Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 8 · column 1 of 6 · from the scan, no model involved
Combs
From Page A1
view that seems to go into infinity.
“I get up at 4 o’clock to run the computer to work the Asian and European markets. I go outside 9 or lOish to prepare the hayfields, and work in the flower garden. My kids are so sick of flowers they say they will live in cement houses when they grow up. From 11 to 12, I work with associates in Washington, D.C., until 3. I then get on the tractor to get the hay in. Then I rush to the bloody golf course to get 18 holes looking like I just got off the hayfield, and when I come home, I grab a bite to eat, go out in the dark to bush hog until one in the morning, and then the Asian markets are open again. That’s not an exaggeration. It’s every day.”
His daughter Catherine, 14, soon to be a freshman at Liberty High School, smiles at her father the way 14-year-olds often do, with a mixture of hostile tolerance and deep pity. “The flowers are beautiful to look at but I’m going to live in a place when I grow up where flowers take care of themselves.”
Combs adds, “First it's spring flowers, then it’s summer flowers, then it’s fall flowers. It never stops.” He jabs a finger in the air. “Did I mention how you also drive into Washington at 85 miles an hour for a meeting and get home in time to get on the tractor again to bush hog°” He looks around him as if something feral is about to pounce. “Oh, and I have a rifle always loaded and waiting for mv wife to turn her back and I can shoot the ground hogs.”
So much for Kublai Khan.
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