Every morning before the sun hits the water, I'm out on the lease checking the racks. There's something about those first hours — the mist sitting on the river, the oysters filtering away in the dark. My grandfather started this farm in the 1960s. Three generations of Fishers have worked these waters. The oysters teach you patience. You can't rush them. They grow on their own schedule, responding to the tides, the temperature, the salinity. Some seasons are better than others, but you learn to read the signs. When the mangroves are flowering early, you know it'll be a good season.