Sep. 13--From the curb, the Farmington house looks like countless other multilevel homes in the Twin Cities suburbs.

The siding is a pleasant shade of green. A spacious driveway leads to a two-car garage. The house has been here a few decades, and good-sized trees in the front yard show it.

But take a closer look, and there are telltale signs the property is among thousands of homes swept up by a record crest of foreclosures that has rocked the housing market.

Two windows on the lower level are broken. A mop lies in a flowerbed. And on this rainy morning in late August, Stan Whiting has parked his truck out front.

Whiting is about to perform a "trash-out" in which he and two employees rid the home of all personal property left by the previous owners. It's a process that occurs to some extent with most foreclosed homes as banks and their agents try to get the properties ready to sell again.

Some homes, Whiting says, have more trash than others.

"On this one, we'll use the shovels for sure," says Whiting as he surveys a living-room floor covered with debris -- from figurines and footwear to pop cans and candy wrappers. "This house is really filthy."

The trash-out business has spiked in recent years along with the number of foreclosures in Minnesota and across the country. Debris disposal is just one of many "property-preservation services" companies large and small provide to banks that have foreclosed on homes.

Whether it's a small operation like

Whiting's SR Repair in Cottage Grove or part of a large publicly traded company like California-based First American Field Services, property-preservation firms try to secure the value of repossessed homes by changing locks, tending to the yard, addressing code violations and taking out the trash.

"While our business is booming in a down economy, a lot of our guys feel very bad about having to do it," said Tim Doehner, executive director of the National Association of Mortgage Field Services, a trade group based in Ohio.

Back in Farmington, Whiting begins his work by sizing up the job.

The house has a new roof, he said, but something must have gone wrong with it. Leaks near the kitchen and living room have caused entire sections of the drywall ceiling to give way.

Everything nearby is wet: a stack of phone books in the hallway, insulation that has fallen to the kitchen floor, furniture in the living room.

Mice and rats have moved in, Whiting notes, pointing to droppings on pots, pans and surfaces in the kitchen. Some cabinets are still filled with dishes; others are stocked with food. There are crackers, cake mixes and even a box of Velveeta cheese.

On the fridge, family photos remain along with a preschooler's art project.

Whiting walks into the garage and points out a freezer in the corner. That's one reason he gets the power restored before a trash-out: Abandoned food doesn't smell as bad if it's been refrozen.

"They'll have piles of meat in there and stuff that's been there for a month," Whiting says.

Dakota County records show the Farmington home sold for $78,750 in 1988. It changed hands in a 2001 transaction between family members for $150,000, the county says. In May, the Bank of New York purchased the home at a sheriff's sale for $78,300.

State law allows homeowners to stay in foreclosed homes following a sheriff's sale during a six-month redemption period when they can buy back the home. But when homeowners bail out, banks can ask a court to shorten the period to five weeks, said Lawrence Zielke, an attorney with the Burnsville firm Shapiro, Nordmeyer & Zielke.

In the case of the Farmington house, a Dakota County judge found in July that the property had been abandoned, Zielke said, and the bank took ownership in August. The previous owner took some items from the home this summer, Whiting said, and signed a personal property release form for the rest.

That set the stage for last month's trash-out.

"Trash-outs generally cost anywhere from $600 to $2,000," said Terry Records, a real estate agent with Keller Williams Premier Realty in Woodbury who is handling arrangements for the Farmington property. "It varies on the amount of contents left."

"Perhaps 5 to 10 percent don't need anything hauled out," she said. "Thirty percent (have) very little."

For Whiting and his crew, the work begins upstairs.

Ryan Gorman, 22, of Cottage Grove, finds a blanket in one of the bedrooms and spreads it near the doorway as a makeshift garbage sack. Next, he picks up a shovel and starts scooping debris onto the blanket -- everything from clothing and a Christmas wreath to paper that's been shredded by mice.

Across the hall, Carol Perkins, 41, of St. Paul, uses a shovel to trash out what's left of a child's room. At least 30 empty containers of milk, juice or yogurt are under the bed. Amid a sea of debris that extends nearly wall to wall are some familiar chums of childhood -- Elmo and Big Bird, Tigger and Nemo.

It all winds up out front in a Dumpster, where the metal thunders as Whiting smashes a bedroom unit into a pile of boards.

As the trash piles up, Whiting occasionally backs away from gagging odors. "It smells like blue cheese crumbles," he says at one point. Later, while carrying a container of brown liquid out from the kitchen, he observes: "Maybe it's a little au jus, or a nice beef stew."

Whiting used to operate a catering business. He also worked for years as a real estate investor. When the housing market crashed, Whiting decided to put his home-repair skills to work both as a carpenter and in the property-preservation business.

After three years and several hundred trash-outs, Whiting has seen some unpleasant things.

"There's feces everywhere in a lot of houses -- the dog has been in there for a long time, and there's dog (feces) everywhere," he said. "I've gone into them where the cat's dead under the stairs and full of maggots."

"This one is pretty bad," he said of the Farmington house, "but I've seen worse."

The work can be sad, too, says Perkins.

"It's people's dreams and hopes and belongings and memories," she observes while standing in the garage.

Soon, a tow truck arrives to haul away an abandoned red Plymouth Horizon. Other garage items include a cast-iron water pump, an Atari 2600 videogame console and a sign that reads: "Bless This Mess."

Once the mess is cleared, there's hope for this house, Whiting says. After the trash-out, it will be subjected to a deep cleaning.

The roof problem can be addressed, along with the drywall that's fallen from the ceiling. The interior will look better with a fresh coat of paint, he adds, noting the house has been spared some of the more serious problems that can strike foreclosed homes, such as frozen pipes and radiators.

"It doesn't take a genius to see that there's opportunity in some of these things right now," Whiting says.

There may be hope for the family who's no longer here, too, he adds. Some people who lose their homes need a new start in life, Whiting says, and the foreclosure forces a change.

Whatever the resolution here in Farmington, trash-outs reveal some truths that seem to apply in all communities.

"People have a lot of stuff," Whiting says. "It doesn't matter what house you go to."

Christopher Snowbeck can be reached at 651-228-5479.

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