Haybales

Before we officially owned the land (can you ever really own a place?  I think not, but that's another post for another time) the farmer we bought from asked if he could take a hay crop from the land.  We were OK with this as we needed hay for our horse over the winter months, and so we came to an agreement that he could cut and bale at his leisure and then leave us enough winter hay in the barn up the road.

What none of us thought about or realised was the hours of play that a few bales could provide for a group of children.

Several were rolled together and a slightly dangerous game of bale jumping was developed.  It started with tentative jumps, but within a matter of days confidence was high and it became a race.  Who could race across the bales the fastest?

There was also one lonesome bale left at the top of the field.  We quickly realised that this was a great place to sit and watch the comings and goings across the valley.

After a few weeks, the farmer needed to put the bales under cover.  It was with heavy hearts that the children said goodbye to the bales as they were taken away on a trailer.  The loss of the bales left a gap in their play, that it became clear could only be filled with the invention of an equally if not more dangerous creation of a tree swing.