I do wonder at times why I find planting and tending vegetables so satisfying. Of course, there’s the psychological virtues of having one’s hands in the soil, the feeling of groundedness, and all that.
If I refer to the bible I discover that Genesis has verses about the barren Rachel becoming pregnant as the result of surrounding herself with mandrakes, the humanoid-looking root plant.
Conceiving children with the assistance of a mandrake is lovely, and all that, but the carrot seeds I’ve planted are sophisticated enough to hire tailors and ophthalmologists, and their conversations are filled with British 19th century prejudices.
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