Can you imagine that terrible feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you discover you are lost somewhere and don't know your way back home? This "charge of fear" comes from somewhere deep inside you and shoots all the way through your being.
Well that was the feeling I got in my stomach when Mark announced at the breakfast table one morning in late August. "Well today, Grandpa and I will be setting up the silage blower and pipe so hopefully we can start cutting silage tomorrow. We don't have much, but we have to scrounge up something to feed the calves we bought and grandpa C's cows."
I literally dropped my spoon, my stomach turned sour, and I couldn't eat another bite if my life depended on it!
I was sure that I would love every part of "silo filling," every part except setting up the blower and pipes! That part just absolutely turned my stomach and made my toes curl! I mean, those silo's are 50 feet in the air! It would be straight down 50 foot with nothing to stop you on both the outside and the inside! That little ledge, way up there, that you have to walk around, is very narrow! I bet Mark's feet wouldn't even fit on it. I just know his heel would have to hang over the edge! Of course I didn't climb up there to see or anything like that.
My grandpa lived for these "silo filling" days. He loved every minute of it! Well good! He could help Mark so I can disappear out of sight. If I saw my husband up there, holding onto that wobbly rail with one hand while reaching for something with the other, my heart would actually give one final beat and stop! No way...I will just get in the car and go to town! That's exactly what I'll do...go to town for the morning and literally "pass out" if I hear any kind of sirens!
Meanwhile at home, Grandpa was having the time of his life! He had filled silo's all his life and was 100 percent sure that was the only way to store food for the winter. Now Mark on the other hand, was in "training" Are men ever scared? No...excited maybe but never scared!
We were so very fortunate to have such good neighbors! They all were good, genuine, friendly folks and they would do anything for you.
Silage time was when they really came forward! We were just new to this area of course and couldn't afford to have all the equipment necessary, so we would "borrow" from them. The 50 feet of blower pipe we borrowed from the Hammonds down the road, laid in a pile not far from the silo. Mark would have to drive the tractor over to Roy's later in the afternoon for the two silage wagons he said we could borrow. Mark would drive his tractor over and bring one home, but I'll bet Roy would hook on to the other wagon and bring it over himself. That is just the kind of person he was, always helping others!
So on that sunny morning in August, Mark hooked his old W9 tractor to the silage blower and pulled it as close to the silo as he could get it."That's good right there." Grandpa hollered waving his hands in the air. Getting off the tractor Mark picked up the pulley laying next to Grandpa's feet and headed over to those steps going to the top. The steps were like a ladder there flat against the side. Up he'd go, one step at a time until he was 50 foot above the ground. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped out on that narrow ledge, and one slow step at a time he made his way around the top holding on to that wobbly rail with one hand and carrying that pulley in the other.
"Okay, put it right there" Grandpa hollers up from the ground.
Slowly Mark bent down and hooked the pulley over the side. He untied a small long rope from around his waist and threw one end down to Grandpa while holding onto the other. Grandpa tied a larger rope to it and slowly Mark started to pull it up as he bent over the railing for support. Once it's up to the top he untied it and puts the larger rope through the pulley and fed it back down to the ground. He droped the small rope over the side and it fell to the ground. Slowly he made his way back to the ladder.
Back down on the ground grandpa is starting to line that 50 foot pipe up on the ground. Mark starts dragging another piece until they have all 50 foot of it laying in a row. Then they take clamps and clamp each piece to each other until they have it laying all across the driveway. They hook one end of that big "pulley rope" to the pipe and the other end to Grandpa's little Ford tractor.
Mark slowly drives the tractor forward as the pipe inches its way up into the air. Grandpa stands over by the blower in his bib overalls and old straw hat, his legs apart and bent at the knees, as he strains to control the bottom of the pipe. He tries to hold it over the blower hole.
"That's good" he hollers "Go up and secure it while I hold this."
So once again Mark heads up the ladder. This time he has a chain in one hand. He makes his way over to the pulley where the 50 foot pipe is hanging there loose at the side of the silo. Grandpa is huffing and puffing down below trying to keep it close to the blower. Mark reaches out and pulls the pipe close to him and secures it with the chain. Then he twists the goose neck around so it is inside the silo. Grandpa secures the bottom on the blower.
