The Manifold

“ The flower I thought I chose had once chosen me. ” In February 2023, I stood quietly at the edge of a bushy, untended corner of my farm. Back then, the land was still taking shape and had the look of the wild. The terrain was raw, framed by tall trees, thick undergrowth, and scattered flowers that seemed to bloom wherever they pleased. I remember pausing to photograph a particular flower — tall, golden, radiant beneath the open sky. I didn’t know its name. I just knew I liked it. And then I forgot about it. The photo sank deep into my phone gallery like a leaf drifting on water. A moment passed and left behind. A Subtle Pull Across the Years Now, nearly two and a half years later, I’ve grown into a different rhythm with the land. My hands are more weathered, my senses more tuned. Farming is no longer just about planting and harvesting. It’s about listening to what the soil needs, to what the plants whisper, and to what nature quietly offers in return. The flower I capture...