An English In Kentucky


















April 14th  2011    Tim Candler

    A day that achieves perfection.   Air in which there is no sweat.  A sky that is blue, but not dangerous blue.  Wax Gourd are sprouting.  A pair of Barn Swallows.  Be still a while, because life does not get better than this.

    Interesting to note that of these achievements I am responsible for none of them.  Instead I have a confused trench beside the domicile, insufficient compost for the Vegetable Garden and I am pretty certain that unless the Grey Cat sharpens his Rabbit hunting skills, it'll be down to the Artist with her twenty-two. 

     The barn Rabbits have their territory nicely established, and they are quite sensible in their habits.  But there is an increase in the Rabbit population to the north of us, which has resulted in a barn-ward movement amongst them.  The northern males are quite without fear, they stand their ground and when chased they run around as lunatics do.

     For his part the Grey cat appears exhausted.  He sleeps through the day on the chair downstairs, and dreams of his younger days when Rabbit hunting was just more fun. 

Previous    Next