An English In Kentucky


















April 16th 2010    Tim Candler

    Soil is developing a bone dry from want of good rain.   Pontiac Red has risen, Viking Purple are showing, Kennebec and Yukon are trying, but there is no sign of Swedish Peanut Fingerlings.   Another few weeks and Colorado Beetle will gather.

    I know Hoppy Bugs are plotting.  They are telegraphing those grasses that creep.  They have heard Lilac bloom and those amongst them who are most enthusiastic have ventured in search of Eggplant.  It warms my heart to know they will find none in those expected places.  And it troubles me that I soon might visit the Hardware Store, mingle with "can I help you", in search of Black Beauties, because our own Eggplant seeds have not yet shown.     

    Last year our own Eggplant seeds from glamorous packets followed this same irritating pattern.  They sulked until the ether provided those nuances that suggested to them we had gone elsewhere for their kind.  I am certain sprout happened more as a matter of bloody-mindedness on their part.  But the wait has its costs, because there is always the chance of Eggplant seedling vanishing from those places that offer them and of our own seeds failing absolutely to sprout unless alternate causes for bloody-mindedness in Eggplant seeds can be devised.

    I have heard that surprise can sometimes work to encourage recalcitrant plants.  Blasting apple trees with a twelve-bore is always a favorite.   But in the matter of Eggplant seed bloody-mindedness, I suspect the better strategy is to reduce expectations.  Walk on past their trays without hovering, pretend they are just not there.  In short stop speaking to them altogether.

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