Arkie John
Active member
We need some new stories, so here you have...
The Hay Loft Chronicles
One of my memories of growing up in Saline County Arkansas was the great times all of us kids spent, day in and day out, going hither and yon, getting into mischief or maybe just using what we had, to have genuinely good times. There was no air conditioning, no video, very little TV but we certainly weren't ways to entertain ourselves. So, we ventured out each day during the summer with the common knowledge that no matter where we went, we had to be back before supper time or we incurred momma's wrath.
About four miles from the old home place, was the Saline River Bottoms. It is some of the richest land--to this day-- in the area. These bottoms were employed for grazing and agriculture of first one thing and then another. The fields had there fair share of hay barns in them. After two or three cuttings of good, rich bottomland hay in a season, the barns were chocked full of the stuff.
I did not grow up on a farm and counted myself lucky NOT to, in those days. Why, it was WAY too much work to cut that hay, bale it and then transport it to the barns. I was, however hired out a couple of times, to assist in the transporting end of things by a family that lived about a quarter mile from us. From time to time, they leased some of the bottomland I spoke of earlier, to supplement-feed their horses in the winter.
The first time I was involved in hauling hay, I learned real fast that you should always wear long sleeves. After a half day of stacking square hay bales into the loft, the inside of my arms resembled raw hamburger. It was the only time I hurt and itched at the same time. I sweated like a whore in church. Never again. You farm boys and girls know what I
The Hay Loft Chronicles
One of my memories of growing up in Saline County Arkansas was the great times all of us kids spent, day in and day out, going hither and yon, getting into mischief or maybe just using what we had, to have genuinely good times. There was no air conditioning, no video, very little TV but we certainly weren't ways to entertain ourselves. So, we ventured out each day during the summer with the common knowledge that no matter where we went, we had to be back before supper time or we incurred momma's wrath.
About four miles from the old home place, was the Saline River Bottoms. It is some of the richest land--to this day-- in the area. These bottoms were employed for grazing and agriculture of first one thing and then another. The fields had there fair share of hay barns in them. After two or three cuttings of good, rich bottomland hay in a season, the barns were chocked full of the stuff.
I did not grow up on a farm and counted myself lucky NOT to, in those days. Why, it was WAY too much work to cut that hay, bale it and then transport it to the barns. I was, however hired out a couple of times, to assist in the transporting end of things by a family that lived about a quarter mile from us. From time to time, they leased some of the bottomland I spoke of earlier, to supplement-feed their horses in the winter.
The first time I was involved in hauling hay, I learned real fast that you should always wear long sleeves. After a half day of stacking square hay bales into the loft, the inside of my arms resembled raw hamburger. It was the only time I hurt and itched at the same time. I sweated like a whore in church. Never again. You farm boys and girls know what I
