2 It Happened in Iona

About the only maintenance on our Frost and Wood mower was the occasional sharpening of the knife. This chore was always done back in the yard on a grindstone with a dish of water to keep the stone moist. While any kid could turn the stone by its inviting handle, it was usually only Dad or Jimmy who dared to hold the knife and deftly move it from tooth to tooth until all was shiny and sharp once more.

After the newly-cut hay lay on the swath for a day or so, it was dragged into windrows by a nine-foot rake pulled by one horse. Once again, pride of work would suggest the making of long, straight windrows, the hay being easily dumped either by a sturdy hand lever or a quick-action foot pedal. From the windrow the hay was forked into coils to season for another few days. A field of neatly coiled hay was a pretty sight and indicated the last step before removing the hay from the field. If heavy rain intervened, the coils would have to be tossed out at least half way down to allow sun and wind to dry them again.

Taking in the hay was a bit of a victory for it meant clearing off the field at last. A team of horses in truck wagon with a crew of three men was the normal routine for this on the O’Shea farm. Maybe it was due to my light weight and skinny appearance, but for years I fell into the job of building the loads. Lest the builder should fall off, the men on the ground were good at reminding me when the horses were to be moved from coil to coil. Load building was generally a piece of cake. Hay forked up from the coils by two men was easy‘ to handle and flattened nicely with just a slight tramping needed to secure it. Yet there were times when I was gently reminded that the load was getting a bit heavy on one side.

The load completed, the man up top had the privilege (or peril) of driving the team to the barn. Along the way, from most of our fields, one had to encounter the railroad crossing which without due caution could severely shake the wagon and its contents. More than one load indeed met its waterloo at that location. This rough crossing was followed by a rather steep decline heading into the yard proper and then a gentler slope leading all the way to the barn. To avoid a capsize all along here, horses had to be reined in with care. Once at the barn, all came to a halt and the noisy world was temporarily hushed. The driver dismounted and passed to more experienced hands the solemn entry through the gaping double doors. Usually Dad presided over this final lap of the journey. Grabbing the bridle of one horse, he coaxed the team onward and up the grade, across a