A field of wheat is instantly recognizable. The long slender stalks of golden clusters swaying in the wind are part of our collective consciousness, because in that wind is not just any plant but the cornerstone of our dining room table, bread. We’ve been cultivating it for centuries, but most of us these days see wheat most often baked into a broken loaf, crumbling in the back of our bread boxes. We can forget how beautiful the raw product looks when we step out of the car and see nothing but wheat fields for miles rolling out before our eyes below the vast blue sky above, miles of gold swaying under the sunlight.
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