Dear Farm Journal,
Since pandemic vigilance has stripped us of our natural range and divergency, we seem to be slipping into Bill Murray’s “Groundhog’s Day”. I keep thinking of the line, “What if there is no tomorrow? There wasn’t one today!” However, this is only our anthropocentric brain running circles around itself, for the plants certainly recognize every cycle of the sun. The dawning of each new day is marked by measures of green growth. Our cucumber plants are about to scream from their cramped pods, roots reaching for more room against a dark wall. I attentively liberate them one by one into the rich black earth and imagine their legs swimming freely beneath the dark surface. Their life expands as we contest with the compression of transparent enclosures.

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