Death and Stacking.
Last week, we took a brief respite from baling hay to attend Kevin’s father’s memorial service in one of the Chicago suburbs. It was emotionally draining. Perhaps later I will share my funeral-type stories, but am not up to it just yet.
What I fail to understand is why there has been such a length of time between the passing of a loved one and their memorial service. Both my grandmother and Roger had passed about two months prior to their services. For me, this just opens again a wound that is beginning to heal.
It has truly been a year of death for our family, which I am learning now extends to the families of friends. In addition to losing my uncle, a cousin’s teenage daughter, my grandmother and Roger, two close friends have lost grandparents just within the last month. I truly hope that with the change of seasons, we will put this trend to rest.
Back on the farm we are again baling hay… it is simply amazing to see the sheer volume of hay that has already been taken off of our modest fields. As of last night, the count is just over 1200 bales (each of which weighs 50-65 pounds and must be stacked by hand) harvested from a total of 15 acres. We are still working to bale and stack the majority of our largest field, and our lovely hay guy tells me that there is enough hay remaining there to fill 4 to 5 more wagons (each holding roughly 200 bales). We are literally running out of space in the pole shed!
Last year we baled hay from about 20 acres, which yielded a total of 750 bales, or 38 bales to an acre. This year, we are averaging over 150 bales to an acre. That is really a lot of hay! Aside from the regular torture of unloading and stacking it, the benefit is that we will not have to spend thousands of dollars to purchase hay as we have in past years. Another benefit, though questionable, is that I am developing arms that would make the Incredible Hulk quite jealous.
I am eternally grateful to our little cherubic hay guy Ray for his dedication and kindness. His latest feat was quite a pleasant surprise. It seems he had driven past a farm that had a hay elevator sitting outside. He casually walked up to the door, met the farmer and somehow convinced this stranger to send his hay elevator over to our farm for a few days. Ray is remarkable.
The benefit of the elevator (which is like an escalator for hay bales) is that instead of having to heave hay bales incrementally up to the top of the stack, we simply allow the elevator to do the heavy lifting and position a person at the top of the pile to stack bales. Genius! Since we are stacking hay to the rafters, this is eliminating a tremendous amount of labor and causing me to swear far less than I had been.
Last night, Kevin refused to come out and help, so I was once again stacking hay by myself (and cursing under my breath). Ray noticed the situation and lent a hand. I was royally upset by Kevin’s laziness, and still am, to be frank. I can’t help but feel that it is ridiculously unfair to even allow this 69 year old man to do my work for me, but I am ever grateful that he does. I keep hoping that a day will come that I can return the kindness.
The other fun project that has been consuming my time is the mowing of our horse pastures. We have a bumper crop of thistles growing this year, seemingly out of nowhere. The pastures are dotted with six foot tall thistle plants, and other various weeds that the horses will not deign to eat. The messiness drives me crazy, so my trusty lawnmower and I are out mowing pastures every chance that we get. It is slow going, as the tough thistles must be run over multiple times and the lawnmower deck is a meagre 48″, but thus far I have one immaculate pasture.
My quandry in this specific task lies in the fact that there are large numbers of prairieland creatures that inhabit the pastures. Specifically, little brown clumps of hair in the shape of moles or something similar. They are cute little buggers. Last week, I mowed one down, not realizing until I came across it’s lifeless form. I had to quit mowing at that point. I felt like Cluny the Scourge. (Yes, I am a hopeless dork and am referencing Brian Jaques’ Redwall Abbey).
I am now mowing at a snail’s pace watching vigilantly for little brown furry creatures. I cheer for them as they run, and shout encouragement to those that run in my intended path. Thus far, I do not believe that I have wreaked any additional havoc on their little community.
Taking this time to mow leads my thought in many directions. The latest of which stemmed from the realization that I do not like anything about clowns - I find them frightening and not the least bit amusing. From there, I gave thought to parades, which I do not care for either. I have decided that the only parades that I would like to see at present would be:
- Young, virile farm hands looking for hay to stack, or
- Tall, muscular firemen dressed as Klingons, who also want to stack hay.
I have such a one-track mind.
Dino Corvino said:
If it is a riding mower I would come out and mow on weekends.
August 9th, 2008 at 12:28 pm #
Alex Tallitsch said:
I have not been keeping up on my reading. I apologize. I hate baling hay, I used to help out on a farm in fifth and sixth grade in Stratford.
I am also pretty sure that they already had the annual Fireman Klingon Day’s this year. You may have to wait another season.
I love this blog.
August 10th, 2008 at 8:46 am #
Billie said:
Hey Dino, you are in luck! It is a riding mower. Come on over, I will fire up the grill with some Boca burgers and fabulous veggies.
Alex, can you forward the dates for future Fireman Klingon Days? Even if I never have to stack hay again, that is one parade I would consider attending.
August 10th, 2008 at 9:42 am #
Alex Tallitsch said:
I believe the next one is star date -314391.9217073974 according to …
http://www.hillschmidt.de/gbr/sternenzeit.htm
August 10th, 2008 at 11:22 am #
Billie said:
You rock, Alex! Live long and prosper.
August 10th, 2008 at 7:27 pm #