The Hay

The Hay.

The Hay is ready.

It is out in the field in Longbranch and the farmer is going to get it. The Hay is on a heartbreaking hillside overlooking Carr Inlet near Driftwood Point, where it has been enjoying the sunshine and the delicious breezes off the Sound.

The Hay is beautiful this year. But then, I think The Hay is beautiful every year. I love The Hay.

The farmer loves The Hay too, but also hates it. The Hay smells good and makes all the animals happy, but you have to pay for it, either through the nose or through the muscles, and you have to worry about it.

Is The Hay too dry? Is The Hay too wet? Was The Hay cut too soon? Was it cut too late? Is there enough of it? Is there too much of it? Would the Skokomish Valley hay have been better? Will there be enough room for the alfalfa when it comes?

This year The Farmer is paying for The Hay through the muscles, by going out into the field to pick it up, and load it on the trailer, and drive it back to the farm, and unload it from the trailer, and stack it in the barn.

This will be much cheaper than having The Hay delivered.

But it is very exhausting, so the farmer is very grumpy, and Lori is even grumpier, because Lori doesn't love-hate The Hay like the farmer, she just hates it.

As for me, maybe I mentioned it, I love The Hay.

The Hay is beautiful, and sweet. And The Hay smells like Forever. If anyone ever asks you what Forever is like, just tell them Forever is like The Hay.

They will either know what you mean, or they won't, but in any case, The Hay will be here long after they are gone, so it doesn't really matter.

To The Hay: I love you.

The Hay.