Sunday, September 18, 2016

Early morning thoughts

In masks outrageous and austere
The years go by in single file;
But none has merited my fear,
And none has quite escaped my smile.
                                Elinor Morton Wylie

“Mom is going to kill us.” That line sticks in my mind and brings a huge smile this morning. I look out into our early morning view and my mind starts to process the past week, where lots of things have happened and been discussed, or overheard in conversations.

The moonlight bounces off the white barn roof while the rest of our world remains absorbed in a low-lying white mist of fog. It is still dark out, and I wonder why I am up so darn early on a Sunday morning. The view is worth it.

The ground will be wet with heavy dew this morning after the fog burns off, and just like every morning for the last two weeks. Any thoughts of being able to cut a second crop of hay and have it dry are now gone. Most people we know are either chopping and feeding, or cutting and bagging the second cut hay that finally grew after the rains. It is official; people are scrambling to find enough hay for their animals.

I met a man this week who told me that he paid $3000 for a tractor trailer load of square bales of hay that came all the way from Quebec. He hoped it would get him through the winter. That scares me, as we will not be doing that, so decisions will have to be made for sure. Yes, decisions that no one likes to make, because we are not alone in this.

A trip down memory lane for me brought some tears, laughter and a bit of worry and concern for the future. A beautiful old mill with its dam that stands in the little village where I grew up, has always flowed with water but is now dry. This sight shocked me when I drove up.

I remembered swimming there as a kid with my best friend since we were five years old BA, who sadly passed away this year, and my Mom who has also passed away. It was indeed the hub of entertainment and activity when we were kids but now completely changed. Many years ago siblings and friends all together in that little spot, laughed and splashed. It still holds great memories. Now there is very little water running over the dam, and I actually walked out and stood under the bridge. I have to say it was a beautiful view. The rocks and flat limestone that had been once hidden and enjoyed under fast flowing water by many children over the years was now exposed for all to see. This had such beauty but mixed with so much uncertainty attached. Life is like that.

“Mom is going to kill us.” Yes, this line has me laugh out loud, as I think about the small boy who shouted it out at an auction. His Dad loaded a van with all the pieces of a full- size airplane. The little boy was so excited. The crowd who stood around were just as excited.

“That is every boys' dream,” I said to his Dad.

“Yes, we will park it beside the fire truck on the lawn.”

Yes, indeed that is one lucky little boy. I honestly, would have liked to be “A fly on the wall” as my grandma used to say when his Mom saw the wing of the plane stuck out the back of the open van rear doors.

My thoughts of an upcoming trip to beautiful Vancouver, British Columbia has me up this early. My thoughts are indeed scrambling, while I try to process all that is, and all that is yet to come. I smile. Life is like that.



  1. thanks for the sweet story, but so sorry for the hay shortage. i know that means cattle sales...

  2. That is a whole lot off thinking for so early in the morning. What a lucky little guy to have a fire truck and an plain to play with. The fact that the stream has dried up is was a pretty bad summer for drought.

  3. I'm sorry about the way your summer weather has messed with your haying!! We are so much at the mercy of the weather. I wonder too, what the mother thought about the full sized airplane she's going to have in her yard! :) Who knows...maybe she's the one who will put it together! :)

  4. Life is indeed like that. Laughter, smiles, tears and hope...

  5. I am sorry it has been such a tough year weather wise and how that has worked out for you guys. I love this optimistic tale though - I love that you are always able to find the beauty in life.

  6. Sorry to hear about the hay shortage. Farming is always full of hard decisions.

  7. I was never smart enough to think "Mom is going to kill us." I just kept on with the nonsense until the roof caved in. Have a great trip!

  8. "Life is like that" . . .
    isn't that the truth . . .

    a concern indeed . . . the water gone, dried up, vanished . . . no splash and play . . .

  9. I'm so excited you're going to Vancouver Buttons! I'm going myself in November. I love where we are now, but I also miss that beautiful corner of the world. Lots of interesting things in this blog post with the memories of the water-filled dam, concerns about the hay, and that lucky little boy.

  10. How exciting to go on a trip to Vancouver! Trust it will be everything you need it to be. Fingers crossed that you have enough hay in the end to not have to part with anyone. I remember how after the '06 nonsense when the price of alfalfa went up as high as $22.00 a bale. That was very scary for a lot of folks here in California. Enjoy and post lots of photos please.

  11. You have to be so resilient to be a farmer. There is so much that you can't control. I love that story about the plane, the boy and his father!

  12. I understand. Our drought a few years ago caused us to sell off cattle early. Here's hoping that everything works out for you!

  13. What a fun auction buy for that kid. Great story. Your other stories, too, as always.

  14. It has been a crazy summer for weather. I hear this is going to be the new normal, what with climate change. Aren't you glad that we have the weather people now, to forecast some of this stuff. Imagine what it would have been like in the Little Ice Age a few hundred years ago, when the farmers would have had no clue what was going on, either when it was beginning, or when it was ending...

    At least your cows have some forage during the winter, and are not completely dependent on hay.

  15. We were also super dry. Last year our little alfalfa field had 43 bales. This year six. Glad we don't need it for cattle. Good luck this winter.

  16. I had somehow missed the fact that you lost your friend, BA, this year. I am so sorry to hear that. It's difficult to say goodbye to someone you held so dear for so long. I hope you cherish those memories of being five together, always...

  17. Life is like that indeed. Thank you for a lovely read this morning.

  18. The drought there is terrible and it is in southwestern Nova Scotia too. Things are desperate for farmers and people with dry wells. I don't know how that will all work out but I suppose the projected heavy snows of winter will make everything right again. We'll see. NB had a good rain on Tuesday but still dry. I'm sorry you may have to resort to buying hay for your cattle. How sad the the mill pond and dam are dried up too. Here's hoping fall will bring the much needed rain to fill the rivers, streams and wells up again. Blessings. Pam

  19. Bad news about the lack of hay for you and your local farmer friends. I hope something good turns up. I have also visited creeks where we used to swim as kids and I have found them dried up or turned into concrete drains as civilisation crept down to them. It is sad. But life is like that.

  20. Had to smile at the little boy's reaction. :D


The mind grows by what it feeds on. J.G. Holland

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