Rock Doc

I spent this past summer trudging through six-mile treks each weekend with two good friends. We walked along the edge of wheat fields outside of town. (My friends and I qualify as middle-aged ladies, so the walks counted as significant exercise. Sad but true.) One of the interesting things about the walks was simply observing the growth and ripening of the wheat fields by which we passed.

We depend on wheat for bread, pasta, animal feed, noodles and – perhaps most importantly – fresh-baked cinnamon rolls. Watching a whole field of wheat grow up, turn from green to gold and finally be harvested...