The eastern sky is a fire opal, molten sun rising from the depths of its midnight mine to burn away the fog by nine.
Will hay be baled by five?
A yesterday's worth of repairs, in the furnace of the season, spell we hope so in bold type.
Wish us luck and thank you.
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4 comments:
Beautiful I didn't see these until today. Love, Your loving Mother.
Wishing you luck, perfect weather and the parts come in! Plus the hay gets baled and stacked!
Linda
The biggest reason that I left the farm in Kansas as soon as I could was haying in the heat. I was very thankful to get a summer job at a summer camp when I was 13 and I worked there for the next 7 summers; that was enough to get me well away from the hay fields and into college and then work away from the farm.
Mom, thank you. I love you too.
Linda if it can go wrong this summer it certainly has. Got the baler rolling and then had a flat tire on the tractor. .Ugh. They finally baled it today but it isn't very good. Thanks
OW, you either love it or you hate it I guess. Of my two brothers one held each opinion. I loved it, but I won't argue that the haymow is a miserable place. I would much rather be driving the tractor to rake hay and counting barn swallows. lol
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