Laurel springs out of bed at the crack of dawn and dons his orange overalls ready for the day ahead. He consults the mirror: a bearded blue-eyed breadwinner with burly arms bulky enough to bear the burden of potato sacks to-and-from the store. He slips on his woolly socks and dashes down two flights of stairs.
"Whoa, watch it!" his haste is interrupted as he encounters a lady carrying a handful of laundry up the stairs. "What did I tell you boys about running in the house?"
Laurel nods his apology and proceeds to job lightly into the living area at the bottom: a cosy central hub that contains a lounge, a cafeteria, a kitchen and pantry. His chef hums a merry tune as she stirs a pot of stew, which she serves with a red-lipped smile.
"First in line as always I see, Laurel!" the lady chimes. "As a reward, you get the first pick of bread loaf!"
Laurel says his graces and gobbles the Veggie Cream Soup – a basic dish but nevertheless a breakfast delicacy for the farmworkers.
He wipes his lip with the back of his hand and turns to the chef. "Tasks for today, Ma'am?"
The lady glides towards the dining table with a simpering smile. "Eager, aren't you dear? I like to see some enthusiasm in this place! Still, I will wait for the others to arrive before I brief you on today's to-do list."
A sudden thud stirs from above. The lady casts her eyes to the ceiling. "And here they come…right on cue…"
The stairs erupt into a series of stamps as his fellow farmers scramble to be first at the table: three young lads, all dressed in identical overalls with distinctly different hats to maintain their individual identity.
The first to the punch is the middle-child: Andy, with his straw planter's hat, slips between his brothers' shoulders and scurries for the table.
His older brother, Atlas, is a strapping fellow with a flat cap and a sprinkle of stubble on his chin. He shoves his brother aside to claim his seat at the head of the table.
The final arrival is the youngest: Laurel's stargazing buddy Alphy, with his woolly ear-flapped hat, trails behind his brothers with his shoulders slumped. He hops onto the unclaimed stool and the brother begin their breakfast.
"Now boys, listen up!" the chef claps her hands to command their attention. "We have plenty of preparation to complete before the harvest! I expect all of you to be on top form so that we can conduct this process as efficiently as possible!"
The boys neglect to answer as they indulge in their morning meals.
"I have allocated each of you assignments according to your strengths," she proceeds. "Atlas; you and Laurel will be ploughing the fields, ready for the new crop. Andy; you will be rounding up the sheep with Richard, ready for shearing. And Alphy…" She looks to him sympathetically. "You can help me by peeling the potatoes for tonight's supper. Is everyone clear?"
There is a ruckus of mumblings from around the table.
"I said is everyone clear?" the lady repeats with added ferocity.
"Yes, Mother!" the three brothers chime.
"Excellent!" she claps her hands with delight. "Then we shall reconvene for supper! Remember to take a picnic basket with you for your lunch! I've prepared each one especially!"
Her army of minions scamper for the door, where they strap on their boots and collect their pre-packed lunches. Andy barges past Alphy and escapes into the outdoors. Atlas rolls his eyes and turns to Laurel wearily. "Meet me in the south-east field with the plough-horse."
"Yes, Sir!" Laurel salutes.
"Don't waste time talking to it either." His lip curls. "They're animals - they can't talk back."
Laurel bashfully retracts his salute as Atlas strides out the front door. He laces his boots and joins him in the refreshing morning air.