|

22 July ~ 2007

On Saturday at horse rescue one of the jobs on the board was to cover and tie down the new hay stack with a tarp. Noone else was around except the ladies feeding the horses in the evening, so I tried to tackle it alone.

I put a ladder on the shady, east side, and took the tarp up the 25 foot high stack and got it spread out and thrown over the sides. I then went down and leaned metal gates all around the edges of the stack and tied the tarp ends to them. I stood back and looked at my work, plenty proud that I managed it by myself.

Then I looked at the older stack next to it, and looked at mine. That stack had two bales of hay up on top, to hold the tarp down. Mine didnt.

I may be 55, but I am not ready to give up much on the excuse of my age, and my exwife will tell you I can be stubborn. (and probably a lot more but this is my story not hers).

I grabbed a a bale of hay, and held it by the string in my right hand, up near the edge so it would hang down and away from the ladder. I climbed slowly and carefully, rung after rung. I got to the top, but didn't seem to have the arm strength to swing it up over the edge. So I climbed higher - until I was on the ladder above the haystack, and was able to just swing the bale over and on to the top.

I then went down and grabbed the other one, and got it up the same way.

I climbed back down and went out to see how it all looked. It was right. My hay stack had two bales of hay on top also.

I was tired, but since it was Saturday night, went home and straight away showered and changed into my pressed Wranglers and put on my good straw hat, and went out dancing till midnight.

It will take a lot more years before tired makes me give up the chance of squeezing those tight-muscled and sweet smelling ladies on a Saturday night.