Brown clots of dirt buckled and sprayed underneath the hoe the farmer swung. Their arms aching, beads of sweat were wiped from a shining brow with the backside of a gloved hand. The sun overhead doing its best to crisp both fields and plower. The rows of the field tilled after a long morning struggle, the farmer began the next task.
With a large bag of seed tossed over one shoulder, they strolled, bent, and moved further down the lanes. Hands nestling seed into the dark earth. They smiled as they worked. Imagining the leafy greens of the vegetables as they grew. Each hole dug and planted shaped a different dish in mind. From salads to pickled goods, every possible plant sprouted a new meal. It wasn't long before a short respite for water was taken, talk among the other planters dwelling on much the same as the exhausted farmhand. Food! Planting, growing, harvesting, or eating, the promise of the future felt as bright as the blazing sun.