Claws Of Time

pte

f farm journals and agricultural manuals that Gra

my understanding of th

e ingenious methods that would

w techniques, always mindful of the ne

e, and the modern method is capi

beaten yet dry and ne

I watched the farm transf

bountiful, the soil m

ng crops, in the thriving populatio

contribution to the end

I knew that the farm was not just a source of sustenance

, but our neighbors, our friends,

bitats we protected – all of these things had a ripp

ar, but one that I embraced w

th its care, and I would do everything i

itoring the weather, and making the decisions that woul

ost in thought, reflecting on the lessons of

d come before, the stories and experiences t

leave behind, the imprint I would make

of that responsibility. But it was also a

f its bounty and its beauty – it was a calling that f

d to the farm, my hands calloused and weathered,

ural world, and I would find solace in the knowledge that I was a pa

, breathing entity – a tapestry of stories and