Once, a village stood where this field is now. Small, lively, and full of life: thatched cottages, a well by the road, smoke rising from chimneys in the morning, dogs barking, carts rattling by, gates creaking in the wind. In spring, the air smelled of damp earth and manure; in summer, of fresh bread and wormwood. People lived simply, but they took care of what they had — especially gold.
The field was recently plowed, and this little beauty came to light. 😍
😮🤯😎✊✌️🍀