In which it's time to say "Hay, hay, hay!" and I have help from city folks
This is what city people pack when heading out to buck hay:
|water bottles, strawberries, some cold homemade pizza....|
But I'm not complaining! Duana and Jason volunteered (yes! volunteered!) to help me pick up hay. And I rarely say "no" to volunteers!
|Du and Selah get the back seat. Selah loves "country adventures."|
It's amazing how little room there is in the big truck when you cram in three adults and a happy dog. But we didn't have far to go. The hay field is only 15 minutes from the house.
|If I had arms as long as Jason's, I'd probably carry hay bales the same way!|
I offered no instruction, other than, "put the hay in the trailer. We need 30 bales."
Jason didn't know about hay hooks, nor had he watched generations of farm folk yanking bales around by the strings. He's a big strong guy confronted with medium-small bales, so he just grabbed them like he was carrying a very prickly dog...
|Sorry for the sunflare photo. Du is inside the trailer, arranging stuff to fit.|
...and tossed them in the trailer. Du appointed herself "tetris queen" and set about the task of arranging bales so that they would all fit. (I put 35 bales into the trailer last week, so I knew it was possible)
We grabbed the last seven bales from the truck, since we'd picked the field clean.
...and Du carefully crammed the final keystone bale into place.
And when we got to Haiku Farm:
|Even under the roof, we tarp everything to deter mold.|
we topped up the hay piles in the barn. Now we've got enough hay for winter. That's a good feeling.
Now it's time to explore all the food in that little bag they brought, right?
And hey, no surprise: it's good.