At the Lovestead, Marianne Love/Slight Detour tells or her husband, Bill, and son, Willie, and others moving 150 bales of hay into their winter home in a bay "in the big shed at the end of the lane." It took them about an hour to complete the work. Writes Marianne: "While they were dripping with sweat and dealing with uncomfortable chaff, I mowed a section of lawn, always looking to see how much the stack had diminished and thanking my lucky stars that I didn't have to be out there. Bucking bales in August is the most miserable of jobs, and I've made up my mind that my "bucking" list is complete for a lifetime----bales and horses." Full post here.

DFO: Marianne's right. Bucking bales is a miserable job. I spent the summers of my early teen years, 14 to 16, bucking bales in my Uncle Manuel's fields and barns -- all day long in heat at or above 100 degrees in California's Sacramento Valley. I never looked back once I left the dairy at age 16.

Question: Have you ever earned money bucking bales of hay?