Whan the sunne shinth make hay. Whiche is to say.
Take time whan time cometh, lest time steale away.
– Old English Proverb, 1546
It never gets old. We eagerly await late spring on the farm when the fields have grown tall and wild and it’s time to make the hay. Cut, fluff, cure. Fluff again if necessary, bale, stack and haul away. It’s always the same routine, and it’s always so much fun to watch. This year, Buster, who manages the fields, was especially excited about the quality of the grass, calling it a “really good yield,” which of course made Mike and me beam like proud parents.
