Monday, August 25, 2025
Time: 6:50 PM
Song: Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong
Artist: Spin Doctors
Mode of Consumption: Playing on the radio.
Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/1uCqIhOePc6hDMG2ijk8sp?si=311a79a436f64c42
I turn on the radio and then go to the sink and begin filling it with warm water and dish soap. We’d just finished unloading hay for the year, so it’s time to eat and clean up the day’s dishes, and pack tomorrow’s lunches.
Unloading the hay was a pretty smooth affair.
I arrived home at about 5:30, and Jodi had the gate to the horse yard open, allowing access to the south side of the barn. She had already pulled the elevator over and had it in position to deliver the bales through the door above.
“It’s gone pretty good so far,” she said, greeting me in the yard. “Should I pull the rack over?”
“Might as well,” I told her, retreating to the house to change out of my office clothes for a pair of ragged jeans and a t-shirt. It was a crisp, almost cool late August night.
By the time I came back out, she had pulled the rack over and had it nearly in place.
“That look good enough?” she asked. There was maybe a six-inch gap between the rack and the chute that sent the bales to the chain that pulls the bales upward toward the barn.
“You’re the one that has to put them on,” I said. I am the one that handles the mow work around here. “If you think you can put it on that way, it’s fine with me.”
She nodded, and so I went into the barn, plugged the elevator in, and then ascended the stairs to the mow.
We had 85 bales, nearly twice that we got off the first cutting of the same field. Jodi held a few back because she didn’t like the look of them, but otherwise everything went without a hitch.
Hay is something we always did with her father, so I think we both feel good when we’re able to complete it now that he’s gone. I am sure he’s got a front row seat above to watch us do it every time around.
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