An English In Kentucky


















Thursday March 29th 2018Tim Candler9


    So what happened to March? Excellent question, and the answer could be complicated. Awash in vague understandings of circles, straight lines, away from Heidegger toward the French Existentialist, who are less daunted by scandal, all this in association with a yearning to become a Scottish Empiricist, that classic stand aside and watch, all of it conjoined with what begins to feel like constant visits to the dentist. Or it could be a simple question of stepping outside and watching the beginning of a spring-time that's no more and no less innocent than all the other spring-times since that fateful collision between earth and what eventually became our moon. Nor does endless rain, wet, chill and flood contribute to balance.




       It's kind of no wonder members of our species sometimes retreat into the simple visions, find peace in the bloom of a Dandelion without once thinking about a cloud of Dandelion seeds finding a permanent home in Vegetable Garden paths. And from there look at the Jump Up Plantains, happy as Larks, that briefly inspire then smother the turf. Remember the scourge of Johnson Grass. Stare wistfully at what remains of the Compost Piles. It's a retreat into Hume, the empiricist, that requires a capacity to marvel at the Bees dodging raindrops on the frost scorched Peach Blossom without wondering where the antihistamine pills are.  On the bright side your correspondent has achieved a relationship with lunch. Instead of feeling like the angel of death afterwards, he is able to potter in a vaguely normal manner, which theoretically is nice. 



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