After everything is complete and ready to go, the blower sets beside the silo with its 50 foot 8 inch pipe runs up the side and over the top. Inside the silo, a distributor pipe dangles down about 25 feet from the top with a rope hanging to the ground. We are ready to fill the silo!
Bright and early the next morning, Mark and Grandpa met once again by that ominous silo to get started on the task at hand.
The W9 stands there next to the silo, its power take off hooked to the blower. Not far away, our "no cab" Oliver tractor stood attached to the silage cutter, with a wagon hooked behind it. Grandpa's little 49 Ford was hooked to another wagon. Today we would put up alfalfa silage for winter feed.
"Hey honey are you in here?" my husband hollered to me as he steps into our trailer.
"Yea...I'm back here. Why?"
"We're ready to go. You can bring the ford and wagon down to the west alfalfa patch."
"I'll be there in a sec. What's Grandpa going to do?" I ask
"He's going to level out the alfalfa in the silo and boss you around." he laughed.
"Ha...ha to you too!"
The sun was warm on my face as I drove that Ford tractor down the road to the west, across the intersection, past Amos and Ruth's little white farm house and across a little bridge. As I pulled into the alfalfa field I could see Mark clear on the northeast side.
I just pulled in, turned off the tractor and sat there for awhile. I loved it down here in the valley along the creek. I took a deep breath of fresh cut alfalfa air and my heart sang. The stand was thin, just like Mark said with grass among it, but it was still pretty with little purple flowers here and there and little butterflies fluttered all around. All along the north side ran a small creek, big cottonwoods reaching into the big blue sky. This was my heaven!
After awhile I hopped off the tractor and waited for Mark to stop. "Could I ride for a round?"
"I guess but your going to have to hold on. I don't want you falling off!"
Round and round we went. The warm sun and the constant hum of the cutter put me in a world of my own. I saw a car go slowly past and turn in at Amos and Ruth's. It no doubt was their fishing buddies, Ray and Shirley.
"She's full and ready to go," Mark's voice brought me back to reality. "You remember what to do right?"
"Sounds like that's what Grandpa's for." I laughed "Yes I remember."
Off I go with our first wagon full of silage! Sure enough there is Amos and Ray standing out there by the chicken coop. They give me a big wave and I wave back. Just as I pull up to the blower, Grandpa comes running out of the house, putting his old dirty cap on as he came.
I was hooking the power take off up to the tractor when he gets there. "Now you have to be careful with that you know," he says pointing to the long pipe running from the wagon to the tractor. "Stay clear away from it...you hear?!"
"Yes I'm planning to stay on the tractor seat."
While I started the W9 and put the power take off in gear, Grandpa went to the silo and climbed in through the first hole opening. He then puts the door on it so it was closed. You have to close up the holes as the silo fills.
I went to the W9, started it and put the power take off in gear, and pushed the throttle into high. Then over to the Ford, started it and hopped up on the seat. I bent over and put the power take off in gear.
Goodness what a noise. I hope Grandpa doesn't need something in that silo because I can't hear him over all the engine noise. Two tractors going full throttle! Wow! After a bit, rich green silage came pouring out the wagon and into the blower, up that 50 foot pipe and down into the silo. Grandpa was no doubt whistling as he stood in there, rope in hand moving the distributer pipe this way and that as green sweet alfalfa falls all around him.
After the wagon was empty, and the blower turned off, and grandpa out of the silo, I headed back to the field for another load. On and on we worked day after day until we had the silo so full, Grandpa was dancing around way up 50 foot above everywhere. Mark was so pleased! We had managed to get enough of that green stuff to fill one whole silo! Maybe by leaving the calves and cows on pasture until late October, we would have enough to make it through the winter. We hoped anyway.
And so we worked there together, one hot day after another. That's the way it was in those days. People helping people.
