According to the person of questionable sense who hijacked my body, I decided not to join Drumlin’s Winter CSA this year. I have yet to fully understand the logic behind this decision, especially given my recent cost analysis, but I think it had something to do with the avalanche of squash. If you need me, I’ll be furiously digging a root cellar under my house to keep the five or six local vegetables I have fresh throughout the winter.
Ah well, the Farmer has tolerated my overbearing affection longer than any halfway reasonable person should have to (without alerting the authorities, I might add). And so I believe it’s time for us to bid him farewell. He is hereby retired from this blog so that he might tend to his crops unmolested by excitable food writers. Well, this one anyway. I can’t speak for them all. It’s pretty rare to come across someone who captures your imagination the way he clearly did, but now it’s time to get back to real life. Normal Social Boundaries, reactivate.
What the hell am I going to write about now?
You’ll send him off right, won’t you?