Hayloft. Haymow.
The wooden stairs that went from the tack room to the haymow, the towering straw bales and the sweet smelling huge piles of grass hay, all irresistible pulls to climb the ladder on the east wall with the rope and single stirrup over my shoulder. Even when I was in my 20's, it was a thrill to swing across the loft and try to land in the hay pile, missing the stair well and the hayholes.