The Hay

The children have decided to go into the wildflower biz.  That, of course, means they are gathering wildflowers around our property for the purpose of selling them to innocent bystanders.  Like grandparents who feel too badly to turn them down.

Are they flowers? Are they weeds?

You be the judge.

We are still working on the installation of the horse fence.  I thought we were going to be working on this fun-filled activity all weekend long when David informed me on Saturday that we must take a break from our mad-fence-building-skills (or skillz, whichever you prefer) and go acquire some hay.

Growing up, my family never had the need for hay, seeing as how our pet was a severely obese cocker spaniel.  So, I was unfamiliar with the hay process.

Oh!  Let me tell you all what I have learned from my brilliant husband!

1)  Hay.  It is just grass.  That is all.

Mind blown.

It is really tall grass that has been cut and dried out a bit.

2)  Straw.  It is the part of hay that animals don’t eat.  You can use it for bedding and such, but it is not for consuming.

There is difference between hay and straw!  Who knew?!

Consider yourselves informed.

Anyways.  I have never had to go to Farmer Bob’s house and load some hay bales.  David informed me that this activity, and I quote, “pretty much sucks.”

There are a lot of things we do around here that David seems to enjoy and I think are downright wretched.  So doing something that David thinks is horrid . . . sign me up!

Turns out I got the easy job.  And I still found that part stressful.

The kids, David, and Farmer Bob were all to load the hay bales onto the truck/trailer and I was to drive the truck/trailer through the field.

The hay bales were too heavy for the kids, so they just started to try to roll them closer to the truck.  Little Dude quit after helping for about 2.8 seconds and joined me in the truck.  He then proceeded to ask me 18 million questions involving the meaning of life.

“What’s a mother?”

“What’s a father?”

“What makes a Grandma ‘great’?”

It was my first experience towing a trailer.  It wasn’t as glamorous as you might imagine.

David and Farmer Bob, whose name isn’t Farmer Bob at all, loaded 3 tons of hay onto the trailer.  Then, being men and all, decided that they should try to get another ton of hay onto the truck.  Because men enjoy seeing how strong their trucks are, didn’t you know?  It’s all very exciting for them.

So, David informs me I must drive the truck towing the trailer with 3 tons of hay up a hill and turn it around so they can load more hay into the truck.

I tried my best to appear cool and collected.

Midway up the hill, David hollers for me to, and I quote, “Hold up!”

Now, I do not know what on earth was so important for me to “hold up” at that particular time, but to even stop the truck mid-hill-climb-whilst-hauling-3 tons was a feat in and of itself.

Then he looks at me, with all the confidence in the world, and says, “Ok, you can keep going.”

Have you, pray tell, ever had to start a truck towing a trailer with 3 tons of hay mid-hill using a stick shift, ALL whiling trying to explain to your five year old why we call Great Grandma, “great?”

It is not for the faint of heart.

The truck started basically screaming and generally throwing a fit and I informed David that he could drive the truck up the hill.  Because trucks should not make such noises.

Here’s what the trailer looked like:

Look at that!  I DROVE THAT!  I am so manly.

 

Oh!  And guess what!  We are getting 3 MORE tons of hay on this very evening!

YAY!

Why do we need so much hay for one horse?  I don’t know.  Probably because David is going to surprise me or something and tell me we are going to be cattle ranchers instead.

And in case you are wondering, we don’t have the horse yet.  My husband just got a good deal from Farmer Bob and couldn’t pass it up.

So, we arrived at our homestead and had to unload and stack the hay bales.  THAT was work, man.  That’s the kind of chore that will build character.  And I have a new appreciation for my husband and his muscles.

***

Our anniversary was yesterday.  13 years!  Go us!

Happy Tuesday!