The low, corduroy rows of medium green: soybeans. Carved banks covered with clay-dusted orbs: peanuts, plucked out of the earth to dry. Pale-green and branchy: rabbit-eye blueberry. Dark leaves and white flowers: cotton before the bolls form. 

A few weeks ago, close to the Florida border, I spotted an unfamiliar hue out the window: behind a cotton field, a ripple of silver-green. The shrubs were rounded and tall, holding up narrow, widely spaced leaves. I got out of the car to crunch across the bright sandy loam, and spotted clusters of small round fruits, some lighter than the leaves, others a rich dark brown. A faint scent, dusty and citrusy, coasted on the hot breeze.

I had found the first commercial olive