An English In Kentucky


















Saturday May 17th 2014  Tim Candler


    Despite the rectangles I'm prepared to say, there are no Awkward Metes in the Compost area.  I guess I could argue that Compost Piles benefit from rectangles, and if I do, it might be necessary to wonder whether this idea of benefit derives from the nature of a Compost Piles or whether having Compost Piles hidden away is a reactionary esthetic. I do know they don't like full sun, and yet one of the great joys in life is to watch one steam, but a happy compost pile is a well scented compost pile, so it's very difficult to know whether  the lack of Awkward Metes in the Compost area follows my own perception of awkwardness, or whether my inability to perceive an Awkward Mete in the Compost area, is a throw back to an obsession with edging. A visceral reluctance to separate myself  from a long held ideal that's causing me to hallucinate.


    The other thing about the Compost area is that the trees that shade the compost area are one of the Cedar Mockingbird's Intermediary Metes. And here I think of it as a Mete that does not function as a boundary for the Cedar Mockingbird, but rather as a sort of vantage point from which to sally forth.  And it's sort of the same for me with the Compost area. There may well be sallying to and from the Compost area on my part, but more important it troubles me not in the least what might lie outside the compost area rectangles. I don't wake in the night thinking about it.  It does help a little that the levels of shade out there are too much for Creeping Grass to tolerate, and too there's a rather pretty Dame's Rocket at bloom. Either way, it's food for thought in my journey toward de-tox.



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