June

The first week in June usually meant haymaking. What a joy it was to awake on a Saturday in June. The sun was up and I had already heard the train chug its way along the line at Snarestone. The sweet fragrance of new-mown hay wafted on the breeze in the warm sunshine and the swallows darted in and out of the barn. Sweet summertime in the country. It was time to be up and out in the fields.
The men worked in the fields from when the sun had dried the dew off the cut hay until the sun set and the dew came down again. At hay time there were carts to ride, hay-cocks to run between and tumble over, and sheds full of newly mown hay all ready for me to jump about in and generally get in everyone’s way. There were times when just as the men were ready to start cutting down would came the rain! So if the hay was ready and the sun was shining, we were true to the old saying "Make hay while the sun shines, for tomorrow may be rain.".
The women brought dinner and tea out to the men working in the fields. With their meals the men would have lemonade, cider and very occasionally beer. Tea or soup was put into screw-top bottles which were wrapped with an old towel to keep hot. We had a few vacuum flasks, but these were expensive and only used for special picnics. When the hay was ready there was not much for a small girl to do except fetch and carry for the men or, on occasion, hold a horse’s head. I just liked being there! Skill was needed to load a wagon with hay. Even though loads were roped they could still come apart if they hit a rut on the way into the stack-yard. In the stack-yard another man would be waiting to unload the cart. This job usually fell to Trevor who lived in Snarestone Lane. He was kind and a good, steady worker. He was also a big, strong man who could unload a cart in a matter of minutes. “Cor!” he said, “‘Eavy-stuff!”. He didn’t talk much, but was kind to me and would always let me ride in his empty wagons.
June was the month when the sheep were shorn. A few weeks before the shearing the sheep would all parade to the inside barnyard. This was where the sheep-dip trough was built. It was a grand trough, all tiled, with ramps leading into and out of the washing area. It was a time of confusion with men yelling, old Mick barking and the poor sheep, usually silent, now bleating in protest. Shearing was back-breaking work, and the sheep were not too happy about it either. The men would set the sheep up between their knees, sheep on its rump, and start shearing at the neck, then work down the sides. When that was done, they spun the sheep around and finished it from the underside. With a swing of the arm, the fleece was thrown on to a bench with the inside out, ready to be rolled up. If shearing was done too early in the season I would see the sheep huddle together in the shelter of a hedge for warmth.