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tude, there was only one hay crop per year, cut by horse-drawn mower, raked and lifted by hand, moved by wagon, and stored in a haystack with thatched roof.
We didn’t make square bales, and round bales hadn’t been invented. Sometimes we tied it in a sheaf.
The third field had the stable, pigsty, poultry house and fruit bushes. These were planted close together so as to choke out the weeds. There was also the cottage, the lawn and the flower garden.
The fourth field was plowed and harrowed by true horsepower. I learned how to steer the farm horse. Ginger, down the furrows, following behind those steaming flanks. I wasn’t very big, and so the single plowshare threw me around when it hit rough soil. I dropped a seed potato in the furrow every 12 inches. Now and again Ginger dropped in the fertilizer.
There were two cows, a small Angus called “Friday” (born on a Friday, of course), and a larger Hereford named “Lucky.” The two were milked by hand at 6:30 a.m. and 5 p.m., into a galvanized bucket held between the farmer’s knees.
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