Jon Sarasua

I've stared in a corner of Jacob's vegetable garden. Joxean Artze makes us cuckold by the back cover and Nemesio Etxaniz by her fold. Koldo Izagirre, Lauaxeta, Montoia, Juan Kruz Beloki, Borges or Xabier Lete are other grains that can be found at the bottom of the orchard. Between the herb, Mixel Elizanburu Robert A. Next to Millikan, and a little further back, Pello Mari Otaño.

It seems to me that that corner of writers gives us a clue in the idea of living the garden. That our way of looking at biological creations can have something to do with our way of looking at cultural creations. We stand with the same colors in this great spiral of reality, looking at the earth and languages, in the whirlwind of what we have received in all areas, starting with the closest in space and time, to enrich what has been given to us in heritage and makes us live. Saying, without noticing, that the revolution, the coarse word that is mentioned in the presentation of the book, is also an insult.

Revolution and persecution, fraternity and partnership make you think that way, but they're not words of the same layer. He walks through the garden a little bit, and as usual, we put the ground turned or shaken. A few years ago, we did a different test: in line with some permaculture lines, we planted the vegetables without flying or shaking the soil. The following year we returned half of the garden, left the other half without stirring and planted the same vegetables in both. I leave to the reader the result we had, in response to the ideological suspicions that the subject has in the background. I don't know much, but I have some questions.

If someone helps you to learn, with multidirectional knowledge and pedagogical talent, a nice manga. Of the two, Errekondo has no record. That's what you do in your book: learn. And what do you tell me about this revolution and wastefulness, Jacob?

Jakoba Errekondo

Jon, bertsolari gaitero!
At least in the case of orchards, exordium is a revolution. Better said, it's a revolution. Dek and it's not. Everything, like everything, is a simple hybrid between the yes and no in life, in nature. Not to mention Masanobu Fukuoka ..

Approaching the clergy of plants, they distinguished very well between agitation and revolution. Each species chooses. The hook is the choice of the form of conservation of the species and the production and reproduction of the new plants. Those who have grasped reproduction without sex create clones, that is, the daughters will always be the same as the mother. This species is likely to last a short time. And what lasts will last, but it will not live. On the contrary, species that have opted for reproductive sex, on the contrary, continuously produce new hybrids between mother and father. It is the miracle of the seed, of what is there and of the natural. All the future will be different from the above, generally better, more appropriate. The revolution: new from before, another. The daughter coming from the seed will be an improved mother. And that improvement will live the mother and the daughter, living intensely.

In Irauntza, what lasts has no future. Something will emerge that you will lose sooner or later.

In revolution, what adapts to the future passes into life. He lives and he will live. And it's going to create what it's going to live.

You're right, Jon, the revolution is based on redemption. What is to be flown? But the revolution has more than just an insult: that little piece that's about to survive. And isn't it happening to peoples or cultures the same as plants? Since you're dressed on my side as far as animals are concerned, you should explain... I, you know, by the plants: to live. You know that too.