Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
Chad and I were attending the first barn concert by Warren Barfield, on Warren’s property in Tennessee. I had been a longtime fan of his music and was excited for him to start performing again after a 7-yr hiatus.
Only 100 tickets were made available for the concert, which sold out in minutes. So we were grateful to be on the roster. The concert was in the middle of December and Chad thought it would be a nice getaway during the Christmas season. I agreed.
Warren’s home was a 4.5 hour drive from our house, which meant we needed a place to stay overnight. I researched hotels in the area but there were one-too-many negative reviews. The same for bed & breakfast inns.
Next I turned to Airbnb. Chad and I had had an excellent experience staying in one the last time we visited TN, albeit it was located in a different city.
On their website, I found a place I liked based on the location, photos, and reviews. It required a 3-night stay, though, and we were only staying for 1.
There was another property that had potential and was located within 30 minutes of Warren’s place. The photos were great, it had an experienced host, and a 5-star rating with lots of reviews. So I went with it.
The concert was held on a Saturday night, so we drove to TN that afternoon. Thanks to heavy traffic our trip took 30 minutes longer than expected but was, otherwise, uneventful. When we neared the rental property, I marveled at the surrounding acres of open farmland.
How beautiful it is, here.
Directed by Google Maps, we turned left onto the gravel road for the rental. We expected to see the house right away but didn’t, so we stopped to check the rental information, tucked inside my email.
“There it is, up on the left,” Chad said.
We drove toward the house. There was a long, brown wood fence along the right side of the road. The fence was strung with green garland and pine leaves (perhaps), twisted with white lights, and had large, red bows dotting the top of every other post.
We parked beside the house and got out of the car. It felt good to stretch my legs. I slowly walked toward the front of the house, taking in the scenery around me.
Gray clouds hung low in the sky. There was rain in the forecast for that afternoon and evening. I took in a deep breath of the fresh, country air.
There was a beautiful, expansive house that sat atop a towering, grass-green hill, across the road from the rental. I had to really lift my head to see it. That’s when I realized the decorated fence marked off the property to the house above. I also remembered the host of the rental property lived nearby.
We’re in good hands.
Like the fence, the front door of the rental had a green wreath with a red bow. There was a planter box, hung to the right of the door, with several larger-than-life round glass Christmas ornaments inside. A decorative gift box with bow sat on the ground, directly beneath the planter.
I entered the code to unlock the door. We stepped inside and found ourselves in the kitchen, with a dining table off to the side. A small chalkboard hung on the wall, with a welcome message including our names, written in white, cursive lettering, encouraging us to enjoy our stay. Several small, white ceramic cows sat on the countertop.
I love the thoughtful details in this place already.
There was a small, artificial Christmas tree in the adjoining family room with a red plaid tree skirt. Wooden barn doors, I assumed enclosing the TV, hung in front of a brown leather sofa. A decorative sign on a shelf read “Christmas Is Better On The Farm”.
There were stairs leading up to the bedroom. At the top hung a Victorian-style needlework tapestry with various animals including a rooster and horse. A large, colorful, modern painting of a cow portrait hung above the bed’s headboard.
There was a bottle of water and a Hershey’s Kiss sitting on my nightstand.
How sweet.
I peeled the foil wrapper from the Kiss, grateful for a treat after our road trip.
Chad and I had just enough time to unpack the essentials and eat dinner before going to the concert. Warren sang songs both old and new, and it was apparent how much he loved writing and performing again. It was wonderful to hear his voice live, which I listened to on repeat for countless hours in my young adult years.
It was after 10 pm when we turned back onto the road with the farmhouse. The white Christmas lights, strung on the fence, pointed the way. I felt grateful for a festive, cozy place to stay for the night.
Once inside, we switched on the bedside lamps and got ready for sleep. Then we only had one thing left to do: check the bed. This is a mandatory step when we stay in a place that isn’t ours. We have to know the sheets are clean before getting in.
Chad checked his side of the bed and didn’t find anything.
Great.
I pulled back the blanket and gave the sheets on my side a once-over, using the flashlight on my phone. All clear. I set the main pillow aside, since we brought our own, and moved the decorative pillow off the bed, too.
That’s when something caught my eye where the pillow had been, near the center of the bed.
I pointed the light at it.
“Oh no,” I groaned.
“What?” Chad asked from somewhere behind me.
I stood frozen, trying to reconcile what my eyes were telling me.
“Come here. Is that what I think it is?” I asked.
Chad leaned over my shoulder.
“Yep,” he said. “Well, that explains the Hershey’s Kiss.”
“What do you mean?”
I shifted my gaze toward his nightstand. There were tiny, foil scraps scattered across the top and no chocolate to be found. Chad hadn’t eaten his Hershey’s Kiss, either.
My mind raced back to a few years prior, when I’d had a similar experience staying in a cabin in north Georgia. It was the first time I’d ever googled, “Will a mouse run across your bed at night?”. And I had no idea how I was supposed to go to sleep that night.
This time, while I was panicking in a similar fashion, my anxiety was dialed back a smidge, because it wasn’t my first rodeo.
Our first thought was to change the sheets. But on closer inspection of the closet and and finding more “evidence”, we decided it was a losing battle to try and find anything clean. Chad also found a mouse trap in the downstairs bathroom. One we hadn’t noticed until that point.
We realized it was pointless to contact the host. We had rented a house where the owner knew there was a mouse problem. And we were tired. It was too late to find other accommodations.
So I grabbed a tissue, got rid of what we found, and we went to bed. We kept to the outer edges of the mattress and hoped for the best.
But we left a light on.
And I apologized to Chad, in advance, in case I screamed during the night.
