It was as though the pulsing arteries of the soil had been revealed, and I was the first witness. I inched closer to see the details of the new layer, mesmerized. The grains were the color of oxidized iron coated in black grease. They looked made of blood. These new clods of soil looked like whole hearts. The going got tougher. Roots the size of my dad’s forearm jutted in all directions, and he hacked them with his shovel.
