Living Life in Love with a Country Girl

James L. Davis

The one thing I have learned after more than five years of marriage to a country girl is this: if you’re going to get hay with a country girl don’t use your 4-wheeler trailer or things will end badly.

Of course, being a city boy I did not know this little fact when my beautiful, blue eyed country girl wife caught up with me on a Saturday morning to tell me that she was going to go get hay for her horses.

When I say that she was going to get hay for her horses I mean her horses. As I stated before, I am a city boy and my horses are under the hood of my badly in need of restoration 1972 Mustang. They do not require hay of any kind, which is why I love them so.

Up until this point I had been planning on spending my Saturday morning puttering in the yard. Puttering in the yard, in case you didn’t know already, resembles work, only it isn’t. It’s pretend work much like Congress is a pretend governmental body. It looks impressive but not a whole lot gets done. When my wife told me she was going to get hay my plans changed and I told her I was going with her, even though she assured me that she could get the hay by herself. She is under the impression that I feel her horses are a pain in the behind, possibly because at one point or another in our life together I may have said “your horses are a pain in the behind,” but I’m not sure. Because she is under the impression that I find her horses a pain in the behind she usually tries to sneak away and get hay while I’m working.

Which brings up another thing about country girls; they can and will do just about anything they set their minds to, even if it is not in their best interest. The last time she snuck off to get hay without me she developed a case of the Eeee, ooohhs, for a couple of days afterward. This is caused by lifting entirely too many bales of hay by yourself, resulting in every little move thereafter being accompanied by an “Eeee,” of discomfort or an “Ooohh” of pain. So I told her that I was going with her and for good measure I gathered up our teenage sons to go along.

We have a farm truck and we have a hay trailer, but being a city boy I thought our Expedition and 4-wheeler trailer would work just as well, so we took it instead. It would save time, I figured. The farm truck, a 1986 Ford, still has its original battery, which for some strange reason always requires a jump. And the hay trailer is a beast of burden. She only needed a trailer’s worth of hay, so the 4-wheeler trailer would work nicely. Not being fully adjusted to life with a country girl, I did not realize how big a load a trailer’s worth of hay could be.

When we reached close to 100 bales of hay on the trailer I asked my beautiful, blue eyed country girl wife if perhaps that was enough. I was starting to get worried about catching our load under power lines. I believe she thought that we should get another 50 or so on the load, but she said that was probably enough and we went to the Expedition. At this point I noticed that the SUV was popping a wheelie, which I did not realize a Ford Expedition could do. Apparently all it needs is a couple of tons of hay attached to its rear and it can manage it without any problem.

Walking back to the trailer I found that the tongue of the trailer was approximately four inches off the ground. At this point, being a city boy, I was under the false impression that perhaps we should take a ton or so of hay off the trailer. But country girls don’t like to waste time and she was quite sure that we would be just fine “if we take it slow.” Climbing into the SUV our body weight brought the vehicle’s front wheels back to earth and we were able to steer ourselves toward home, which is when bad things began to happen. We drove about a half a mile when a high pitched screeching noise convinced me that perhaps, just perhaps, we should stop. Walking back to the 4-wheeler trailer I discovered that the trailer’s tongue was no longer four inches from the ground. It was now imbedded in the ground and bent in a manner that I had never observed before. Our 4-wheeler trailer is built to hold four ATVs, which apparently weigh somewhat less than 100 bales of hay.

At this point ranting and raving ensued for a moment or two wherein I may, or may not, have said that “your horses are a pain in the behind.” We disconnected our now battered 4-wheeler trailer from the Expedition and went home. Once there we climbed in the farm truck, hooked onto the hay trailer and went and loaded hay one more time that morning.

So, after unloading a couple of tons of hay twice I only have two words to say about loading hay with a country girl.

“Eeee, oooohh.”

Traditions Remembered

James L. Davis

Traditions can be comforting, even if they do wake you up from a sound sleep. Every community seems to have one tradition or another that links past to present to future and while some might question the reason for the tradition, or even the sanity of the tradition, the tradition remains constant.

Such is the case with Orangeville Days. Although it hasn’t always been called Orangeville Days, the Orangeville celebration has started with a boom (or several booms) for more years than most people can remember. More than 60 years is the number I was told, but no official record that I can find seems to exist.

But every year for years and years the Orangeville celebration started with someone or a group of someones blasting dynamite in several locations outside of town, giving the community a jump start to the celebration. It is rumored that the originators of the Orangeville celebration booms passed on their tradition to the next generation some time ago, but the tradition remains, as does the tradition of the booms causing many in the community to smile at the thunderous rumble in the morning and others to curse.

One tradition that was missed this past Orangeville Day celebration was the early morning wake-up call to residents with loudspeakers inviting (okay demanding) them to rise and shine and come to the park for breakfast. Almost every year I would throw the pillow over my head to try and drown out the loudspeaker, but beneath the pillow I was smiling. It is a tradition that I hope will return next year.

In Emery County you can find a wide variety of traditions that are worth holding onto, not just in one city or one community, but everywhere you look.
This past weekend while four-wheeling with my family on Skyline Drive we happened upon a lone sheepherder on his horse and as we drove nearer to him he waved for us to stop. We turned off our ATVs and waited for him to pass and as he did so I wondered at the tradition in his life, the solitude of living in the mountains for so many months alone. And when he was passed we started our four wheelers and descended the mountain, completing our own tradition of spending the day together as a family.

While traditions may fade away over the years, some traditions are worth holding onto. A sheepherder’s quiet guarding of his flock, a four-wheeler trip with your family, a shout to breakfast in the morning and perhaps even a loud boom to rattle your nerves and bring a smile to your face that everything is as it was once upon a time.