Despite the worst drought in 60 years, third crop was recently cut on the Little Farm, most of it from the back acres that have not been grazed or cut this season.
We ended up with ten round bales.
And a half.
Baby Bale has grand hopes of becoming a big hay bale some day.
I haven't broken the bad news to him yet.
Which reminds me of one of the oldest jokes I know:
Who's bigger - Mrs. Bigger, or Mrs. Bigger's baby?
Mrs. Bigger's baby is just a little bigger.
That's what Baby Bale needs to be - just a little bigger.