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In a moment of candid s elf-revelation, Terry Gif ford alludes to his anatomical involvement in natural processes when he writes, "I point to my balding head as a not-so-grand narrative, in flux, capable of many representations and demanding constant questioning, but following a natural narrative of decay."¹ Albeit with a certain pessimism (people do not like to lose their hair), Gif ford sees in hair loss his own swirling con- dition in a nature that seems all at once teleological, chaotic, knowable, and ever-changing. Gif ford's comment also points to a certain connec- tion between the human and non-human. The lack that Gif ford experi- ences in baldness, I would argue, reminds him of the annual shedding of flowers and leaves in the plant kingdom. Gifford could have used any sign of aging as representative of his inclusion in a natural life cycle, but neither sensory diminishment, epidermal puckering, nor metabolic change serve his purpose — balding conveys something more viscer- ally indicative of human inclusion in natural growth cycles. As Stacy Alaimo writes, ""nature' is always as close as one's own skin — perhaps even closer."² In this chapter, I will explore "the literal contact zone between human corporeality and more than human nature,"³ a zone in which human and plant bodies meet in early modern English medical philosophy and literature. I will elucidate how early modern thought about hair demonstrates Alaimo's notion of "trans-corporeality," a concept for figuring the "interconnections, interchanges, and transits between human bodies and nonhuman natures,"⁴ in this case between humans and plants.

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