By Cacique Ihna
As our van pulled up beside a field covered with more rocks than open land, multiple “Are we here?” remarks filled the car. My scrutinizing eyes surveyed, in confusion, the surrounding area that appeared to be just a random unharvestable plot. Going to the “farm”, I had an image of big, open fields with neat rows of crops, but, instead, random blotches of fruit trees welcomed me. I was a bit ashamed of myself; all term, I have been learning to always keep an open mind and to try to rid all my preconceived notions but that is not what I did. I quickly thought of the farmer, Reverend Nixon, as someone who must have been careless, but, after I met him, I realized how industrious he actually is. Continue reading