I
n a restaurant on the outskirts of Toledo, I met up with a long-
time friend. He and his wife had once lived in Ohio and traveled
throughout its four corners. Now they were back to visit and see
what had changed. One of their pleasant memories from this state,
Roy told me, was seeing the immaculately kept farms and fields of
crops with nary a weed in sight.
I could relate. Having traveled many of Michigan’s rural roads on two
wheels, with the wind in my face and the smell of fresh crops in the air, I
was often drawn in by picturesque country landscapes: well-kept white
farmhouses, gambrel roofs on red barns, and gently rolling green hills
in the background.
Occasionally, I would chance across a farmhouse that looked as if it
were drawn by Norman Rockwell, with its wraparound porch, stately
trees, colorful flower beds, and white picket fences. The mailbox would
be perched on an old wagon wheel or moldboard plow, the lawn neatly
manicured, the driveway wide and inviting. The homestead would beChapter 10 Controlling Nature
Whether we and our politicians know it or not, Nature is party to all our
deals and decisions, and she has more votes, a longer memory,
and a sterner sense of justice than we do.
— Wendell BerryKevin D. Walker, The Grand Food Bargain: And the Mindless Drive for More,
DOI 10.5822/ 978-1-61091-948-7_10, © 2019 Kevin D. Walker.