Combine a smoldering hot day that’s well over one hundred degrees, the suns blinding light high above the sky, and fields of peppers that range from different colors like red and yellow, to make one of the most vivid childhood memories that I still remember perfectly to this day. I was almost nine years old the first time I went hand in hand with my dad into work to pick my first harvest. Within the first hour of work after only filling a few baskets of peppers, I could already feel my muscles begin to burn and beads of sweat roll down my face. It was then, that I looked at my dad and saw that he seemed to be as tired as me because I could start to hear him breathe a little heavier and saw his shirt was already drenched in sweat more so then
