I didn’t grow up with horses. I grew up in the cabin of my dad’s John Deere harvester, moving up and down fields in long, disciplined lines. That rhythm shaped how I understand work.

Old wagon wheels sat around our property. Iron seats from retired tractors placed through the garden. Machinery wasn’t decoration, it was history.

My grandfather carried that history. He collected tractors, restored them, kept them working. I spent days climbing over old Fergusons and John Deeres like they were playgrounds.

Rusted levers, heavy steering wheels, worn pedals. Everything held the weight of use.

He preserved what came before, not as nostalgia, but as continuity.

Sovereign holds that lineage of labour. It traces the system back to its origin.

Muscle before motor. Breath before combustion.

Within Harvest, it marks the threshold. Where effort becomes movement, and movement becomes progression.