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[Gene GeRue <genegerue AT ruralize.com>]

Journal entry 9/19/06: Gardening as Antidote to World Conditions. 
Most mornings I read news via satellite. The Net positive is that one 
has access to international happenings. The Net negative is that one 
now confronts an endless deluge of information about man's inhumanity 
to man. Ignorance, intolerance, meanness. Greed. The inability of 
leaders to improve conditions. This morning I reached a breaking 
point while reading the plight of India's farmers. Many have become 
convinced to plant genetically modified Monsanto seeds. They have 
fallen into the same trap that wrecked American  farm families, 
borrowing to make a crop and burdening unpredictable harvests with 
interest payments. Crop failures increase indebtedness at high 
interest from money lenders who take land deeds as collateral. 
Farmers unable to pay lose their land. Poultry farmers are wiped out 
due to avian flu. It is reported that in only six of 35 districts in 
Maharashtra, India's third-largest state, nearly 1,900 farmers have 
committed suicide since 2001. A common choice is drinking pesticide. 
A farmer's last borrowing is money for his bottle of death.
A factor is crop prices. American farm subsidies are decried as 
unfairly affecting the world market. Some point to inadequate Indian 
bank policies. Whatever the various causes, I finally found myself 
unable to continue. Enough. Too much. Shut it down.
Looking out at the trees of early autumn found no answer. Change the 
focus. Do something positive. Following the view outside led to the 
garden. The garlic bed beckoned. Dreams of future gustatory 
delights--roast chicken and garlic pizza, poached salmon with pasta 
and pesto, heavy on the pesto.
Last year I planted cloves from Baker Seeds, partly to be supportive 
of their heirloom program and partly to see what flavors of exotic 
varieties I had been missing. German Extra-Hardy and German Porcelain 
are tasty but once mixed with other ingredients the uniqueness is 
lost. This year I went back to supermarket bulbs.
Fluffed the soil, mixing it with what's left of mulch, last fall's 
revenue of grass and leaves. Garlic likes fluffy soil. It also likes 
rich soil. Sighed, cut down the Rose of Sharon that had sprouted in 
front of the Taj Mahen people door. Unchickened for five years, the 
floor has a thick layer of old droppings mixed with sawdust and 
planer shavings. Tied a moist bandanna over my nose and filled a 
bucket with the dusty stuff. Shook it onto the fluffed soil followed 
by bone meal and some old seaweed extract. Raked all into the top 
inch or so of soil.
The planting board is over twenty years old but still in good shape. 
Punched in three rows of holes. Chris helped break the bulbs and poke 
in the cloves. Garlic filament bounced about the garden in the light 
breeze. Birds chattered. One hundred fifty-six cloves planted. 
Covered with fine soil, used the back of the rake to smooth, then 
tamp. Watered well, went back later in the day and watered again. 
Made a note in the garden journal to feed in early spring with manure 
tea or fish emulsion.
I feel better now. I am still sad about the plight of those poor 
bastards in India trying to make a living off the land as their 
families have done for generations but now beset with conditions 
beyond their knowledge.
I can't help them. About all any of us commoners can do is to lead 
lives that others may find useful to follow. I wonder how many people 
grow their own garlic.