Back to the Hay Field, Pullin’ Pork
The good Lord turned the warmer on this week. Not as hot as other places, but plenty warm for this farmer. Sweating through my shirts by 9:00 a.m. Thankful for the relief of a cloud and the gift of a soft breeze. Good hay making weather though. With Wednesday chicken processings, meat deliveries, and markets, it can be hard to fit three consecutive hay making days into my schedule. Harder still is syncing my calendar with mother nature’s weather forecast. This week, thankfully, the stars lined up, and I got more hay made.
On Monday I mowed 30 acres. Tuesday I hauled our other tractor back home from the shop and put it to work that afternoon running the tedder. Hallie did most of the steering for me. On Wednesday I would rake a while, roll a while, rake a while, roll a while. I finished raking and baling on Thursday.
It was hot and dusty baling with an open cab tractor. The tractor was feeling it more than I was with its temp gauge constantly flirting with the red line. Tempting as it is to complain about the heat, my granddad’s generation would’ve been square baling their hay, loading it by hand on the trailers, hauling it to the barns, and again handling it manually until every bale is stacked in its place. And probably without complaining. That was a different kind of hay making. In a different kind of time.
Though thankful for modern equipment giving me the ability to put up 30 acres of hay by myself, I do find myself somewhat longing for the camaraderie and community that the work of square bales provided to past generations. I can only imagine the stories told, jokes laughed at, and memories made working together bodies fatigued, soaked in sweat, and covered in hay particles, dust, and a smile. Do I long for it enough to go back to square bales? I have a hard enough time putting up round bales. It’s good to be able to put up all our hay without leaving a tractor seat. But also good were the conversations had and relationships built through their working together. Toilsome as it may be. Everything comes with a cost. One thing gained is another thing lost.
Aside from hay, we moved the chickens in the mornings and watered them again in the afternoon. Checking and moving cows either in the mornings or evenings. Another batch of baby chicks in the brooder.
On Tuesday Amy trimmed and seasoned ORVF meats to go on the smoker that night. As hot as it was in the hay fields, it was just as hot or even hotter in the on-farm kitchen where Amy was pulling pork Wednesday afternoon. Add to that the heat from the chicken broth simmering beside her. One of the pork butts was bigger and slower getting up to pulling temp, so Amy didn’t get finished pulling it until 9:30 Wednesday night. Needless to say, we had ORVF pulled pork for dinner.
Amy also put on her hot tub repair hat to work on the hot tub at one of the Airbnb cabins. Yesterday she made the quarterly trip to Farmville delivering ORVF beef, chicken, and pork to families in that area, so yesterday morning we were filling coolers and orders for her road trip.
Usually river time is reserved for Sunday afternoons, but Amy managed to slip away with the kids one afternoon for some creek time play. She’s a good mom.
I did some audiobook listening while mowing hay. Hallie and I had some good conversations while running the tedder. And I listened to the tractor and equipment while raking and rolling. However, the most relevant content I absorbed this week came from a liturgy in Amy’s EVERY moment HOLY PRAYER JOURNAL. After another restless night, she had me read an entry on “Seasons of Insomnia & Exhaustion.” Author unknown.
“O Christ Who is My Rest,
this tension of body,
and racing of mind,
and clamoring of heart
afford me no peace in this night.
“Unable to sleep I would yet
make use of my restlessness, O Lord.
Amidst doubt, anxiety, uncertainty,
I would learn to practice a more constant
awareness of your presence, directing
heart and thought and petition to you.
“Lay your hand upon my brow, O Lord,
and bid me calm. Even in haggard sleeplessness,
let me yet recognize my utter dependence
upon you, remembering that you are with me
whether I sleep on not.
“Even if mind or body refuse their rest,
still let my soul take its repose
in the enfolding comfort of your presence,
my head reclined against your breast, hearing
the deep music of your heartbeat.
Waking or sleeping. O Lord,
be this night my rest,
and on the morrow, my strength.”
Have a good week.
Will