Published in Intermountain Farm & Ranch, July 22, 2011
There are a lot of memories that come with the cutting of hay. Having been born and raised on a farm, at a young age I was expected to be out in the field helping with the raking of the hay. I love the smell of fresh mown alfalfa and the sight of the neat rows lying in the fields. Even though there have been a lot of changes in farming with bigger and more efficient equipment, those big machines don’t eliminate that fresh-mown hay smell! And there is the good feeling of getting prepared for the long winter months by having enough feed for the cattle.
As with all farm jobs, cutting, baling, and hauling hay is hard work. Before we had some of this newer equipment, neighbors used to work together at the ranch at haying time. And I would be expected to cook for the extra crew. Boy could those men eat. But there was one time, a number of years ago, when they didn’t eat everything on their plates.
It was time for the first cutting of hay and we were running a bit short on cash. The previous year’s grain and calves had been sold, but that money had been used to pay outstanding bills. We raised our own cattle for meat; ground our own wheat into flour for bread; had a garden and I canned large amounts of produce from that garden. These things really helped. However, the first cutting of hay comes before the garden starts to produce much of anything except radishes.
One day I wanted to serve a green salad with the dinner being prepared for the hay hauling crews, so I asked Boyd if there was money to buy groceries. “Don’t have any,” was his reply. (He’s a man of few words.) That was as close to a “no” as could be and never being one to accept “no” for an answer, I decided to take things into my own hands. I remembered hearing that dandelion greens, when young, were edible and could make a good, but different, addition to any salad. However, as the dandelion plant matures and flowers appear, the greens become bitter. First cutting of hay comes after the dandelions have matured and flowered.
We certainly had a good crop of dandelions that year. Going out into our yard, I picked a bowl full of dandelion greens. Washing the greens, I combined them with radishes from the garden. I didn’t have any lettuce to dilute the dandelion flavor, so the dandelions weren’t an “addition” to the salad, but the only greens in the salad. But this salad looked right pretty with the red radishes and green dandelion leaves.
I watched closely as the men dished up and sampled their salad. No comments were made, though I noticed a lot of strange looks on faces as they ate this exotic salad. Even a liberal application of salad dressing couldn’t take the bitterness from those greens. There were no requests for seconds on the salad and all of the plates had salad left on them when the meal was over.
As they left the table and walked out the door to head back to the hay field, the always courteous farm helpers thanked me for the meal and complimented me on my cooking. My husband, however, walked past me and through the door. He stopped. Turning around, he pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans, opened it and handed me some money. “Get some groceries,” he said as he left the house and joined his crew.
Not only are farmers hard workers, but they are quick to learn. I never had to resort to the dandelion trick again. In fact, if I ever mentioned that I needed money for groceries, I would be told there he would find some somewhere.
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