Hay hay!

It is late afternoon and the shadows are drawing long and hard across the paddocks. We are anticipating the first biting frost tonight. Already, the sky has that glass-like, cold look. Roger has gone to feed the cows with sweet hay.

The old cat will slink out the front door later, cat swearing under its breath, making its way to the barn. Then Monty will haul himself up on the tractor wheel before burrowing into the hay bales and dream mousy dreams until morning.

The hay barn is a repository of junk and treasure -‘man treasure’. Roger has been ferreting about, looking for extra dog bedding and came across parts of my father’s World War 2 kit. I am not that sentimental to want to pass canvas bags, down the line to future generations, so I will put them up on Trade Me. Incredibly, his sock mending kit complete with ‘number 19 standard issue thread’, is in mint condition.

Hay, that’s an interesting afternoon’s find!