Shy Guy, Nacho, and Goldie (their mama)There is something about the month of July, that is the bestest! (I know, not a word) We, in Alberta are experiencing a bit of heat wave. Today at the farm, we got up to 30 degrees Celsius in the shade. Granted not as bad as BC or eastern Canada. But nonetheless, a heat wave. And it is haying season.
It has been three or four summers since I have been on the tractor. When you have a boy in the house on the thresh hold of manhood, it was time for me to step aside and let him have the opportunity to learn how to operate the tractor. I figured it was time to wean him off the tit, and cut the apron strings. I told my son it was time for him to start hanging around his dad and learn how to become a man and to learn how to work. Frank Jr was 14. I realise on some farms and ranches the boys are out there sooner with the men. I guess I wasn't ready for him to be on the equipment. But since moving here five summers ago, it is a different story.
With that all said-fast forward to last night. Hubby came in for supper. His boss phones and says it is time for Frank to go back to work. We weren't very imaginative when we had Frank Jr. He got named after his father, Frank. Frank Jr also has gotten himself a job working for a neighbour. OK, this all fine and dandy. But I also work five hours a day. But since there is hay knocked down, and I am the one that is home shortly after 1 in the afternoon, Frank says "Hun, can you rake hay tomorrow afternoon. We will go out after supper and I'll refresh your memory with the tractor and the raking"! Of course, I had to pretend to be ever so nonchalant that I didn't care either way if I raked hay or not. Don't get me wrong, there's just something about making hay in July during a heat wave! I was chomping at the bit. This afternoon couldn't arrive fast enough!
It was all I could do from watching the damn clock to hurry up and click to 1.00. Secretly wishing that no one came in at 12.55 for a 'visit'. It was so hot and suffocating in the post office and I was sweating, hoping and a wishing that a breeze would start up for when I was on the tractor. When I got home, I quickly changed into shorts and a shirt, made a sandwich for the 'road', filled up my water bottle, and I was ready to go raking.
The green bomb or the hulkster.
Now, the old green bomb, the dogs think they own. Any time they hear that old engine roar to life, they know it is time for a truck ride. After the three of them hopped in, we were ready to go, but we had to make a stop at the barn first. Misty, my Jersey, is going to be calving any day, so had to check on her. Now we are ready!
I fired up the tractor, and let her warm up. I left one door opened for the dogs to jump in out of the truck and away I went! Take the shirt off and down the field I go. The rake gently turning the hay over. But there is something to be said about a field that turns into a rough field when you have to turn around to come back down to flip another windrow over to lay it beside the first window. I should have taken Frank's suggestion when he told me to duct tape my girls so they wouldn't bounce so hard. I was in second gear, and it didn't take much for the double d 44's to start bouncing. I had to hold on to them every time I turned around, and got going down a new windrow. I envy women with fried eggs for boobs!
The field tractor. Affectionately called the Schlopper. Frank's dad had one when Frank was growing up and he called it the same name. I guess this model was made in Germany. Hence the name. I have given up on my dream of owning a V-Rake. This single, 6-wheel rake, we bought used in 1990 at an auction. That ole rake has sure turned alot of hay.
The hay field.
When Frank gets home tonight he will bale. And to tomorrow, I get to be on the Schlopper once more. Watching the hawk fly over head, the young fawn trotting back in the bush waving her tail in warning, and Goldie hunting for mice. What more girl ask for?