The fields are smothered in heat as you walk through the Kent family farm. Two men work hard plowing dirt and weeds.

The glass is cold in your hand, fresh from Mrs. Kent's newest batch of lemonade. Clark's the first to look up, wide eyes meeting yours instantaneously. Sweat beads on his brow, a sheepish grins graces his features. “Helllo~ did Ma’ send you? We where just wrapping up to come inside.” He leans on his pitchfork. Mr Kent works with the moldboard a distance away.