Citizen Wausau

Singular

by Billie on July 23rd, 2008

Last week, as I had feared, our hay guy cut the front pasture. The next day, he spirited himself over and raked the fallen hay into windrows. The next, he reappeared and baled the hay.

That meant, on Sunday night I had two wagons full of hay which needed to be put away before any possible rainfall, which was in the forecast for the overnight.

Fortunately, friends Jen and Katrina both volunteered to come out and help me to unload and stack the 200 or so bales of hay.

Jen arrived, we bred one of her Dutch Warmblood mares to my young stallion, visited the other horses and set to work on the hay. Within 3 hours we had stacked all of the hay (just about the time Katrina was able to arrive due to scheduling issues) with Jen acting as a slave driver, pushing me on in the heat.

It felt teriffic to finish that hay stacking. I was hot, plastered in sweat and hay particles, my arms could only hang weakly from my shoulders. We sat in the shade and ate popsicles to celebrate the completion of stage 1…

That was several days ago. Yesterday, hay man Ray appeared out of nowhere and cut another 4 acre field. Today, I spotted him raking the hay, then saw him actually baling some hay…

I was crushed.

However, Ray is a lovely man in his late 60’s or early 70’s. He stands about 5′9″ with a slight stoop. His close cropped white hair, perpetual farmer’s tan, cherubic face and quiet manner make him instantly likeable. I like him.

We chatted for a few minutes and went back to our respective chores. He finished baling about 80 bales at the same time I finished mowing weeds in one of the back pastures.

Some of the bales felt as though they might be a bit damp, so Ray had quit for the evening. We parted ways, and I went inside to get a bit of dinner and return some client phone calls before heading out to unload the hay wagon.

An hour and a half later, I finally changed into a long-sleeved shirt and long pants, put on my work gloves and headed out to the pole shed.

It was dark, as the sun had begun to set, so I flipped on the interior lights and got the shock of my lifetime. Ray had come back to the farm and started unloading the hay from the wagon, as he knew I would be up late tonight doing it by myself. I was utterly stunned and I don’t believe that I could speak for a moment (unlike my typical habit of chattering on and on… like now).

Ray, who was atop the pile of hay stacked in the corner of the barn, gently looked down at me and told me that he was just unloading my hay.

He didn’t think that I should do it alone.

Had I known that Ray had returned, you could bet I would have been back outside in a heartbeat! I have a hard time with the idea of asking for help, and oftentimes feel guilty when I have asked for someone’s help. I could never have allowed him to do my work for me!

Nonetheless, this sweet little older fellow (that I’ve met less than a dozen times) was in my barn, refusing to leave having only unloaded a quarter of the hay on the wagon.

We worked together for about 45 minutes, in companionable silence. Once in a while he would take a brief rest and share and tale of the horses on his own farm, the grandkids, or how the 20 pound rock he’d gotten jammed in his haybine (hay cutter) going through my back field. (I have the rock as a totem on the back porch).

When the job was done, Ray quietly said goodbye and waved as he walked back to his truck.

I am astounded by this act of kindness and generosity, especially being the jaded cynic that I am.

What a singularly lovely gesture.