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The first cut hay that I have in my pantry isn't all aging at the same rate. Even though it was all harvested from the same field on the same day, there are differences from one bale to the next. I'd already organized them by size; bigger bales on the bottom, smallest on top. By weight; heavier, probably not quite as dry hay closer to the door. By starch content; rougher, less leafy hay mostly in the center of the room where their turn will coincide with those cold winter days. Now I had a color gradient to add to the equation.
I had just started to sort through the hay when Starlight Glimmer came trotting down the corridor and looked in through the doorway. Her eyes lit up when I told her what I had in mind. She joined me and we spent a happy afternoon sorting, resorting and filing the first cut hay bales into what is probably an optimal utilitarian storage array. We stopped short of tagging each bale with a three dimensional Haycartesian coordinate sequence, but it sure was tempting. Anyway, the grid layout of the stacks is so obvious that locating, say, bale [0,0,3], is a no-brainer.
It seems almost a shame to eat them.
I had just started to sort through the hay when Starlight Glimmer came trotting down the corridor and looked in through the doorway. Her eyes lit up when I told her what I had in mind. She joined me and we spent a happy afternoon sorting, resorting and filing the first cut hay bales into what is probably an optimal utilitarian storage array. We stopped short of tagging each bale with a three dimensional Haycartesian coordinate sequence, but it sure was tempting. Anyway, the grid layout of the stacks is so obvious that locating, say, bale [0,0,3], is a no-brainer.
It seems almost a shame to eat them.
