Not us...not this year. It's in the barn and we are prepared for winter (which seems a long way off), but someone else raised the hay this year and someone else put it in the barn loft. And all I can say is Hallelujah! My husband loves to bale hay (go figure!). I think it brings back fond memories of his childhood growing up on his grandparent's farm. Me? Not so much. I like it in the barn loft, smelling sweet and green, but I don't like being part of the team that gets it up there. I'm way over proving that I am a strong woman, and actually, I'm not so strong anymore---at least my back isn't. It's enough lifting for me to throw those bales down from the loft when I'm feeding the sheep during the winter. The main problem with us raising our own hay is that it is seldom ready to be baled on the weekend and that is the only time my husband is available. Every year there is this great rush to get it cut, dried to just the right stage and then baled and in the barn. It almost never works out the way it should. So, it is cause for celebration to see all those lovely, sweet-smelling bales stacked up there just waiting for cold weather.