More than one way to haul hay

We've had rain come along at frequent, inconvenient intervals lately. Inconvenient if you have hay to harvest, anyhow. Cliff got our alfalfa put up without a hitch, but it's been impossible to get the orchard grass/clover patch done. The orchard grass has already gone to seed; the clover would be OK for hay except it's grown so tall and tangled, the mower really struggles to get through it. In fact, a belt on the mower couldn't stand the strain Saturday; it broke, which stopped the mowing abruptly. Tractor dealers aren't open after noon on Saturday, so there was no replacing the belt right then. Cliff has plenty of things to do these days, so he simply went on to other items on his "to-do list".

The hay needs to stay dry and cure for two or three days. Sunday afternoon the forecasters began calling for lots of rain; Cliff decided that certain portions of the mowed hay could be baled, and started in, with help from a couple of neighbor boys. It's easier to recruit young men to help if there's a four-wheeler involved: I'm guessing that's why they're using that instead of a tractor, but there may be other factors involved. Cliff's asleep, so I can't ask. Click on the pictures to make them larger.

This picture was taken right out my back door. Obviously, Cliff still has dirt work to do in the back yard. But I love that I can see the hayfield from the house.

I actually took this shot from inside. Some hay-wagon, eh?

We got almost two inches of rain overnight, so it's good that Cliff and the boys salvaged some of the hay. Of course, there's still hay to cut, although the quality deteriorates a little every day.

Things I love about living "out behind the barn":
1. It's so QUIET! I barely hear road noises at all here, even motorcycles.
2. I don't have dogs in the yard all the time. I've only seen one dog, the neighborhood retarded boxer, approach the place a couple of times. I can play Frisbee with Sadie without worrying that she'll see a stray dog and run off chasing it.
3. The dust storm that's raised each time a vehicle rounds the curve on our gravel road doesn't make it back here.
4. I can often look out the window and see my horses.
5. I don't have kids cutting through the yard, looking in the windows.
6. The solitude. I used to love that poem with the line, "Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man...".

These days, my attitude is this: "Let me live in a house far from the road; and please stay off my land."

Yeah, I'm a hermit. More so with each passing year.