The Hayfield

Being pregnant during the summer is tough on me.  Not because of the heat or the humidity, but because no one will let me go to the hayfield.  I actually cried a few weeks ago because Dad told me that he was not--under any circumstances--letting me work.  Some may think I'm crazy and that I should just sit inside and enjoy the air conditioning.  But I can't.  I love the hayfield.

In all honesty, I can't remember a summer that didn't involve spending July in the hayfield.  My earliest memory is riding behind the seat of the tractor with my mom as she dump raked when we stacked.  Then Dad bought the baler--one of the first in the country.  Since Mom moved to a cab-less side-delivery rake (and there were now two of us kids), I spent the day underneath cottonwood trees in the hayfield.  Mom would pack a quilt, water jug, and cooler of snacks that were to get me and my brother, Jeff, through the day.  We entertained ourselves by catching grass frogs for my grandpa so he could fish with them.  (Each one was worth a nickel, so we thought we were rich at the end of the summer.)  We would eat all of our snacks and keep the frogs in the cooler.  We may have been young, but we weren't stupid.  Dead frogs meant no money.

When I was five, my grandpa taught me how to drive.  Even though I could barely see over the steering wheel, he let me drive in the hayfield.  All I had to do was avoid hitting a bale.  If I remember correctly, a few of my Omaha cousins learned to drive the same way.  

After my brother died, I rode with Dad in the baler.  To this day, I love baling.  There were a few years when we baled with two balers, Dad ran one and I ran the other.  The first time I climbed into the tractor to bale, I felt completely at ease because I had spent so many hours riding with my dad.  

I finally earned my own tractor when I was ten.  I was the sweeper when we stacked.  Two years later I started to mow, and I've been mowing ever since.  But I've come a long way since my little Ford tractor with the 7-foot single bar.  I've worked my way up to "Betsy"--the tractor that I claim as mine--and a set of double-bars.  This summer Mom is on Betsy with a new set of mowers.  I'm green with envy!

Last Thursday, Dad took AJ for a ride in the tractor as he baled.  AJ loved it!  Then yesterday he got to ride with Barry in the baler tractor as he moved to a new field.  I love seeing AJ so content in the tractor.  I hope that one day my children will enjoy their time in the hayfield rather than dread it.  My best memories are working with my family.  I'm already looking forward to next year when I get to return to my well-worn seat on Betsy.