Entry 1 (9/1/2022)
This artichoke looks pretty unique compared to other organic entities I could have selected. It’s very sharp, though, as I pricked myself with it once or twice while putting it in my backpack. I wonder how much those sharp edges actually protect it in nature, though, because the points are rather small. This artichoke almost looks like a strawberry, just with a green color on the main body instead of the red of a strawberry. You can learn a lot about evolution from observing this artichoke. Unfortunately, the artichoke is already beginning to lose some of its green color; the emerging shade of brown gives it a more solemn look, as if it needs my help in maintaining its health. I hope the artichoke can prevail for a long time.
Entry 3 (9/6/2022)
The artichoke sadly has more brown on it then before. Also, I can even observe some purple forming near the base of the stem. This is so tragic; I wish there was a way for me to nurture it back to full health. It would surely be amazing if we started making medicine for plants. I don’t think I’d be able to do that in time to save this particular artichoke, however. I’m not sure, but this could be my last day documenting this artichoke. If that is the case, I will definitely miss the spiky, green delicacy that has aided me greatly with my academic endeavors. I hope this artichoke has led me to become a better College Composition student; for now, it is too early to tell.
Hey JP! I enjoyed your entry about the legendary and prehistoric artichoke, and the unfortunate tale of its death. It’s through this, that your entries show character and flare to them, as the personification of your fruit and the journalistic-like quality to your entries only serve to garner a foundation for the information and personality of your fruit. With this, your expert colloquialism allows for the artichoke to show off its “roundness” and become more dynamic through out the course of the story, all the while making it sound like a wounded animal/creature, with it being the last of its kind, and you being an adventurous researcher, looking to save all those that he can.
Hi Justin! I really enjoyed reading about your artichoke. I had an artichoke originally and then I took a last minute switch to a peach the day of. I’m glad I got to get a sense of what it would be like to study the artichoke. I actually found what you said about the spikes pretty fascinating. Although it is rather simple, I never would have thought that they use it as protection. Also, we might not wanna find medicine for plants, they might evolve and fight back after all these years of eating them! I think your artichoke definitely fit its purpose in demonstrating your personality through your entries. Rest in Peace to the Green Evolutionary Masterpiece.
Alessander, thank you so much for your inspirational comment. It is my honor to have been able to convey this perspective that you almost had with the artichoke. I will be sure to read your entry about the peach because I am now very interested to see how you interacted with it. It is an interesting point that you propose about the plants fighting back, since that is a view that many people have about AI. It appears that any instance of humans creating a strong, self-autonomous entity could result in the destruction of our species.
I liked how you connected with the artichoke and how you express a feeling of sadness as it rots. Also, I like how you expand your topic from just describing the fruit to talking about its relation to evolution.
Your writing led to a thought I’ve never had: “It would surely be amazing if we started making medicine for plants.” I like its application here: “I don’t think I’d be able to do that in time to save this particular artichoke, however.” We fast-tracked the Covid vaccines, but no fast-tracking is that fast. I also like how, at the artichoke’s bitter end, you took the opportunity to expand and summarize, writing the following instead of “artichoke”: “the spiky, green delicacy that has aided me greatly with my academic endeavors.”