One Acre Cottage was occupied by the Market Gardener, his wife and children, A smallholder, at home with the soil, he rose with the dawn and toiled until the sun set on his small agricultural farm. Working, in his quiet way, with the elements and experiencing the earth's renewal each season had made him a regular and attentive member of the Parish Church congregation, where he gave thanks for his good fortune and prayed for continuing good weather.
   Maximising his crop and always having something ready for market each week were his major preoccupations, for the well-being of his family depended on his hard work. Forcing the plants here, holding back there, he orchestrated his acre to work in perfect harmony to yield a rich harvest.
   His wife was a contented soul; she had much to be thankful for, with an abundance of healthy fresh food outside her door. The highlight of her week was the trip to the market to sell the produce in season: eggs, vegetables, fruit and poultry, supplemented by home-made jams and preserved fruit during the winter months. She enjoyed the companionship of the other traders and took this opportunity to catch up on local gossip. Her problems were few, although she did worry about her daughter, who befriended all the livestock and was always heartbroken when a favourite disappeared to market. But smallholding held no room for sentimentality, though even she sometimes heard herself warning the geese and ducks being fattened for Christmas, "Don't eat the bread!"