kikipeepers asked
Ignoring his aching back, Todd Lininger squatted down on his knees and inched his way around the vegetable field. The yields were up on three arugula plants. A snail crawled in the row of lettuce. And it looked like the onions might be ready for that night's dinner. All in all, not a bad harvest — considering that these crops were growing in a Lilliputian backyard plot in a Claremont cul-de-sac. Lininger calls himself a farmer, though he doesn't ride a John Deere and never sees a sun set over the fields. Instead, he tends a succession of peewee suburban plots as if they were the sprawling ranches of the Central Valley...
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