Mesmerized by the rhythmic thrust, stomp, hoist, and toss of the shovel, a scene unfolds in my mind as daylight wanes. I see a broken fence post tangled in a ball of wires on a lonely stretch of pasture. A rooster crows in the distance as the first hint of light breaks the eastern horizon. A man with sweat stains seeping through his grayish undershirt and gaping holes in his pant legs, spears the ground repeatedly with a pole-digger, plucking and releasing small mounds of soil from the ground, creating a neat, round hole for a new post. 

A nearby cow looks up from the grass and gives the man a hearty “Moo” hello.

The nearest house is a mile away. No witnesses around to take note of the man’s appearance. No minutes-before-closing trip to the market is needed, for adjacent to the pasture is a large garden bursting with vegetables. Swiss chard, spinach, collard, and mustard greens; scallions, radishes, beets, turnips, and carrots; iceberg, red leaf, and Romain lettuces soak up the early morning dew. Vines of melons and pumpkins race to the corners of the plot, obscuring their fruits beneath lattice-patterned leaves.

The above is excerpt from the short story:
You Look Like a Farmer
by Evelyn Wool