To Everything There is a Season

It's the start of another hay season up here on my in-laws' farm, a summer full of the scent of freshly cut hay, yards of twine, praying for and against rain, and way too much dust. I'm the odd-ball up here. I'm a country girl myself, but I have never driven a stick in my life, am not a fan of John Deere green, and have no interest in commandeering a huge diesel-guzzling machine. But, Wyatt loves tractors as much as my husband and his parents do, and I'm sure the twins are next. Wyatt's love of tractors is so wholehearted that if I hear the tractor coming closer and it's close to nap time, I'll hurriedly turn on the window AC to drown out the noise. Otherwise, Wyatt will hear it and then nobody gets a nap.

For another, I'm allergic to grass. Yes, grass. I'm so allergic, I sometimes have attacks and instant sinus infections just when Doug mows the lawn. In my book, hay is merely glorified grass with some genetic tweaking, but to my husband's family, hay is greenish gold.

Hay has been a constant in my life since '97 when Doug and I started dating. I knew I was allergic when I met him, so it's not like I walked unaware into my future. Now, the aroma of hay fields takes me back to a much younger version of us.

I remember him picking me up at college in the flatbed hay farm truck, which was so loud that all the college city kids would turn and stare. I would have to jump up just to climb into the seat. Though several hay seasons, I fell in love with his large hands roughened by grabbing the twine to hurriedly gather the bales so he could come see me for a date. I fell in love with his strength from hours of manual labor, with his ability to fix just about anything, with the time he would want to share with me even though I knew he was exhausted from a day spent in the sweltering Louisiana sun.

Although our lives have surely changed since those days and the farm has become more mechanized, each summer is still a reminder of how many seasons we've already spent together and of the things that made me love him from the start. And all too soon, Wyatt will meet some pretty little girl who will sweep him off his feet. Maybe she, too, will love him for the country boy he is and for the man she knows he can be.