I used to marvel at them, the shiny plastic-covered rows of tilled soil awaiting a fresh planting. You could hardly miss them as your car jetted south on the 5 or 405. If you fixed your gaze a certain way, the passing symmetrical rows would appear as though they were in motion while you were seemingly stationary, suspended in time. A kaleidoscope can give the same feeling. As a boy growing up near the Irvine Ranch in Orange County, CA, the influences of agriculture were everywhere. The big crop that comes to mind, of course, was the large expanses of orange groves. But another crop almost as abundant was strawberries.