Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
The pencil glides easily over the paper, laying down a warm, sunlit green that blends into the deeper mossy tones I already used for the fresh, spring grass.
I shift in the dirt where I’m sitting and lean back against the large tractor wheel as I place the green pencil back in the tin and take out a few browns.
My drawing’s almost done, but… it’s missing something. And I don’t know what.
I look up at the hollow heart field stretched out before me, then down to the version of it I’ve been building in lines and layers of colour.
We haven’t started planting yet this season, so the field is just all dark earth in various shades of brown.
I just finished tilling it, so there are large clumps of soil spread over its entire surface, catching the fading sunlight on their peaks and highlighting my work for tomorrow when I’ll break them up with the disc harrow.
Then, hopefully in a few weeks, we’ll start planting all the fields.
But… I don’t know about this one.
It just doesn’t seem ready yet. The soil’s holding onto moisture and still feels cold beneath the surface, even after tilling. It hasn’t settled the way it should after winter. The top layer should be easier to break open, but it’s still dense, like it’s resisting.
Maybe it just needs more time, so it can breathe and dry out, and adjust before we start asking for anything from it. Maybe we plant this one last. Or even wait a little longer until it says it’s ready.
I choose a dark brown and layer it over the shadowed areas of the soil, and a small smile tugs at my lips. Dad made sure I went with the best pencils in the art store yesterday, and I’m glad he did. These are fucking nice.
“There you are.”
I look up to see Rob, one of the equipment operators, walking towards me.
“Hey,” I say, dropping one of the pencils back in the tin and reaching for a lighter one to work in some highlights.
He stops beside me, resting his hand on the side of the tractor. “Figured when the tractor didn’t come back, I’d find you out here.”
I glance up at him again. “Do you need it?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head, then tips his chin towards the sketchbook in my lap. “Looks good.”
I sigh and look down at it. “Something’s missing.”
“Hm,” Rob hums. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter, then shift my gaze to the field. “It is too.”
He lowers himself to sit next to me, leaning back against the tractor tire.
“Yeah. Sucks to lose this one, eh?”
“We’re not going to lose it,” I say immediately, and maybe a bit too sharply.
I glance at him with a wince, but he just laughs and pulls a long blade of grass to stick between his teeth.
“That’s the spirit,” he says.
I let my eyes linger on him for a moment longer as he gazes out at the field, and let the familiar comfort settle.
Rob’s worked on this farm longer than I’ve been alive.
He’s one of Dad’s closest friends, and he’s always been really good to me.
Even when I was at my worst, when I was hitting Mom and running away from her for things I still don’t understand.
I always ran to him if I couldn’t find Dad or Papa.
He’d let me climb in the cab of the tractor or sit under his workbench, and he’d just talk.
Not at me… just with me. He’d talk about whatever it was he was fixing, or what the plan was for the day.
He’d talk about what went wrong with the spreader last week, and what he thought he might be fixing next week.
When I eventually came out from under the bench, he’d give me a flashlight to hold or a wrench to pass to him, and I’d help. And when I was ready, he’d walk me back to the house so I could try again with Mom.
I don’t remember those moments of anger, overwhelm, and upset. My brain just turned off, and I had no control. It still does that sometimes.
But I remember him being there and never judging me for what I couldn’t control.
And he’s still here.
Rob sits quietly next to me for a bit as I continue to add detail and adjust the lighting on my drawing. But something that’s been gnawing at me since yesterday keeps pushing in. Something Dad said when we were driving to Charlottetown, that I can’t get out of my head for some reason.
As I shift to deepen the colour of the sky, blending in faint oranges where the sun dips below the trees at the far edge of the field, I pull in a slow breath and keep my eyes on the paper.
“Dad said he’s getting someone from Farm Services to come work with us,” I say, adding some more light blue above the orange. “Why?”
“Ah,” Rob says. “Well… we don’t know what this field’s going to give us this year.
So we need to prepare as if it won’t give us anything, just in case.
” He pauses for a moment, and when I nod, he continues.
“And that changes the whole plan. This is a big field, so it’s a big loss.
Everything else has to perform at its absolute best now.
There’s a lot riding on the rest of the farm, so we need to make sure we do it right.
One bad season, and we’ll feel it for a very long time. ”
I stop shading and lift my eyes to look over the field. “Yeah…”
But I still feel… uncomfortable.
“What’s going to change?” I ask, dropping my gaze to the paper again to keep working on the sky.
Rob hums. “Hard to say. They may recommend changes in planting patterns, rotation order, soil nutrients… Or maybe just support with planning and managing workload more efficiently. I imagine they’ll look at all the data your dad’s been pulling from the last several years and do some fancy computer shit to run projections and make models, or whatever it is they do.
They can simulate different scenarios to predict how changes may play out, like if we switch fertilizer, or if another field underperforms. We can see what adjustments will give us the best output. ”
My brow furrows as my pencil stills, and I look out at the field again.
Models? Like… of the fields? And what the fuck are projections? How can they take numbers from previous years and know that changing planting patterns would make any difference?
I’ve heard all of this before, but it just makes my head hurt. I can’t picture it, and I don’t understand how farming can be put into graphs and numbers. And now numbers are going to tell us how to farm?
My mind feels fuzzy as I try to picture the report Dad gave me, which I haven’t even tried to read again. Pages and pages of words, numbers, charts, graphs… and that was for just one field.
My heart thumps a little harder as I try to picture everything Rob said. Models… I don’t even know what those are. Run projects… no, not projects… fuck.
A low groan escapes me as I bring a hand to my face and rub my eyes hard. Frustration is quickly rising, along with anxiety, sadness, and other feelings I can’t even begin to figure out. It’s all flooding me, all at once, and I can’t make sense of any of it.
“Yeah, I know,” Rob says gently. “It’s all the boring shit no one else wants to bother with. No one gets it, which is why we need to bring in someone who does this stuff.”
I nod, letting my eyes roam over the peaks and valleys of the tilled-up soil, and take in the different colours making up the earth. Then I turn my head to look at Rob, and he smiles.
“Do you think a lot will change?” I ask quietly.
His smile falters a little. “Don’t know, kid. But if it does... it’s only to help the farm.”
“Yeah,” I sigh and tip my head back against the tire.
I take a deep breath in and close my eyes, smelling the dirt and salt in the air, and listen to the breeze rustling the tall grass and the seagulls calling from the beach.
I lower one hand to the ground and press my fingers into the dirt, letting it slow my heart and bring me comfort.
This is my space, where I always feel safe and comfortable…
I’ll do whatever I need to do to help it.
“I know what’s missing.”
I open my eyes and turn my head to look at Rob, but he’s looking at my drawing.
“What?” I ask.
He points at the sun I drew in shades of yellow and orange, hanging low over the trees. “The sun needs sunglasses. Everyone knows that.”
I stare at him, and he just stares right back at me.
“Fuck off,” I say. But then a smile spreads over my lips.
Rob laughs, then leans back against the tire and pulls his hat over his eyes. “Wake me when it’s time to go.”
My smile stays as I pick up my pencil again and let my eyes scan the scene before me. Everything is bathed in orange and rose-gold light, and it feels like the world has softened for this moment. As I continue drawing, I blur the edges of the field, keeping only what really matters in focus.
And it makes me feel safe again.