One thousand and one. The last of the Hollowpipes was planted, with plenty of time until the first storms came through. Perhaps there would be enough time for a small patch of berries for a sweet dessert come harvest time. If he got the timing right, Kol could have them ready before the first birds returned from migration. It was a brief window, but he had managed it before.
Kol looked out over the Hollowpipe fields, proud of his handiwork. It would have gone faster with a field-hand, as he’d had in previous years, but good workers were difficult to find this season. Most had gone on to the city. The promise of quick wealth and easy living was an enticing one. He wondered how many would make it to their dreams.
With his shovel over his shoulder and an empty sack in hand, Kol walked back towards the sun setting over his modest home. This would be a good season. He could feel it in the wind.