A Roll In The Hay


Haying season. What can I say? In the months leading up to this epic event, we farmers tend to live in a fool’s paradise. We feel as if we’ve been gifted with the simpler things in life. Star gazing on endless summer nights, picnics at  the pond, a wealth of family and friends dropping in to visit. One can almost forget the little stab of tension that gnaws at the gut whenever the weather is mentioned. One can almost forget how absolutely horrible it was the year before and even pretend to look forward to it. Yes, it may have nearly caused a divorce last summer, but this year will be different! I promise I won’t tell my husband to go @#$! himself or stomp off the field in a fit of angry tears while Paul throws the tool box in his own frustration, spreading nuts, bolts and wrenches over a half kilometer radius. The kids will be models of perfect behavior. I’ll saunter to the field with a pitcher of homemade lemonade wearing a sundress and apron and my husband will gaze at me with appreciation and admiration. Yes, this year it will be different.
HA! Fooling ourselves is a survival mechanism used widely by farmers all around the globe! If I am completely honest with myself I know that we are about to embark on rocky ground. ” Them’s that dies will be the lucky ones” to quote some old pirate, and I fear that it’s the truth. Rather than appear angelically in sundress and apron I’ll more likely look like I work in a prison road crew by the end of the day and my husband will be glaring at me with a pissed off look on his face. Trust me, the feeling will be mutual! My beautiful boys will be indistinguishable from those howler monkeys I saw on the news yesterday and they too will be glaring at me with pissed off expressions. Again, feeling mutual. The tractor will break down, the bailer will break down, the weather will break down and I will break down. At the end of the day I will drag my filthy, sweaty, sore, cut up body into my bed only to rise at the crack of dawn to start the whole sorry process over again.
The only solace I can find in all of this is that it’s still six months away. Oh yeah-and this year will be different!

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