JOY ALONG THE WAY: LOST ARTS AND NEW EXPERIENCES

One nice thing about owning a Conservation Federation of Missouri calendar is that you can keep abreast of all the special events going on all over the state, or at least those that wish to be advertised. Today, it is Sheep and Wool Days at Springfield. Twang of a guitar and buzz of sheep shears seem to be suitable sounds for "Way down in Missouri."

One other thing coming up this week is Lost Arts Festival at Lawson, Mo. I had no idea where Lawson, Mo., was, so I consulted my trusty map, really several maps, to find that it should be at the intersection of D and 3. It may be, but the name isn't shown. Too little? Anyway, it is up in northwest Missouri if D and 3 are right. Since the calendar noted it was at Watkins Mill, I assume one lost art to be re-visited might be the grinding of assorted grains. Surely there will be other old-timey thing demonstrated -- soap-making, hominy-making, basket weaving, etc. Maybe there'll be someone to show how, with twine string, to make the Crows Foot and Jacob's Ladder, things I've forgotten how to do. But I know how to make a button "zing" on a twine string. Is that a lost art? Bet the baby boomers never heard of it.

Maybe there'll even be hay-baling, the old-fashioned way. Speaking of that, I've a "hay baling" project under way. Here's my plan. Don't laugh.

Remembering the sweet fragrance emitted by the wintertime hay bales when the wires were cut and the bale spread open, I wanted to have that olfactory experience again. Could go to some farmer friend and say, "Next time you open a bale of hay, I want to be on hand." But I've decided to make a bale of my own, by hand. A miniature one. Again, don't laugh.

It may be a total failure, but this is how I'm progressing. When Schippers cut the fragrant clover patch, I raked up quite a little haycock of it. I snipped off a bunch of mint, ventured across the street to get some fleabane and wild mustard and tossed it on the pile. Knowing where some timothy usually grows along the creek, I ventured down, on wheels, to reap "my crop." It wasn't headed yet, so I'm just assuming it was potential timothy. Some unknown grasses were added for bulk, although it is going to be a small bale, about the size you can buy at hobby stores at Thanksgiving to make a seasonal arrangement.

Having an old screen door on hand, I placed it across the bed of my little red wagon and spread the mixture on it to cure in the sun. Sprinkled on some May rose petals, mock orange petals for good measure and several blooming tops of chamomile.

The drying is still in progress. Unless I think of a better plan, I'm going to overstuff a Premium cracker box, bind it as one would do with an actual hay bale -- wire, or maybe package mailing tape, punch a few ice pick holes in the box sides and let it rest for a long, long time. Maybe the last of July. Then I'll cut away the cardboard, leaving the wire or tape in place. Lo, what will I have? I can hardly wait. Maybe just a wild looking bunch of hay, or maybe a real oblong summer hay field potpourri suitable for displaying along with some ornamental gourds and miniature pumpkins. On a snowy day in January, I'll break it open.

Lawson, Mo., wait for me. If I can find you, maybe I'll show up at your Lost Arts Festival next year to "zing" a button on a string and demonstrate a new art -- homemade hay baling!

REJOICE!

Jean Bell Mosley is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.