This was written on 3/8 2010 and is 'recycled' from my old page.

Agriculture in general, and hay harvesting in particular, is something I haven't thought about in many years. That's not really surprising when you live out in Torsken, on the outer side of Senja. What once existed of agriculture has long since passed away. There might be the occasional stubborn farmer in some of the most hidden villages who still keep a few sheep or goats, but you really have to search to find them. But when you move inland, into the broader villages, you notice that here and there there are clusters of these "tractor nests." Of course, one has some idea of how they come about, but still, one remembers the smell of freshly cut grass, the work of raking it together and stacking it. Playing between the haystacks, and not least, transporting the dry hay. Back then, one was very dependent on the weather to get the hay dry. It had to be dry, otherwise it could rot. It could get so hot that it would spontaneously combust, they said. Sun and warmth weren't so important, but wind was necessary. And preferably no rain. By now, we are probably all familiar with how unpredictable summer weather can be. Many times, it was about sitting and watching the weather. The hay could have dried a little more, but if it rained, it had to be brought in whether it was night or day. Dry hay is a relatively light material, so it was important to get as much as possible onto the wagon. We had a two-wheel tractor, a red one, of the brand Bücher. This was, of course, a versatile machine that was used for almost everything. It had a mower, it had a rake to gather the grass, and it had a wagon. This wagon was extended, widened, and heightened to the extreme in order to carry as much hay as possible. In addition, the hay had to be packed together in the wagon. That was the children's job, and it was popular. What was not as popular was jumping into the hay in the barn. Well, it was pretty popular among us kids, but we were not allowed. If the hay was not completely dry and was packed too tightly, it could start to rot and, in the worst case, spontaneously combust. We did it anyway, of course, and it was probably no secret. Perhaps the intention was just to limit the activity a bit.

But why am I going to think about this? Well, it so happens that the neighboring property is a hay meadow. And tonight, around half past ten, we heard the sound of a motor outside. It was a tractor with a mower cutting down the grass. It was done in about half an hour. Then the grass lies there in the meadow for a few days to dry before the tractor comes back and makes 'haycocks' out of it. The old haymaking, with setting up hayricks, mowing, raking, hayricking, and transporting dry hay, where everyone participated, has been replaced by a fairly mechanized process where the only person present is the tractor driver. And he does it in the evening, when he has nothing else to do. Of course, I understand that agriculture must also be modernized and made more efficient. But still, one can reminisce a bit and feel a bit nostalgic while standing here at the window, watching this tractor running around the field.