An English In Kentucky


















June 18th 2010    Tim Candler

    Perennial Border Toads venture into the night where they discover a concrete path.  Upon this path they will sit so as to better see the stars and wonder what fireflies might taste like.   Once many years ago the Grey Cat tried to eat a Perennial Border Toad, but the experience was not worth repeating, so ever since Perennial Border Toads have been free from menace, except perhaps from bigger snakes and sun-down feet with boots on pushing mowing machines because daytime temperatures require it.

      Concrete paths in hot weather at night hold a special allure.  Then when peaceful contemplation is disturbed, Perennial Border Toads become like rabbits on a gravel lane.  Always difficult to know where the right place is to hop off into surrounding vegetation, which with the dew down must be chilly and damp and horrible, rather than dangerous.   So at night Perennial Border Toads just hop along a concrete path in a grumpy manner that suggests irritation from broken reverie.

   I always reckoned on Toads enjoying the wet, reveling in it, rolling over so it might tickle their tummies as they wallow and declare heaven on earth as ancient memories are awakened.  But water from a cold hose pipe or from a warm watering can sends them into turmoil, rain appears to distress them even further, and from keen observation of their representatives in the Perennial Border, toads feel the same way about dew.

   Never have leaped for a conclusion I did not like, so I will say this.  Toads are our opposite.  We demonstrate purity through unnecessary bathing and sea-side tours and swimming pools and exotic shower heads.  They look for stonier places so that other toads might follow.

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