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THE NARRATIVE ARC
Harvest Made Me Wish For the Torments of School
The machines were dangerous, but not as dangerous as the men we hired to help
Though we had a small farm, dad would always hire a few men to help bring in the crop. Harvest came in the fall about the time we’d start to see frost on the ground. The leaves would turn from green to red and gold.
It’s the gold leaves I remember. They’d fall from the branches and blow across the lake. The sun would be low in the sky, and the horizon made it look as if a fire raged beyond the edge of the world.
Autumn is defined by warm colors, but there’s a chill in the air. In the back of our minds, we anticipate the white and bitter blue of winter. The lakes would soon be dark and still. You could spend all day peering into the frozen depths and never see anything but a captivating, impenetrable nothingness.
Farm life contains many days that evoke the same feeling as staring into murky water.
There was a time when I hadn’t yet come to believe in the seasons, though I experienced them every year. The present moment seems eternal when you’re young. The first snow is so magical it brings unquenchable joy. I feel that now and recall the innocence of youth.