The field breathes again
The story of a farmer from Mykolaiv region
That rustle of leaves, dried by the sun, when you walk through rows of corn in summer — I missed it so much when the village was under occupation.
The fields, the treelines — all are mined. There are explosives everywhere. It was frightening to harvest, frightening even to take a step. But I hoped I would return to my farm. Just walking and walking, the sky and the fields, and nothing else in the world would exist…
After the demining, we came back to our native Mykolaiv region. I’ll never forget that moment. It felt like I was growing back into the soil. Breathing became easier. I look at the field — I don’t know what I’m thinking about. It’s just so good here. Home.
When the night frosts ended in April, we planted new seeds. And the land rewarded us. Now I walk the fields again, feeling the ears of corn — how they’re filling out, whether they’re keeping up. I know them well. I can sense it immediately.