An English In Kentucky


















July 9th  2011    Tim Candler

    One of the reasons I have to go to town soon is because I can't recall when last I went to town. 

    I do however recall the younger gardener's vegetable patch, which is not more than three miles away.  The last time I drove by it, I concluded that either he was unwell, or he had found respectable work, or he was chasing a radical  theory that indulged weeds in the hope of promoting a greater and more lasting efficiency between plant, insect and the warmer blooded.      

      Nothing worse than the nosey neighbor, but I just can't help myself. 

     It's not that I want to enter long drawn discussion, hear about his ailments, his family and other such guaranteed nonsense.  Nor am I really interested in knowing his name or seeing the details of his face.  Mostly it's his garden that for some unknown reason pulls me toward that worst of all kind of neighborliness.  The kind that lays out opinion, gives advice and then snorts in that irritating way.

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