---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Tue, 11 Apr 1995 14:21:27 -0400
>From: Sara Prout <email@example.com>
To: Larry London <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Subject: Re: Fwd: Organic Cotton-HELP!!!! (fwd) (fwd)
I'd simply like to reiterate what I beleive to have been the initial
concern for this discussion: organic cotton growers are being "forced to
contaminate" their land!
I do not know much about cotton growing nor boll weevils, but if there are
organic growers out there, it seems to me that it can be done. (I do
applaud the IPM strategies that have been implemented to reduce pesticide
use.) And rather than make the organic growers work harder and suffer (or
sue for) the consequences, (i.e. to re-certify their fields, recapture
their market niche, and claim for damages) perhaps there is an opportunity
for more (if there had indeed already been some interaction) collaboration
between the organic and conventional growers--insights, techniques, etc. (
I recognize that now is not the most opportune time in history for this...)
AS A CONSUMER of organic cotton products, preferably from the US: they are
already VERY expensive and have only recently been available from sources
in the US. I would be very disappointed if the prices went up and/or the
products disappeared only to be replaced by imports from Australia or, if
they were so fortunate, from India.
Safe production of cotton and ALL agricultural products is CRITICAL in this
increasingly CANCEROUS world. We must take leadership in this. The state of
Texas is only being backward and non-creative in enforcing "eminent domain"
TACTICS in this case. Organic farmers, or any farmer, for that matter!, are
to be called " a public nuisance!"
My November Guest
My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list;
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.
- Robert Frost