H is for HAYTIME

It was the most important part of the summer, rarely beginning before July but could last for the whole month and sometimes a bit longer, depending on the weather. We had four fields adjacent to each other, like four small rectangles joining together to form a larger one, but rarely were they all made into hay at the one time. The intermittent nature of the sun in our part of the northern hemisphere made sure of that.

Our haymaking equipment amounted to a 'finger bar' mowing machine that took its gearing from its wheels and not from the tractor power, a 'hay turner' that did likewise and a large metal rake from a similar era. The rake had been redundant for many years since bales had been invented and no longer was there a need for haystacks, so its resting place had been among the nettles and weeds alongside an old shed. In its senior years, eventually someone took pity on it and paid dad a few pounds to enable it to become part of their vintage collection. In fact all of the implements had a touch of the vintage about them, probably because their original function was to be pulled behind a slow moving horse, rather than a tractor. Each had large, metal wheels that made such a racket on the tarmac roads on the way to the field, but in their own way each did the job adequately for which they were intended. Also, again because they were originally horse drawn, each required that a worker sat on the machine and manage the 'controls'. Time soon caught up with the mower and while the 'turner' lasted for many years, more modern equipment eventually made its way into our fields, courtesy of neighbours. Still, dad had faith in only one machine - his trusty pitchfork and he was quite happy to 'turn' or 'shake' a whole field of hay for several hours by this method, ensuring that any stalks not exposed to the light, got their turn to sunbathe. He paid particular attention to the two or three rows close to the hedges which were often sheltered from the heat and took longer to 'win' and on occasions when bad weather was imminent, he would return to the field and, again with only his pitchfork, would put all the rows of hay into lumps or 'laps' as he called them, so ensuring some protection from the rain for his delicate crop. When the good weather returned, the process had to be reversed and no modern machine could have competed with the pitchfork for such a job. As a result he rarely made bad hay. However, as time went on, more modern machinery ensured a more thorough 'shaking' of the hay and eventually he succumbed to the realisation that what took him half a day to complete with the pitchfork, could be done in just a few minutes with the proper machine. Billy, our neighbour always baled the hay. He did everything at a hundred miles an hour and you knew when he was on his way because he always freewheeled the tractor and baler down the last hill towards the field, a dubious habit that he passed on to his son in later years. At some stage during the baling and stacking process, mum always arrived with tea and sandwiches and all tools were downed for fifteen or so minutes while appetites were sated. There was nothing like 'tea in the field', but when it was over there was work to be done. And dad never rested, even as the baler made its ever decreasing circles in the field, often following it with a wooden hand rake and rescuing any stalks that had been left behind. Even so, there were always a few that didn't make it and very often the outermost row never changed enough into hay to allow the baler to eat it, in which case it became covering for the stacks of bales in the field and later was gathered and removed to prevent the field being untidy but rarely used for any purpose.

It was a major job to make the four fields, especially with limited equipment but the help of good neighbours was always at hand. Indeed there was something exciting about being in the hay field late in the evening and stacking the last of the bales as the sun crept behind the horizon. And when it was all finished, his trusty Ferguson and wooden trailer made the same monotonous journey to and from the field with about thirty five bales each time and we built them in the hay shed at home.

Our relationship with Jesus bears a striking parallel to the hay maker. God is personally interested in every single human being, giving each of us the chance to feel the power of His Son in our lives and even when we seem disinterested, by His grace He doesn't forsake us and gathers us to himself even in the late stages of our lives, when we realise that He's still there.But you can be in the field, see the effect the Son has on others, know what He can do, even sing the right songs and say the right words and still not be won. That's because you need His personal touch in your life. John tells us 'Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, but whoever rejects the Son will not see life, for God's wrath remains on him.' If that doesn't shake you into action, nothing will!