One man went to mow.

A long, long, time ago (aka June), the process of cutting grass for hay was started. It was a very hot time, great for making hay, not great when you are suffering the consequences of having a Micro-Crofter on board while still having to watch the Mini-Crofter. Yes, there lies the major reason why no blogs have gone up recently. Any chance of sleep had been sought, getting through a day felt like a marathon had been completed and sickness wasn’t helping either. So the Crofter ended up having to mow and bale the hay himself. I did try one day, however 20 mins in the hot sun (hot for us, it was high 20s) resulted in needing to lie flat on a sofa for nearly an hour afterwards. Decided that wasn’t such a good idea.

Crofting is so much better when the work is shared and having to admit that you can’t do all the work you would like to do isn’t easy. At least for me, it’s a stage that should pass (maybe not the day Micro Crofter is born, but hopefully soon after). Others can suffer health wise and have to give it up. It has been a struggle to watch people who have the ability to do work that I would like to be doing, but that they just don’t do it. Agriculture and pregnancy can really throw some curve balls at you.

Anyway, good weather (at the time, lack of rain since hasn’t been as good), along with the Crofter being home for a lengthy spell meant all the grass we wanted to cut for hay, was done. Having a neighbour who came to help collect it up was incredibly helpful so that I didn’t have to. So yes, I may be the main Crofter half the time, there are times I will take all the help I can get.

And for anyone asking, no, hay is not made in a day (at least not around here). Yes, it took multiple days of cutting, turning (to dry the grass out), baling, and collecting it in. It will not be enough bales for our livestock over winter so we still have to get some in. And the dry, hot weather has affected grass growth so hay is pricey. I’m sure the cows will enjoy it though.

P.S., If you are still singing the tune, we have no dog called Spot! Or any dog that goes ‘woof’ for that matter.

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