When You’ve Prayed, Planted, and Still See No Fruit

I've become a bit of a field-watcher lately, and I promise it's not as strange as it sounds. As I've mentioned, there's a pasture directly behind our house here in Wales. Over the past several months, I've had a front-row seat to its entire transformation, and let me tell you, it's been quite the show.

It started out gorgeous. Tall grasses waved in the breeze like something out of a storybook, and I'd look out my window and think, Well, isn't that just lovely? It was rhythmic and calming, much like watching ocean waves. Honestly, I could have watched that field sway all day.

Then one morning, I looked out, and the grasses were gone, cut clean down. What had been lush and lovely was now dry, short, and a little sad-looking. I remember thinking, Well, that's depressing!

But the field wasn't finished with its dramatic arc. Next came the manure.