Happy Anniversary to a very special couple, Sean and Kara. Four years ago today they said their vows at the same altar where Paul and I promised to love, honor and cherish. Then they climbed into a VERY antique car (our suprise to them) and were driven for a slow and romantic drive to our house for a very special outdoor reception. Whenever I look out my front window I am reminded of that very happy day. A day when our family grew by one more. It is a day that a parent dreams about from the time they first set eyes on their red-faced, wrinkled, squalling little legacy. . And it was a dream come true. Kara and Sean's lives have been so full since that day. Two really beautiful children. (Okay, so that's a grandmother talking) Two lovely homes.
May life continue to be good to you, Sean and Kara. Enjoy each other. Be good to each other. Be happy together. My hope is that someday you will be able to celebrate 60 years of enjoying life together. 
Flashback to Kara's first day of school. Kindergarten 1977. Twenty-nine years ago. Her first little nudge out of the nest. So much time has passed. In two years she will be nudging her own off to kindergarten. I have no more children to send off to school for the first time. Now the only one left to go back to school in September is myself.
I set my alarm last night for a horrifically early hour after sleeping in all summer to wonderful whenever. Morning came too soon. It was so dark when I woke up. I've been waking up to sunlight dancing on my bed. I think I like that scenario better. It felt good to get back to school, mostly for the social stuff. It's nice to see people (the adult kind) again. Otherwise it was a rather dull day. Nothing worked. My computer didn't work. The student computers in the library didn't work. There is no hot water in the rest rooms. Someone, by mistake, forwarded one of the secretary's phones in the office to the library so all the parent calls to the school were coming to us, fast and furious. We finally had to turn the phone off which made the library eerily silent.
Over the summer I forget necessary things, like user names, passwords, procedures, how to connect equipment, etc. So does my co-worker. But by putting our two lame brains together we were able to figure out enough to get things going in the library, somewhat. There is lots of busy work for me to catch up on. I have enough to keep me busy for awhile. I am mostly glad to be back to work because I really missed my paycheck. Even though it is pretty teeny tiny I still like getting that money envelope once a week and adding it to my bank account. My fun money.
Paul's mother is going back to Florida tomorrow. It's been nice having her here. I barbecued a couple of Cornish Game Hen tonight for dinner which we ate with the corn on the cob she brought us. And now I need to get to bed because that alarm is going to ring awfully early tomorrow.
Some of you were quite smart and were able to figure out who Brett's new little houseguest is that they are preparing for. You thought you were so smart, didn't you? Well, there's more to this story than you thought.
Yes, the new houseguest is a new baby. Another wonderful grandchild for me. Brett and Megan were to find out if it was boy or girl at their next appointment. Brett called me today and said he had just come from the doctor's. "Did you find out if it is a boy or girl?", I asked. Brett said not this time. Then he said that the doctor missed something the last time. Uh oh. What does THAT mean? Click here to find out. PREPARE YOURSELF!!
Yes, that is exactly what clothes shopping is........torture. Since I have to go back to work on Wednesday and I have VERY LITTLE to wear that is decent, I decided to drag myself to the mall today for the very depressing activity of clothes shopping. I always feel like those losers on "What Not To Wear" who constantly pick out the same type of clothing every time they shop. I vowed today that I would branch out and be creative for a change.
I first went to the shoe department and headed to my favorite brand, Easy Spirit. I bought one shoe in basic black and one in basic brown. (Do you sense any creativity here?) Both exactly the same style. So boring of me, but they were so comfortable and when you are on your feet 95% of your work day that is important. The little shoe man brought me some other boxes of brown shoes but they were of another brand so I told him "Sorry, I'm an Easy Spirit lady". I did find another pair of shoes I REALLY liked but they weren't on sale and I'm not about to spend $80.00 on a pair of shoes. And besides, they were black and quite un-creative.
