I remember the first time I saw the tractor. It sat quietly in the middle of the field, surrounded by rows of corn, like a silent guardian watching over the harvest. Something about it pulled me in—weathered and proud, as if it carried its own story. I kept coming back, photographing it through the seasons, watching how both the land and the tractor changed with time. Each visit made me think about the hands that had worked that soil and how the American tractor is more than a machine, it’s the backbone of the farmer, steady and reliable through every season. That’s where the name Backbone comes from.

The painting I’m working on captures the tractor in the heart of spring. The fields are softening under the warmth of the sun, and the scent of damp earth lingers in the air. New shoots push their way through the soil, and life begins to stir again after the long winter slumber. Birds return to the fields, and the breeze carries the promise of rain. And there stands the tractor, waiting patiently, just as it always has. Its paint may be chipped, and its metal worn from seasons of use, but it’s ready steady, enduring, and prepared to do what it was built to do.

Spring is a season of rebirth, reminding us that life always finds a way to begin again. Like the tractor, we all go through winters; times when we feel worn down or uncertain, but spring offers the chance to renew ourselves and move forward. The tractor’s quiet presence tells a story of strength, showing us that no matter how many seasons pass, we can endure, grow, and be ready for whatever comes next.

It’s a reminder that even when we feel weathered by life, there is always the promise of new beginnings.

Katherine