We Did Sow Einkorn Wheat and Bitter Vetch

Erotic Stories of the First Agricultural Revolution

Part 1: We Did Sow Einkorn Wheat and Bitter Vetch 

We Did Sow Einkorn Wheat and Bitter Vetch. These were the crops of my family, and their ancestors. In the fertile basin of the Levant, we toiled ceaselessly during the agrarian season. The hot sun burned at our necks and arms - our simple homespun cloth could only shield so much of our skin. My two sisters and I watered the earth with our sweat as we tilled and plowed. Mother would oft tell us the stories of our life-givers, 10 generations back who walked the earth, seeking their nourishment from the grain and root that reproduced in abundance in nature. By some desire to cultivate, my forefathers settled and now we toil with humility and fervour. 

We lived alone. Many others had once shared our struggle, but in search of less arid land, they strayed. Stubbornly, we tended our plots and made do with the circumstances that faced our ancestors. My older brother was the trader of our family. If our farm equipment broke, he would travel to meet with our neighbours and sell grain, or the smooth wooden sculpture work that mother was so accomplished with. I had not the hands for her craftwork, always seen as clumsy among my siblings. 

Upon the eve of a full moon in our off season, we received devastating news. Older brother had fallen ill on his travels, and had been mercilessly taken off this earth by a cruel hand above. We wept for six weeks. We worked, and the hot tears fell to the ground, splashing the soil. The offering of our tears must have softened the hearts of the gods, because our einkorn wheat and bitter vetch flourished to such a degree that we abased ourselves in gratitude to the sky. We missed older brother, but now work renewed us. 

As our harvesting season waned, mother pulled me aside to share words:

“Son, you are 23 harvests. Older brother has left us forever, and our family needs a trader, or we will not last much longer on this earth. Our harvest is such this year that we will be able to sustain ourselves for many years to come.” After a pause, she looked up tearfully and spoke again “it is time for you to leave us my son, and exchange in benefit to the family." Another pause. "As uncomfortable as it is to speak about this with my own blood - if the trader of our family has the capacity, they have another obligation...”

Mother conveyed my duty. For me, the fertile planting season was far from over; a whole different one was about to begin. This time it would not be in the dry, arid land I had known my whole life, but in the warm wetnesses of the fertile adult women that plowed the fields across our region.