An English In Kentucky



















November 1st 2009

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    Huge problem in the vegetable garden emerging from a relationship between the new me, the old me and geometry.  

    A fence does not run parallel, there will be an acute and a grave accent, instead of right angles.  The old me is in a froth of anxiety.   The problem is exacerbated by he who dwells soberly in these mists, impatient to get a good start on breaking ground for new beds.  Otherwise debate could continue on for several more years.   

    It is the awkwardness of sharp and shallow shapes in two dimensions, the old me objects to.  So how on this plane can a dimension be achieved that provides for a moment of enthusiasm sufficient to permit the breaking of ground.

   Purpose perhaps can be found in the vegetable itself.  Enthusiasm for new structures and shapes that address the random of bounty.  And I think of the cottage garden, limited by space, no inch left unwanted.  



    Yellow rope and sturdy stakes dot the landscape, and it has reached the point of such uncertainty that edging may have to be temporary.  Which the new me apparently finds unfitting because he wakes me up like a sullen mistress to ask whose side I am on.

    There is however a lighthouse, haunted though it might be, which shines from beyond the mist.  Her council offers progress out of impasse by providing the word 'xylophone'.

    But the old me grumbles like a volcano, and no one is certain how dormant he is.

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tim candler

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(xylophone bin