Grenville Farm

It was about five in the morning when Emily stepped out unto the porch of her farmhouse.  She lived for the peaceful moments when it was just her and the dawn. It was a great time to be up, when the world was just waking and there was beauty in the silence. 

She had spent years lost in her own mind, so being able to enjoy the peaceful sunrise was a gift she gladly gave herself daily.

There was also the fact that the other ladies living on her farm didn't get up until after ten in the morning.  Most of them claimed that it was because they were old and tired, but Emily was pretty sure it was so they could get out of helping with chores.  She didn't mind.  It left her morning routine free of distractions or the chaos of wrangling fifteen old ladies. It also let them save up energy for the evening when they would ride up and down between the garden rows harvesting the plants.

Emily stepped of the porch and headed towards the barn, thinking ahead to the evening meal.  Today was a meat day so she would have to kill a couple of hens. That reminded her that she would have to check the schedule to see which of the older hens needed to be moved into the “food” coop this month.

Walking on auto-pilot, her brain run through all the administration issues she had to deal with. It was a lot simpler when it was just her on the farm, she didn't have to worry about so many things at once.  Since welcoming her first resident however, she’d had to be much more proactive about upkeep. It was no longer just her relying on herself, all these women had needed somewhere to go, and she had been it. So, feed for the livestock, fertilizer for the garden, a new shipment of seeds, meds for the Grannies; all things that she needed to ensure were taken care of so she could continue to take care of them.

Emily entered the barn and her thoughts as well as her feet stuttered to a stop.  The place looked like a tornado had passed through. Her carefully stacked bales of hay were scattered all across the barn; bags of feed lay everywhere, thankfully not open. Tools and bins were tossed in every direction and all the stalls were empty, her livestock missing. The rear barn doors leading to the paddock were wide open, Emily ran outside hoping that her animals were at least close enough to corral.  Outside, the paddock gates were closed, the horses safely inside, and the cows were in the small field just beyond that.

Satisfied that the anmals were safe, Emily returned to the barn, confused and frustrated at what she thought was a mean-spirited prank.  

“When I find whoever did this…” Emily mumbled to herself as she began to rake the hay back into piles.

“Who would even do something so mean?” 

There weren’t too many people living out this far outside of the city anymore, but nearby Greenvale still had a few families that refused to give in to the pressures to move away.  Occasionally the kids would get bored and get into mischief, but nothing ever as bad as the mess that she was dealing with in the barn.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

When she was done raking the hay into two large piles, she looked around at all the heavier items that had been capsized and decided against trying to clean up the rest by herself.

“I’ll have to call one of the guys from the vale to help fix this mess.” Adding it to her mental list of things to do, she picked up an already opened bag of feed corn and filled a bucket for the hens. As she walked out of the barn to continue with her daily routine a mark on a stall post caught her eye.

“What the hell’s been chewing on this wood?”

***

After her chores, Emily started breakfast and The Grannies started drifting into the kitchen.  Abigail was the first to come down from her room. She kissed Emily on the head and made herself busy brewing coffee.

“Good Mornin’, Dahlin.” Decades spent living in among “Yankees” had not faded Abigail’s southern drawl even the tiniest bit.  In fact, Emily was certain that she turned it up a notch when she was outnumbered by the New York Grannies.

The other women drifted in one by one, each immediately finding a section of the kitchen and starting a task.

“So what’s got you looking like they put salt in your Sweet Tea?” Abigail asked as she put the coffee beans back into the cabinet.

“Some one trashed the barn. Its a mess and is gonna take a lot of work to put back in place.”

“Can we…” Abigail began.

“NO!”  Emily was stern. “You’re supposed to be too old to be doing that kind of stuff.”

“Hmphh.”  The sentiment was echoed around the room. Emily shook her head.  As much as her companions liked to pretend to be lazing about, they were always eager to help and be helpful.  Still the heavy lifting in the barn was not the kind of jobs they should be doing, and they knew that.

“I’m going to go to Greenvale to pick up our deliveries. Maybe I’ll find out who did this and have them come fix it.”

“It was probably Goblins.” Lauren said, as she set the large table. 

“You mean Gremlins.” Julia interjected.  “She thinks gremlins are messing with the beehives.”

“No I meant Goblins.” Lauren said.  “I’m old but I know what I mean.”

“Gremlins are the furry mischievous ones.  Goblins are mean and and have leathery skin.”

“I still mean Goblins” Lauren pouted.  She ducked her head as the other women laughed.  Julia playfully swatting at her with a dishrag.

Emily sighed. “Sometimes I don’t know if you guys are joking or not.” She scoffed.  “Tsh, Goblins!”

The topic turned to their plans for the day as they sat down for breakfast.  The plans were the same as every other day— They would weed the garden and harvest some of the vegetables— yet they still enjoyed having that time together around the table to plan.

After breakfast, a couple of the ladies finished cleaning up and Emily headed up to take a shower.  Soon she was in her truck headed into town.

“Goblins.” She laughed suddenly in the solitude of the cab.  Life definitely had not been boring since the old girls came to stay.