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"It's almost time for second-cut hay already." Mr. Browley stated at supper that evening. "I cannot believe how quickly this year has gone by."
"Maybe it's the extra pair of hands you've had the last several months." Mrs. Browley stated with a wink to Chris.
He barely acknowledged her comment as he remembered the first-cut hay. Seeing bales in the fields outside of the city before, he'd never given any thought of how much work it took to get those bales. Of course, in his time, they had machinery to do most of the work.
Back in mid June, however, he broke his back, threw out his shoulders and strung out his knees for almost a week just cutting the hay down with what Mr. Browley called a scythe. Chris had seen a tool similar to this scythe but only on horror movies and it wasn't used to cut long grass.
"Cutting hay is going to be a double lesson for you, Chris." Mr. Browley said as he handed the long handled, curved blade contraption to Chris. "This cut is slightly easier since we just hack in down, let it dry and place them in the isles between the wheat, that helps smother and control the weeds. Saves a lot of work later. Next cut, we'll have to haul it to the loft of the barn, but that'll come later."
After a brief demonstration from Mr. Browley on how to scythe the hay, he handed the task over to Chris. The early summer sun beat down on his head and, for the first time, he had been grateful for the brimmed hat that had been given to him. Even though his head was steaming and suffocating inside the hat, it kept the scorching sun off of his face and neck which now dripped profusely with sweat.
He tried not to look up, only concentrating on the area he was working on. Looking up and around the field reminded him that he was not even close to finishing. The field even sometimes appeared to grow larger the longer he worked. Mason worked diligently on the opposite side of the field with the second scythe and progressed much quicker than Chris.
After four consecutive days of scything the grass, they finally met in the middle of the field. That’s when Chris allowed himself to look around to see all of the hay laying flat on the ground.
“Whew!” Chris stated to Mason. “So we’re done, right?”
Mason wrinkled his eyebrows to Chris but had a glint of teasing in his smirk. “No, now we go back to what we cut the first day and load it into the wagon to take over to the wheat fields.”
Chris could feel the air escaping his lungs. He just wanted to go back to his sod house and sleep for a week. His hair was saturated in grease, his clothes were constantly sopped in his sweat and were in an unknown stage of stench. Laundry day was only once a week and Chris had two more days to put on these garments that could easily run off on their own.
Mr. Browley brought the two Sam’s lugging the wagon around the back of the barn and out to the edge of the hayfield. In the wagon were three pitchforks.
It took them two and a half days to fork up the hay it took him and Mason almost four days to cut down. Mason stood on top of the wagon situating the hay that Chris and Mr. Browley tossed up from the field. When the wagon was full, they drove it over to the wheat fields, took the largest fork full possible and walked up and down the isles, sprinkling it in between the small stalks of wheat. Over and over they did that until Saturday afternoon. The hay field was bare and the wheat field lay protected from the weeds.
“I’ve got a bath waiting for you in the shed.” Mrs. Browley stated to Chris as he sat on the back porch trying to catch his breath. “You’ll have to wear your Sunday clothes so I can get these washed up for you. It should be alright since the only thing Mr. Browley has for you to do after supper is feeding the livestock and milking, of course.”
‘A bath in the shed?’ Chris thought. Nervously, he made his way down and opened the door. Inside, on the far back wall, past the horror movie looking tools was a small tub, only large enough to sit Indian style in. As long as the water was hot and soapy, Chris didn’t care. He just wanted some of this grime off of him. He never would have guessed how happy he’d be to sit in a small tub inside of a shed but when he emerged, he felt like a new man.
He had gotten through his first harvest. ‘Only two more to go’ Chris thought, snapping back to hear Mr. Browley, once again, talk about the second-cut for the hay.
“Before we can even think about that, we’ll be concentrating on getting that wheat harvested and to Shorlin. I expect you’ll be joining me on that trip, son.”
Chris looked at Mason waiting for him to react to his father speaking to him but everyone seemed to be looking at Chris. Was Mr. Browley talking to him? He called him ‘son’. Normally that would have set Chris off on a tangent but he couldn’t fight the feeling of warmth and acceptance from Mr. Browley. Did he really consider him a son?
“Yes, sir.” Chris replied in a surprising tone of joy.
The Earth under Chris's feet crunched as he made his way down the dusty road. He had taken this short trip from the sod house to the Browley's so many times, he could now do it in his sleep - and many times, he had. His mind jumbled with the thoughts and the feelings he'd been experiencing. None could be explained as a moment or a fluke since they seem to overwhelm him daily. The feelings of love, acceptance and being a part of a family. The only thing that he truly wanted and needed his entire life.
He was beginning to calm down, put his rebellion on the shelf and listen to what God was telling him. He suddenly saw His plan for him.
"This is why you sent me here." He whispered. "Not to punish me but to give me what I have always longed for." Chris choked on his tears. "Thank you, Lord!"
With the house in view, Chris wiped his face and took a few deep breaths before continuing. He didn't want anyone to know he was crying or ask why his eyes were red and puffy.
With his guard down, he seemed to notice more about the morning than he ever had before. The sun crested the horizon waiting to warm, dry and wake the trees and plants, the birds chirped and twittered, bunnies and squirrels ran about. The world was waking in glorious splendor. Such a shame Chris had never noticed the beauty of nature before, living in the city. He never woke to birds and chipmunks, he woke to smog and traffic noise. It was always something he’d grown accustom to and never questioned it. He was unsure if he ever wanted to leave here.
“What am I saying?” Chris said out loud hoping nobody heard him. Did he really prefer to stay in the 1800’s? These feelings and thoughts were too overwhelming for Chris to deal with at that moment as he ascended the stairs of the front porch. “I just need to shut off my brain, get some coffee and go break my back today harvesting that wheat.” He said under his breath. He clenched his eyes shut, took a deep breath and opened the door.
Chris entered the kitchen to see everyone sitting around the table. “Am I late?” he wondered, looking around for a clock that he knew wasn’t there.
“Today’s the first day of school. Remember? I told you last week.” Priscilla piped up, way too energetic for the early morning. “We get up earlier on school days so we can help ma and pa and gather the eggs before our walk to school.”
“Normally Mason takes the first couple of weeks off to help me with the harvest but I think you and I can manage well without him so he doesn’t miss school.” Mr. Browley stated.
“Sure.” Chris smiled at Mason who had a disappointed look on his face. He didn’t love to harvest but he’d rather be outside working than cooped up in a stuffy school room.
“I’d rather stay here.” Mason grumbled. “Hanna’s so lucky, this is her last year.”
“She’s also been in school a lot longer than you.” Mrs. Browley stated. “This is good for you, Mason, now you won’t miss any work and you’ll be on track with the others in class.”
“I’d do anything to be back in school.” Chris said to Mason. “You may not like it now but someday, you’ll wish you could be back, a carefree child with no worries. I just can’t believe you’d rather scythe a
field than sit most of the day.” Chris finished with a wink.
He looked around to see everyone staring at him with wonder in their eyes. “That’s very true, Chris. I’m not sure if I’d want to go through my growing years all over again, but to be a careless child romping through the fields and going to school again would be heavenly to me.” Mrs. Browley gazed out the window to the flowing wheat field in a daydream.
“Alright.” Mason stated, breaking the silence. “I’ll go to school.”
Mr. Browley gave a quick nod and Mrs. Browley gave a warm smile to Mason, then Chris.
“You all finish up and we can officially begin this day.” Mr. Browley announced with a stretch and a grunt as he rose from his chair.