The farmer leans on a hoe and pitches a broad-brimmed hat back to mop the sweat from their brow. The acres sprawl in either direction, tilled fields as far as the eye can see. The soil is rich and loamy, and the earthy smell wafts to you on the warm breeze. Soon, green will sprout, crops will rise, and a harvest will be had—but now, only toil.
