Friday, January 27, 2012
My Whole Life is Hay
Hey, hey, I'm out here balin' hay.
And all my friends are cruisin' 'round town.
Checkin' out the pretty girls
Hey! And what do they say
They say hey, hey,
Park that Deere, come out and play,
Kick that tire, wipe my perspire
Cause my whole life is hay.
The other day when the Boss and I were hauling hay, I had a recollection of a time I accompanied Dad to one of the big farms on the other side of the county to get hay. The bales were left in the field by the baler, and he picked them up and loaded them in the pick-up. I was quite small at the time, and of absolutely no help, but the memory of the bales and the green grass in the sunshine is one that has lingered. There were other children there, and I remember running with them around the bales through the huge field of green. That, perhaps, was a moment that shaped my future endeavors.
I’ve always loved hay. The hayfields rippling in the late spring and early summer prior to harvest are a thing of beauty. Every different type of grass renders a different type of hay, each filling a different nutritional need …and it smells SO good!
As I have said before, making good hay is an art form. Haymakers are skillful farmers that I truly admire. Having had milkcows for a long, long time, I came to recognize and appreciate good hay. There are few things more appealing to me than a good-looking load of hay. I have been known to stare longingly after a load of hay only to realize that perhaps I should say, “Oh…sorry, farm dude…just admirin’ your HAY!”
Recently, I realized that my appreciation for hay is nothin’ compared to some of the girls in the barn. They will break out of the barn,
reach through the gate,
stand on the wall,
and try ever so hard to pirouette in order to reach the sun-dried delicacy
Even the tiny lambs get in on the act.
Sheep give new meaning to...
MY WHOLE LIFE IS HAY!