An English In Kentucky


















Monday October 21st 2019Tim Candler9


     Your gardener can't quite recall why he chose to dramatically increase the size of the accordion bed in the vegetable garden. The bed's an odd shape, so odd, its 16 degree angle along the fence side can grate the nerves of someone who might be burdened by the sort of anal retentive characteristics that cling to the solidity and solace that can be found in right angles. More likely the initial whimsical sunhat and secateurs impetus behind the decision began with a slight suggestion rather than anything well considered, and lo the spring was wound tight and out came the hand tools along with that devil's kiss "this should be fairly straight forward."


      Nor did I fully appreciate the dogged workmanship that once came from me when installing edging. Clearly the accordion bed edging wasn't designed to be molested in any way, it was meant to stand in place through the sands of time and see its own way through the valley of the shadow of death. Which, when a gardener is irrationally wound up and determined to reuse the edging, means resorting to an array of iron bars, crowbars, post hole digging bars, levers, hammers and all the implements of torture are there, dust free and glittering from use. Epitaph-wise, a good chance we're talking "He died doing something in his garden, but no one could work out what."    


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