An English In Kentucky



















March 15th 2009

    Last time we planted the potatoes on St Patrick's day a late April frost nipped at them so voraciously that they blackened a while.  The recovery was slow for the plants but not for the Colorado Beetle.

    In my mind I see the children of this beetle, like something from a fairy tale illustration.  Pinkish and chubby and when squashed in the fingers they leave a stain. 

    Worse than stinkbugs which are at least agile when they trickle round a plant stem like a squirrel to avoid being seen.  The child of the Colorado just sits there eating, in that entitled way.  Either that or he is stoned.


    On Tuesday the weather looks fair, and this after the potato rains we've been having.  That cold rain which soaks, with no wind to dry it.  Gets into the old bones filling them with memories of other years - most of which finally fell into summer.

    Imagine, I briefly lived on the shore of Lake Victoria.  Everyday pretty much the same.  60's in the morning.  80's by the afternoon.  Rain around 4pm.  Three crops a year. 

    Difficult to know when to plant in Kentucky, but then again, perhaps by Wednesday or Thursday seed potato might have cost less.

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