Trostle Farm at Plum Run (July 2, 1863, Gettysburg) by Theresa Wyatt The breastworks seemed to whisper go lie in this open field and feel the earth speak to you allow the ground to tell you its story how stampedes and strife were often daily and how the in between times accommodated lovers at the beginning of their thirst, allow yourself the curiosity of tall tales and sad but true testimony of how this battle or that battle changed the course of history and how, as you see it, lying there in an open field, how drops of ruby blood, invisible to sight or touch, have mingled into blooms.