well, now, when it comes to the land, every farmer knows the cycle of death and rebirth. like when an old tree on the edge of the field dies, some might disavow its worth, but not me. it's an antecedent to new life, it is. i make a request to the soil, in my own way, to begin afresh, to take what's hidden beneath that old, withered bark and turn it into something green and thriving once more. it's the way of the world, hidden things coming to light, in their own time, nourishing the next generation of crops.