Jesse Blasi had been planning the perfect anniversary gift for months, and it wasn’t something you could wrap in a box. It would take eight months of preparation, one mile of farmland, and 65 million wheat seeds to pull off—but the goal was simple: to make his wife, Sarah, smile.
Inspired by a story he had seen the previous year about a Kansas farmer who planted a sunflower field for his wife, Jesse wondered: what if he could do something similar, but with wheat? What if he could create a message in the land itself—something monumental, personal, and impossible to miss?
Back in October, Jesse began his labor of love. Using modern farming tools, including a John Deere Air Seeder, and two varieties of wheat to create contrasting colors, he carefully mapped out the words that would soon stretch across his field: “Jesse + Sarah, 20 Years.”
For Jesse, it wasn’t just about the wheat—it was about the story it told. He and Sarah had met years ago at a bar while attending Kansas State University. A chance encounter at a stoplight on their way home sealed their fate, and over the years, they built not only a farm but a life filled with love, laughter, and two daughters, Reagan and Avery.
“I knew it would make her smile,” Jesse said later. “That was kind-of the whole goal, to get the little grin out of her that I like.”
The growing season demanded patience. Jesse tended the field diligently, nurturing the two colors of wheat as they began to emerge, knowing that every sprout, every inch of growth, was a step closer to his surprise. All the while, he had to keep it secret—other farmers glimpsing the early outlines could have ruined the magic.
Finally, in early June, the moment arrived. Jesse and Sarah climbed into a small airplane to survey the fields from above. And then, as the plane lifted over the horizon, Sarah’s eyes widened. There it was, laid out in living, breathing wheat: “Jesse + Sarah. 20 Years.”
The message stretched a full mile long and half a mile wide. The letters were created with a deep red chaff wheat, standing boldly against a lighter wheat background. From above, it was impossible to miss—a golden testament to two decades of love, devotion, and shared life.
For the rest of the summer, anyone flying over that part of Kansas could catch a glimpse of Jesse’s message, a celebration of love written in the language of the land. Eventually, the seasons would change, and the message would fade, but Jesse knew the memory would endure far longer than the wheat itself.
“It’s all the little things that make you happy,” he said, smiling. And with one mile of wheat and millions of seeds, Jesse had given Sarah a lifetime’s worth of joy in a single, unforgettable moment.
