On Fertile Ground

My family and I spent the better part of a year searching for this land. I knew when I found just the right fertile soil — but I wasn't satisfied. And then, one day, we came over this ridge, and I saw the way the saplings sprouted. I could taste the nutrients in the dirt on the tip of my finger. That first season, my father was worried I'd made the wrong choice, but when the wheat came in, and we had bread for the yearfall (and money in his pocket), he told me how proud he was. However, I outgrew the farm. I have packed my things and plan to open my own tavern in <location>Brittlebush</location>, and I could not be more excited to share my talent for cooking with travelers from far and wide. Before I leave, my mother wishes to send me off with a gift. I wonder what it could be? —Emily Fray