Poet and Farmer

A FEW weeks ago, Scott Chaskey, poet and farmer, was hunkered down in his favorite garlic field to get out of a chilly wind blowing off the ocean. The sand was warm between the perfectly tilled rows of green garlic stalks, mulched with a soft blanket of shredded leaves. Mr. Chaskey calls them "green sail masts," and so they were, all 20,000 of them, sailing down this two-acre field.

more here