About Blog Title...

As a child, it was one of my greatest delights to visit my grandparents in the spring when the whip-poor-wills began to call. Grandma and Grandpa lived in a remote valley of the Ozark Mountains where there were trees a plenty, and, seemingly, a whip-poor-will, or two, in each one.
My grandmother insisted that a whip-poor-will's call was not "whip-poor-will," but instead, "chip-butter-white-oak." I would listen really hard trying to hear it exactly as she said it was, but all I could hear was "whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will,..." But, I never let on to her.
I remember my grandpa watching and listening, with an amused look on his face, to one of these listening sessions. Shortly after that he began to call me, just for fun, "Chip Butter." It is a name I am proud to wear for I still love to hear that long, lonesome call on a warm summer's eve. And, sometimes, when I listen really, really hard, it seems I can hear quite clearly, "chip-butter-white-oak, chip-butter-white-oak..."


Monday, August 6, 2018

The Hayloft...








The Hayloft

Through all the pleasant meadow-side
The grass grew shoulder-high,
Till the shining scythes went far and wide
And cut it down to dry.

These green and sweetly smelling crops
They led in wagons home;
And they piled them here in mountain-tops
For mountaineers to roam.

Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail,
Mount Eagle and Mount High; --
The mice that in these mountains swell
No happier are than I!

O what a joy to clamber there,
O what a place for play,
With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,
The happy hills of hay!

~Robert Louis Stevenson




Well, there is no hayloft here, but there are still "green and sweetly smelling crops."  I do remember my grandparents' hayloft with "mountains-tops" of hay, but we were never allowed to play there.


















23 comments:

  1. When I was young and SO horsey, I always wished that someone would make a scent that smelled like new mown hay. That (along with leather at the tack shop) were my favourite "perfumes".

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    1. I will agree that there's nothing quite like the smell of leather. "When I was young and SO horsey..." I have read back to some of your adventures with horses. What fun!

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  2. My Grandpa had a hay loft too the barn always smelled so good
    Lovely photos

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    1. And, like most of us, I am sure the smell of hays brings back lots of memories.

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  3. I really enjoyed the poem and the photos were a delight. There is something about the smell of newly cut hay that conjours up childhood memories.

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    1. When we were working in the fields, I kept thinking about that poem, so I looked it up... Thanks for the visit!

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  4. Such sweet memories~I love it that smells are memories too...
    My brother and I would help our grandpa with the haying sometimes. With him, it was more play than work-but I do remember it being very hot and sweaty. Nothing like that smell of fresh cut hay.
    I love your sketch! The photos are stunning.

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    1. "With him, it was more play than work..." How lucky you were to have such a grandpa!

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  5. We didn't have any hay in Detroit, but there was lots of it at the cider mill when we would visit every October.
    Thanks for bringing back such nice memories (love your sketch, too)! Great post.

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    1. Now, you make me want to know more about cider mills... Ha, Ha, those little sketches are oh-so-crude!

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  6. Playing in the hayloft with my cousins is a favorite memory of mine. Mama always worried that one of us would jump out of the hay loft and land on a pitchfork. Horrible thought! Oh, and the poem is one of my favorites! Your pictures are simply beautiful.

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    1. Henny, I have always had a fear of high places, so I would have never jumped from a hay loft. Robert Louis Stevenson is one of my favorites too!

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  7. The hay fields are quite the same as what I am seeing here on the ND prairie's. Although here the land is much more flat and not quite so many trees. Oh how we miss the mountains of CA; they were so majestic and beautiful. You have some great photograph's. This must be a busy time for you.

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    1. Sandra, our son has sent us lots of pictures of your ND prairie. I don't think we would know what to do with a big ole' flat piece of ground, but it might be fun to see! :~)

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    2. I posted some pictures of the prairie's of ND on my PPQ blog. Called Summer in ND. This was when things were much more green than they have been here lately.

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  8. We love the smell of fresh cut hay. Don't get to smell it much, but the cut grass is nice too. Pretty rolling country. My Uncle Dewey, when I was little had a farm. He had a big barn and lots of hay in there. We loved to play in there. He also had a corn field that came almost up to the back porch of his house. His chairs were cow hides and he had feather beds too. Loved to go there. He never got electricity in the house. The smell of hay reminds me of those things.

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    1. Martha, I love the picture you paint of your Uncle Dewey's home. Cow hide chairs and feather beds with a corn field right up to the back porch sounds mighty fine!

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  9. I don't have to go back but a couple of days to know the smell of hay. :) Dane and I used to play in the hay loft and we did jump out! What we wouldn't do! Now the hay is stored outside in long rows of big round bales; not the most interesting thing.
    You've drawn another sweet picture. The dog sure looks like Millie to me.

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    1. And, it's a wonder you didn't break a leg!! :~) I wouldn't dare! Those long rows of big round bales may not be the most interesting thing, but aren't we lucky to have them.

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  10. Thanks for stopping TNS and your nice comment. Enjoyed this post and boy did you take me back to when I had a horse and that sweet smell in the barn stacked with hay.

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    1. The sweet smell of hay seems to be something we all remember from our childhood days. But, now, thinking back, it seems to me that hay had a much sweeter smell in those days gone by. :~)

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  11. I also love the smell of the sweet hay. I didn't live on a farm when I was young, but my aunt had one and I loved to go there. I would have a farm or some acres if it was just me, but that probably won't happen for me! I love looking at yours!

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  12. :) The rolling hills and the rolls of hay! Makes me think of Fern Hill by Dylan Thomas!

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