Memories

On my morning walk, I was startled to see an old horse drawn mower sitting on a trailer on Pomona.  It appeared to be identical to one Grandpa Denison used with his team of horses.

I remember him bouncing along in the east pasture hour after hour.  It seemed that neither he or the horses ever tired.  Occasionally he stopped for a drink of water from the gallon jug he had wrapped in a gunny sack and dipped in cold well water before leaving the ranch yard in the morning. At lunch time, Mom would load Bill and me into the car, and we would deliver a picnic lunch to Grandpa.  Mom would spread out a quilt, and we all sit around munching on potato salad and sandwiches. After lunch Grandpa returned to the mower until dusk.  He continued to guide the horses from one end of the meadow to the other and back again cutting down a six foot swath of hay each time until the evening.  Then he sharpened each sickle to ensure the neatest cut the for the following day.