There’s a kind of quiet power held in the cool, dark earth of a root cellar. It’s a feeling as much as a place, the palpable calm that comes from standing before a winter’s worth of food. It’s the earthy smell of potatoes resting in their bins, the sight of jewel-toned jars of tomatoes and peaches glowing in the lamplight, the silent promise of a season of nourishment earned and secured.
This is a different kind of wealth, one you can’t measure on a stock ticker but can feel in your bones. It is the accumulated wisdom of generations who understood a fundamental truth: the harvest is a cycle of abundance that must be stewarded with foresight and care.
For a half-century, we’ve been sold a different vision, an impressive miracle of global logistics called the “just-in-time” supply chain.
It’s a system of almost unbelievable complexity, a clockwork of container ships, freight trains, and refrigerated trucks, all choreographed to deliver a strawberry from a Chilean field to a North Dakota grocery store in the dead of winter with mere hours to spare.
The logic behind it is the logic of the factory floor, which is to eliminate all waste. And what is the greatest source of waste on a corporate balance sheet? Inventory. The extra stuff. The buffer.
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