An English In Kentucky


















Sunday July 14th 2019Tim Candler9


     Not sure the Kitten has a green thumb, or will ever have a green thumb. A huge sadness and a little disappointing, but at the same time your gardener himself doesn't have much of a green thumb, it's a little this side of dark purple, so the greenness of a thumb isn't absolutely central to the well being of a vegetable garden, which means we're not talking the cold hands of the pastry chef, rather we're talking a lackadaisical attitude toward the more sedentary of our number, and under no circumstances do you do things like lie down, roll around on a row of harmless young Crowder Peas struggling under dry conditions. And I have seen some terrible sights through the course of my time upon earth as a gardener, but this was an act of such wanton environmental vandalism that it raises serious issues. I mean people have faced court martial for less. 



     The Artist who was armed to the teeth doing battle with Johnson Grass guessed there was a lack of harmony in the vegetable garden and advised "a less conversational approach" to the impasse. By which I think she meant that wishy-washy snowflake wheezing at the Kitten was little better than cooing at my four legged assistant which would achieve less than nothing. I had to be very fierce, and totally unreasonable when I attempted to lay down a rational framework of behavior. I briefly gave consideration to the Feral Morning Glory, the Cypress Vine and both Political Parties. Yell at them all you want, doesn't do any good at all, gives the yeller a soar throat, serves only to encourage sneaky, lumpen and characterless self serving Creeping Grass type behavior. Nonetheless it was a worth a shot, I gave it go. The Kitten for her part, kind of blinked and shrugged, in a most chilling Ayn Rand kind of way.


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