Somewhere nestled deep in the Ozarks, I’m spending a week helping my son as he boots up an organic farming operation.
Posting may be somewhat sporadic this week, we’ll see. For the moment I have a connection.
No need for a gym to be getting my workouts – he’s a tough work boss, and there are endless things to be done that involve digging, pulling, carrying, reaching, stretching, sweating and puffing.
This is high touch, hands on farming.
I half-joke he should start advertising a “Farm boy functional strength” workshop. Charge some city slickers handsomely to push their cores to new undreamt of levels.
You’d have to be willing to swing a shovel with him till 1:15 am under a head lamp, just sayin’.
View from the office is great tho.
He’s lucky to have you, though.