#making hay

Neighbor J called today and told me he might need me to help him make hay tomorrow. Which, uh. I Want to and the Spirit is willing. But it's been a LONG time since I moved more than a pickup truckload of hay at once.

Plenty of fluids, yeah. I will.

Talk about "making hay"! 😉

"Farmer George," Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story

Jamie Fraser, Outlander

Neighbor J and older Neighbor J make hay on the fields at Home Farm. They give us enough for Hero and the goats; no money changes hands either way.

Getting it up in the barn can be a Process. Especially when K was smaller and couldn't help as much.

Things have changed a bit the last couple years. I got to sit out in '24 and '25, because Son's roommate helped out.

We had a temporary break from the heat from August 1st 'til about Tuesday - but now it's hot again. I had to walk the fenceline this morning with a backpack sprayer (heavy) of herbicide. Even though I started early, I was still dripping sweat by the time I finished.

Then, this evening, I volunteered to help my daughter with the heaviest part of the barn chores at Home Farm (we'll be So Glad when the boys get back). She was literally in the ER yesterday, and is still feeling the effects of the whopping big dose of allergy meds, so I carried the water uphill to the goats. (And Belfort. I'll have to remember to make a post about Belfort).

While we were there, our neighbors were bailing hay in the field beside the red barn. They've been making hay at Home Farm ever since my father quit keeping cattle years ago, and they share enough with us to feed Hero and Nutmeg. There were five bales at the edge of the field that they wanted us to gather up and store.

My husband tossed them in the truck and brought them to the barn, and I stacked them in the loft. And five bales is nothing, but the loft was toasty hot and the water buckets were heavy. And I am not as oyung as I used to be. I ended up dripping sweat (again) and covered in hay chaff. A delightful sensation (eeeEEeeeeeuugh)

(pictures from about 6 yrs ago and last year)

I was sitting here quietly, reading and trying to process the fact that K has gone back to college, when I heard a small motor approaching. Since we are at the end of our lane, the only people coming up the lane should be a) invited or b) lost. Lady woofed half-heartedly, which I took to mean "There's someone coming, but I know 'em and I'm not worked up about it."

I peeked out the window and beheld a side-by-side atv containing one of my older neighbors. I forgot, there is a very small third category; a) invited b) lost and c) Jim (I or II).

Jim the First puttered up the lane to the barn. His hay wagon is sitting up there. Off he went toward home, and will likely reappear in 15 minutes with his tractor. I found the whole thing slightly delightful, like most interactions with Jims are. I love that our two families and two farms operate a bit like a Venn diagram. We're distinct, but there is a comfortable, well-worn overlap.