American farmers, people more rugged than us, built this nation and continue cultivating its greatness. They milk cows, bale hay, harvest crops, and care for livestock. Nine hours of chair sitting exhausts us. They brave drought, blizzards, tornadoes and swarms of locusts. We reluctantly drive in snow. They feed the world. We consume their bounty.

When we were children, we pretended to be fire fighters and professional athletes. As adult gentlemen, we impersonate farmers. We toil away in our backyard gardens. Sure, we could buy produce from the neighborhood grocer, but we swear by the superiority of our tomatoes.

If you tilled, sowed and fertilized in March, like us at G@H, you are tasting the fruits of your labor. Peas are popping. Lettuce is leafing. Strawberries, man. Strawberries are the best.

Pofta buna!