Seeds of Resistance

The air smelled of freshly turned soil, the kind that clung to the skin and left an earthy scent that lingered even after you washed it away. Ivy Caldwell stood on the edge of her grandmother’s land, her boots sinking into the soft ground, trying to take it all in. The fields stretched out before her, dry and neglected, but still, there was a quiet beauty in them. It had been years since she’d been to this place — years since she’d visited her grandmother, Marigold, whose love for the land had always been as intense as it was mysterious.

Marigold’s death had come suddenly, and now the farm — this crumbling piece of history that had once thrived under her care — was Ivy’s. She had inherited it with little more than a legal notice and a set of old, rusted keys. At twenty-eight, Ivy hadn’t imagined herself returning to rural life. She was a city girl at heart, or so she thought. But something about this place called to her, something more than just bloodline and nostalgia.

“It’s a fixer-upper, that’s for sure,” she muttered to herself, surveying the dilapidated barn and overgrown fields.

Corporate agriculture had taken over most of the surrounding farms years ago. Her grandmother’s land was one of the few that hadn’t sold out to Agrimax, a giant agribusiness conglomerate that swallowed up family farms like hers, turning them into vast, faceless monocultures. Marigold had held on, stubborn as ever, refusing to sell. And now, it was Ivy’s turn to figure out what to do with this legacy.