Then I went upstairs to the clothing department and tried on pants, an activity that just shoots my self-esteem to H-E-Double Hockey Sticks. I would like to know why why why they insist on making women's slacks that only come halfway up your abdomen. Why can't they come all the way up to your waist, like men's pants? It just makes such an absolutely ridiculous looking image in the dressing room mirror. They remind me of my old maternity pants. Or maybe it is just because they make me look like I am so very much in the family way. They aren't even comfortable, feeling like they are going to fall down every time I take a step. I could never ever ever ever wear a blouse tucked in......LOL. I would look like a real comic book character.
I finally gave up on dress pants. Too pathetic. I did find a jean that actually fit and was comfortable and came up where it was supposed to. It was a stretch jean by Style & Co. I have never heard of that brand before but if you are looking for something that only makes you look 6 and a half months pregnant instead of 11, go for it!
Then I headed for the clearance rack which I should have done in the first place. What luck. I found some great stuff. A beautiful Anne Klein jacket that was marked down to $37 from $189. And it fit perfectly. The only one on the rack. I found some other great deals. After 3 hours of almost fruitless and depressing shopping I lugged my clearance catch over to the register, told them no I didn't want to get a Macy's charge card so I could save 10% and left the store smiling, sort of. Finding a bargain always makes me smile. I still have to find some darn dress slacks that fit like I was 32 again. Good luck, Mary-Margaret. I don't think they are out there.
Today was the first rainy day we have had in quite a while. It rained pretty steadily most of the day and the air had that autumn feel to it.
Paul and I drove to Amenia to share brunch with Paul's mother and sister and brother-in-law. A little early celebration for Paul's mother's birthday. The brunch was in a restaurant on a golf course. Our table was in front of a window that had the most breathtaking view I have seen in a long time. Absolutely gorgeous. I would have been happy just sitting there and soaking it in all day long. I can't believe that we brought our camera and didn't take a picture of it. The brunch was delicious. Complimentaray mimosa's first and then grazing through a field of everything from shrimp and lentil salad to roast beef and chocolate cake. So much to choose from. We didn't even need to eat dinner tonight.
Yesterday I started painting primer on the windows in our new room. It is going to to take FOREVER! After a whole day of painting I only had 3/4 of one window done. There are still 14 windows to go.........and this is just primer. When that is done I have to start all over with the paint. Oh my. This will be a long project.
I found this in the Lakeville Journal under the "Turning Back the Pages - 50 Years Ago, August 1956" section.
I don't remember too much about that party. I think I had a picnic under the maple trees on the front lawn and Rockie Robertson gave me my first Nancy Drew mystery book, The Ghost of Blackwood Hall. That started me on the long and happy road of ferreting out and reading every Nancy Drew book ever written. I still have the book. It reminds me of a very happy time. I wonder how many of my classmates came to the party. We had such a very small class. It's hard to imagine that 50 years have passed since that day. Time goes by so fast it almost takes my breath away.
Regarding the blog I published yesterday about the church. If anyone is interested in reading the whole article in the paper you can get it by clicking here. I was also thinking yesterday that during the whole time I attended that church I only remember one wedding taking place there. I think it was Claire Johnson's wedding. Somewhere in our family we have a picture of some of the wedding guests milling around the street outside the church after the wedding. I'll have to see if I can find it. It would be fun to see how many people we can recognize.
Does anyone recognize this picture? If you do than the memory of it has to make you smile.
I saw the headline in the paper this morning. "Old Falls Village Church Seeks New Owner". My sweet old church is for sale for $250,000. It doesn't look exactly the same as it did 45 years ago. The pews are gone. It looks barren and naked, but like the stately old lady that she is, she hasn't lost her beauty.
