Easy Like Sunday Morning . . . at Blackrock

Which is to say, not easy at all. Because at Blackrock, Sunday is FAR from being a day of rest. Pretty much the opposite, in fact. Like yesterday, for example.

If I were to tell you that we were going to spread hay on an acre of land by hand, you'd probably be all, "Quit with that crazy talk! No one would do that!"

And you'd be right. No one but A., that is.

See, where the sheep had been given hay bales this winter in the paddock had become a packed layer of wasted hay mixed with sheep shit and urine (yes, sheep soil right where they're eating---one of the many unattractive things about them). It was suffocating the grass underneath and needed to be moved. Also, that paddock has taken some abuse from the sheep over the past few years and the grass was getting pretty poor. We have limited grazing for the sheep; we need all the grass we can get.

So A. decided the best option would be to move the hay from its current packed-down location and spread it all over the paddock, thereby fertilizing the whole field AND (we hope) re-seeding the grass from the seeds left in the hay.

Good plan theoretically. The execution of this plan, however? Brutal.

As A. mentioned, this is the sort of job for which the manure spreader was invented. And a tractor, I added. We, of course, have neither of these two handy machines. What we have? A pitchfork, a rake, and a wheelbarrow.

That's right. We spread a ton of hay (possibly literally--there was a LOT of hay) on an acre of land with a pitchfork. It was pure craziness.

That tiny speck down there is A. That whole field got covered with hay. You see the craziness.

A. did most of it. My contribution was raking out the big clumps he dumped off the wheelbarrow. When I wasn't Cubby-wrangling. Actually, also sometimes while I was Cubby-wrangling.

Mia took a couple of wrangling shifts, as you can see.

Plus, it turns out that (CLEAN, thankyouverymuch) hay is pretty fun. Fun if you're not spreading it over an acre of grass, that is.

After the paddock was all covered and the hay was all spread out somewhat, A. ran over it all with the riding mower, thereby chopping it up so the grass won't be buried underneath it.

Now we just keep the sheep out of there and cross our fingers that the grass grows. And take some ibuprofen, because OW.