An English In Kentucky


















Friday February 14th 2014  Tim Candler


     Some years it is possible to over winter an August planting of Chard. They'll stick there through the cold days, tolerate an occasional something dreadful from Michigan or Canada, then about April fools day, you might get a gathering of green leaves that are up there with the most delicious thing a person could put in their mouth this side of  maybe a Mushroom eaten in August. It's that green in springtime that a body hungers for.  It's a hunger that cannot be assuaged by frying up Potato or loosing your mind while passing the butcher and coming home with five pounds of pork sausage. The trouble is any kind of Corporate Greens through winter are an egregious surrender to the almighty, so they never will taste like anything much better than a rice cake, which is why some of us spend many of the longer days chasing down bits of unassigned wood for a fuel with which to par boil greens so they can be frozen in electric freezers that themselves depend upon coalfields to function, and cost us about twenty dollars a month to run.  It's a cruel and emotional cycle, that really does encourage the concept of hibernation as the only proper solution to the ordeal of the shorter days.

      Nor do our masters have anything positive to add to the problem of what to do about greens in the winter, their engagement it seems to me, is to tie a majority of us to a work bench so that we might spend our waking hours doing nothing in this world that we actually might want to do. And anyone who opposes this scheme is either undermining god's will or engaged in some form of theft. And here I begin to think that it might be far better for me had I lived in the Pyramid building era of the Egyptians because there as workman, I could have tromped around with my rock pulling rope, under warm sun and a rainless sky in the world that preceded this absurd notion of individual will and responsibility, and I might have been content to worship a thousand different gods, my footprint so small, I'd be eaten up by Mosquito, or because of some minor infringement I'd be tossed into the air for Nile Crocodile to swallow, so that a young Pharaoh might clap his hands.  Greens are not easy to comprehend, until one has spent a good many years trying to grow Chard in such a way as to allow this regal plant to give of it's best, in a world bent upon par boiling it, then freezing it so that coal miners might find paid work taking the tops of mountains.


Previous      Next