Perils of Work

Most of us think of organic farming as a positive thing. I like to think I ingest fewer chemicals at dinner time. It contributes to a stronger self and a longer life. But what about work? Could organic farming be responsible for destroying my livelihood? How could that be?
My memory skips back a ways to just a few months ago. I was going about my business at my usual absent- minded pace. Upon picking up a perfect cluster of grapes I began my usual process of separating the heavy stems in order to fit them in those flimsy plastic clamshells you see in the store. As I began, I froze, just as soon as I had started. For there, deep within, was a great spider.
Now I deal with spiders all the time. Anytime a case of anything organic warms up just slightly there are many harmless brown and white spiders that scamper out. It used to be more alarming but now is simply a fact of life. I'm fairly sure organic farmers cultivate these spiders to keep harmful bugs away from their produce. Nothing to be afraid of.
Here in front of my gaze, nestled in its wispy web, between the giant green orbs of grapes, was a great black spider. Her metallic legs, like needles, held upon the stem; standing guard over her eggs. She was the menacing Black Widow. It was too cold for her, I knew, but it was only with a long instrument that I dared remove her from her home.
Since this incident, it came to mind, that it might be a good idea to catalogue the strange fauna I find in the flora. The problem with this is that I find that my job becomes a great deal riskier by the day.
It is never advisable to take all trucker stories to heart. Some, however, get in your mind, true or not, and fester. A trucker, that I talked to every once in a while, made his trek twice a week from the port in Louisiana to Minneapolis hauling a semi full of bananas. He made he journey a little later than usual that week. He spoke with a thick southern accent and was rather eager to explain. To my recollection it was something like this:
"Now when they are collecting the bananas in the wild they just chop 'em off the tree and toss 'em in the boat. Now when the boat got to us it warmed up and we found that the cargo hold was full of snakes. Now I don't know what kind of snakes they was. Alls I know is the natives called 'em step and a half snakes. Cuz that's all the further you went once you got bit. "
Perhaps some worker somewhere would overlook a small ornery snake and it would end up in the next box I pick up. The story of the chef who lost his arm because a brown recluse bit his hand while at work. And that box of bananas came from my work. I remember because he tried to sue. Not to mention the unnameable spiders from tropical places that get a free ride to our warehouse. Not like the plain colored spiders of our cold climate, but colorful ones. Metallic gleam, neon yellow, green, and orange spiders, some dressed in spots and others in stripes. God only knows what happens when they bite you.
Food from nature is a beautiful thing. Something pure like Adam and Eve walking around eating whatever they pleased without fear of even a single mosquito bite on their exposed skin. It makes me wonder why nature had to grow so many damn thorns.