I awoke before six to see the dawn and the sun breaking cover over the lake. I then went to help work the fields.
Our job was the Sisyphean one of looking for rocks in the field and mounting them in little piles for collection later.
The fields are covered with rocks. By eight, the sun is burning. There were four of us: my two sons, myself, and the farm manager. At first there was something soothing in the simple labour. Later it just got exhausting, but an experience to be savoured. Next year the rocks will rise up again and all our labour will be for nothing. And the year after that for aeons of time the rocks will keep rising.
Perhaps one day they will invent a little robot to walk the fields, picking up the rocks. And then something will be lost.