May
9th
Sat
9th
And planting takes place at the peak of the autumn change, under clear blue skies, with the sun still high enough to warm the days, yet low enough that it seeks out the eye with its glintings. The tractor scarcely labors as it drags the machine through the soil, diesel engine rumbling away, while behind the transplanter scrapes and squeaks along, and cuts a deep crease, a vaginal opening in the moist dark earth, into which the twin riders, testicular in function, drop the white-skinned cloves, one at a time, one after another, hundreds by the row, thousands by the day.
— A Garlic Testament, Stanley Crawford
