And so it was, just the two of us, for the most part, baling up the wheat field. We would alternate every other round. One would drive, one would load.
It was pretty warm, for Indiana; in the nineties. You think I'd be used to it living in Texas now. Think again. I had left a pair of jeans just for baling. They were very thick, heavy, dark blue jeans. I don't think I'd ever wore them before. Let's just say they were a bit snug. After several hours, I felt like my 'nads were on fire. I couldn't have sweated any more, down there, if I tried. When I peeled the jeans off at the end of the day, I was starting to get a rash. I headed immediately to Walmart that night and purchased a pair of loose kaiki pants and a cheap white t-shirt to reflect the suns rays. Dark clothing won't cut it. It's like a long day at the beach, only without the water (and the fun).
I also purchased a water jug while I was at Walmart. It was an Igloo brand, a bit larger than what we needed (1 gallon). When I filled it up with ice and water, I was amazed many hours later to find most of the ice had not melted. Most of our old water jugs need to be pitched. You have more water running down your neck than you do going down your throat.
We did have some extra help in the barn this year. The three boys that live in the rental house helped us unload. Also, a kid from the grain elevator helped a few days. He was built like a wall. He would pick up the square bales end to end with his hands, like they were marshmallows. Amazing. That kid was built for this type of farm work. Me? Not so much. I think I'm way too old for this.