Ash Road Farmhouse

The old farmhouse stood on the rise of a gentle sloping hillside

My parents rented the farmhouse from the owner and Italians

leased the surrounding land, they were potato farmers who drove my mum nuts

driving their tractors back and forth passed her gate

It had been the landlord’s family home, and it had been empty ever since his mother’s death

we rented it on the proviso we would take care of her old farm cat Tom.

So not only did we get a great place to live but another cat as well.

We had a dog, a white Samoyed named Snippy, Dad used to wash him in the wheel barrow

and my sister and I would push him around in it for fun.

Snippy loved it…sitting there tall and proud as we pushed him around.

He was a rascal and loved to get out and explore,

one day he wasn’t in the yard, the gate had been left open and off he went,

we were frantic thinking we’d lost him.

Only to have one of the Italian farmers come in from the fields,

pushing a wheel barrow, and there sitting proudly in the front was Snippy.

“He just jump in,” the farmer said with a shrug. “He no get out. I didn’t know what to do so I push him round to you.”

Living in the farmhouse was like living in another era, the kitchen was huge

with an old wood stove that warmed up beautifully in winter but was hellish in summer.

It never cooked evenly and mum hated it, we had to burn briquettes in a pot belly like stove in an outdoor shed if we wanted hot water.

But none of this mattered it was a wonderland in which imaginations could run wild

and it was haunted.

The old lady would come visit me some nights,

she would sit on the side of my bed,

the bed would lower under her see through weight…never did get that

and her cold invisible hand would gently sweep the hair back from my temple.

Under any other circumstances it would have been soothing,

instead I lay there scared to death, unable to move,

my heart thumping hard in my chest urging me to get the hell out

but I never did. I just held my breath, hoping she would leave

and sooner or later sleep would overwhelm me.

She liked to annoy me on Saturday mornings too, it was my job to clean the kitchen and I could

feel her hovering and sometimes I would see her, she was just a flick of movement in the corner of my eye.

Just checking to see if I was doing it right I suppose.

There were many unexpected happenings in that farmhouse at the end of Ash Road.

It was a wonderful place that for a short time took me to worlds I never believed possible

and I do wonder if the old lady sits, with old Tom on her lap, staring out the window of their farmhouse, still taking in the view across the gentle sloping landscape.

For dversepoets Unexpected poetics


11 thoughts on “Ash Road Farmhouse

  1. nice…reminded me of my uncle’s farm where i used to spend a lot of time when i was a kid…they had such an old wood stove as well, unfortunately no ghosts..ha..great story telling di..bit of magic with my sunday morning coffee here…smiles

  2. oh wow….sounds like one of those thin places where the worlds come together…i grew up with a graveyard in the back yard so i understand on some level the things you see and wondering if they are really there….smiles….neat place….

  3. I loved the scene you set here and how you carried it out. I felt as if I was right there with you. The old woman would have creeped me out for sure. Loved reading about the cat!

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