By the time Kingsville came into view, I was actually wishing it was farther away - 'it' hadn't had enough. ATV pulling a trailer loaded with farm equipment. He had been putting along resting chin on palm until he saw me, then waved with a simple fluid sweep of his arm. Somehow that triggered thoughts of contentment versus complacency in one's occupation. Farm work is definitely labor intensive, but compared to the type of detail and precision and time-critical planning of my years in computers, it seems to be overall more forgiving.
Office work demands things being done 'better' or 'faster' or more 'economical' all the time.
There is a minimum standard that must be met in farm work, but making more precise furrows in the field doesn't make the crops grow more, and you can only milk cows so fast. I've known a number of people who were complacent but discontent in their jobs. I wonder if the graceful motion of that man's wave and his casual relaxed position belied a satisfaction of his situation. In the vicinity of the Black River, the Louisiana swamps crowd the road and are fetid, stagnant pools of inky dark water. I expected to smell rank odors, but instead there arose lush scent of honeysuckle and white flowers on a vine I don't recognize.