I scan the forest floor of the ridgetop and smile. The ramps that carpet this area have sized up considerably since last week, which makes the harvest, cleaning, and bundling go much faster. A faint rhythm of spades against soil thrums through the trees where owls call and woodpeckers rap against old bark. The sounds soothe the exertion and time beats to an expeditious tempo. I look up from the life in the leaf litter to find it’s 5:00 PM and we have 5 bins of ramps. It’s an oniony ride back to the farm, and we call it a day.