An English In Kentucky


















Thursday April 18th 2012    Tim Candler

    Already there's been no good rain for at least four weeks.  Those rumbling showers have gone slightly north and east, and that rumbling shower which came from the south west, stopped because it knew I was staring at it.  And while May is often the rainiest month for us, May rain is not like March or April rain.

   May rain gets sucked away by long sun and rivers, and when it leaves, soil enters a period of ennui it calls summer.  Months of dreaming of the high wind which might blow it perhaps to Antarctica where it could sleep or maybe watch Penguins, while it waited out the assumption of agriculture that has placed so many demands upon it and rewarded it so little.

    But sometimes in May, rain can linger in the peaceful way, on into the night, then in the morning there it is, chilly cold and dripping from clogged gutters where Maples are sprouting.  Some still call this Blackberry Winter.  And sometimes too, a Blackberry Winter can include a frost, something Blackberry relish, because it brings on clouds of Blackberry bloom, but which can distract the Multiflora that Goats think so delicious. 

    This year, both Blackberry and the Wild Asian Rose are already blooming.  I'd call it a good three weeks this side of two years ago, and I reckon, if we'd had the rain, instead of an antiseptic and frigid  hosepipe, Carrots might also think it way past the time to celebrate May the Fifth.

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