Dear Farm Journal,
Slim droplets of drizzle streak across the gray sky, yet we’re on the cusp of a greensplosion. Beneath the listless amber prairies, an unmistakable emerald carpet quickens. Newborn buds and shoots are on the move, in the impetus of their photosynthetic dance. The farmer plants her crops, but the rhythms of Mother Nature’s ever beating drum brings everything to life.