Making Hay While the Sun Shines

I don't really know how to write about first cut. It's a big deal and largely determines the economic health of the farm and even though we're generally easy-going people, it's hard not not to get worked up when things go poorly.

I'm pretty sure that things are going poorly right now, although the gods of farming tend to make fools out of anyone who thinks it couldn't get worse. For two weeks, there was rain forecast every afternoon and Earl held off mowing, only to have it stay dry. Then the forecast was for hot, sunny weather and he mowed a ton of hay, only to have it be cool and wet, the first real good hard rain we've had. Today Travis came in to rake the rained-on hay over and Earl went out to bale after him, taking Harley with him. When I came to pick up Harley an hour later, the single bale they'd managed to make sat lonely and sad in the middle of the field. Harley was full of information--"The baler BROKE. And Daddy FIXED IT. It made a BAD NOISE. I ate all my peanuts and Daddy and I shared ALL THE M&MS!. Earl thought he had the baler going, so I left Jackson with him (they were taking turns while Cliffy was at a birthday party) and hoped for the best. When they came back a few hours later, they parked at the shop, not by the fuel tanks; this was not a good sign. When I asked what was wrong, Earl said, "Look at the pickup." And I asked, "Is it supposed to look like that?" which is maybe number 3 on the list of Ten Dumbest Questions to Ask a Farmer Whose Baler is Broken in the Middle of First Cut, just behind, "Is it broken?" and "Is that bad?" and a little ahead of, "Is there anything I can do to help?" I did ask if I could help and after a pause to register the stupidity of the question, Earl did say I might help look for another one of the bent parts in the shop. I turned to look at the quagmire of tractor parts, fencing supplies, inventions, sockets, axes, shovels, and tires and asked if there was an organization scheme. This question just barely missed the Dumbest list and the answer was an obvious no. The search yielded no part.

After we abandoned the mission and Earl was heading to the barn to milk, he stumbled across the parts in the grass. They were the ones he'd taken off when he replaced them with new ones last summer, but they were in better shape than the twisted and broken one that's on the machine now, so they held some promise. Apparently they were in the grass because Earl couldn't decide whether to put them in the parts pile or the scrap metal heap, so he left them in between. That's sort of an organizational scheme.

There was some talk about me milking so Earl could work on the baler and maybe go back out to bale, but Erik wasn't going to stay long enough to wrap them and the hay will maintain its nutrition better on the ground than baled and unwrapped. So I came back to the house to worry about supper and the Red Sox. It's not a fair trade, but sometimes there really isn't any way around it. We have this thing that when there's suffering to be done, we do it together, but it wouldn't gain us any ground if I went to milk and Earl went back to the house to conjure up supper and keep our hot, grumpy kids in line while fretting about the baler.

Now it's the next morning and Pam milked so we slept in ('til 7) and now Earl is out welding the baler and I'm taking a few minutes to wrap this up before I see about breakfast. Everything seems easier this morning. Travis is coming in at eleven and the big finger wheel rake that I gave Earl a rather hard time about buying (we already have a rake!) will make quick work of rolling over the hay. I'll cut up the watermelon and make grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and bring some to Earl when I swap out the kids as they take turns riding on the tractor.

Someday soon Earl will change his state-of-the-farm announcements from how far behind we are to how close we are to done. The third tractor will come back from R.N. Johnson's, finally, and we'll be in good shape, looking ahead to second cut.