The view from the hay wagon. I remember being a kid and helping Mr. Martin pull in the bales of straw, working all day for the reward of riding the hay wagon through town after we were all done. It seemed like the very best paycheque ever!
Yesterday we picked up 100 bales of straw from a field down the road. I road on the tractor to the field, but got to ride the wagon back. I realized I'm far more cautious as an adult than I was as a kid - I kept an eye on the impatient Sunday drivers who tended to fly past us alarmingly. What happened to plodding Sunday drivers? And we were moving with a tractor - Mr. Martin's wagon was pulled by a horse.
Then 2 hours of unloading the bales and getting them up and stacked in the loft. Hot, sweaty, prickly work but so satisfying that we're set for winter.
Yesterday we picked up 100 bales of straw from a field down the road. I road on the tractor to the field, but got to ride the wagon back. I realized I'm far more cautious as an adult than I was as a kid - I kept an eye on the impatient Sunday drivers who tended to fly past us alarmingly. What happened to plodding Sunday drivers? And we were moving with a tractor - Mr. Martin's wagon was pulled by a horse.
Then 2 hours of unloading the bales and getting them up and stacked in the loft. Hot, sweaty, prickly work but so satisfying that we're set for winter.
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