Plow Day!

The hand-lettered sign down at the corner of the college road and hwy 70 said Plow Day 9-3.  P and I walked through waist-high wildflowers down the hill and across the river under a crackling blue sky to the back of a field where we met up with M for a day of draft-horse-powered field work demos.  I was excited to get to draw, but it was a challenge.  Nothing stood still for long.

It was like a movie set for a 1920s film about family farms.  Teams of draft horses-- stocky Suffolks with white forelocks drifting down their faces, black  percherons that looked like medieval war horses, Belgium brabants, and even a team of sweet little mules-- pulled old-time plows and ride-on plows up and down the field.

At one point, which we unfortunately missed, teams competed in a logging race in which they pulled trees through a course simulating pulling big logs out of a woods.

Meanwhile teams rested up and teamsters stood around talking.  We asked lots of questions.  I was especially interested in the plows and how they worked.

One guy explained the difference between donkeys, mules, and jackasses to me.  Another told us all about how his hillside plow worked.

I so wanted to ride on a plow, but only the owners got to do that.  Love Plow Day!