An English In Kentucky


















Monday May 21st 2018Tim Candler9


    Some few years ago, it was in the Fall, your gardener had one of those notions. What the Vegetable Garden needed, he decided, was an Arch. He must have been inspired by the kind of reading material that Dentists insist on having scattered around their waiting rooms. It's the glossy stuff, a bubble dwelling nightmare of incomprehensible happy talk about perfect people with their absurd passion for gardening, food, slave owning lifestyles and holiday getaways. Either way I should have known better, but at the same time your other reading option in the Dentist's waiting room is one of the newer totally antiseptic translations of the Bible, so in the end it's much better to put your head back, close your eyes and pretend you've been struck by narcolepsy. The point is, that first year I planted Snake Gourd on The Arch. I pictured hanging fruit and quipped with the Mockingbird about the possibilities of people bonking their heads. The white lacy nature and scent of Snake Gourd bloom is absolutely wonderful, the gourds do hang nicely but I guess a person has to gain experience in the art of preparing Snake Gourd for the dinner table, otherwise it just makes you feel ill for a couple of days.



     The following year I had what I believed was a brilliant inspiration for The Arch. I decided it cried out for Morning Glory, which for anyone who is remotely normal hangs up there with one of the single most beautiful blooms in all the world. It can certainly bring a flutter to the delicate heart of even the dourest of gardeners, he gets lost in shades of blue as his eye wanders toward the center of the bloom and on a chilly morning he might even be persuaded to see God. But one of the things about Morning Glory where I live, it takes a while to achieve the moment of bloom, and the other thing about Morning Glory, it's seeds do not run true. Ponies from the wild gallop across her stigma and the following year you got a bunch of home schooled. The lesson is you don't plant Morning Glory in your Vegetable Garden, because if you do you spend the rest of your life trying to get rid of an aggressive, incredibly prolific, very sneaky, fast growing little annual vine that's quite sweet, its small flowers are pinkish white, but the vine does nothing for your sense of being in control. And as everyone knows, a sense of not being in control at the busy time of the year is an aspect of the limbic system's knee jerk reactions to the real that does nothing whatsoever for balance, sense of order or a gardener's overall wellness.


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