An English In Kentucky


















Tuesday February 11th 2014  Tim Candler


     My own sense of Carrot is currently confused.  So much depends upon what the summer does, because Carrot are picky germinators, their seeds easily gobbled up by soil dwellers.  And best not to get lulled into false expectation by the propaganda leaflets, especially those which are  printed upon re-cycled paper, with some old bearded fool sucking a straw dispensing ye olde cute. Trust me, this character has the ring worm, his feet smell worse than mine and frankly his choice of hat suggests to me that he might be prone to diddling little boys when he's not stealing grocery bags from little old men.  And you have to ask who in their right mind comes up with these sort of seed marketing strategies,  or might there indeed be an increasingly deranged percentage of people for whom the narrative has become totally divorced.  In which case I weep for the world, as the phrase "blessed release" is inked onto the margin because we are all doomed.

      Last year, early Carrot were a disaster. I blame the exotic seed that so tempted The Artist, and which I have to admit took my imagination even though my role in the field is to retain some semblance of control with the word 'No' while maintaining the stubborn chin of a cynic. It was some kind of purple Carrot, which in itself is interesting because all those years ago when Carrot were first cultivated for their root by Persians and Afghans, Carrots were indeed purple.  But I should have guessed that if you can pretty much count the number of Carrot seeds in a newly opened packet of Carrot seeds, then someone somewhere is laughing at you, and if they happen not to be, then there is something seriously wrong with them. Fall Carrot last year were excellent. They went in early August, they were Carrot colored and the two year old seed came from the Co-op. They were called Danvers Half Longs. And how I remember that I have no idea.


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