Oysters’ haven

OUR LIVES are peppered with so many apocalyptic prospects that a ’fella would have to scratch twice and turn back into the wall at least once before jumping out of the bed of a Monday morning — after all what’s the point in getting exercised about something that may not have the kind of future we once anticipated?

Why plant spuds we may never dig?

We worry about our carbon footprint. We fret about water shortages, we worry about how we will feed the soaring world population.