Chapter Twelve
The First Abundance
The morning began no differently than the one before.
Rebecca rang the breakfast bell.
The smell of fresh bread drifted from the bakery.
Milkmaids made their way toward the dairy.
Frank Cooper's carpenters gathered their tools.
Jake's apprentices carried fresh panes of glass toward another row of cabins.
Jacob Yoder inspected another day's bricks.
John Miller hitched the logging teams.
The settlement moved like a well-built clock.
Not because anyone commanded it.
Because everyone already knew where they belonged.
Samuel stood outside Rebecca's kitchen watching the valley awaken.
Buck Rogers joined him with his clipboard tucked beneath one arm.
Samuel smiled.
"You still making lists?"
Buck nodded.
"I don't think I'll ever finish."
Samuel laughed.
"I hope not."
Buck looked across the busy settlement.
"I noticed something yesterday."
"What?"
"Nobody asked me for work."
Samuel looked pleasantly surprised.
"They already had work."
Buck closed the clipboard.
"I believe that's the first day that's happened."
Inside the bakery several young women placed warm loaves upon cooling racks.
One girl looked around the room.
"What do we do with all this bread?"
Rebecca smiled.
"Bake some more."
The girl laughed.
"No... I mean, we can't possibly eat this much."
Rebecca looked toward the pantry.
"No."
She smiled.
"And that's a blessing."
Just then Galileo arrived carrying another sack of fresh flour.
Rebecca nodded toward the shelves.
"We've reached the point where we're baking ahead."
Galileo smiled.
"Civilizations begin the day they have tomorrow's bread."
The dairy was equally busy.
Fresh milk filled shining cans.
Butter cooled upon wooden racks.
Cheese quietly aged upon clean shelves.
Rebecca looked around the creamery.
"We're running out of room."
One of the women smiled.
"That's a fine problem to have."
Jake walked in carrying another crate of empty glass jars.
Rebecca laughed.
"I wondered how long it would take before you filled my pantry."
Jake carefully stacked the crate.
"You'll fill it."
Rebecca looked around the room.
"I believe you're right."
After breakfast Rebecca stepped outside and called to the children.
"If you've finished your chores, I've another job for you."
Boys and girls hurried across the yard.
One little fellow asked,
"Are we picking tomatoes?"
Rebecca shook her head.
"Today we're planting tomorrow."
The children looked puzzled.
She lifted a wooden box filled with small paper envelopes.
"They're empty."
"For now."
Samuel and Galileo happened by just as Rebecca picked up a ripe tomato.
Samuel held it high enough for every child to see.
"Who can tell me where next year's tomatoes come from?"
Hands shot into the air.
"The seeds!"
"That's right."
Samuel sliced the tomato open.
Hundreds of tiny seeds glistened inside.
A little girl gasped.
"All those came from one tomato?"
Galileo knelt beside her.
"And each one can grow another plant."
He paused.
"And each plant can grow hundreds more."
The children stared with new appreciation.
Rebecca handed each child a small spoon.
"Today we're saving the very best seeds."
One little boy frowned.
"Why don't we just eat them?"
Samuel smiled.
"Because good farmers always think about the next planting."
The children carefully separated seeds from tomatoes while Rebecca spread them across cloth screens to dry.
One little girl held a single seed between her fingers.
"It doesn't look like much."
Galileo smiled.
"No."
"But inside that little seed is another harvest."
Samuel nodded.
"And inside that harvest are enough seeds for another generation."
The little girl carefully placed the seed upon the drying screen.
As though it were treasure.
Later Buck wandered past carrying his clipboard.
"What are all the children doing?"
Rebecca smiled.
"They're planting next year's gardens."
Buck looked around.
"I don't see a single shovel."
Samuel laughed.
"Some planting begins long before a shovel ever touches the ground."
Buck wrote something on his clipboard.
Rebecca peeked over his shoulder.
"What did you write?"
"Inventory."
She picked up one tiny tomato seed.
"No."
Buck looked at her.
"What then?"
She gently placed the seed into one of the paper envelopes.
"Hope."
Buck studied the seed for a long moment.
Then beneath the word Inventory he quietly wrote another.
Hope.
That evening the men gathered once more around the brick pile.
Jacob lit his corncob pipe.
Frank leaned comfortably against a stack of cured bricks.
Jake brushed putty from his hands.
Galileo still carried a trace of flour upon his sleeves.
Samuel looked around the circle.
"When we first came here..."
He paused.
"...we wondered if we'd have enough."
Heads nodded all around.
Samuel continued.
"Now we're wondering what to do with the extra."
Galileo smiled.
"That is one of the finest questions a civilization can ask."
Jacob chuckled.
"Better than wondering where supper's coming from."
Laughter drifted through the gathering.
Rebecca appeared carrying fresh coffee.
"I heard that."
Jacob tipped his hat.
"I hoped you would."
She handed him a steaming cup.
"You'll never go hungry as long as I'm cooking."
Jacob smiled.
"I never doubted it."
Samuel looked across the valley.
Warm lantern light glowed behind Jake's windows.
Children laughed between the cabins.
A rocking chair creaked gently on one porch.
Someone struggled through a tune on a fiddle.
The flour mill continued its steady turning.
The bakery still carried the aroma of fresh bread.
The settlement had crossed an invisible line.
They no longer worked because they feared tomorrow.
They worked because life itself was multiplying.
Samuel quietly removed his hat.
"The Lord has been generous."
Galileo nodded.
"He usually is."
Samuel folded his hands behind his back.
"Our responsibility now..."
Galileo finished the thought.
"...is to pass that generosity to the next generation."
Samuel looked toward the children who had spent the afternoon saving seeds for gardens they had not yet planted.
A smile spread across his face.
"Then I believe we had a very good day."
The two men stood together in comfortable silence.
The valley had become more than a place where people lived.
It had become a place where life, knowledge, and hope were planted together.
And like the tiny seeds drying on Rebecca's screens, each promised a harvest far greater than itself.
The Good Earth • Saga #1 of the Planetary Roundtable