Four years ago today, I lost my father, one of the most humble, passionate, hardworking agriculturists I've ever known. Today, I got up, put on my boots and charged my camera, got in my car and just drove. My heart took me to Pickaway County, to fields and fields filled with the promise of a good harvest. Working these fields, as I could tell they'd be itching to do, were the farmers. The green tractors, the red tractors, even a yellow tractor, diligently preparing the land for this spring's planting. I don't know about you, but this is one of my favorite views in the whole world. Dad used to be a grumpy old bear all winter, always complaining and yearning to get back out the fields as soon as God would let him. But as soon as He did, that old bear cheered up like no other. I know that now when I pass those farmers, my dad isn't in that tractor, but I like to imagine he is. The best kind of calm and peace comes over me and it fills me with such joy. Missing someone is never easy, but the peace that comes with the years makes it's much more bearable and for that, I have to thank God.
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