An English In Kentucky


















Tuesday April 22nd 2014  Tim Candler


     Of compost piles, two were perfectly respectable, and two were wholly inadequate.  And I guess I have taken this oath several dozen times before, but next year all compost piles will reflect perfection, and I will wander the hills whistling merrily, a skip in my step, as I explain to Rabbit and Mockingbirds what a wonderful person I am, and how if they too were as diligent as I, the world would be made safe from the Industrial Revolution.

     I guess too, given the stress upon both the physical and mental parts of a person that compost piles can deliver, there's a good chance I might not make it through many more years of composting.  Pretty soon now I'll be reduced to 'top dressing.'  Hobbling around in a moo-moo, with a little bucket of leaf mold and a teaspoon.  Which could well be an optimism, because  long before that happens one or other of the hosepipes will have driven me insane.



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