I hope the title of this blog made you laugh and not blush or frown! Seriously, bailing grass hay is horrible. The long cylindrical dry stems of grass pack together into a bale that explodes if any one thing goes wrong. Oh, we babied that field of grass hay. Folks, this stuff should cost thousands of dollars per ton. Mike walked alongside, up and down each row of raked fluffy grass, watching the bales as they spewed out the chute. He was walking because the four wheeler had run out of gas. Walking in his not-so-good-for-a-grass-field Clogs, he paced back and forth, making adjustments when necessary, throwing up his hands (quite dramatically) when I needed to stop, and pulling out the exploded bale of hay so we could start the entire maddening process over again. By the time we were getting to the end, the Hay Boss was leaning over holding himself up, hands atop knees, head hanging down. He was over it. It was clear.
This is a picture of me as the Hay Boss adjusted the length of the bales. Are the bales too long or are they too short? This answer is still unknown!! Ugh.
A pretty imaged shared by our recent guests enjoying a family reunion at our place. It's nice to share the house with others. Besides keeping it really clean, people get to enjoy the place we are so lucky to have; the quiet (when the Hay Boss turns off the water pump, that is....), the hummingbirds (there are zillions this year!), the open air walk down the lane (oh, the value of open spaces on the human soul!), and the cool mountain evenings. Thanks for the picture, Darin!
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