I grew up in an area of southwestern Michigan that was, at least at the time, still largely agricultural. My grandparents’ house, where my mother grew up, was surrounded by scores of acres of corn fields. When I was a kid, row upon row of corn, stretching as far as I could see in any direction, seemed the natural order of things.
Now that I’ve grown, of course, and learned a thing or two about corporate-controlled agriculture and the perils of monoculture, those endless marching rows take on a sinister cast. What replaces the vigor of diversity? What will happen if some hungry superpest arrives and devastates the vast corn, wheat, and soybean arsenal that has driven all other crop production to the fringes?
It will look something like “The Lonely Corn Field“, a new “Restorying the Sacred” column up at No Unsacred Place. Only much, much worse.