It's that time of year. The winter has denuded the brush and the pasture is less than a quarter inch tall. It's time to pick up trash. Both the new that the wind and dogs have bequeathed, and the old that the chickens and pigs have unearthed.
And so I was thinking. If you're ever experiencing uncertainty about that perennial metaphysical question - What's natural? - just go out and pick up some trash. This will resolve rather quickly any doubts or anxieties you may have.
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