An English In Kentucky


















Saturday September 29th 2012    Tim Candler

     I would argue that for me at least, always better to attempt to reserve a conclusion until more thoughts have been permitted their opportunity to ramble around kicking tires, or whatever it is that thoughts do to ideas and the written forms of ideas, and particularly classifications of ideas which has that endless demand for detail from a most inadequate memory.  It's the leaping, Frog-like down the lane in the early morning, and today I actually had to stop the vehicle, because the Frog just sat there, waiting to be run over.

     Rabbits are different, they'll run along a while, then you'll catch a glint from their eye, and they'll take the sharp turn, into the longer grass.  On previous mornings, the Frog has clearly been waiting for me, and his rule has been to take the odd hop, before himself choosing the Rabbit's tangential approach to head lamps by disappearing into the edges.  Today he didn't do that.  I thought him stubborn or more irritated than I. So I got out of the vehicle and stamped at him. Polite at first, then rather fiercely, because it was very early, dark and rather misty.  I decided he was a Leopard Frog.  Nor should I have spent most of the day deciding that he might not have been a Leopard Frog.

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