Cubby did not choose to sleep in yesterday morning, instead waking up at 6 a.m. in a less-than-stellar mood. Two minutes after he woke up, the phone rang, catapulting A. out of bed, into his clothes, and into his truck to race off to get hay.
It was the owner of the stables where the MiL rides calling, you see, to tell A. that it looked like rain at his place and A. had better get his ass up and get that hay under cover.
Not in so many words, but that was the idea.
See, this guy buys a lot of hay for his stables, obviously, and because he buys so much of it, he gets a much cheaper price for it. This particular hay he had delivered on Friday was the first cut (farmers cut their hay more than once in a season--it's kind of like a lawn), which is the highest quality hay. It was also in small, square bales. Which is why A. was ALL OVER IT when this guy asked if A. would like to add a hundred bales or so onto the larger order for himself. The small bales aren't made so much anymore, which is too bad if, like us, you have no machinery.
The huge rectangular or round bales that are more common these days have to moved with tractors and such. We have no tractor. When A. gets one of the big bales, the farmer has to load it on the truck for him and then to unload it, A. can either roll the round bale with tremendous effort--something anyone with normal strength couldn't even begin to try and A. can only barely manage--or he can take the bale apart and move it with a pitchfork as loose hay.
Major pain in the ass.
The small bales are only around fifty pounds, so even I can move them. And move them I did.
A. arrived back home around 7:15 with a load in his truck and the very nice stable owner following with a load in his truck. The kind man helped A. load and unload the hay and made two runs in his own truck, which is a lot bigger, newer, and heavier-duty than Big Red, and so can carry a lot more hay. Without his help, it would have taken A. several more hours and many additional trips.
Leda didn't want to help, as you can see. Lazy dog.
They threw the hay off onto the grass by the driveway and then we started moving it into the small barn in the garden. A. had hay hooks--these look like huge fishing hooks with a handle, so you can hook the bale in the side and hold it--so we each took a hook, stabbed the bales, and dragged them into the barn, where A. stacked it. The MiL and I helped with the first load, and then A. finished up by himself.
A sight that, as a child, I never would have imagined seeing out my door.