The hay is coming, the hay is coming!

Monday nite, Barry got home late with the first trailer load of mid-squares. It is a nice mix of grass/alfalfa mix hay. He brought about 22 bales at 738 pounds a piece. We are going back to get the rest of the field on Sunday afternoon, I think, for another 18 bales. That ought to set us up in decent shape for the winter

This hay thing is a prime example of how things that ought to be easy never are. I agreed to buy this field from Jami a month or so ago, then as is always the case with hay doings, nothing went right. First it would not stop raining, then I think the mid-square baler was kaput, we were perpetually on the lookout for a semi to pick it up out of the field for us.

The prices we got on semis were absurd, so Barry arranged to borrow a trailer from work. That sounds a lot easier than it is, since it takes forever to find the right person to ask, then once you get permission, it is all contingent on whether the trailer is on a job site or sitting at his work available to be borrowed. Then of course, if it is there, it might well have something wrong with it that you will not know til you are hooking up.

But it all came together to be picked up last Sunday. It was cut Thursday so would likely be baled Saturday. Barry could not decide whether to go mountain biking with friends early on Saturday then drive the 100 miles north to get the hay. That is always a dilemma for me as I do not want to tell him he cannot go play, as he works so hard, but you have to do the work first (at least in my head). It always leads to issues.

So he arranged to go ride, but when I got up in the morning, he was still here--he had gotten anxious that he would not get back from the ride in time to get hay. Then what happens? The weather did not cooperate and it was not dry enough to bale on Saturday at all. No big deal other than Barry missing his ride, which I have avoided talking about.

We then just went back to the original plan of picking it up on Sunday. Nope--unbeknownst to all players, the man with the mid square baler is Mennonite and does not work on Sundays. Ooops. It could have been square baled into little bales, but if you know Barry you know he has no business running up and down the interstate with little things that can fly off--remind me to tell you the ottoman story if the statute of limitations has passed. Plus, guess who does our unloading of small squares? Amish, who also do not work on Sundays!

This should be no big deal right, just give it up. But I really did not want to do that as I had committed to Jami, she was so upset that things were not going right, and the idea of NOT having my hay needs covered so early, which I was really proud of, did not please me.

Just when we were ready to give up and drink beer instead of thinking about hay, something changed. Barry's intended work trip to Kentucky was put off til Tuesday so he could go up north on Monday. This meant he passed right by Jami's. And the hay had still not been baled as of Sunday so it could be baled the way we needed it on Monday. How is that for things falling into place? We almost did not recognize it, we are so unfamiliar with things going well! He dropped the truck and trailer off on his way up, his co-worker picked him up and dropped him back off on the way home---expecting to pick up a loaded trailer.
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Now we have another turn of events--the baler still had not shown up and it was 6 pm before he got there. By then Barry had been working 12 hours and was a long way from being done. Good thing he is like Captain Quaalude and things do not bother him--he just ate dinner and hung out until the hay was ready. I wish I could be like that.

He got home around 10 and started unloading.

So guess what happened next? Tractor issues--so it took two hours to get it unloaded. Something is squirrelly with the hydraulics, which led to him finally being cranky when he got home, and picked a fight with me about buying a new tractor, which just aint gonna happen.

Bottom line. We have hay.

And plan to get more on Sunday.