I can still see one of the registers in the floor over which we used to hover and let the air blow our skirts up, a la Marilyn Monroe. How many Sunday mornings did I march down that aisle in my choir gown, first sitting on one side as a Junior Choir member and then graduating to the other as a Senior Choir member? I was in the choir for so many years that I only remember seeing the church from the altar looking out into the congregation, always seeing my mother faithfully sitting in her pew. I don't remember it the other way around. Every Friday afternoon we would walk from school to the church for Junior Choir practice, sometimes running across the street afterwards to Bergenty's market for a rare sweet, maybe a jaw-breaker or some Blackjack gum. I don't remember when Senior Choir practice was.......maybe in the evening? Somewhere I have a picture of the choir members. Who were they? Me, Lauri, Letha, Sally, Larry, Pam, Marion, Tracy, Claudia, Little Rapp Boy??
I remember a speech I had to give on Children's Day. I wrote it down and practiced it and practiced it until the paper was a wrinkled and sodden mess. I was sure I knew it cold and I would do a "swell" job. But when I stood up in front of the congregation in front of that huge church my mind went completely blank. I could remember NOTHING. Even my mother's advice of "pretend they are all naked out there" didn't help at all.
I walked down that aisle dressed as Mary for the Christmas pageant when I was 6 years old. How many Easters did we march down that aisle belting out "Christ The Lord Is Risen Today", the pews overflowing with people in their Easter outfits and the altar overflowing with Easter lilies? How many times did I sit up front and imagine that someday I would solemnly walk up that aisle to meet my beloved on the other end? By the time I had a beloved the church had been closed. By the time my daughter (do you like THOSE ceilings, Kara?) could have done the same thing this sanctuary had been turned into a book store and was a maze of bookshelves.
For so many years that beautiful lady was the happy center of my life. She was pot-luck suppers. She was cocoa after carol singing. She was New Year's Eve parties. She was where I met with my friends every Sunday evening for fellowship and fun. She was where I was given my first bible...King James version. She was breakfast after the Easter Sunrise Service. She reinforced everything my parents taught me about goodness and morals and kept me on the straight and narrow. She was warmth, strength, peace and belonging. She will always be beautiful to me.
A photo of a portion of the inside of our new sun-room in the early morning. We still have a looooong way to go. Right now there is a plastic film on the windows which I can't wait to peel off but we need to paint the windows first........all those muttons. What a job. I am really really eager to plop a table in front of those windows and enjoy a lovely, leisurely breakfast while smelling the morning smells and listening to the morning sounds and feeling the morning breeze.
Paul says it is such a great area for his power equipment that he just might turn it into a workshop. Not a chance. It's hard to believe that we started this little project with the intent of building a simple little screened-in porch. I'm so glad that we now will be able to use it all year long. Can't you just picture a Christmas tree in front of those windows???
Today was supposed to be one of those big "milestone" birthdays. Billy Clinton and George Dubyah each had theirs this summer. Milestone or not, it was really quite boring! After I opened a few very nice family gifts this morning I spent most of the rest of the day painting little itty bitty shingles for Paul to use as trim around our windows.......one itty bitty shingle after another after another after another.
We took a short break to run up to the Goshen Fairgrounds to check out the antique car show, strictly a guy thing. They also had an antique sale but it was mostly antique carburetors and radiators and Ford tail-lights and old spare body parts catalogs. Not exactly my kind of antique. I did have to stop and poke my head into an old mustang that was almost exactly like the one in which we brought our little Kara home from the hospital in 1972. 
Why oh why did we ever give, actually GIVE, that car away? Back then it was just an old car with a dented front fender, but now........... I wish it were sitting in my back yard.
Tonight Paul and I ate a little birthday dinner that I made of spaghetti, salad and corn on the cob. We took a walk after dinner. It is getting dark so much earlier now that it was almost dark by the time we got home. I don't like the season slipping away like that. We went out for an ice cream after that. I can almost hear the little plaques of cholesterol scampering to my veins and arteries tonight.
I had nice birthday calls from my children and some of my siblings. The lucky siblings who did call were privy to some breaking family news.
Thoughts on turning 6-0.............
1. B-O-R-I-N-G.
2. I'm only a day older than I was yesterday That's not too bad.
3. I have to think in terms of my "functional" age not my chronological age. Therefore, I haven't even reached 40 yet. That is about how old I feel. On the news last night I saw a 105 year old man who was still bowling and loving it all. I want to be just like that at 105.
