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  • Good Old Days Magazine

    Up the Hay-Loader

    Feb 01, 2022 4 minutes
    By D.E. Brigham

    It is a hot day in July 1954 on our dairy farm in central New York state. I am 6 years old. My father and I stand with our hands on our hips, surveying eight windrows circling the uncut center of the hayfield.

    Dad thrusts his hand inside a windrow and pulls out a handful of hay. He lifts it to his nose and hands it to me.

    “What do you think, Dave?”

    I inhale. The grassy smell of new-mown hay is gone. It feels dry yet soft. We have to be careful. Our neighbor’s barn caught fire

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