PLOUGHING

I was busy in my studio and heard my neighbour, Willie, on his tractor. It was raining softly and he was ploughing the field adjacent, accompanied by his two dogs inspecting and sniffing, following the tractor.
Just then his father arrived and off he roared on the tractor to meet with him. End of ploughing.
Why is it that this simple action excites me so? If it had not been raining I would have joined the two dogs walking in the newly ploughed furrows inspecting the insect life.