I imagine what it must’ve been like for those first settlers. Coming out into the unknown filled with dreams of a better life—however they might have defined that for themselves. All hope and hard work. Clearing land, building a home.
And then the first death. Maybe a child or a partner. The conditions were unforgiving out there. The margin of error so small. The razor blade of fortune often deciding between life and death.
Think of it: You’ve put your whole life on the line for an idea and here you are sinking your shovel into black dirt. Your first real success will be to start a new cemetery.