yesterday as the grass began to dry
Yesterday emotions ricocheted. Trepidation in the morning as clouds loomed over the farm; to the beginnings of buoyancy as they were cracked apart by fingers of sun and blown by a drying wind; to sheer relief as I heard the grass begin to rustle under the tines of the turner.
transferred worry
The first fat drop of rain fell at six o’clock, by seven it had been joined by the multitudes. I’d somehow managed to keep away from the compulsive-weather-checking so Olly filled me in. We were experiencing the edge of a massive low travelling across Ireland. Intermittent showers were expected throughout the night till seven or possibly ten the next morning…this was turning into my worst nightmare.
I was up at five this morning peering out of the window at the moist wet world. Whilst checking the sheep the heavens opened. I was despondent, dejected and downhearted.
olly takes over turning this morning
By nine this morning a healthy wind was beginning to blow although the sky was still heavy with oppressive dark clouds. A plan was made. Turn to lift the grass of the ground and let the wind and air get to it. Row up where the grass could continue to dry and if all was well bale, and wrap late afternoon.
clouds and grass all rowed-up in path field
Nature, thankfully, had almost finished playing with me. By mid-day the wind was blowing with purposeful single-mindedness, the sun shone hard, the clouds scudded and the fast drying grass smelled sweet. I felt jubilant. It was going to be okay after all.
lining up
The bailer moved in at five and as I write the zee-zee-zee of the wrapper working in the dusky dark is music to my ears! The biggest ‘thank-you’ in the world to all you positive thinkers, for a monent there it was touch and go!







9 comments
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June 26, 2008 at 7:03 am
Lindsay
I simply love your blog and your wonderful photos. Am now a “wrinkly” but from a very young age it was my dream to marry a farmer. I ended up marrying a telephone engineer! Two years ago we downsized to a small rural village overlooking a farm - so all’s well that ends well!!
June 26, 2008 at 9:02 am
Jane
So glad you managed to get the hay in safely! The French farmers around our cottage have been cutting/turning/bailing all week as well. We’ve had brilliant sunshine (so no headaches for them) It smelt glorious as they cut it and it sat on the warm earth. My hayfever has gone through the roof… but hey (”hay”) it was worth it!
June 26, 2008 at 8:25 pm
paula
well, thank you, lindsay, so much…how lovely of you to say so!
I’m glad you’ve got a farm in your sights and I reckon your telephone engineer will always be more communicative, so good choice…
And thanks for finding this blog too, and taking time to read and comment - hope you’ll be back.
June 26, 2008 at 8:31 pm
paula
phew - it was a close call there Jane - and now is blowing a gale, raining, dark and thoroughly unpleasant.
France sounds just about perfect and I envy them! Where about’s your cottage? Hopefully weather will improve by the time you get back.
June 26, 2008 at 11:09 pm
heidi
Hurrah! I love the smell of new mown hay …do you have swallows that capitolize on the insects being scared up? I love a new mown field in late afternoon, the sun beginning her descent to dusk. Feeling the cool air rising off the land..the swallows above bombing about…
Well we all sent our thoughts of sunshine from across the pond, happy it added to the communal thoughts of sun! Now we are expecting 97 degree weather starting Saturday, -maybe we thought a little too hard!
Gorgeous land by the way!
June 28, 2008 at 7:15 pm
paula
You’re right heidi - something very evocative- and the smell too - it transports me.
Sadly this year none of our breeding swallows have returned; a first. There are a few young birds about but they don’t seem to be breeding. The farmyard seems strangely empty without their chatter and cavorting. We normally have about five to six pairs, very sad.
Wow, you’d better unthink the thought. How on earth do you work iron in that heat - you must melt! But thanks for huge effort…
July 5, 2008 at 12:04 pm
eyegillian
Your two posts on haying are an extraordinary photo essay — educational stuff for people like me. It’s hard to appreciate how much depends on the weather on one particular day, to think that so much effort (time and money) would go to waste if the rain had arrived too soon.
July 5, 2008 at 5:24 pm
paula
Thanks gillian - it’s really useful to know what is interesting farm wise and what isn’t. We tend to take a lot for granted.
And yes, it is so dependent on something you have absolutely no control over - hence my stressing!
Oh did you see the new calving pictures of Ginny? You might find those of interest too. http://locksparkfarm.wordpress.com/2008/06/11/ginny-calves/
July 6, 2008 at 12:56 am
eyegillian
Thanks for the link (I’ve haven’t caught up yet on my blog reading) — a fascinating if somewhat queasy inducing photo essay… I take it you didn’t have to do intervention, so could take photos!