4. In spite of feeling that my "functional" age is young, I am dreading the next time I am asked my age in the doctor's office. I never minded saying 50 something, but now I will probably clench my teeth and mutter the "60" under my breath.
5. I have always felt that the 50's was my best and favorite decade. I want to be able to say the same thing at the end of the 60's. I'm working on it. Starting now.
Today I did what I have been putting off doing for a month and what Kara just did the other day.......driver license renewal. They used to have a nice little bus that periodically parked itself in the parking lot of one of our shopping centers. There was never a wait and it was a quick drive from our house. In the interest of cutting costs the bus is only a happy memory. Now we have to make the longer drive to the Motor Vehicle Department which is only open one full day and two half days a week. That translates into lots of people and longer waits.
Nothing is done with common sense or organization in the Motor Vehicle Department world, so it took me a while to figure out what line I was supposed to line up in, and it wasn't what the sign said. Once I found the proper spot I stood there and people watched. I watched the puzzled looks on the faces of others as they entered and tried to figure out where they were supposed to go. After I had been in line for 15 minutes they called out a woman's name. She went up, grabbed her new license and flew by muttering, "Finally, after 3 hours". What? 3 hours? Uh Oh. Not a good sign.
I noticed two people standing in line carrying portable oxygen tanks. The gently pssssht of the tanks was rather soothing in that jangled motor vehicle world. I saw one young mentally challanged man who's back and forth rocking and vocalizations became more and more agitated as his wait dragged on. I felt his pain.
People talk lots while they are waiting and it is not hard to overhear these conversations. One cute little gray-haired lady with a cane and a considerable limp was turning in her license and exchanging it for a photo id card. She turned to the young lady next to her (who had just gotten her first license) smiled and said, "No more license for me". That must have been a very difficult step for her to take. I saw several of our former students from the Middle School all grown up and taking their driving test. I remember taking my own children up there for that rite of passage. That is fodder for a whole other blog. One of the young ladies, with a stud in her lip, was there with her mother, who had a stud hanging off her nose. The young girl was talking to the woman next to her about what it is like to live in Torrington. She said, "It is so boring in this place that if you don't smoke, drink or do drugs you have nothing to do." I think she needs to look just a little harder for something to do.
I don't know why it took that woman 3 hours to get her license but it only took me half an hour. The picture is frightful. I wish they would let us do it over and over until we get just the right angle. I have to live with this picture for the next 6 years. That means when I get my license renewed next I will be 66 years old. Yikes. And my little 3 year old grandson will be 9. And my daughter will be 40??????? Oh double yikes. Carpe Diem.
I took Damon to the airport this morning. And I missed him as soon as I hugged him goodbye. The car seemed so silent on the way home. Now that my children are all gone my car that was once home to talking, whining, crying, arguing, moody and laughing children is always silent, except for the sound of my "oldies" staion on the radio. But I never notice it's silence until "the children" go back home. When I came home from the airport my house and yard were quiet and unmoving. The sound of Damon and Paul talking and grunting and groaning while they installed the porch windows was replaced by the sound of a solitary bird. When I saw the clothesline I noticed that some socks and t-shirts that he had washed and forgotten to pack were slowing blowing in the breeze. When I walked in the house I paced back and forth, not knowing what to do with myself now that there wasn't anyone to cook for. I stripped his bed and remade the bed in preparation for our next visitor. Still unable to do any gardening I faced an afternoon of "what do I do now?". But hey, I can adapt! I grabbed a book, sat down on the sofa in front of the breezy window and read. I haven't done this in a loooooooong time. I really enjoyed it. I even fell asleep. I can recover from this "separation anxiety" pretty fast! Tonight I am reminded of something that Anna Quindlen wrote on being alone. What she says is so very true. "Alone" is not a bad thing at all. My father said once, "I have often been alone, but I am never lonely". There is a clear distinction between those two things and Anna Quindlen says it so well. So while I acutely miss my children each time they leave, I also relish being alone. I adjust to being alone very quickly.
