Ida May stories #1 The haystack.

Here is the first in a series of stories for Ida May who is my Grand Daughter. I have probably written them all before but she wasn’t old enough then because she was younger than she is now.

 

Dear Ida May,

When I was just a little boy I didn’t seem to have the sense I was born with and so I did some things that were not very clever.

One day, when My daddy, who would be your Great Grand Father in dark heavy letters, was tidying up the farm a most huge mistake was made by me.

My mummy and Daddy had collected a lot of branches and wood and rubbish that would burn and they lit a great big massive bonfire.

Now  I was told not to go too close to the fire because I might get burnt. So I decided that I would like a bonfire all to myself. A small one. Actually just a tiny little one made with bits of loose straw from the hay stack.

Here is a photo of the haystack with me on top and Aunty Robin at the bottom.

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And you can see the bits of straw.

So I collected some of the straw from the ground not from the haystack because I was a very, very, very good boy as you can tell.

I arranged the pieces of straw so that it looked like a tent and then I went over to the big bonfire and found a piece of wood that was burning on one end. It had nice hot red coals on the other end so I took it back to my little stack and poked the hot stick under it and the straw started to burn. Quickly I ran back to the haystack and got some more straw to make my fire bigger.

BUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My fire started to crawl along the ground and it crawled right up to the haystack and the haystack turned into a huge big bonfire.

My mummy and daddy rushed over with pitchforks and tried to save some of the hay.

On the side that wasn’t yet burning they picked up hay with the pitchforks and took it far away and then rushed back to the fire to get more and so on and so on and so on until they saved as much as they could and that was that.

AND my father was cross. Notice how sometimes I called him my Daddy and sometimes I called him My Father. Anyway my father sent me to bed and I wasn’t allowed to have any dinner that night. But later in the night when I would be nearly asleep my mummy came in quietly and gave me a sandwich and a glass of milk.

And this is my very kind mummy.

 

She is teaching a baby calf how to drink out of a bucket of milk.

 

 

8 thoughts on “Ida May stories #1 The haystack.

  1. I love your story and it is also helping to light a fire of inspiration in me. I have wanted to do the same and write down some family history and stories for my grandchildren. Thanks for keeping that fire lit in me today.

    Liked by 1 person

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