In the “On Water” chapter of Jennifer Bennett’s Our Gardens Ourselves: Reflections on an Ancient Art one finds a lovely meandering sentence that reminds one of a slowly trickling stream or of the tranquil disappearance of evaporation trails.
It is hidden in the air, in the soil and in countless puddles that do not look like puddles but take on fascinating, colourful multitude of unpuddlelike shapes — tree shapes, earthworm shapes, gardener shapes, tomato shapes, whatever — that hold the water, in transit, by means of relatively small amounts of substances other than water.
Such an antithesis to a great chain of being to place the human player between earthworm and vegetable. Such wonder that the vast hydraulics are powered by a few well-placed salts.
And so for day 430