The field.

The trail was long and rugged. Ditches, ruts, rocks and big tire tracks were scattered through the winding path. Daisies, Black Eyed Susans, Queen Anne's Lace and other varieties of wildflowers lined both sides. Our long pants were warm in the sun. The sound of cicadas, crickets and grasshoppers almost drown out the chirping wrens and children's laughter.

Once we arrived at our destination, we were greeted with the sound of engines working hard. In no time, it rose over the horizon, bobbing up and down over the mounds of dirt. The unlit headlights looked like friendly eyes, the exhaust stack puffed a steady stream of smoke, while blonde curls swayed from a little girl sitting on daddy's lap behind the wheel of a tractor.

Next came the green plow with a boy whose smile could not grow any wider. His waving hand was only interrupted when he grabbed a hold of grandpa as a giant dirt clump caused the machine to bounce.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a black snake slithering away from the noise and apparent disruption of his day. Just a few moments before, a groundhog had scampered by heading into the deep woods, no doubt looking for food and a cool place to spend the afternoon.

One look around and we could see there was a lot to be done before planting could begin. More water was poured to quench the thirst of hard work and I headed back to the trail with two kids who were giggling even more than before.

Sunshine. Laughter. Happiness. Family. Beauty. Not a bad way to spend the day. Not bad at all.