As the last days of summer beckoned crisp Autumn, Ken Jurow immersed himself in his Aquebogue fields, his hands gingerly picking mature hemp flowers, his eyes toward the skies.
One bad hurricane could destroy it all — 12 acres of his first-ever cannabis crop, the future product line to come from it, the realization of a longtime dream.
It was a race against time. But the master grower had science, and family, on his side.
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