 Given Arapoulous' description of his homeland, what can you conclude about it?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1962. I Second Secretary Magnan took his green-lined cape and orange-feathered beret from the clothes tree. "I don't appreciate frivolity with reference to this Division," Magnan said testily. "When I first came here, the Manpower Utilization Directorate, Division of Libraries and Education was a shambles. "The Bogans have launched no less than four military campaigns in the last two decades. But I'm wondering what they'll study on d'Land. That's an industrial world of the poor but honest variety." "Academic details are the affair of the students and their professors," Magnan said. "Our function is merely to bring them together. A tall broad man with bronze skin and gray hair, wearing tight trousers of heavy cloth, a loose shirt open at the neck and a short jacket, stepped into the room. I'm Hank Arapoulous. The wine crop is just about ready. Now I don't know if you're familiar with the Bacchus vines we grow...?" In between, the vines don't need a lot of attention, so our time's mostly our own. We've turned all the land area we've got into parks and farms. "It sounds like it, Mr. Arapoulous. Cold as hell in winter; eccentric orbit, you know. Blue-black sky, stars visible all day. Lots of skiing, bob-sledding, ice skating; and it's the season for woodworkers. Our furniture—" "I've seen some of your furniture," Retief said. Fruit, grain, that kind of thing; getting it in doesn't take long. Arapoulous puffed on his cigar, looked worriedly at Retief. Course, I'm only twenty-eight; I can't remember but two other harvests. Arapoulous put his bundle on the desk, pulled off the wrappings. Arapoulous pulled the wire retainer loose, thumbed the cork. Retief picked one up, sniffed the deep rust-colored fluid, tasted it, then took a healthy swallow. It tastes like salted pecans, with an undercurrent of crusted port." "Don't try to describe it, Mr. Retief," Arapoulous said. "It's Bacchus wine, that's all. Retief put aside his cigar, pulled the wires loose, nudged the cork, caught it as it popped up. "We've got plenty of minerals on Lovenbroy," Arapoulous said, swallowing wine. "But we don't plan to wreck the landscape mining 'em.
 The conditions allow for successful crop growing.
 The conditions allow for successful crop growing.  The conditions there are inhospitable.  Arapoulous' homeland has unpredictable seasons.  There are few people living back on the land which Arapoulous comes from.