fresh tomatoes
When the bee ventured on in pursuit of more profitable discoveries, she opened her eyes and gazed out across her fields. They were hers, in truth if not writing, and would one day be hers in every sense. For a moment, her stomach began to clench as her mind turned unwillingly but naturally to the realities of what lay ahead. The loans, the mortgage payments, the possibility of a bad crop ruining all her plans. Firmly, she pushed those thoughts aside. She had acknowledged them before and would acknowledge them again, when she sat before her ledger or reviewed the accounts. This moment was for enjoying the sheer bounty of life, not for fears and numbers. Without the former, she could never face the latter. It was for the warm reality of the growing, breathing crops that she was determined to deal with the men from the bank, to go without new things, and work until her back ached every day, only to get up and do the same the next morning, before the sun was up.