Walking from the field to the tool shed, I gently twist from side to side, unkinking my spine after hours of bending over transplanting. Twenty years of farming manifest in my body, and it isn’t as forgiving as when I began. It reminds me of a young man I interviewed years ago. In the middle of the interview, he stood up to demonstrate yoga poses as an answer to my question about his qualifications. David and I tried not to laugh as he moved from triangle pose to another I didn’t recognize. Our small, organic vegetable farm in central Alabama often attracts young people in search of something. Working on a farm is seen as an experience to be had and talked about, an interesting line on a resume. Much harder to find are the people willing and able to show up every day and do the difficult work of...

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