An English In Kentucky


















June 23rd 2010    Tim Candler

    For a while I will leave the Vegetable Garden to its fate in this hot weather.  There could be gossip, there could be criticism and probably a tirade from anxious Tomatoes struggling for moisture.  Blossom End Rot will be my fault.   And there is a blight.

    I have already told Tomatoes to pull themselves together, the year is still long, and no harm in possessing deeper roots.   They have replied with the sullen shrug of martyrdom.  Nor can I pretend the feeling is alien to me, so I pat them on the head to suggest empathy and understanding.  But they have inventive memories and each one of them was present when I shattered their innocence by yanking out the Not Cherry that appeared weakened by an ague.   So "do your best" is not advice they heed from me.

    I will probably miss the moment when Dipper Gourd touches the arch.   It has a virulent enthusiasm, and I am beginning to think of it as a hanging fruit, and this even though its leaves are without blemish because not a Japanese Beetle wanders near to it.  Morning Glory is nervous of it, but Long beans have outwitted the Dipper Gourd because one of them is already upon the arch.

   Then last night the big squash fell to gravity, all thirteen pounds of it.  Thought I might put it on the passenger seat, drive it around for a day or two.  Give it that opportunity to see new horizons.  But more likely it would come home shattered rather than awed.

    Nor will I be wearing socks, so that's good.


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