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When we arrived at the Stoddard Farm, Hank shifted his truck into four wheel drive and drove straight through the muddy meadow right up close to the huge front door of the barn. Isabel, having taken a more prudent approach, drove her Taurus down the all-weather gravel driveway and parked about fifty yards away. By the time Isabel and Micah joined us, Hank had aready started the small chainsaw and was cutting away the trees that had grown up around the barn entrance. Micah proceeded to count the growth rings on one of the felled trees and guessed that it was probably between 25-30 years old; certainly a long time since anybody had opened these barn doors.
When Hank finally finished cutting the trees, everyone, including Isabel, pitched in to help move and push debris out of the way so that the door could slide open.
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With the vegetation out of the way, Micah pulled out a ring with four brass keys and began inserting them into the stout padlock that secured the chain linked through the bolt mechanism on the door. In seconds, it became obvious that none of the keys would fit the lock. "That's strange," remarked Micah, "these keys are clearly marked barn keys! Let me go and try them on the other entrances." In five minutes Micah returned shaking his head; "none of these keys seem to fit the barn; I'll just run up to the house and fetch the other keys out of the pantry; one of them's got to fit!" Micah most certainly didn't 'run' up to the house, but he returned a lot faster than I expected; and when he returned, he had an old cigar box partially filled with miscellaneuos keys from the wall hooks in the pantry.
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