Before I tell you about my weekend event, first things first. I'm not just an author who spends her time writing. We have a working acreage with a few animals. Last week I skipped right over the fact that it was third crop hay season. As most farmers can tell you, September is not a good hay drying month. Heavy dews this time of year don't dry off until noon. The days are cloudy part of the time when we need a Before hot sun to dry the hay. After many windy days most of the year, we suddenly get light winds. Finally, we thought we might be able to bale on Tuesday. My husband raked the windrows and we waited. Later that day, the one field, which is thick with clover, didn't dry well on the bottom side. My husband raked again. By now, he's hinting that the hay might not get dry enough to bale before Friday, my book sale event.
The other field is more grass than clover. That hay was dry. Since I'm retired, I drive the tractor, and my husband stacks the bales on the wagon I'm pulling behind the baler. (His idea not mine.) Years ago when I was much younger I baled hay, but after I went to work, my husband baled the hay and dropped it on the ground. Later, I drove the tractor while he walked along and stacked the bales on a lowboy trailer.
Now I'm nervous at best and always fearing the worst will happen since I only drive the tractor three times a summer when we make hay. It appeared I had worried for nothing when the baler sucked up the last windrow in that field. One bale had bounced off the wagon. Don't ask me why. That end of the baler is my husband's department. But I drove back across the field to pick the bale up. I stopped. My husband steps off the wagon to get the bale. Suddenly the tractor dies. White smoke boils out from under the tractor's front panel and rises around me. I yelled FIRE and jumped. Scrambling to get away, I tripped over a grass clump. My knees hit the hard ground for an instant, and I was up running.
At a safe distance away, I watched my husband run for the tractor. First he said, "You should have turned off the key." Then he said, "Are you all right?"
To which I replied, "Turning off the key didn't seem important as getting away since the smoking tractor that had already died, but thanks for asking how I am."
My husband couldn't figure out what caused the tractor's problem. We pulled it a mile away to a tractor mechanic/farmer who knew how to fix it. (Turned out to be burnt wiring.) I got to drive the pickup. My husband steered the dead tractor. His idea not mine, but I'm glad he thought of it.
The other field was dry enough to bale the next day. My husband hooked the baler to the loader tractor (which I can't handle at all) and dropped the bales on the ground. He picked them up later in the loader bucket, set them on a wagon parked in front of the hay conveyer. I dropped them on the conveyer while he stacked in the barn. So hay making is over for this year.
Ten years ago, a social worker called me from the hospital to discuss my dying father and my mother who wasn't coping with the situation. In fact, she was sure my father would get better and come home instead of entering the nursing home. The social worker wanted to know how I was handling this situation with my parents. I assured her I had faced the reality of what was ahead for my family. Still she insisted this had to be hard on me. I'm tough I told her. She replied that my mother had told her that. You will have to read my book to find out why Mom felt that way. "Hello Alzheimer's Good Bye Dad" ISBN 1438278276 Sold by me, on Amazon and at the Lemstone Christian Bookstore in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. The social worker went on to say we all wear many hats. I was a wife, mother, CNA and a daughter. At that moment, my daughter hat must be sitting heavy on my head. I have thought about and spoke about all those hats many times in my presentations. It seems we keep adding hats to our collections as our lives evolve. I now have a tractor driving hat, since last weekend, I have Ella Mayfield's bushwhacker bonnet.
Now about Civil War Days. My preparations were perfect. Both poster boards worked. People were comfortable buying from a local person when they saw the words Keystone Author. Others who knew me made the comment they didn't know I had written so many books or that I write books at all. So I received exposure in my area plus for miles around with reenactors that came from Minnesota, Wisconsin and around Iowa. All three days were beautiful; low wind, sunny, warm days. Since I was in period clothes, I asked if I could play first person like the reenactors. The man in charge said I could but the person had to be real. Wonderful! My Civil War book is full of real people.
I picked Ella Mayfield, lady bushwhacker which is the main character. I asked if there was any other bushwhackers in the park. The man in charge yells over to the shelter house to Union soldiers, "Are there any other bushwhackers here?" The reply was, "What's a bushwhacker?" After three days of non stop talking and pointing to my other poster board for visual effect, everyone that came to that park now knows who a Missouri bushwhacker was.
The first day was for schools. An outing away from the classroom is always fun. The students learned so much more than they will read about the Civil War in a history book. They were able to experience what gunpowder smells like and the loud explosive sound of a gun going off. A drummer boy beating for a march, a trumpet player playing revelry, an up close look and explanation about a cannon, a talk with Abe Lincoln and a look at army camp setups on the Union and Confederate sides. I enjoyed being on the side lines of all that. Also, I received as many interesting stories from the reenactors as I told about Ella. They each are a walking history book about their portion of the Civil War.
My son was a volunteer that helped the event run smoothly and with clean up when it was over. Something that big with so many people is not an easy undertaking to pull off. The good part about Duane being there was he watched for me to show up and helped me set up. At closing, he came along and helped me pack up which was a big help. He enjoyed watching me go into character and sell books. Before I left Sunday afternoon, he bought both of us a Civil War 2009 Belle Plaine shirt. He said we need to go to more reenactments. The shirts were for advertising. Reenactments wind down about now so we will see what next summer brings.
Thursday I'll tell you about Saturday and Sunday.
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