An English In Kentucky


















March 14th  2011    Tim Candler

    There are the big plants.  Glamorous, flamboyant and flashing their teeth.  Then there are the little plants, they come in the night, bloom politely and then merge into the population, where they can be quickly lost to neat-nik behaviors from those of us who will spend the next five months weeding.

     Sometimes it looks like a weed, but sometimes it doesn't.  So there is a gentle appraisal accompanied by wishfulness and dreaming, and the occasional shy glance. And sometimes that little bit of hope turns into a weed.  It grows domineering, it multiplies and it becomes a nightmare. 

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