Even though it has been really hot putting up hay, it's been a rather enjoyable family experience. There's just something rewarding about working together in harmony and seeing the fruits of that labor.
We just won't talk about the fact that I fell off this load of hay, badly bruised my leg, and punctured my upper thigh. That is the sort of thing that can happen around such equipment, I'm afraid. But it did wake me up to the fact that I have let my weight get seriously out of control to the point that I don't have control of my body. As I fell, I knocked into Destry, who is, of course, agile and in shape and was able to control his fall. I, on the other hand, was completely out of control as I fell so I landed on the baler which deeply punctured my thigh. I think the fact that my pants leg was soaked with blood scared the rest of my family more than it hurt me--it didn't really hurt that badly. I am just very grateful that was the worst thing that happened. But I have lost eight pounds since this incident (no more Pepsi!), and hope to lose many more so I can be more of a help than a hindrance!
Easton and Kiana had great fun making up games to entertain themselves while we were working. Here they use the ubiquitous twine to 'go fishing' from the bed of the pickup. I love the things kids come up with when they use their imaginations and whatever they can find on hand.
Destry is growing up so much and is such a help. I think the excuse to drive the pickup is his favorite part of haying season.
Briana and I unloaded the bales from the rack to the elevator while Alan and Destry stacked them in the hayloft. Both jobs are taxing, but I'll take the rack any day over the hot, still hayloft!
As much as I appreciate this lifestyle, I also want to be careful not to romanticize it. There is a homesteading movement going on, and I hear many people talk about what a great life it would be and I hear and read of people jumping into it without planning or foreknowledge.
It is hard work. We don't have a 'real' farm--it's just a hobby farm.
But even a hobby farm or a homestead requires hard work and is at the mercy of uncontrollable circumstances. It can be too wet--and it can be too dry. The seed you planted can be wasted money, or the hay you are counting on may get too wet and have to be burned off. Hogs you buy planning to feed out and butcher die and you lose that money. They get out of fences and root up the yard, requiring lots of time to get them back in and repair the yard and fence. Sheep get worms, foot rot. . .and just die for no apparent reason. A milk cow must be milked every single day--twice a day--and it might still get mastitis. Equipment breaks down and must be fixed. It doesn't matter if you have something else you would like to do. It doesn't matter if this is a convenient time to deal with animals getting out of enclosures, getting sick, or giving birth--you have to deal with it. You have to butcher the chickens when they are ready, whether you had other plans, or you think it's too hot, or you don't feel great. All farmers know the phrase "you make hay when the sun shines" and that is a truth I don't think one fully understands until they've made such a commitment.
I've heard people say things about loving to build fence. I can't help but think "seriously? That just lets me know you haven't built much fence." You might have built fence with someone a few times for the experience, but you haven't built it out of necessity--over, and over, and over--nor come up with the money for the supplies. It's the same way with baling hay. It's hard work. It might seem like fun if you just do it every once in a while, but when you spend several days baling the first cutting, knowing you'll do it again for the second cutting, and hoping the weather is good enough you might get a third cutting. . .then it's about a lifestyle and it's about doing what needs to be done.
Even when things are going well, there is constant maintenance to be done on buildings, equipment, soil, and fencing. You must plan ahead and always be prepared for the next season or the next potential crisis.
I enjoy having a milk cow. The milk tastes so good, I know where it comes from, and it is a great experience. But people need to know that a milk cow has some control over your life--you can't just run off and do whatever you want without planning ahead. You have to have a place to milk the cow, you have to scoop manure, you have to buy feed, you have to bale hay, and you might even want to grow corn to cut down on costs (which involves more time, work, and expense). You have to take care of jars and lids--not break the jars, not bend or dent the lids--and keep them clean and sterilized to preserve the milk. You have to skim the cream, and (if you don't want to be wasteful) make butter, sour cream, alfredo sauce, homemade ice cream. . .whatever it takes to be a good steward. The same is true with the milk--when she is producing more milk than you can drink, that creates more work as you learn other ways to use it. It's nice to have these fresh products, and it's even fun to learn how to do it. But when it comes down to it, there are days I make butter and cheese just because it needs to be done--the novelty has worn off.
Am I complaining? No, don't think that. I'm just trying to present a real picture and perhaps remove some rose-colored glasses for those who have romanticized the country life. It's a good life. In many ways, it is a simple life, because one is more in tune with creation and the times and seasons. But it's not something to just casually jump into, or even to presume to say you know how to do it if you never have. That's almost an insult to those who live it day in and day out. And I say that, knowing that my pathetic little experience is even an insult to those who have 'real' farms that they have made a living from for years and years.
I'm one of those people who just loves a baby's face when he cries. Pitiful, isn't he? He has that pout mastered, but his cry is just a little squeak--so precious!