Well that was the feeling I got in my stomach when Mark announced at the breakfast table one morning in late August. "Well today, Grandpa and I will be setting up the silage blower and pipe so hopefully we can start cutting silage tomorrow. We don't have much, but we have to scrounge up something to feed the calves we bought and grandpa C's cows."
I literally dropped my spoon, my stomach turned sour, and I couldn't eat another bite if my life depended on it!
I was sure that I would love every part of "silo filling," every part except setting up the blower and pipes! That part just absolutely turned my stomach and made my toes curl! I mean, those silo's are 50 feet in the air! It would be straight down 50 foot with nothing to stop you on both the outside and the inside! That little ledge, way up there, that you have to walk around, is very narrow! I bet Mark's feet wouldn't even fit on it. I just know his heel would have to hang over the edge! Of course I didn't climb up there to see or anything like that.
My grandpa lived for these "silo filling" days. He loved every minute of it! Well good! He could help Mark so I can disappear out of sight. If I saw my husband up there, holding onto that wobbly rail with one hand while reaching for something with the other, my heart would actually give one final beat and stop! No way...I will just get in the car and go to town! That's exactly what I'll do...go to town for the morning and literally "pass out" if I hear any kind of sirens!
Meanwhile at home, Grandpa was having the time of his life! He had filled silo's all his life and was 100 percent sure that was the only way to store food for the winter. Now Mark on the other hand, was in "training" Are men ever scared? No...excited maybe but never scared!
We were so very fortunate to have such good neighbors! They all were good, genuine, friendly folks and they would do anything for you.
Silage time was when they really came forward! We were just new to this area of course and couldn't afford to have all the equipment necessary, so we would "borrow" from them. The 50 feet of blower pipe we borrowed from the Hammonds down the road, laid in a pile not far from the silo. Mark would have to drive the tractor over to Roy's later in the afternoon for the two silage wagons he said we could borrow. Mark would drive his tractor over and bring one home, but I'll bet Roy would hook on to the other wagon and bring it over himself. That is just the kind of person he was, always helping others!
So on that sunny morning in August, Mark hooked his old W9 tractor to the silage blower and pulled it as close to the silo as he could get it."That's good right there." Grandpa hollered waving his hands in the air. Getting off the tractor Mark picked up the pulley laying next to Grandpa's feet and headed over to those steps going to the top. The steps were like a ladder there flat against the side. Up he'd go, one step at a time until he was 50 foot above the ground. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped out on that narrow ledge, and one slow step at a time he made his way around the top holding on to that wobbly rail with one hand and carrying that pulley in the other.
"Okay, put it right there" Grandpa hollers up from the ground.
Slowly Mark bent down and hooked the pulley over the side. He untied a small long rope from around his waist and threw one end down to Grandpa while holding onto the other. Grandpa tied a larger rope to it and slowly Mark started to pull it up as he bent over the railing for support. Once it's up to the top he untied it and puts the larger rope through the pulley and fed it back down to the ground. He droped the small rope over the side and it fell to the ground. Slowly he made his way back to the ladder.
Back down on the ground grandpa is starting to line that 50 foot pipe up on the ground. Mark starts dragging another piece until they have all 50 foot of it laying in a row. Then they take clamps and clamp each piece to each other until they have it laying all across the driveway. They hook one end of that big "pulley rope" to the pipe and the other end to Grandpa's little Ford tractor.
Mark slowly drives the tractor forward as the pipe inches its way up into the air. Grandpa stands over by the blower in his bib overalls and old straw hat, his legs apart and bent at the knees, as he strains to control the bottom of the pipe. He tries to hold it over the blower hole.
"That's good" he hollers "Go up and secure it while I hold this."
So once again Mark heads up the ladder. This time he has a chain in one hand. He makes his way over to the pulley where the 50 foot pipe is hanging there loose at the side of the silo. Grandpa is huffing and puffing down below trying to keep it close to the blower. Mark reaches out and pulls the pipe close to him and secures it with the chain. Then he twists the goose neck around so it is inside the silo. Grandpa secures the bottom on the blower.
