Reader Comments on To the Lake at Last from YankeeMagazine.com http://www.yankeemagazine.com/rss/index.php Tue, 22 May 2012 08:49:57 +0100 FeedCreator 1.7.2 http://www.yankeemagazine.com/blogs/marysfarm/summerheat I remember the haying days quite well. When we were kids, my father designated the jobs to be done by the age and ability of us kids (mostly our age)-younger ones on the wagon stacking the bales the older ones tossing them up onto the tailgate, drivers had to be confident enough to manuever the slopes of the field without fear (no driver's license needed back then just a farm plate). Once the load backed up to the barn, younger ones up in the hayloft to suffer the stacking where it was dusty, dry and hot-very hot, older ones loading the hay conveyor one bale right after the other, no let up until the truck was empty. By the end of four or five truckloads, sweat poured from our bodies, our muscles worked to the maximum, hands stung raw from the twine. After, my father or one of the real older of us kids who had a legitimate license drove us up to Brooks Pond for a swim-our treat for all the hard labor we had just accomplished (without complaint). Cold springs fed the pond and the water never felt so good to us as then. Yankee Publishing (rss@ypi.com) Tue, 18 Aug 2009 22:57:09 +0100 http://www.yankeemagazine.com/blogs/marysfarm/summerheat Ah, only our Edie can lend such romanticism to the hay field! I grew up on a poor old farm in sand country in Wisconsin. In hot, muggy weather, I often think, "I wouldn't want to be pregnant or haying in this!" I hated being on that farm as a youngster; now I'd give anything to be back there. I'm printing this blog for my sister to read. (We write old-fashioned paper letters to each other once a week and it's always nice to have good things to enclose.) Your description of the loaded wagons tottering down the road is perfect. Thanks, Mrs. Alice Wagner in Wisconsin Yankee Publishing (rss@ypi.com) Thu, 20 Aug 2009 20:48:43 +0100