The setting sun was a blaze of orange, making the wheat field glow as if on fire. Finally, after a couple of years of dismal crops, it looked as if the Gods were smiling on him.
The early spring days of tilling where more than diligently done. He worked from dawn to dusk. His wife which he always called ‘Mom’ for the kids sake would drive out in the old Ford pick-up and hand him his lunch and two ice cold fresh bottles of water at the end of the rows. No words would be spoken between them. He’d show her his determination and she understood.
After taking half the contents of the first bottle he would set it on the shelf and reach out to take the second from her which he would put between his legs. Then he’d grab the sandwich, nod with a half smile and be off again, releasing the clutch and swinging the tiller around into the next rows.
She would watch him as he moved away from her, lost in the memories of having seen this view her whole life. Loving the smell of fresh tilled earth. She would close her eyes and breath deeply, inhaling the belief of her being: who she was and what she did and always wanted to be. She would hold it with a full chest and slowly release it opening her eyes, looking at the Western horizon for the first signs of clouds. Yes! There they were. As they should have been for the last few years. Rain would be coming soon and none too soon with the fields being nearly ready.
Yes! It was going to be a good year.
Country life always has the best smell. He had known it in his heart and soul from a child.
As he is mid way through the rows and his eye catches Mom in the faded red pick-up heading to a joint rendezvous at the end of the row. Him switching his view of her and the rows to stay straight. Lining up the left head light with the second furrow and keeping it there as he sways and bounces a little pulling the weight of the tillers.
Mom looking at him from the cab of the pick -up timing it so she can come abreast of him and not have to get out of the cab to hand him the first bottle. Ready with the second and the sandwich.
The early coolness has evaporated into the warmth of the sun covered fields. She has driven out on this end of the rows just to smell the flow of earth scent released and tossed.
He comes out of the row to make his turn not having to worry about her, knowing she knows better to be an obstacle while he swings the tractor half way around and keep his alignment with the rows and to come abreast of her.
Idle hands idle mind. Off again.
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