“WHOA!” I shout in my 7 going on 8 voice. I pull back on the lines and the horses obey my signal and stop. Fannie and Jenny are two strong workhorses. Fannie is a bay. She is brown with black socks and black mane and tail. Jenny is a sorrel. Her coat is red and she has a blond mane and tail. In size I’m hardly more significant to them than one of the annoying flies they flick away with their tails, but they do as I command with both my voice and the leather lines I hold in my hands. It is haying time on our farm in Wisconsin. I have an important part to play in the ongoing process of producing and harvesting that makes up our daily lives.

“Grandma, if you were an animal, what animal would you be?” Without too much thought I said, “I guess I would be a settin’ hen.” I already knew the next question. “What’s a settin’ hen?”