Bandages of Honor
(Via washingtonpost.com - A Cook's Garden by Barbara Damrosch)
There was an expression back in the Renaissance: To have not experienced serious trouble was to be one on whom "the black ox hath not trod." This painful image makes me appreciate modern gardening techniques. My continued life as a biped no longer depends on the sure-footedness of a one-ton beast just ahead of me in the furrow, or my agility in getting out of its way. The ills I've endured in gardens rarely loom this large. Still, there's a host of them -- insidious little demons that just as surely do me in.
There was an expression back in the Renaissance: To have not experienced serious trouble was to be one on whom "the black ox hath not trod." This painful image makes me appreciate modern gardening techniques. My continued life as a biped no longer depends on the sure-footedness of a one-ton beast just ahead of me in the furrow, or my agility in getting out of its way. The ills I've endured in gardens rarely loom this large. Still, there's a host of them -- insidious little demons that just as surely do me in.
