An English In Kentucky


















April 24th 2010    Tim Candler

    Hoppy Bug greeted the afternoon with an enthusiasm reserved for gourmands.   They raised a banner and cheered me as I enter the vegetable garden.  I responded to their applause with what I hoped would be a mean spirited application of insect poison. 

    Always so difficult with Swallows hunting for earth that is damp enough to shovel with a beak.  And tragic to see the effect of this poison upon earth worms.   So perhaps my application was insufficient because this morning Hoppy Bugs again greeted me with applause, and they looked shinier and cleaner as though they had been well showered by both soap and water.

    Were I the size of a New Potato, I could do battle with them on a more even field.   I could scurry around netting them and come away owning dignity even if  my bag contained no more then three of them.   But I am not.

    Instead I am like an Elephant, yet worse.  Tunnel vision develops and I do more damage to Eggplant seedlings than to Hoppy Bug.   So I decide to kill everything that can hop or walk or slither.  Pretty certain I am bound for a hell where earth worms will first eat me and then Hoppy Bug will grow Eggplants in the creases of my soul.

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