An English In Kentucky


















September 6th 2010    Tim Candler

    Digging season begins.  The aches and twinges.  A right wrist that requires bundling up otherwise it sends shooting pains up my arm as though threatening to break off.   My left side I am completely ignoring, because a litany of its overall disgruntlement at the prospect of this happy season would fill a compendium to shelter behind during high wind.

   All the same there is a magnificence.  This is at last a Mole Barrier.  A Maginot Line.   I can hear the whispering and snickers from the younger Mole.   As well, by this act, I am in breach of treaty so I can hear the quiet grumble of discontent from the wiser Mole.  Out will come their maps and devious strategy.  Instructions will be written for the design of siege equipment.  Messages will be sent to distant clans.

    But the Mole Hunter is my comrade in this endeavor, and she at least is confident.

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