The summer afternoon was hot, so I sought out the cool shade under a row of mountain ash trees between our farmhouse and the driveway. After sitting down on the grass, I discovered a small cool breeze liked it under the trees as well.
Across the driveway, between the barn and a row of maple trees bordering the road, was a garden-sized field of timothy hay. Shortly after I sat down on the grass, Daddy walked across the yard with a scythe in his hands. Starting at the edge of the patch, he began to rhythmically swing the blade back and forth. As the tall grass fell, Daddy stepped forward to cut the next swath.
A car pulled into the driveway before he had a chance to cut the entire patch. The neighbor needed something we had in the machine shed. Leaning his scythe against the barn, Daddy followed him to the shed.
Eyeing the old-fashioned grass cutting tool leaning against the barn wall, I thought, “I wonder if I can make the scythe cut hay like Daddy?” Jumping to my feet, I ran across the driveway. The scythe was fairly heavy, but from watching Daddy, I knew how to hold it. Stepping up to the grass, I held the blade low and using my whole body, made it swing smoothly in an arc. Continue reading