Thursday, August 3, 2017

Change

There's a theory that if you vote for somebody it arranges the brain cells around the idea of betrayal in the way that a blood oath or a baptism does. Not certain where this theory comes from, might even have emulated our president and just made it up, but nonetheless I suspect the theory has some merit. And here I'll take myself as an example of the sort of intense stubbornness of mind that results in tribal affiliation rather than anything that remotely follows the patterns of reasonable debate that so often depend upon degrees of open-mindedness, not something we geriatrics are famous for during times of great change.

It has to do with what's been called Companion Planting. Plants, the argument goes, have preferences with respect to other plants, they can be picky about their neighbors, put a Bean next to Radish and they both sulk, spend most of their season quarreling. No one likes Good King Henry, what some call Lamb's Quarter, call it bullying if you wish to. Companion Planting was in my view a totally absurd theory and under no circumstances was I, nut-eater in good standing, prepared to tolerate that sort of anti-social behavior as I went about ridding the garden paths of Creeping Grass by pouring boiling water over it. Yet this year, of the Tomato, those planted in a curtain of Carrot are doing very much better than those which are not. Depressing, I'd say yes.

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