The farmer awakened, sunlight streaming through the bedroom window, particles of excited dust highlighted in the early morning rays. Donning his coveralls and stretching out muscles still asleep, he went to the back door and out onto the porch. The chill from winters icy grip still held the fields in limbo, the tall grasses at the edge of the field glistened like broken glass in the morning sun. Across the field were countless stalks bent at awkward angles appearing like a vandalized cemetery, the death memorialized and now forsaken.
The road out beyond the back fence carried occasional travelers on their way somewhere, and the passing of the field brought nary a glance, last summers glories but a distant memory as the nuances of life crowded minds, with priorities, allowed little room for reflection on what had been.
The farmer stepped off the porch, the now frozen dew providing a slight crunch under foot as he meandered out into the field. As he walked the memories of all the fruits of his labor flooded his mind, amazed at so much life that now appeared dead. So many had once followed him here, seeking out the various gifts of life that had started from seed, and then produced a bounty, now apparently forgotten. He crossed a stone laden section which separated different sections of the field taking note that little if anything had ever grown here.
About half way out into the field he stopped and surveyed the unyielding ground around him, and smiled to himself, remembering miracles that he witnessed and then something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He walked over and knelt down, curiosity turning to wonder. Here in the middle of a frozen and lifeless field was a green shoot and an unopened blossom. Rising and letting the sun warm his face, joy and warmth spread
through him, soon others would see new life blossoming.