Hot Time in the Hay ShedMy mother was one of twelve children, so I was related to roughly ninety percent of the people in the little farming town where I grew up. Most of my kin were farmers…except for my father, who owned a small mercantile store. Early on, I learned that during summers I had an option of working in the store or on Mom’s parent’s farm. I chose the rural life. Harder work, but there were compensations. Some of my hunky cousins, for instance. And one in particular. Cousin Jim.
I’ve known since I was a little kid, I was different from the rest of the boys in town. But exactly how didn’t come into focus until the day we partnered to move the older hay in the hay barn to the front in anticipation of putting recently cut and baled hay into the back of the barn. I’d always like
