Fire, Water, Water, Fire

The last two days I have gone haying for camp. It was my first time ever doing it, and I hear that usually it is much more mundane than my trip. To start out it was pretty boring. I got in the van with a bunch of the staff and we drove to the field. On the way no one really talked except a few who were listening to music on their cell phones. This is a sampling of their conversation.

"Have you heard this one?"(Music comes and they do a five second dance)

"Do you have (Some name I can't remember)?"

"Oh yeah," (Music comes on and they do a five second dance)

"Hold on a second," (Music comes on and they do a five second dance)

"Hang on, hang on," (Music comes on and they do a five second dance)

And so it continued for twenty minutes or more, the only break was when we saw the firemen cutting fire breaks along the road and big helicopters flying overhead toward the forest fire. By the time we arrived I was pretty much ready to go to bed. The balers were already going around the field and there was one group in front of us in line. Bob asked for three volunteers to help the group in front of us (apparently it is some kind of tradition and we do it every year). Me and my friend and one other guy volunteered and we walked over to them. It was actually surprisingly fun, walking the Field picking up bales and setting them on the trailer as the truck slowly made its way around. We made one lap before they were full. Nothing exciting happened except the lady told me I had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. I told her I had green eyes and she didn't believe me. She looked closer (only slightly awkward) and was shocked to find I was right. She still swore they matched the sky from more than five feet away. Whatever. I couldn't really prove her wrong without a mirror.

After I joined our group again, it settled into steady but light work. We had so many people that if you walked quickly and purposefully no one would bother you, and the overzealous workaholics would run ahead and get all the bales. Not that I did that of course.

The work progressed slowly because the balers kept breaking down and we would wait while they fixed them. I didn't mind because the hay fields are cool (and only four miles from the fire). When the bigger trailer started to get full the back started to bulge outward due to the poor quality of the hay. It was limp and so did not stack well. I was pushing on strategic places in order straightening it as much as possible, when suddenly someone said, "Hey, the trucks on fire."

I looked up front and sure enough. The driver was getting out and there was a circle of fire underneath and drops of fire dripping from the truck. Good thing that part of the field had already been baled, I hear hay burns rather easily. I think some people were expecting a movie style explosion, and started yelling to the people to get off the trailer. In their hurry to flee impending doom, they knocked the whole back row of bales off the trailer, the ones that I had just straightened. I was more ticked about that than I was worried about the fire. Some people rushed to help but I backed off. Not from fear, but I new that several people were already getting in the way and they didn't need me.

Sometime in there they got the hood open and it was burning under there too. They had already spent all the water on the fire on the ground and so started shoveling dirt into the engine. After the fire was put out we sat around for a painfully long time doing nothing. It was still fun though, just to hang out there.

Now I know stories are supposed to be a certain structure, but when you tell true stories they always follow the order of climaxes and such. After we finally starting moving again (not with the same truck) the going was slow but fun. The bales were very dry and light, and made us feel real strong at how easily we could lift them. The field was so dry that little explosions of dust came from our feet when we walked, like we were under water. See, these all sound like useless facts now that the exciting part is over.

The next day much fewer people went and we worked more efficiently. The bales were better quality and some smelled like thyme. It was more fun but less interesting if you know what I mean. When we got home me and my friend went swimming (don't tell anyone). The sun was setting and the lake was steaming because the water was warmer than the air. The Terns called and swooped. The mist moved quickly from one side of the lake to the other. The sun was obscured lightly by smoke as it sank and the moon rose, huge and orange. It was so awesome. But nothing happened. You see, we only put up with pleasantness in what we read if trouble follows. If this was fiction (of course we all know what I feel about fiction and true stories) the swim and the fire would have been switched. Oh well. That's the way it happened. Deal with it.