The local farmer has started haying. His hay wagon goes by the house full to the top. I love to watch the process. After cutting and when it's dry, he uses a tedder to put the hay into rows. Then, in one operation, the tractor passes over the rows with a baler and it all goes into the wagon, ready for sale. I used to watch my grandfather haying when I was a kid. He had his team of horses that he used to cut, rake, and pile it into rows. They had tractors, but he did his share of the work with his horses. I remember their names "Maggie" and "Nellie". The hay was picked up by men throwing forkfuls up onto the wagon, drawn by a tractor. After that, it had to be put into the hay mow, again by the forkful. It was hot, sweaty, dirty work.
I walked by the back lot on Sunday. There was a pretty good breeze. Looking down on the yet to be cut field, the wind blowing waves over the hay, you could imagine that you were looking at a green beach with the tide coming in.