Summer gardening in the Bay Area means two things: clay soil and foxtails. The foxtails are all dried out, so it seems like an ideal time, at least from their point of view, for me to come by and spread their seed by getting in amongst them and thrashing about in the summer heat (the resilience of plants to extremes in temperature has always impressed me).
Of course, my intention is not to spread the seeds of the foxtail plants, but to prepare the earth for the planting of some nice silvery green ground cover (and to think I am so critical of others doing the same!),
While I was on my front patch with rake, hoe, fork and pick, it struck me that nothing seems more human to me than tilling the earth. Yes, I can look at Otzi and relate; it would be quite exciting to have been a roaming Neolithic hunter/gatherer/herder/farmer. But nothing says human to me more than the steady labor of the settled agriculturalist, which in my case takes the form of minor puttering in the front yard.
Still, the puttering is quite hard. Clay soil is difficult to work, being very dense and hard and containing little organic matter that would keep it looser. The stationary stoop with implement grasped in both hands feels iconic to me; proto homo, or at least proto homo habilis, or proto homo agriculturalist. Otzi with bow and quiver seems a bit distant, but put a hoe in his hand and he becomes much more familiar, much closer to our time, even a contemporary.
Of course, my intention is not to spread the seeds of the foxtail plants, but to prepare the earth for the planting of some nice silvery green ground cover (and to think I am so critical of others doing the same!),
While I was on my front patch with rake, hoe, fork and pick, it struck me that nothing seems more human to me than tilling the earth. Yes, I can look at Otzi and relate; it would be quite exciting to have been a roaming Neolithic hunter/gatherer/herder/farmer. But nothing says human to me more than the steady labor of the settled agriculturalist, which in my case takes the form of minor puttering in the front yard.
Still, the puttering is quite hard. Clay soil is difficult to work, being very dense and hard and containing little organic matter that would keep it looser. The stationary stoop with implement grasped in both hands feels iconic to me; proto homo, or at least proto homo habilis, or proto homo agriculturalist. Otzi with bow and quiver seems a bit distant, but put a hoe in his hand and he becomes much more familiar, much closer to our time, even a contemporary.
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