Growing up, I had spent many summers at Millweed Farm. My memories were of lush fields full of fruit trees interspersed with the occasional maple, pine and oak. The dozens of rows of crops—corn, melon, and blueberry in the summer—all had to be watered by hand. Grandad wasn't an enemy of modern tools and there were certainly sprinklers to be had. The old man just preferred doing the work himself. There were a lot of things I expected when I moved to Stardew Valley. I had learned what I could about farming in the space of time between where I quit my job and finally left for the valley, and I expected to be completely and totally exhausted. Sitting behind a computer all day doing data entry for Joja Corp doesn't exactly leave you with the sort of tough, robust body necessary for doing manual labor every day. What I was absolutely unprepared for was the state of Millweed Farm itself.

"Now, don't look so shocked son," Mayor Lewis said. He was an old man with a kindly voice who reminded me of my grandfather. The two had been close friends, apparently. "Millweed's been abandoned for a long time and the valley's always been fertile ground."

Shocked was an understatement. The beautiful, pristine field that stood out so clearly against my other childhood memories was nowhere to be seen. It had been replaced by a gnarled forest replete with wild grass, bushes, branches, and boulders. I breathed an uncomfortable sigh and sat down on the stoop of my grandfather's cottage. The old steps groaned under the stress of my weight, and had the house always been this small?

"What about the fruit trees?" I asked. "The apples, apricots, and oranges? Where did they get to?"

The carpenter, a red-haired woman named Robin, answered the question. "Fruit trees aren't as hardy as these trees you see here. The seeds blow in from the forest and can overwhelm a field in a season or two. The fruit trees probably got crowded out and died. Nature is all about survival of the fittest."

Errant seeds blowing in from the nearby forest made sense. I remembered grandpa saying how much of a chore it was to keep the trees under control. However, one puzzling question remained.

"The rocks and the boulders. How did they get here?"

My question was met with blank stares.

"Come on! Rocks don't grow out of the dirt! And look at the size of some of those boulders! Are you going to tell me that they blew in here from the forest too?"

"Ah, yes, about that," Mayor Lewis said. "The Joja Corporation was doing some work up in the mountains and they needed somewhere to stash the rocks they removed. I would have tried to stop them, but, well,"

"Let me guess," I ran a hand through my shaggy black hair. The golden hoops in my ear jangled as I shook my head. "They didn't ask before they did their dumping?"

Mayor Lewis nodded his head solemnly. "Millweed is out of the way. Your pappy has been dead for a while, and no one ever comes down here. Especially since the bus line broke down."

I starfished on the porch, staring up at the clear, spring sky. Here I was thinking that I was done with the Joja Corp forever. Nope. I would be cleaning up their mess for quite a while, it seemed. The stoop moaned as Mayor Lewis sat down and placed a yellow package next to me.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Max," He said. "Farming isn't easy. It's hours upon hours of back-breaking work in the hot sun. It'll get easier as time goes by and you get a hang of what plants make you the most profit and whatnot, but you've got a long struggle ahead of you." He motioned towards the yellow package. "I've got you fifteen parsnip seeds here to get you started."

I sat up. The mayor had a large, gray moustache and soft, genuine eyes that put my heart at ease.

"It also wouldn't hurt to get to know the community. The best part about living here in Stardew Valley is getting to know the people," Robin said. "Also, about the house. I did you a favor and looked it over when we got wind that someone was showing up to take over the property. The farmhouse itself isn't much. Basically, it's a single room with a bed, an old television and the bathroom is behind the house. The toilet works, but the shower doesn't."

"Looks like you'll be bathing in pond, Max," Mayor Lewis said, roaring with laughter. "You had better get that fixed before Winter rolls around otherwise you'll be in trouble."

"More good news," I said, sitting up.

"And if, and when, you get yourself set up properly you can always see come see me. I'm the carpenter around these parts and I can build anything you want," Robin said with a wink. "Coops, barns, silos for hay, and even remodel your house."

"Now, Robin, I thought you came here to welcome young Max to the valley not advertise your services," Mayor Lewis said, good-naturedly.

Robin gasped in mock-shock. "Why Mayor Lewis! I assure you that I had the most honest of intentions."

Sitting on the stoop listening to those two talk did much to help calm me down. Years of work in that cubicle farm, surrounded by dull, gray walls and the dreary hum of the industrial air-conditioner had left its mark on my psyche.

"All right," Mayor Lewis said. "We'll leave you to it, lad. When you get your bearings be sure to come into town and introduce yourself. Everyone's waiting to get to meet the new farmer."

And, just like that, I was alone. A gentle spring breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it the scent of nature. The farmhouse was sparsely furnished. The television was one of those ancient models with the fat backs. There was a small, circular dining table, a lonely chair, a bed with almost enough room for one and a small nightstand that had been barely big enough to hold my meagre belongings. I found what I was looking for outside, tucked into the cubby that held the firewood: My grandfather's tools.

They were all there: The axe, the pick, the scythe, the watering can, and the hoe. There wasn't much point to standing around in the morning sun, examining the dinged-up tools. The axe's handle was warped, and the pick was chipped. Resolving that there was no point in me trying to clear this field now, I got to work planting the seeds that Mayor Lewis had given me. I used my scythe to clear a small patch of land directly in front of the farmhouse.

Years ago, I had sat on that very same stoop and watched grandpa work. He had made it look so easy, so effortless. I, on the other hand, was drenched in sweat from after the first few swings. After the grass had been cleared, I took a moment to catch my breath. There were a couple of branches and a rock or two that I made quick work of. The axe and pick showed me exactly how bad of a shape my body was in. The dull blade broke through rather than sliced the flimsy branch. Waves of shock coursed up my arm as the tip of the pick pierced the rough stone. Still, after all of this, I wasn't done.

I would have thought that I would be good at hoeing after four years at university, but I couldn't have been more wrong. The edge of the hoe had gotten warped. It caught in the dirt and I had to use all my strength to till the earth. Once I had my little five-by three patch tilled, I took care of the planting. This part of the work was easy, at least. Almost therapeutic. Going from seed to seed, one patch at a time, and watching the water slip from the can and drench the dirt put me in a zen state of mind. I could see why grandpa had always insisted on doing this part by hand.

The parsnips were planted and there were still hours of daylight left. My wristwatch told me that it was just after noon. I gathered up a spare change of clothes and wove my way through the maze of trees, branches and rocks, clearing away what little I could, until I was at the small pond that lay at the very bottom of my property. I stripped until I was in my underclothes and dove right in. As the cold water hit my skin, I felt renewed. Down here, away from the farmhouse, I could see the true extent of the mess. It would take weeks, if not months, of concentrated effort to clear away this forest and get Millweed Farm in proper working order. There, threading water in the pond, it hit me.

Yes, the field was a mess. Yes, there was a lot of work that needed to be done and, yes, it would take me years to turn a proper profit. I had a long struggle ahead of me. But this field, every single tree, every single branch, every stone and every seed, was mine. After having spent the last few years of my life following the orders of my uncaring supervisors, I was finally free. My success, or failure, rested entirely on my shoulders. There was something oddly freeing about that thought. Smiling to myself, I hauled myself out of the pond on my tired arms, got dressed and headed into Pelican Town. There was enough time in the day left for me to check out the General Store, at least.