An English In Kentucky


















April 4th 2010    Tim Candler

    First Spring is a turn of the season, and while it is happening there is sparkle and brilliance, and all those things which fill thought so completely that little else impinges upon its glowing.   But First Spring is also a product of reflection because suddenly First Spring is gone.

    Usually there is an event or a confluence that heralds the end of First Spring.   A pulled muscle while falling down the stairs.  Sleeplessness because it is too hot.  Pollen from Maple trees.  The sight of pink blotchy legs in short trousers.   Too many days without rain.  

    For the Grey Cat's Mistress confluence with the reality of Spring this year has also occurred.  It began with a spider bite in the afternoon, and then the Grey Cat dominated this past night with intemperate behavior.  I heard only one door slamming from my upstairs sanctuary.    But by morning they were hardly speaking to each other.

    Details are still sketchy, but it had something to do with eleven thirty, a Kangaroo mouse, a Vole, the living room carpet and a scratching at the window.

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