Shari’s Gone Country

Guess Bev and Cindy thought I either felt left out, or looked out of place, as I was the only one of us NOT to own a set of Dickie Bibs.

Now, you gotta know that around here, unless you’re wearing either jeans or bibs, you’re probably going to church or a funeral (generally at church). Well, I’ve got the jeans… and the boots, too. But, I didn’t have a set of bibs for that really serious farm work.

Finding bibs for me wasn’t exactly easy. You see, I’m portend (that’s fat)… and my waist is way bigger than my inseam, unlike most of the farmers around here. When it was all said and done, I ended up with bibs that were 4″ too long. Oh, Mommmm!

Well, just in time Mom got my new bibs hemmed up. Just in time, I say as we had ordered a stack of hay from one of the local farmers. So, on New Year’s Eve morning, the three of us donned our bibs so we’d at least look like we were farmers.

Now, last year, I learned all about this hay business. About two weeks after I got here, we had to go get hay. That was a 30 minute trip to Enterprise, back up to a barn, and wrestle, carry, turn, and otherwise cuss 12 bales up, and onto the Avalanche. At 120# a piece, these weren’t the bales I remembered as a kid.

Cindy would climb up on the stack, and kick the bales off so Bev and I could wrestle them to the back of the truck. Generally, we would stage the bales and wait for Cindy to get done knocking all twelve off the stack. She’s the only one among us that is the least bit comfortable climbing hay stacks.

Well, we’d cuss a lot, and somehow wrestle these bales to the back of the Avalanche and then have the usual argument about how to stack them. I’ve got no idea why we never took notes about how best to stack them. Within an hour, we’d have all 12 bales wrestled, stacked, and tied only to make the trip back to the farm, where we had to unload the hay.

With sheep here and horses there, we would somewhat divide the stack. We have a little utility trailer that provides hay storage, so we’d put four or five bales there, and then go to the little stable with the rest… knocking them off the truck, wrestling them through the door and finally into their final resting place.

Well, we’ve grown up a lot… Now, our hay gets delivered to us, 80 bales at a time. Our neighbor, Clyde has hooked us up with a couple of the local farmers who are happy to deliver as long as we’re willing to pay… You betcha!

So, here we are in our bibs (it’s cold outside) when Clyde and Steve arrive with the hay picker. We’ve already wrestled the remaining bales from our first stack out of the way. We’ve got about 12 bales left for the horses and 10 or so for the sheep (most already moved up to them).

Our job is now to stay out of the way… that’s it. We just stand and watch as they back the picker down the area between the corral and the round pen, and then stop and tip the stack carefully, back a little more and finally set the stack down. No muss, no fuss, no wrestling… just write the check!

Being women, we just felt that it wasn’t enough to pay for the hay… these guys had gone out of their way to help us… so, we got Mom to agree… Clyde, here’s some eggs for you. Steve, here’s some eggs for you. And, John, here’s some eggs for you. After all, our girls will give us more tomorrow.

Thursday, with the big storm coming in, Cindy and I hustled out to put the tarp over the top. Good thing she’s a “monkey” as she had to climb up on the roof (the back fence was in the right place). We tied baling twine to each grommet and then used all the possible leverage. Thankfully there was no wind, and the temps were slightly above freezing. It took us about 30 minutes, but we were in no hurry. Better to get it done right.

The stack isn’t as straight as we’d like and the tarp is a little crooked, but in a couple weeks, we’ll be ready to divide the stack… moving the top half to the empty space behind the new stack, so we can more easily feed the horses.

That day, I’ll be in my bibs again, as we’ll take the entire bottom layer, wrestle it onto the Avalanche (or maybe our “new” farm truck) and move it to the sheep. They don’t mind a bit of mud and mold. Then Cindy will go up the stack, and start rolling the bales off for Bev and me to put into position.

Semper Fi!

Yes, I served in the USMC. Spent three years on active duty during the Vietnam Conflict.

I must say, joining the Marine Corps was the best thing I’ve ever done. Going through Officer Candidate School (for college students) in preparation for accepting my commission taught me much about life, and persistence.

As an Officer I learned critical thinking in ways I could never have learned them as an employee, or even as a manager.

Yes, 232 years later, we’re still “The Proud, The Few, The Marines”.

While on active duty as a USMC Officer (Woman Marine) I was one of 212 women wearing that uniform… pretty special company. It’s an experience I’ll cherish forever.

Thank you… and Happy Birthday… USMC!

Over the weekend, Small Town Living, an online magazine dedicated to promoting a simpler life and small town America released their latest issue.

“Oh give me a home…” can be found on page 21 of this fantastic bi-monthly magazine.

Just so you know I’m not the only one published… you can learn how to grow winter squash… with enough to share with your neighbors. There’s also some awesome recipes for Acorn Squash.

Got bats in your belfry? You don’t? Maybe you should. There’s a whole article on the value of having some “local bats”.

If you’ve got the hankering to carve pumpkins, you’ll find tips and ideas for creating that special face as well as ways to stay safe.

Oh, and if you love the Appalachian Trail… then you really want to grab this issue.

So, what is “Oh give me a home…” all about? I’d tell ya… but then you might get lazy and not click on the link to Small Town Living.