The Yuletide Hay War

The hay ride wasn't long, but we wound around and about every field behind my grandfather's house. He smilled as he drove his bright green, pristine-looking, John Deere tractor, pulling the flatbed trailer loaded with bales of hay on which we all sat. Well, most of us sat on them; the younger people, mainly my cousins and I, decided that the hay also made a great projectile with which to throw at each other. Hay balls flew from one end of the trailer to the other as we putted along through the pastures and woods, most of them falling apart before they could impact the other child, only serving to get hay stuck in hair and on sweaters and spreading the sweet grassy smell of the hay until it was all we could smell-or taste for that matter. Our moms, dads, grandmothers and grandfathers gave token objections to our horseplay, but no doubt they were laughing with us behind their smiles, our silly game possibly made them feel child-like again.

It wasn't long before the more childish of the adults began tossing a few hay balls our way as well. Some of us ditched the trailer and began walking or running alongside it through the field in order to dodge the worst of the hay and make "drive-by" attacks. My dad's cousin, George, waited until my cousin Jared hopped back onto the trailer after bombing one of the younger kids with hay, grabbed a handful of hay and stuffed it down Jared's pants. It was one of the funniest thing's I'd ever seen, though Jarred wasn't too pleased at having to pick all the hay out of his jeans and pull them back up, or the fact that everyone got a good view of what color his boxer shorts were. Some of the other parents said George went too far and embarrassed my cousin, but only half-heartedly. However, that did put an end to the hay fights and we were rounded up by the parents to sit and ride calmly until we were again outside the barn.

We had presents waiting on us when we arrived back at my grandparent's house, so none of us were too upset about the ride ending at the time, all of us racing into the house once the tractor had stopped moving, while the parents calmly got out as well and followed us into the house.

That was the last hay ride we ever took at Christmas, though, and it has always stood out as one of the happiest Christmas memories for me, a time before all the responsibilities and bills and 40-hour-a-week work schedules, when we could all get together as one big kooky family and enjoy the farm and the woods and each other. Perhaps one day soon, the next generation will take up the torch of hosting the Christmas get-togethers like we used to do back then, and have more great hay rides for our children to remember.