In the blink of an eye, the day of the oat harvest had arrived. Spring green had just begun to blanket the meadows, and birds returning from the south chirped noisily.
Thanks to the boost from the manure used during last year's planting, the harvest far exceeded previous years.
In the fields, Little Eyes's father knelt at the edge of the plot and prayed earnestly. "Thank you, Four Gods!"
"If you ask me, we should be thanking the Lord!" his wife said, tossing down her farming tools and wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. "It was the Lord who taught us to use manure and even made plows for us."
Little Eyes's father was far more devout than his wife. "Of course I'm grateful for the Lord's benevolence, but it was the Four Gods who brought the bountiful harvest!"
A bountiful harvest was a gift from the gods, while an empty stomach was punishment for one's own lack of piety.
