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A ladder goes up to what Mom says is the hayloft.

She lay in the hayloft with the chickens gathered around her until morning.

We, of course, had to try it, and I held the horse—or tried to—while my friend jumped from the hayloft opening in the barn onto the horse’s waiting back.

The action rarely leaves the hayloft and never leaves the farm.

These are the women we see talking in a hayloft, concealed from the community’s men.