After everything is complete and ready to go, the blower sets beside the silo with its 50 foot 8 inch pipe runs up the side and over the top. Inside the silo, a distributor pipe dangles down about 25 feet from the top with a rope hanging to the ground. We are ready to fill the silo!
Bright and early the next morning, Mark and Grandpa met once again by that ominous silo to get started on the task at hand.
The W9 stands there next to the silo, its power take off hooked to the blower. Not far away, our "no cab" Oliver tractor stood attached to the silage cutter, with a wagon hooked behind it. Grandpa's little 49 Ford was hooked to another wagon. Today we would put up alfalfa silage for winter feed.
"Hey honey are you in here?" my husband hollered to me as he steps into our trailer.
"Yea...I'm back here. Why?"
"We're ready to go. You can bring the ford and wagon down to the west alfalfa patch."
"I'll be there in a sec. What's Grandpa going to do?" I ask
"He's going to level out the alfalfa in the silo and boss you around." he laughed.
"Ha...ha to you too!"
The sun was warm on my face as I drove that Ford tractor down the road to the west, across the intersection, past Amos and Ruth's little white farm house and across a little bridge. As I pulled into the alfalfa field I could see Mark clear on the northeast side.
I just pulled in, turned off the tractor and sat there for awhile. I loved it down here in the valley along the creek. I took a deep breath of fresh cut alfalfa air and my heart sang. The stand was thin, just like Mark said with grass among it, but it was still pretty with little purple flowers here and there and little butterflies fluttered all around. All along the north side ran a small creek, big cottonwoods reaching into the big blue sky. This was my heaven!
After awhile I hopped off the tractor and waited for Mark to stop. "Could I ride for a round?"
"I guess but your going to have to hold on. I don't want you falling off!"
Round and round we went. The warm sun and the constant hum of the cutter put me in a world of my own. I saw a car go slowly past and turn in at Amos and Ruth's. It no doubt was their fishing buddies, Ray and Shirley.
"She's full and ready to go," Mark's voice brought me back to reality. "You remember what to do right?"
"Sounds like that's what Grandpa's for." I laughed "Yes I remember."
Off I go with our first wagon full of silage! Sure enough there is Amos and Ray standing out there by the chicken coop. They give me a big wave and I wave back. Just as I pull up to the blower, Grandpa comes running out of the house, putting his old dirty cap on as he came.
I was hooking the power take off up to the tractor when he gets there. "Now you have to be careful with that you know," he says pointing to the long pipe running from the wagon to the tractor. "Stay clear away from it...you hear?!"
"Yes I'm planning to stay on the tractor seat."
While I started the W9 and put the power take off in gear, Grandpa went to the silo and climbed in through the first hole opening. He then puts the door on it so it was closed. You have to close up the holes as the silo fills.
I went to the W9, started it and put the power take off in gear, and pushed the throttle into high. Then over to the Ford, started it and hopped up on the seat. I bent over and put the power take off in gear.
Goodness what a noise. I hope Grandpa doesn't need something in that silo because I can't hear him over all the engine noise. Two tractors going full throttle! Wow! After a bit, rich green silage came pouring out the wagon and into the blower, up that 50 foot pipe and down into the silo. Grandpa was no doubt whistling as he stood in there, rope in hand moving the distributer pipe this way and that as green sweet alfalfa falls all around him.
After the wagon was empty, and the blower turned off, and grandpa out of the silo, I headed back to the field for another load. On and on we worked day after day until we had the silo so full, Grandpa was dancing around way up 50 foot above everywhere. Mark was so pleased! We had managed to get enough of that green stuff to fill one whole silo! Maybe by leaving the calves and cows on pasture until late October, we would have enough to make it through the winter. We hoped anyway.
And so we worked there together, one hot day after another. That's the way it was in those days. People helping people.
I am not without fear...especially a fear of heights! As a teenager I was at the top of a silo with a farmer cousin. When I looked down, I froze, couldn't move, and vowed that if I got down safely, I'd never climb another silo. I've kept that vow! I could almost smell the fragrant alfalfa from your descriptions. Thanks!
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