Word: lime
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...cool, temperate region with enough rainfall to support dense forest, an entirely different type of soil develops: a podsol.† Tree roots do not bring enough lime to keep the soil from being acid, and their dead leaves form a layer of loose mold on the surface. Just below is a light-colored, often almost white layer of soil from which most of the soluble minerals have been leached by the heavy rainfall. Such a tree-formed soil is favorable for trees, but when man clears the forest and plants his grasslike wheat or corn, he gets poor crops...
...Master of Soil. The good farmer knows what to do. He adds lime and fertilizer and grows grass or clover or alfalfa. Gradually the thin, sour forest soil turns into something like chernozem. The well-kept farms of New York State, Pennsylvania and Ohio are now far more fertile than they were when the pioneers (who so vex Vogt) first felled the forest...
...proudest idea was a new egg ("The yolk will be made of smoked meat, the white, of compressed rice, and the shell, of synthetic lime ... It will be delicious"). Under his remorseless hand, builders labored for half a century constructing pavilions, terraces, bridges and lakes. And still, he was never happier than when giving help to others; e.g., telling his tailor how to cut trousers, his tobacconist how to roll cigarettes, his banker about the banking system of the medieval Florentines...
Father Was Human. Some 37 feet down, Father Ewing found Egbert. His little body must have been buried right at home by affectionate elders and gradually covered with material which lime-charged seepage turned to hard stone. He is an Aurignacian boy, genuinely human but following closely in period the semi-human Neanderthals. In fact, he may be a link between the two types. Perhaps his Aurignacian father captured a lowbrowed Neanderthal girl, kept her as a slave, and had a child...
...Hour Day. In Look's Fifth Avenue GHQ, the two have offices to match their personalities. Mike Cowles, deliberate, slow-spoken, has a sedate, paneled, 13th-floor office, a neat, clean desk. His wife's, eight floors below, has bright lime-yellow walls, a royal blue rug and a littered blond mahogany semicircular desk. Fleur dresses dramatically, sports an uncut emerald ring as big as a horse chestnut, talks fast and crisply, smokes and likes Scotch & soda. Both she and Mike wear black hornrimmed glasses. In their spare time, Mike plays tennis ("enormously good," says Fleur), while...