An English In Kentucky


















Saturday December 28th  2013  Tim Candler


      Always necessary to prepare the mind before entering the world of seed catalogues.  They are not something you can just jump into.  Rather they are Piranha filled waters, what Dante might have called the third circle of hell, where gluttons wallow in slush. Have to think that Calvin's approach to preparing for seed catalogues would be to write a sensible and well reasoned list.  But Calvin owned an extraordinarily mind that held within it an idea of reward after death, and most likely within that precept lies the ability to be disciplined.  Me, I become like a clown on a pogo stick when around lists, and I guess this puts me in the ninth circle of hell, where in the ice lake Judas might ask me to describe my offence.  "I didn't follow me seed catalogue list." And I might gain some warmth by watching him sneer at me.

       Then there is the other side.  The dumbass obedience to history. Without Blue Lakes and Roma I begin to feel unsettled, as though something was missing, the edge of a precipice.  Which is I guess why last year I procured sufficient Blue Lake and Roma to see me through the remainder of my days, if only the weevils would leave them alone.  And it's all very well yarning on about the importance of some kind of Heritage Bean, or Corn, or Tomato so frail it succumbs to bloat at the first drop of dew.  And I'm a person who likes to see lines in his garden, so that sort of willy-nilly popping things here and there puts me in a mood to think seriously about the inadequacy of entropy as my approach to developing  a better attitude toward  the social, which of course is the reason for hell in the first place.  Yes indeed, you can't just jump into the seed catalogues.  Better to let them all just sit there on the passenger seat, stewing until February, so that prayers might be said, offerings made, chocolate eaten.


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