The month of May in rural Albania is a time of beauty and abundance. The fields are full of farmers working, in twos or fours, wielding hand tools—scythes, rakes, pitchforks—or riding donkeys stacked high with wood. Here and there a small tractor cuts and turns the hay to dry. There’s a feeling of great industry as fields full of growing plants are tended. Women wear large straw hats against the strong sun. Such a pretty sight but when I approach with my camera, they cower, shake their heads and wag their fingers. No, no, no pictures. 

I am in awe and feel great respect for these people who spend days in the sun, crouching, digging, picking, all with the intent to grow food for themselves and their animals. A pact with nature every spring, summer, and fall, to please cooperate and give them bounty. Not disaster. Not drought. What do I know about this kind of life, a city dweller for 50 years now.