“You know,” Margaret said, “you’ve become a bit of a folk legend.” “Mm,” Eli grunted. “People keep asking if you’re going to do it again next year.” “Do what? Grow corn?” She smiled. “Box people in again.” He shook his head. “I hope I never have to.
That wasn’t farming—that was babysitting adults.” They sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes. Somewhere in the distance, a cricket began chirping. “I’m glad we didn’t let them ruin it,” Margaret said softly. “Not just the field. The way we live.” Eli reached over and took her hand. “They didn’t even come close.”
On the first day of the next planting season, Eli stood by the edge of his field once again. The air was cool, the sky pale with morning light, and the soil beneath his boots was soft but ready. He adjusted his gloves, took one slow breath, and started walking. There were no cars in sight. Just earth. And peace. And work to be done.