The pasture sloped gently before him, fruit-laden autumn branches bouncing glimpses of snow-capped peaks. He toed the soil and sat, twisting an alfalfa sprig between his fingers. Nettie, the dog-brained alpaca flopped down beside him for a rub. She was the last of the livestock and spent her days close to the farmhouse.
He had cultivated the land with dreams of generations, posterity and promise. Josh and Cameron kept to their city skyline views now. Neither seemed destined for seed or soil. He lifted the single picket, squaring the crooked cardboard to the horizon, winking condos brushed in place, layered over red barns, river, and mountains. Lowering the sign in optimism, he pictured a small farmhouse and yard full of children.
He raised his weight on creaky knees and waved at Midge in the kitchen window. She blew a kiss as he walked down the gravel drive, balancing mallet and sign. When he reached the tall grass near the main road, he cleared a space and hammered the picket home.
