Beating the Rain

Guest Author: O. Darrell Aderman

I don’t remember the exact summer, but it was just after World War II when a number of relatives from Illinois were up to visit. The whole Aderman family was down to the farm to meet them. It was a beautiful summer day until the middle of the afternoon when the sky in the west turned an ominous black. Grandpa Aderman (Carl) felt down in the dumps because he had that whole west field full of hay bales lying on the ground, a majority of his supply for the winter. My dad (Oscar) moved quickly and indicated that the storm was moving slowly. With all the help sitting around we could get most of it in before the rain got there.

The crew was divided and the larger tractor went out in the field where men and boys carried bales of hay to the wagon to be loaded. Meanwhile, the smaller tractor was attached to the elevator and made ready to run bales up in the hay mow. By then the first wagon came in to the elevator. It was a sight to behold: men on the wagon loading bales on the elevator, almost touching each other. Men in the haymow were standing in line to take bales off of the elevator and carry them back for storage: never letting one hit the floor of the mow. By that time another wagon was in with a load. This continued until every last bale was in the barn. It was less than five minutes before the rain came down with a vengeance.

It was a good feeling to all the relatives that helped. I remember Grandpa Aderman saying something like  . . . “I just saw a miracle.”