I.F.: Garden

The Garden is getting more political than ever. And I'm not just talking about right-wing carrots jockeying for position or purple-loosestrife planning some hostile takeover.

No, no, I'm talking about a ravenous beast hovering wherever a lettuce leaf blows on the wind: the localvore (or, in some circles, the locavore). Now, I've been part of local food groups, enjoyed meals made up of wonderful local offerings, but we've always cheated a little bit to make things meal-worthy (a mango here, some bananas there, even Boston lettuce has been know to paddle over to our plate). Not so with the localvore. If the garden delights come from more than 50 km away, they're dead to them. Dead.

Now, as restrictive as this can be, it's also quite beneficial in supporting a local economy, with a side benefit of being fresher and probably healthier (Monsanto spawn notwithstanding).

Today's Garden illustration isn't local. It's tomatoes from Pluto, that sad, demoted planet.