Since Paul and I were "alone" tonight we took a ride to the Connecticut Lighting Center and picked out a ceiling fan/light for our new porch. Really nice one. Also a couple of outdoor lights. We stopped for something to eat at Applebee's on the way home. It was so difficult to find something on that menu that wasn't fat and cholesterol stacked. So much garbage and junk. No wonder the children in the United States look like they are ready to explode. Paul and I were commenting on the large number of people who were eating out tonight, a Wednesday night. When we were growing up eating out was something so special that it was reserved only for your birthday. It has been said that, because of this country's poor eating habits, this generation coming up is the first generation who's life span will be less than their parents. That is a sobering thought.
On a cheerier note! I just finished a really interesting book. Red House by Sarah Messer. If you like books about the history of houses and the people who lived in them than you will really like this book. It is a history of the oldest continuously lived in house in the United States and of the people who lived in that house. Some of the descriptions remind me of our old farmhouse. Great book.
We're tryng to make the most of the short time we have left before Damon goes. Last night we went for a nice evening walk after dinner. Father and son left me in the dust. My injured rib makes walking a little slower. The thing I find the MOST difficult is driving a car. Moving that automatic shift lever is so painful that I wince and suck in my breath just thinking of it. I would never have thought that such a simple thing would have bothered me. That and turning my head around to back up. I went out and did errands this morning but came home and had Paul do my last one. I wimped out.
Paul and Damon worked feverishly on the porch windows today. They want to get them done before Damon leaves. Mission accomplished. They have them all done. Only have the door left to do and they will do that tomorrow morning.
This evening, Damon's last night at home, we had Gail and Charlie and Seth over for dinner. Paul grilled the steaks for me since I'm moving a little slower than usual. Since we have banned anything that hints of cholesterol from our diets it's been a truly long time since I have had a good grilled steak. That has to be one of the best foods on this dear sweet earth. I savored every part of the steak eating experience tonight......the smell of it grilling, the look of it on my plate, the slowly cutting of it into bite size pieces, the aroma as I brought it up to my mouth, the flavor of it, the taste of wine after eating a bite of steak. It was SO good. A treat I won't have again for a long time. The meal was a joy. Good friends, food, conversation and Damon. There is nothing more we could want. An evening shared with some of my favorite people.
After our guests left Damon and Paul hit the sofa to watch the second Zorro movie. Damon did some multi-tasking with his extra appendage, his computer. He leaves tomorrow morning. I will miss having the little guy around.
It was a good day. Damon and I drove to Rhode Island to see Brett and Megan. Damon has never visited them in their new little home.
I always enjoy the ride over there. Driving through the eastern part of Connecticut is such a lovely treat. It is such a beautiful area with so many lovely old homes. They all look so peaceful with their big trees making cool shadows on the neatly trimmed lawns and colorful gardens. It's a part of Connecticut that most people know nothing about. Almost like going back in time. There are no large towns or cities, just little grange halls, tiny churches, antique shops, small libraries and little grocery stores. Every once in a while there is a Dunkin' Donuts just to remind you of what year you are in.
We had such a nice time with Brett and Megan. We saw a collection of new books they had, one of which made me laugh so hard I though I would have to put my injured rib in a cast. Brett showed us a new trick he taught Egon the Dog.......he tells him to "attack that post" and he does. He ferociously runs at it and bites and snap and growls and jumps. He is a very strange dog.
After another pretty late afternoon drive through eastern Connectituct we got back home about 6:30. Damon very domestically took his clothes off the line that he very domestically washed and hung out yesterday. What a good husband he will make for someone out there.
It was too late and I was too tired to cook so we ordered out pizza, watched a movie and fell asleep while watching it and now we are all going to bed. Damon must REALLY be tired because he never goes to bed in the same day that he wakes up! All that mountain climbing is catching up to him.
