Continued from Yantzied 2026: Neubergthal. Written on September 27, 2026.
Here’s the thing about Reinland – it’s a really nice Mennonite street village too. Like, Neubergthal isn’t the only one. I think Reinland had also been in the running for obtaining National Historic Site of Canada status as a representation of Mennonite street village patterns imported from “the old country” – but Neubergthal won out with more housebarns, I think. (I actually haven’t counted! I’m not really into counting things I guess.)
Andrew and I have visited Reinland before. That was how we learned that there was a beautiful Ens housebarn there, awaiting discovery. There was a sign stating that all you have to do is phone a certain number, but we are sometiems perhaps a bit phone-averse. (I’d rather get caught trespassing for some reason – however I always have a history book in tow to explain my presence and share my enthusiasm for the books’ subject matter.)
Anyway. So we’ve wanted to see that housebarn for several years now. And Saturday was the perfect opportunity as the Ens Homestead Instagram account declared it would be open from 1-4pm! All we had to do was show up!
I think met all the Enses, actually. It was pretty cool because they were able to point out where the windmill had been. They know stuff about Reinland. I just need to learn how to ask better questions when opportunity presents itself. A truly lovely experience though. I felt shy and stupid but also my interest in the site and the opportunity to actually see inside and explore won out over my shyness.
Exploring the housebarn was amazing. That is an amazing structure; it’s just so old. And it was lived in until 1995! Looks like they’ve kept it just the way it was ever since. It’s so cool it kind of hurts my heart. How to explain. It just makes the passage of time and how everything changes and fades all the more… poignant? (I don’t know. What’s the word I’m looking for here?)
It reminds me of the playhouse. When I was a little girl, I ventured into the woods by my grandparents’ house (we lived on the same farmyard) and quickly discovered what I called the playhouse. A little house that I imagine my aunts had enjoyed playing in… before they quickly grew up and the playhouse was forgotten and the lilac bushes grew thick around and overtook the playhouse, concealing it from sight, until the next generation (me) discovered it. But that feeling of stepping into something forgotten and fading really gripped me. I tried to bring it back. I guess that’s me.
Anyway. I can’t really imagine what it’d be like if the family housebarn had been maintained and lived in for generations, well into my lifetime. That sense of connection would be so great, wouldn’t it?
I was curious what was in the backyard, so I wandered back there and this tree caught my attention, more than the old barn. I took pictures of it from all angles and then reached out and touched its bark and listened to its leaves rustle.
When I ventured back into the housebarn, I knelt by a chest to look at some old photos on display, and a petite elderly woman whom I assume is the Ens matriarch approached me and asked, “Did you see the tree?” Her eyes were wide and they sparkled. I think she must have seen me going into the backyard. I told her that I had, and that I appreciated it very much. She told me that she used to sit in its branches and still really wants to climb that tree. But doesn’t anymore.
I often find myself discussing magnificent trees with women who are my senior.
Those are the thoughts I am left with after our adventure to yantzied.