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Margaret is almost 9 when she sees her grandparents’ farm for the first time. Clutching her mother’s hand so tightly that her knuckles turn white, she is consumed by a mixture of exhilaration at the novelty of it all and fear of the unknown. The pungent smell of the air, laden with musk and cut grass, tickles her nose, while the mud sticking to her shoes almost makes her lose her footing. “So, is ...