Each year during March and April, Fire Knife Village was always bustling with activity.
Across the fields, people were busy sowing seeds, bending over their work with fervent energy, sweating profusely without any time to rest. If they could exchange a few words with their companions, that was considered a break.
It was a time blessed by favorable weather, the sun warm and gentle, the temperature just right. Households with paddy fields hurried to plant the early rice, and those with dry fields were anxious to get various vegetables and fruits into the ground, all hoping for a bountiful year after months of hard work.
The two plots of land near the threshing floor had been prepared a month earlier, fertilized with manure and ash, now rich and fertile. The chili seeds had been soaked the night before; if cared for properly after scattering them into the earth, by June or July, bright red chilies would fill the fields, a delightful prospect just to think about.
