Sea gulls gather to glean bugs from the freshly plowed field. Did the birds hear the tractor or smell the fresh earth? Whatever the signal, they flew in when called, following the John Deere, landing, strutting the furrows as if they owned the place. A winged clan, congregating, inspecting and pecking for food. God is in the business of transformation and so is Brien Jordan, an Island teen with capable machinery and careful eye, setting blade and dragging to cut and smooth dirt into acceptance for planting. Green pasture grass and brush is split and turned into dirt as magically as the fairy tale where the girl spins straw into gold. My father, Lloyd once told me that great grandpa Klingenberg traded a shore line parcel on Island for farm land in the time when crops were more valuable than beach views. I sold 225 feet of Dewey Lake front and purchased 25 acres of inland earthbound waves which are now uncovered and released for the seed package. Shovel in hand, I cherish the hallowed ground.