I peeked into the sun-washed room after the old woman. Everyone seemed happy, and those who didn’t seem to know one another chatted idly between themselves. That was also something not done in the city, and I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Never in my life did I care to talk to a stranger. Minding your own business was the theme of New York. I got in less trouble following that rule.
"There you are," the guy from check-in said, tapping me on the shoulder.
"Here I am," I sighed, moving out of the way as another group passed into the sunroom.
"Sorry, my name's Ethan. I wanted to go ahead and get you the itinerary, so it didn't get forgotten," he said, handing me a sheet of paper. "It's got everything you need to know, but if you have any questions, you can ask any of us."
I thought about not taking it but reluctantly did anyway. "Thanks."
He nodded with a smile and walked off. I watched him until he disappeared from view and sneered as I held the paper out in front of me.
August 1: Arrival and settling in. Please enjoy your adventure and take some time to walk the grounds and meet other guests. Dinner is at 7 pm every night except Sundays (5 pm).
I huffed. Usually, my day was so structured with some kind of business activity or social event that I never had time to just “wander” around somewhere. I didn’t like feeling so aimless. I didn’t like not having the outside world to interact with on my phone. But that was what I was paying for, right?
“Okay, so today is shot, what about tomorrow? The kid said something about work.” I flipped to the next page and looked at the rest of the scheduled itinerary.
August 2: Morning—horseback riding and care. Lunch at noon. Afternoon—gardening lessons and plant care. Dinner at 5 pm. Evening—social event in the barn, square dancing, and refreshments.
With a little bit of resignation in my throat, I sighed and folded the paper, shoving it in my back pocket. Grumbling to myself, I ambled through the hallway, glancing at all the farm-themed knick-knacks. “I guess the only thing I can do is lean into it.”
I was always a good sport when trying something new, but that mostly pertained to things within my own wheelhouse- sports, athletics, hiking, rock climbing, clubbing. They were all things I liked to do. I had never had the itch to go square dancing. I decided that the least I could do was enjoy the gardens for a while until dinner. I headed out the front door and around the back of the house, where I disappeared into the meticulously maintained rose garden.
Lillian
I was enjoying time in the barn in the early afternoon. Blotches and I had gotten quite close, at least I assumed we had. The mare had a temperament of gold and seemed to enjoy me talking to her as I braided her mane in all the different patterns that Anna had shown me over the last few weeks. I was busy decorating the creature in intricate little roses made of slipknots and slack created from the glistening white hair. Her tail was already braided and decorated with pink ribbon—the color I assumed suited her best. As I led her out to pasture for the afternoon to graze on the sweet summer grass, I saw Anna approaching and waved her over.
“Hey there, how are you?” I asked, my voice was peppy and fresh and reflected all of the positive improvements I felt from working on the farm.
“Great, thanks for asking,” replied Anna, dressed in her signature overalls, but this time they were splattered with paint. “Say, do you want to come to help me set up for the party in the barn tomorrow evening? We were going to give the inside a fresh coat of paint and hang some decorations. Should be fun?”
Anna gave my shoulder a tap and opened the gate to the pasture for me where Blotches let herself in after being untethered.
“You don’t need to twist my arm. I’m free now, anyway. There are more guests than usual lately, so I don’t have as much to do on the days I am assigned to the horses.” It was true, the more guests there were, the fewer little chores the employees were expected to complete.
Guests were often given the easiest and least taxing tasks on the farm to give them the experience of getting something done while not completely exhausting them. Employees were expected to supervise and help where needed and ensure the safety of guests. Some would take the guest on trail rides or tractor rides around the property, too. They were all a form of ease and entertainment to those who were being paid to stay there.
“Oh, thank goodness, we were a little short-staffed, and you know your way around a paintbrush. I saw that giant painting you put on that old shutter we tried throwing out last week.”
We walked off toward the barn across the grazing field for the horses. I had learned how to use some simple tools and removed an old shutter on one of the horse stalls. It made me feel particularly proud since it was something I could do by myself. Rather than throw the piece out since it wasn't rotten, just a little worn, I kept it and took it home with me. Using some art supplies I had gotten on a run into town, I painted a horse on the shutter that looked as if it were poking its head out of the stall into a corral. I was really quite proud of it.
I never really considered myself artistic but out there where everyone was encouraged to take a minute to enjoy the things around them, I had an easy time putting the image in my mind to paper. I felt as if I had grown so much during my stay at Rosemary Farm. I no longer felt claustrophobic and cluttered, and my thoughts came more easily and clearly than they had before.
Together, Anna and I worked in the barn with several other people to give everything a fresh coat of paint, set up some tables and decorations, and make sure everything was set for the party. It wasn't a fancy NYC club or swanky bar, but I was pretty excited anyway.
6
Andre
Up and down and up and down. I was taught how to “post” or correctly position myself and manage the horse's movement under me, but I just didn’t feel like I was getting it right. I felt jostled, and my crotch hurt from the weird angle of my legs.
“And over here, you will see our fir tree grove that was planted over 100 years ago by previous owners to…” The trail guide tapered off in my head.
I understood that they were all very nature conscious, but I couldn’t care less about fir trees. I caught where the guide was pointing and looked up at the massive bushy pines.
They are pretty, though…
I caught myself in another out of character thought. That was something that had happened more and more as I was out there on that trail. While an employee helped me saddle the horse earlier, I gave the creature a scoff when it sniffed me, tickling my cheek with its stiff bristly whiskers. Deep in the back of my mind, I thought, however, that the animal wasn't as bad as I presumed it would be and even seemed to be nicer than I imagined. I had shaken that thought away as quickly as it had come.
Horses were dirty, stinky, expensive animals, and I had no business with them. Now? Well, the horse I was riding, Filbert, didn’t seem all that bad. He was a dun buckskin, or so I was told. It apparently meant that the horse had a light-tan coat with black legs, mane and tail, and a black line down its back. Evidently, horses came in all shapes, sizes, and colors, and there were fancy names for each and every one of them—more than “brown” and “black” and “white.” It all seemed a little over the top, in my opinion.