About 2 years ago, I wrote this note and posted it on facebook. I was in a somewhat similar position as I am this summer; due to not being available to work full time until June and having to leave earlier than most college students, I was unable to find a job. So, like this summer, my parents decided to pay me if I did various chores around the farm. I wasn't exactly excited about this job, since I had worked on a different farm for the past 3 summers and was looking forward to something different. However, as I say in the note, I rediscovered my love for farm work during the beginning of that summer. I closed the note with pointing out the fact that it was still the beginning of the summer, and by the time I left for college I'd be ready never to do another farm chore again. Well, that wasn't quite true. Probably because I eventually just gave up trying to work on a regular basis and then got hired by the Washington State Migrant Council (which I will write a post on, and my experiences there, someday) for the last portion of my summer. But once I got to Wheaton, I did find that I really missed farm work, and when I was home for a short amount of time during Christmas break and had a job, again at the migrant council, during the summer, I throughly enjoyed working out in the barn and occasionally helping out with other tasks around the farm. This is what I expected to experience once again this summer; I would have a full time job outside of the farm, but would help out when I had time.
My plan seemed perfect until I was notified that I wouldn't be able to work at the migrant council this summer due to needing to leave 3 weeks before the end of the season. I had no idea what I would do; I had already booked my ticket to Japan, which wouldn't put me back in Washington until June, leaving only 2 months to work. No one would hire someone new when they're available for so little time. So I accepted my fate for the summer. I was going to work on the farm once again, so similar to 2 years ago, but without the possibility of getting a job at the end of the summer. So for the past 4-5 weeks since I got back from Japan, I've been working not only for my parents, but at the farm I had worked at in high school as well. But once again, my love of farm work has surfaced, this time with a more appreciative attitude after being gone for 2 years, albeit, not quite as appreciative as perhaps my parents would like :)
So now that I've rambled on about how I got to the point I'm at, and tried to compare this summer to summer 2011, I can write about the real point of this post. Earlier this week, a small group consisting of myself, my brother, my dad, and some friends picked up and put away 459 bales from our field down the road. Doing hay, or bucking bales, whatever you want to call it, is by far my favorite part of living on a farm during the summer. For you non farm folk, here's a quick description: first, the grass must be cut, then a few days later, raked and baled. If it rains at any point after the grass has been cut, the entire crop is ruined, so we have to wait until there's a long stretch of good weather, which, as you can imagine, can be difficult in Washington (but not as difficult as probably many of you non-Washingtonians may think). Once the hay has been baled, we go down to our field, about a half mile away from our house with our tractor and hay wagon hitched on. Once we get to the field, I take over the tractor driving while my dad goes to help Ben on the wagon stacking the hay. Everyone else grabs and lifts the bales onto the wagon as I drive past. Once the wagon is full, usually about 130-160 bales, depending on the size of the wagon, we climb onto the wagon to the top, and drive back to our farm and park the tractor behind the hay barn. Then several of us stay on top of the wagon while the rest go into the barn. We pass the hay down via a hay elevator (which we decided this year is more of a hay moving walkway). This continues until all the hay is stacked in the barn. Then we go back to the field and do it all again. It's a difficult chore, and by the end of the night, everyone is drenched in sweat, covered with hay as well as small scratches from the hay. Though we're tired and feel disgusting, we feel accomplished. We've completed the difficult task once more, and won't have to do it again for another year. This is also a fun activity because of the company, the awesome view from the top of a wagon filled with hay, and the delicious pizza, lemonade, and DQ blizzards we consume throughout the night.
As I grow older, the likelihood of me being home for summer grows less and less. I have no idea where I'm going to be next summer. I could be home, I could be in Spain, or Guatemala, or Wheaton, or some place I haven't even considered going. I can't imagine missing a PNW (Pacific Northwest for you Wheaton people... one of my friends once thought it stood for prisoners of nuclear war... don't ask me how that makes sense.) summer, for so many different reasons, but especially because this chore, which probably sounds so bizarre to many of you, has become part of my summer. I can't fathom the day when I won't be a farm girl anymore, no bales to buck, stalls to clean, or gardens to weed. I guess that though I may not always act like it, I will always be a farm girl at heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment