Sometimes my mind will wander back
To those not so distant early years
And recall so many things
Full of work, play, happiness and tears.
Sometimes when August heat is blazing
And the heat seems to be almost white
And not a breath of air is stirring
My mind will recall in brief respite.
It is then I sometimes think of haying
Just what does that word mean
But certainly to someone who doesn’t know
They will hold it in no esteem.
I still remember rich lush clover
As it fell beneath the mower blade
Tall green foliage no longer undulating
As on the ground it was laid.
Days later, as it began to dry
Wind-rows would begin to snake
As if by magic they would appear
Behind the tractor and rake.
Then hear the rumble of the baler
As it slurped the hay inside
To be pounded into long square bales
Then with two strings it was tied.
Then came the trucks and wagons
And across the field to sweep
Picking up each and every bale
As if to keep the field clean and neat.
How I loved to haul it in
For that was my favorite part
And I always think of it fondly
As I remember it in my heart.
From the ground to pick them up
With fingers soon red and sore
Then throw them to the very top
And immediately reach for one more.
The dust that covered the body
Which with rivulets of sweat did streak
Hauling hay was for the strong
Certainly not a job for the weak.
Skin long browned by the summer sun
Glistened like bronze in sunshine bright
For although the work was hard and heavy
It’s never hard when the heart is light.
And a long cool drink of water
As your back you begin to arch
Drinking deeply from a gallon jug
To wet a throat, dry and parched.
And the table that seemed to groan
From the weight of the food it bore
While ravenous appetites ate and ate
And then they ate some more.
Hands and arms that burned like fire
From the cuts given by the stubble
As exhaustion captured the body
And bathing seemed to be too much trouble.
Sleep at night sometimes fitful
As tired muscles twitched and ached
But the fatigue of all the body
Would not allow you to lie awake.
So why then, did I enjoy it
What would seem a thankless task?
And I have, on many occasions
Myself this same question asked.
And my one and only conclusion
Is against myself I did compete
A test of both strength and endurance
Which for some reason I had to meet.