I have a theory that ghosts are left-over energy. I've heard them, even when I have not seen them.
Are our barns haunted? I believe so. Perhaps my definition of haunting isn't quite the same as that of the ghost hunters on TV. (I won't be calling them to inspect our property.) My husband is a fan of all the shows that follow people in so-called scary situations, but I'm a skeptic. Those shows look staged to me. I don't find my barns frightening, but maybe they are to someone not as familiar with them. After living on this property for over 30 years, I can attest that the barns, especially the main barn, are haunted, and they probably appear like ghost hunter terrain to some folks.
We are in the process of renewing our farm insurance. Usually the process is only a case of adjusting a few numbers, but this time the insurance company requested we refill a bunch of forms - pages of them. They also wanted pictures of the hours and the two barns. The demand made me have a good look at the buildings, especially the barns. Although we had them painted a few years ago, they are looking weathered. I know those buildings are about 50 or 60 years old, but still. ...
But the rest of the barns, well, it has never been too great. At one point we took advantage of the appearance. We promoted an event for the community before Halloween. The barn was advertised as haunted.
Before we started to decorate, I mentioned to a young neighbor boy who had been helping us with the feeding when my husband and I were at work. In the winter, that occasionally meant he had to be in the barn at dusk. When we said we were going to advertise a haunted barn, he muttered, "Won't take much. It's already spooky."
Now, this isn't going to be an Halloween blog, and I don't think that boy meant that the barn is haunted. However, it is. All year 'round.
I don't see ghosts in the barn. I hear the sound of my horses - the horses who have passed away. Recently we lost a draft horse, a huge ton of loving mare. Bonnie greeted me from a stall as soon as I walked in the barn. Her neigh was a deep rumble in keeping with her prodigious size. I heard her before I saw her when she was alive. Now there is no Bonnie to see, but many days and nights I still hear her.
Other horses make themselves known. Me beloved pony, Peecheeyouresocute, called PeeChee, still makes herself heard. Little Donny, our Miniature Horse stallion, is audible to me, hooves scampering down the aisle of the main barn, Buddy, the Arab, occasionally stomps in the first stall at the entrance to the barn. William shuffles about in the next stall.
And there are others. since we have been in business in one way or another for over 40 years, it makes sense that we have lost a lot of horses. Most of them lived to old age, at least into their 20s.
I'm not sure how I know which horse is the ghost, but my brain will say, "That's Skeeter or Flax or Peach. Yet, I will hear a sound, and they are with me.
Neffy (Nefertiti), was a catty little cat, and she was my cat - her choice. She was an indoor/outdoor cat back before the huge subdivision grew by us. In those days we were at the end of the road with trees and pasture around most of the property. The area was ideal hunting for a canny little cat. She used all her nine lives, and made herself useful every day. She cuddled with me, but no one else. Even then she was a hunter. I used to point out that I wasn't sure she knew how to retract her claws. When she crossed the rainbow bridge, her presence was felt in the barn, and sometimes in the house. For a short time her brother, Toot, was around, too, but he didn't stay long. I heard him in the hay loft.
The barns are the main source of ghosts, but the house has one persistent presence, and that is our last cat, Boyd. Boyd was a 15 lb Manx. He lived his last years in the house because the new subdivision
produced traffic - lots of traffic. Boyd didn't have car sense. However, when I insisted he become a house cat, he wasn't upset. He settled in, content to chase crochet balls of yarn. (He hid his favorite purple ball, and I still haven't located it.) He spent his evenings cuddling beside me. Although he and the dog, Snickerdoodle, were not friends, I would consider them close frenemies. They took comfort in the company of each other, especially when the humans were absent. Boyd's kidneys failed him a few years ago, but he haunts the house. Even Snickerdoodle notices. The dog often looks for his cat companion, then seems to find him. I don't see Boyd, but perhaps Snickerdoodle does.
I want to go back to my theory that ghosts are energy. The first law of thermodynamics, which has to do with conservation of energy states: Energy can change forms, but is neither created not destroyed.
My companion animals including cats, dogs, horses and birds have strong personalities. If their energy cannot be destroyed, it is somewhere. I believe a lot of it is in our old barns.
I have one more example of ghosts as energy, and it has nothing to do with death.
Years ago, when we were preparing to move from Auburn to Buckley, I stood in my treasured wooded backyard. Moving is traumatic, even if it is positive. Suddenly, that afternoon, that yard was full of ghosts, only all of them were still alive at the time. I heard myself telling my parents I was pregnant, I heard the arrival of our first two horses, I heard our son playing with his remote controlled cars, I heard moments of love. There were many, many haunting memories, tumbling over each other. In fact, on that occasion, I even saw images, as the memories came. Good memories all. Ghosts of the living, but energy left over from past strong emotions.
So, if my barn is haunted, so be it. I don't mind.
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