It’s funny, isn’t it?

How a farmer will spend countless hours preparing a stretch of land—disking, tilling, planting, sweating under a relentless sun. He’ll pour thousands of dollars into fuel, seeds, parts, and repairs, knowing full well that the return might not justify the investment. He’ll lie awake at night—not because he can’t sleep, but because he’s praying: Let it rain. But not too much. Let the sun shine. But not too hot.

He doesn’t clock in at 9 or punch out at 5. His schedule is dictated by the seasons. By the soil. By the sky.

And still, he does it.

He’ll brave blistering heat and bone-deep cold. He’ll get honked at by drivers angry about getting stuck behind his slow-moving tractor on a country road. He’ll shrug off the deer eating his crops, the hogs tearing up his fields, the coyotes and coons and grasshoppers claiming their share.

And for what?

Not for fame. Not for fortune. Not for a corner office or a pension plan.

But because there’s something sacred in it. Something steady and quiet and strong. Something that lives in the dust and the dawn, in the rhythm of planting and harvesting, in the calloused hands that carry generations of hope.

Why does he do it?

Because somewhere out there, someone is sitting down to a warm meal. Someone is buttoning up a cotton shirt. Someone is wearing leather shoes. And all of that started with him—with a farmer who dared to trust the earth again.

Because it’s not just about feeding a family. It’s about feeding the world.

And at the end of the day, when the sun dips below the horizon and the last chore is done, there’s a peace that settles in. The kind that only comes from knowing you did your part. That something grew because of you. That someone’s life is better—fuller—because of your work.

So here’s to the farmers.

The ones who rise early and rest late. The ones whose work is often unseen, but never unfelt. The ones who remind us—every time we sit down to eat—that the simplest things in life are often the hardest earned.

Thank you for what you do.

For the sweat.
The soil.
The sacrifice.
And the quiet pride that keeps the world turning. 🌾👨‍🌾❤️