It’s hay season again and time to gather what my brother and I cut yesterday with a sickle. I’m grateful that my brother could help me, as my lame knee makes it painful to bend in the swooping motions needed for efficient cutting. Today I’m all alone on this slightly marshy piece of land. I use my cane to walk over to a patch of dray hay and stab the cane into the soft ground. Then I use the pitchfork to sift and gather the hay together until I have a large enough load. Hobbling over to reach my cane, the load now feels more secure on my shoulder as I slowly make my way over to the small, mounded stack. It’s tough work for an old man, but I love being outdoors. Besides, it’s the only way of life I know.
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