As you know, the so-called Frankenstorm lurched its way through the Northeast early this week. On Sunday night, I awoke to the sounds of wind swirling around the casing of my windows, howling Dickens-esque about the ghosts of Christmas future – a.k.a. the weather on our planet in years to come.
At dawn, we weatherproofed ourselves brilliantly in rubberized reds, blues and yellows and headed to soggy fields to harvest spinach. The work was… (continue reading).
At right is fellow student, Bongi, tending to the sheep, mid-hurricane.