Damon landed safely on Connecticut's beautiful green ground at 6 this evening. He had an uneventful flight from Seattle. The security in Seattle caused such a back-up that he was afraid he would miss his plane but he made it through in time. He had one item that became a victim of the "no liquid, no gel" rule and is now lying in the bottom of a trash can in the Seattle airport. We had a nice steak and wine dinner when we got back from the airport and now Damon is ensconced on the sofa channel surfing. He has been so busy and working so hard that it is nice to see him relax. It is just plain nice to see him!
I went to the doctor today because I wanted some confirmation, for my own peace of mind, as to whether or not I had a broken rib. An x-ray confirmed my suspicions. One broken rib. There is really not much you can do for a broken rib. The doctor said it will get better in one month with rest and 4 weeks without! I need to avoid doing anything where I might re-injure it again, such as playing football. Sure. That also means I have to give up on my brush clearing project because, with my propensity towards doing anything klutzy these days, I could easily slip and fall and bang my rib on something else. Ouch. I wish he had said, "absolutely no laundry, cooking or housework". I could never be so lucky.
There he is........our little icing on the cake. Our third little Cortesi wonder celebrating his first birthday 25 years ago today. Behind him is all the paraphernalia that we had collected to keep that happy smile on his face. His baby swing, his play-pen, his infant seat, his walker. No matter where you plopped him, he was happy. That's just a typical third-child personality. "Just put me down anywhere guys and go about your business. I'll be happy just being me".
Third children are so flexible.......put them down for a nap, wake them up 20 minutes later to carpool to dance lessons, they fall asleep in their car seat, back home in 15 minutes, take them out of car seat, put them back in bed still asleep. Wake them up in an hour to return sister from dance lessons, they fall asleep in car seat. Back home in 15 minutes. Put them back in bed. They stay asleep for another hour with hooting and hollering and ballet practice and singing going on all around them and then they wake up with a smile ready to play.
Damon was a very very very very active little child but he was always happy and easy to take care of. Except in the grocery store, his one weakness. Selecting items (always junk) from the shelves and harassing me with a constant "Mommymommypleasepleaseplease canIhavethis canihavethis pleasepleaseplease youneverletmegetanything ohpleasepleaseplease" from the time we went in one automatic door until we exited out the other. How many different ways can you say no? I rarely gave in to him but he never seemed to get it. It was the same scenario every time we went shopping! But he was my precious little boy and I loved every inch of him. I still do.
He's kind and generous. He's fun. He's thoughtful. He's sincere. He's still active active active. He's coming for a visit tomorrow and it will be so good to see him. I might even let him go grocery shopping with me.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LITTLE GUY! Thanks for giving us 26 happy years.
In other unbirthday-related news.......we now have 5 out of 15 windows installed on our 4-season room. Paul is eagerly awaiting the birthday boy's arrival tomorrow so he can help him put in the first door and the rest of the windows. No rest for the traveler. Yesterday I added insult to injury to my already bruised and scratched and battered body. I have been slogging my way through my brush-clearing project. I have a banged up shin and knee and plenty of scratches from those evil rose bushes. Yesterday I was cutting a little sapling with my trimmers. It was pretty tough to get through it. I was using a larger tree as a lever and gave a good substantial push. I guess it was a little too substantial because it snapped right through that sapling so fast that I lost my balance and fell flat on this stump, hitting it square with the side of my chest and banging my other shin on a rock.
OOOOMMMPPPHHH. There is an outline of the stump imprinted on my chest wall. It makes me wince just to talk about it. I think the inevitable happened and I broke a rib or ribs. It's pretty painful even to breathe in and out. It probably didn't help the situation for me to continue with my brush clearing for another 2 hours. I should have quit right then. I've been moving a little more slowly today. There is really nothing you can do for broken ribs except take it easy and wait. It's making me really antsy not to be moving fast. Maybe someone is trying to tell this old gal that it's time to take a little break and RELAX!
