It is early May. Trees in Emmett are turning green, the sides of the road are lined with cattails, and magpies occasionally skitter across the road as I drive toward the Emmett bench, where Tracy Walton is planting corn in his fields. I see Tracy waving from his red tractor as he moves through a tilled field, and I pull to the side of the road. He stops and waits for me as I trudge through the dirt. Tracy wears a faded but clean T-shirt, a baseball cap, and sturdy work boots as I walk up to him and shake his hand.
“Can you take notes while we drive?” he asks.
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