Depite the best efforts of humans to beat it, Nature has a way of winning. The quiet, slow pace of inexorable growth wins out over man’s much vaunted technology, every time. Given time.
This tractor used to plough those fields. No grass. Regimented crops as far as the eye could see. Then the farmer died. His widow was forced to sell their home. The tractor remained behind. And Nature returned.
All that is left is this rusting hulk which will return slowly to the earth, as rain and wind and weather erode the steel and glass, and it crumbles to dust. It may take centuries. Long before then, the old tractor will be lost under weeds and bushes and become home to many generations of critters of all kinds. It will become a shapeless bump in the landscape. If this land remains unfarmed, the tractor will, one long distant time in the future, entirely disappear. For now it is the last sign that a family ever lived here.
Nature wins. Eventually. Every time. Given time.
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