This morning, a summer mist covers the Picardy plain. Driving my little Clio, I see them in the fields. Everything is calm. I open the window. In the kitchens, coffee is already served. The weather is rather mild.

Everyone adjusts the schedule of their day.

“I like going back to the land, it reminds me of my father,” one farmer told me. This profession carries within it a whole world, a whole way of life, a whole attachment and values. From farm to farm, I had the chance to share a little of their daily life.

I see Louis again, a neighbor, a retired farmer, who came to help the two brothers to tag the calves and drink coffee. I see again a family gathered for the harvest with one of the girls behind the wheel, coming to help during her vacation. I think back to the refreshing break during the flax harvest, between two bales. I also remember the panic of a couple of market gardeners after a storm destroyed their entire greenhouse.