SUMMER

Summer was surely here when we could roll up our sleeves, put on our straw hats, and exclaim "My land, ain't it hot today!"

Summer also meant school vacation time, with two or more months of footloose freedom from school. It meant freedom to play, when Ma and Pa allowed us to play, and freedom to help with the farm chores when Pa and Ma thought we should.

Summer was when we delighted to run free in loose-fitting overalls and jersey top. Summer was when the swimming-hole beckoned us for a splash and a chance to at least "dog paddle" as we called it. (None of us ever did learn to swim as did the other neighbour kids.)

Summer was the time when we hated to get dressed in our Sunday best and go to Meeting, there to sit quietly on hard, grey benches. The monotony was sometimes broken by the swish, swish of a palm-leaf fan as Ma tried to keep us cool. The lure of the out-of-doors beckoned when the Meetinghouse doors would be left open to let some stray breeze drift in.

Spring rains and warm sun have produced an abundance of grass which is now ready for cutting. We call this "Haying". Pa has readied the mower, oiled all the bearings and moving joints and sharpened the cutting bar. Brother Earl has harnessed the work team Maude and Nancy, hitched them to the mowing machine, and is away to the hay-field in the "Back Forty". Haying is about to begin.

Hay in the "Back Forty" consists of a mixture of alfalfa and timothy plus an assortment of weeds, including the Canada thistle. In due time, that is following a day or two drying in the sun, comes the raking. Hay-raking is a job for old Duke hitched to the dump-rake, with myself as driver. We gather the hay into "windrows", Then with a pitch-fork it is made into piles we call "coils" or "haycocks", to make it easier to load onto the wagon.

After several hot days, the hay should be ready to be brought to the barn for storage. The day looked warm and bright, so, with Maud and Nancy hitched to the wagon with hay rack and slings in place, we were ready for a day of hauling in. Pa, Ma, Earl and myself were to do the job. Pa, Ma and Earl each had pitch-forks. We each wore straw hats for protection from the hot sun. Pa and Ma would work on the ground, pitching the hay onto the wagon, where Earl would spread it to make a balanced load. I was allowed to drive, so I would perch on the front ladder of the rack and with the reins held tightly in both hands guide the horse-drawn wagon around the field, from coil to coil. I had learned my Gees and Haws almost as well as the horses had. With a tug here on the reins, or a slap here and there, it was quite enjoyable being the driver of a wagon load of hay.

We guessed that another three or four loads would clear the field. We need to get an early start after dinner. Already, the weather was changing. Those scudding clouds had scudded together and it began to look a lot like rain, maybe a thunderstorm. Now, more speed was necessary as we anxiously watched the gathering storm. This was the last load and one or two more coils to load on. The sky darkened and a breeze sprang up with a feel of rain in the air. We trotted the horses with this precious load of hay into the barn. Just as we reached the doors, it began to sprinkle. In a short time, the team was put away and we all made a dash for the house.

A welcome supper awaited us and we gave thanks that we were able to get this last load in the barn ahead of the rain.

With the haying successfully finished, we would now have to turn our attention to many other things.

On our farm there were always fences to be repaired. Some of our fences were rail fences, and they did require constant attention. Then there were always buildings to be fixed here and there, never an idle moment.

Summer was when we would look forward to a visit from Ma's folks away down in Pennsylvania. It might be either Uncle Jess and his family of four boys, or Uncle Sam and Aunt Jessie and their two boys. These occasions were times to remember. Ma was very fond of her own family from down Home.

Summer invokes memories of garden hoes; of filing the edge sharp to make hoeing easier. There were always endless rows of corn, potatoes and beans to be hoed, often in the heat of the day. Summer labour always meant consuming gallons of lemonade or iced tea, even just plain water, to quench the thirst of sweaty throats.

Summer recalls the memories of pulling that wild, yellow mustard and the equally noxious Russian sow thistle in the fields of wheat or oats. This was the environmental way of weed eradication. Then there was the tedious job of potato debugging, with pail and paddle, row after row, knocking these injurious insects into this pail awaiting execution. This, too, was the environmentally friendly way.

I see Ma working in her garden, in the cool of the evening, hoeing and then stooping to carefully pull every weed from her beautiful garden.

Before my time, the hand reaper had given way to the more sophisticated machine we called the "Binder". This was an ingenious machine requiring a four-horse team to pull. From this invention, later developed the "Combine" in its several forms. A series of rotating slats, called a "reel" forced the standing stalks of grain against the cutting bar. These were then carried on a series of canvas belts or aprons, to a binding device that bound into a neat bundle using Binder Twine. These bundles were discharged to the ground where they would later be manually picked up and made into "shocks" or "stooks".

After several days of drying in the sun -- hoping for dry weather in the meantime -- these sheaves would be hauled by wagon to the barn, where they would wait the time of "threshing".