Grandpa Wasden's stack yard. The Jackson Fork was probably one of the last ones in the entire area still in use in the early 1950s. A large wicked heavy pronged fork hung from the cable on top of the triangle on the Jackson Fork. Pet and Babe were used to raise the pulley, lifting a load of hay from the hay wagon, which Dad usually did, and then Grandpa Wasden was usually on the haystack when I helped with haying, where he pulled a rope to move the fork load of hay over to the stack, positioned it, and then tripped the load to dump on the stack. One time while I was driving Pet and Babe to raise the fork, the fork was lowered instead of raised, burying Grandpa. I was frightened to death, but he came out from under the hay laughing. You can see from the height of the ladder how high Grandpa, in his seventies and early eighties, climbed to cut layers of hay with a serrated hay knife to fork down to the ground to be moved to the mangers to feed the cows.
Grandpa Wasden with Pet and Babe hitched to the hay wagon.
Dad turning the corner while mowing hay with the old John Deere. I don't know how Dad managed to keep this tractor running, or how many times I went with him to Garland to Burke's Blacksmith Shop to repair the sickle. Pheasants, unfortunately, often ran into the sickle blades. Few smells are as nostalgic or as wonderful as the smell of new mown hay in full purple blossom.
This load of hay got unloaded in a hurry when the wagon tipped over. This ancient haywagon was built by Grandpa Wasden and used for decades, with patches evident on the floor of the wagon. This wagon was used for hauling everything that needed hauling around the farm, pulled by Pet and Babe.
Hay that has been windrowed to dry before being picked up by the hayloader on the back of the hay wagon. This field is just to the east of Grandpa Wasden's home place.
The tractor shed is on the left, then the granary, then the machine shed, then, across the open area, the blacksmith shop obscuring the garage, and then the Wasden house. Nothing was fancy on the Wasden farmstead, but everything was neat and orderly. During my high school years, my job was to drive the tractor pulling the "side-delivery rake", which raked the hay to the side of the rake in neat windrows. You just prayed that it wouldn't rain heavily and spoil the hay before it got dry and hauled to the stackyard at Grandpa's and then to our farmyard for our share of the hay.