Hay Snobs

I mentioned in the last post that we were going to make a hay run. Let me tell you a bit about it. Paula, Jenni, and I met Dustin in Westmoreland. Dustin has one of those ginormous trucks that can pull a trailer from a hitch inside the bed. From there, we made it to the feed mill and met Billy-with-a-Y. (As opposed to Billie-with-an-IE-like-me). We looked at the hay and not knowing anything about hay, I trusted the word of my girl friends that this was good stuff. I'm sure it really is, but wait.

So Dustin gets this monster trailer loaded with 120 bails of hay up my driveway. If you've seen my driveway, you should be impressed. I am! She throws 60 bails off the top and David & I haul them in the barn and up into the hay loft. I know any of you real farmers think that's nothin', but to me, it was hard work! I was pleased to discover that our hay loft can easily hold another 16 bails, and if we didn't stair-step the hay into the loft, we could probably fit another 6 in the hay room quite easily. Anyhow...

So after all this work I take a good look at the hay and discover the differences between first and second cutting alfalfa. First cutting is fine stemmed, and very leafy. I bought a couple bails of this to start off with. Second cutting in comparison, looks like straw! Now, I hear that it's great hay--particularly in comparison to grass hay--but I'm afraid my girls turn their noses up at it. They may go through a bit of an anorexic period before they take to it. Such hay snobs!

So for years, I've heard my mom tell me that the only time she ever cared for a beer was after she and her sisters spent a day working in the hay. Throwing it into Grandpa's loft was hard work. (Hmmm... underage drinking?!) I decided to give it a try. We still have some Heineken from David's beer run for Jack. I discovered that no matter when I drink it, beer is still gross. I could handle a tiny bit in a glass with lots of cranberry juice... A couple weekends ago, I tried some beer that I actually liked. I can't remember what it was--some type of Samuel Adams. Maybe that makes me a beer snob? I suppose I can't fault my girls for being hay snobs. Next year, I'll have to be more on the ball and get first cutting alfalfa for them.