Amongst an increasing majority
this place I live belongs to 'a warmer climate'. Next week Asparagus
crowns arrive through the parcel post. I was expecting them in
Spring, because I appear to remain convinced that we live in 'a colder
confirmation of 'a warmer climate' means at least that I don't live in a
frigid place where there must already be snow and ice and soil that is
frozen. Iowa or Ohio or Minnesota or North Dakota. And who
would have guessed that it was somewhere along the coast of New Jersey
that this colder/warmer determination has yet again been reiterated.
Of course I am flattered by 'a warmer climate', and fortunately the
Asparagus bed here in Kentucky is mostly prepared.
But it would be wrong of me to say that I
am cured, because even now there is a part of me enjoying the bonhomie of a
packing shed beside the Asparagus fields in New Jersey. I can hear the
opinion. I can see cold hands on a Saturday morning tying up bundles
of ten, sniggering as they do so. I can see the printed shipping
label. And this image is still easier for me than a cheerful euphemism
'a warmer climate' as descriptive of here where I
I am perhaps too stubborn to apologize,
because for long years now I have accepted my role as happy moron in the hierarchy
of characters who will cling to the faith that 'a warmer climate' means Frangipani
And yes I am excited.