when I snapped a picture of LC, but standing on this wooden balcony I finally looked at this thing more closely.
Holy Crap! It looked like something out of the horror movie The Children Of The Corn:
I had seen the name Spudnik around the region a number of times, and had made the (correct) assumption that it was a playful adaptation to the late 1950's word Sputnik.
The Spudnik Potato Loader.................
LC had a great time wandering through the museum, learning new things and seeing old things that had not been a part of his life since he was a teenager.
Surprisingly, I had a great time as well.
I hadn't expected to but I did.
As we walked out of the building we both realized at the same time that it was getting colder and damper outside.
Pulling zippers higher on our jackets we grabbed hands, crossed over the road and headed back to pick up our Tahoe................