"The farmer who has groupies gets up at 4:30 each morning, goes to bed at 11 each night and answers his phone during all other hours because people need him. His phone is clipped to the elastic suspenders he wears always, because a belt doesn't do the job anymore and something has to keep his denim where it belongs.
He is tall, with thick gray hair, apple cheeks and a slight stoop from decades spent hunched over rows of cabbage and cauliflower, his hands plunged into dirt. He is 66, except when he talks about growing things, and then he is a boy of 7 - eyes bright with wonder, face filled with joy."
Read the article