Between forefinger and thumb, Yani Keo holds a freshly clipped blade of grass, wafting it softly in the viscous humidity of a greenhouse. Smell, she says, from where she's crouching, offering the bit of green. The scent is unmistakable: lemongrass, sweet and strong. She rises to survey the rest of the crops. At her feet rows upon rows of water spinach glisten in their bubble enclosure. Maneuvering carefully on the narrow dirt paths, she snaps a leaf off a tree, then bends to take a leaf from each of the three different kinds of mint. Here, she offers again, smell these. She breathes deeply, inhaling the fragrance of cut grass and morning dew, the smell of the... More >>>