We had a pleasant little rainstorm early this morning. By the time I awoke and got going the sun had come out and the day showed promise of being pretty decent. It turned muggier as the day went on. I spent most of the afternoon clearing weeds and brush on the banks of the stream bed. It has been a dumping ground over the years for brush, leaves and branches, clothes pins, ashes, rotten watermelon...anything I don't want and don't know what to do with... and is getting quite grown in. Since it is in full view of our new porch it needs some "organizing", which is one of my many projects for the summer. It is a dirty, hot job. Anything that is striped or moves makes me immediately think s_ _ _ e and this makes me sweat even more. I stepped on a rock in the stream bed and saw something slimy and wriggly quickly wriggle away in a hole between two rocks. It startled (and frightened) me so much that I jumped back, lost my balance on the rocks and fell and hit my shin. This "thing" moved so fast that I am thinking and hoping that maybe it was a salamander.......a big one.
After all that effort and perspiration I took a wonderfully cool swim. Now THAT is heaven. THAT is happiness. This is the only acceptable way to have my picture taken in a bathing suit.......with everything under water except my head.
When we came back from our walk tonight we saw three coyotes stalking something in the field. They always seem to come out after the field is hayed. They must be after the little field mice.
Congratulations to Damon for making it to the summit of Mt. Rainier. He said it was VERY HARD, but he did it. 11 out of the 14 made it all the way to the top. One succumbed to altitude sickness at 12,000 feet. How disappointing. Damon said the altitude didn't bother him very much. I am happy that he has safely returned to earth. I was checking the webcams of Mt. Rainier all day and looking for little specks climbing the glaciers. I also kept checking for rescue helicopters. As long as I didn't see any I figured he was not in trouble. He was going to post pictures on the website but didn't have the right cable with him. Tomorrow, I hope!
Our field today after it had been mowed, waiting for the baler. A bit of nostalgia, anyone?
Do these pictures bring back memories to anyone? Can't you just smell that hay? There are some things that you can never change and one of those is the smell of newly mown hay. And you can never erase the memories that tickle the farthest corners of your brain when the wind blows that scent of hay-seed your way.
I love to listen to the ka-chung ka-chung of the baler. How quickly it puts me back sitting on the front lawn of the old farm-house with Lauri watching the men load the hay on the truck. Today the men used the fancy machine that ejects the bales right into the hay truck, but back then they were loaded on the old truck by hand with proud precision, each man confidently stabbing the bales with the "captain hook" hay hook and lifting them easily over their shoulders and onto the truck. Lauri and I used to love to watch the muscle show. Do you remember how handsome we always thought Frank Howe was??
Perfect haying weather was always sunny, hot and dry. Back and forth they would go, from the fields to the barn, loading the hay on the conveyer that would take it up to the hayloft. It seems I remember one year Mr. Sanger cutting the tip of his finger off on that conveyer belt and he developed a huge blood clot on the end of his finger almost as big as his finger. I think he just kept on working.
At the end of the day I can remember the men unloading the last truckload. As they walked out of the barn they would smell of sweat, but it was a good sweat smell......if there can be such a thing. They were usually shirtless, tan, muscular and had hayseed, lots of it, glued to their bodies. They looked like walking haybales. Daddy always had beer for them when the work was done. Even today whenever I smell beer I wait for the hay smell that is supposed to go with it. The men would down one beer, happily, and then go home. And we kids would scurry out to the hayloft and begin erecting forts with the new bales. Forts with trap-doors and secret tunnels. We would begin drawing up plans for a "club", with all the rules and regulations that went with it.
There were so many farms back in those days that the farmers would often go from one farm to another to help with the haying. Paul tells me that he used to come to our house with his father to help out sometimes. I do not remember seeing him there at all. How strange. I wonder if we even looked at each other, just for a second. Looked at each other not realizing that someday we would be spending the rest of our lives together. I don't think I was much interested in him back then! Paul has spent so many hours on the hayfield that he has no desire to ever go back to those days. He is happy now just to watch from the yard and listen to the ka-chung ka-chung.
