suddenly think I can spend twenty dollars on twenty Asparagus
plants. Then I think wouldn't it be nice to have approximately
thirty seeds from a Black Russian Tomato, which would cost about three
dollars. There is a thorn-less Blackberry. There is a Caribbean
Pepper that is more powerful than Jalapenos. There is a purple
Potato. And by morning there are men in boots outside the window
digging up Cherry Laurels to satisfy creditors.
Internet enhanced mail order catalogues are in my view peripherals of the
Anti-Christ, and were I a preacher they would figure large amongst those
things to thump upon in the lead up to Armageddon. Knowing, as
I do, that the world ends on a distant day in 2052, I would refrain not in
the tiniest part from that rhetoric which riles a crowd to go forth and
burn things. In the church yard I see a mountain of computer
monitors and a taller mountain of those computer cables that have no
apparent purpose, and an even taller mountain of empty promises.
Necessary sometimes to imagine
eternity and portray the authentic self as belonging to it. Then I
will be here on earth to read: "This herbaceous and indeterminate
cooking banana is an ideal winter crop for Kentucky gardeners.
Scrumptious mashed with fresh olives and served with piping hot groundnut
soup. Some folks say this is our most audacious cooking banana yet.
Buy ten, get ten free. Enjoy!"
Meanwhile, there is somewhere in the
world, an institute of learning where the wise ponder the veracity of the
description of vegetables as promulgated by editors of internet enhanced
mail order catalogues. These wise men possess intellect and dexterity
sufficient to comprehend and operate the great mystery of "call
waiting", so in their number I can never be.
And I am left with a yearning for purple
Potato, Caribbean Red Peppers, and those Black Russian Tomato seeds that
have sold out.