Haymaking makes my Skinny Girlie Arms Ache.

A good ache though. Yesterday I made an electric fence run out the North side of the Barn for our slinky swine. This is primarily so that the pigs can root in the dirt. They get a lot of their essential minerals from the soil.  

Daisy and I went through our twice daily routine again. We seem to go down into a zone of calmness in the clean waiting milking parlour. Just brushing and chatting about the day.  Getting her ready for her big role as the mother ship for the farmy.  The giver of milk.

Once Our John got home he picked at the hay for a while, broke bits and twisted bits and decided to bale. He hitched up the second hand baler with much anticipation,  it clanked and whirred and chugged along. The baler caught up all the hay, stuffed it into the barrel, made the shape, and popped it out the back with all the knots UNTIED.  We got one good bale.  ONE!  The rest were just piles of hay.

The language deteriorated, the sighs began.  He stalked  about, stared at the machine, poked at it. When he went for his tools I decided that the best place for a woman when a man is having trouble with machinery is in the kitchen. So I made a cowardly exit and walked back to the house. Food is the great balm for failure and I did not see how he could possibly work out this mysterious problem with his limited baler knowledge. 

But lo and behold about 30 minutes later I heard the machine wind up and begin its slow journey about the tiny field again. I put lids on the pots and turned the burners off, then very, very gently and very quietly the dogs and I drove the truck down the fenceline to the back field, hoping for bales to load. But ready to reverse back behind the trees if there was nothing but a temper still flying about.  And there they were. Our first bales of hay.  All lined up. Tasty winter feed. So I began to take the bales back to the barn. It is important to get the bales off the ground and into the dry as soon as you can.  So I worked until my arms and back were good and tired. Load after load. 

One of the bales fell apart as I was stacking so I called Queenie over to eat the evidence which she was very happy to do.  They are stacked on the ground floor of the barn, on their sides with plenty of air between. I felt the fear.  Because we are still learning. However it passed all the old timers tests, so once again we will cross our fingers, and leave it where I can see and smell it every day.

But our knowledge grew in leaps and bounds again yesterday afternoon. And the feeling of satisfaction from having 48 wonky, badly baled, loosely tied, roughly  stacked,  gorgeous sweet smelling bales of hay in the barn is enormous.  From now on we can only do better!

Good morning.  I hope you all have a lovely day.  I am off to see the Old Codger this morning with TonTon.  It is Friday!  Strawberry Daquiris for Dinner Day!

celi

76 responses to “Haymaking makes my Skinny Girlie Arms Ache.”

    • Morning Lori! There is a lot to be figured out that is for sure. i grew up on a BEACH!! and helped out the country people in the holidays, however i think common sense answers a lot of questions!!

    • She stood in her milking parlour having her brush this morning, yanking and munching very happily at her fresh hay. Not that she needs it with her fields of clover, but i could not help myself!!

  1. The mother ship… laughs and giggles and congratulations on your badly tied bales – no mean feat. I was barrowing compost bags and generally VERY heavy things up and down my plot the other day and I can still feel the muscles now, a bit more of it and I could go and get a job on a building site and go un-noticed.

  2. I was surprised how heavy hay was when I loaded a truckload of bales a year or two ago. But I sustained myself with mind’s-eye images of tan, shirtess farmboys – now I know how they got those beautiful arms and shoulders.

  3. What a great job you 2 did! I grew up on a farm..I still love the smell of fresh cut hay..I always helped my Dad..I rode on the hay rack and helped stack bales. Although I liked to help, like you, the boys helping were an added plus! We raised hogs too…when we had babies the runts always came into the house..were put in a shoebox on the oven door where it was warm and fed milk with a baby bottle. Have a great day at the Old Codger’s Home…let me know when you are ready for that restful evening and cappuccino…

  4. That reminds me – time to pick my Friday night drink of choice as well. Happy Friday. And I love the word “wonky.” It has to be one of my favorite words on the planet. Glad the hay worked out and I love that you stalked off to go cook up some comfort. I should learn to do that. Instead I tend to get my nose in things and try to help…cooking is a better idea. LOL.

  5. Appreciation for the rewards of hard work is what it’s all about. Your land and critters are an extension of you. As beautiful as hay bails look in perfect pictures of perfect fields under perfect sunlight, they must be far more majestic when it is hay you have grown and tended yourself. These thoughts cross my mind as I read your account of the day. Not bad thoughts, huh!?

  6. Aaah Queenie – always coming to the rescue 😉
    I can not even imagine the amount of work involved in hay making though you do paint quite a picture!
    Good on you for persevering 🙂

    Cheers
    Choc Chip Uru

  7. I would not know the first thing about fixing a malfunctioning hay-baler. Good for John. My Dad used to swear a blue streak when he worked on cars, the boat and other machinery. Then he would scrub his fingernails clean and come in smiling, “It’s all fixed, hon.”

  8. Wow! Your words illustrated many memories and hauled out some funny stories. I married a farm girl. We lived on the farm for 8 years. City boy had a few things to learn. Keeping up with her, much less her brothers…actually I did manage to keep up with her brothers, she was the the challenge. I had lessons in hay, corn, okra, onions, chickens, goats, big horn sheep, making steers, potatoes and more. I messed up and brought her to the city. I often wonder…

    • You know what they say.. you can take the woman out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the woman.. one day .. maybe one day she will take you back to the country.. why do you say you messed up though.. c

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