http://www.anenglishinkentucky.com/ - Jun 18, 2013 4:55:20 PM - Oct 3, 2010 6:19:05 AM
Sunday June 16th 2013
Summer Solstice just five days away, and some of us are a long way from prepared. Something about this year is running late. The greens of grass and trees are at the end of May, and Raspberry are ripening at least ten days late, but I am not convinced by such signatures of time. I have to think there is some other cause, something deep and stirring.
And I guess this sort of paranoid delusion of a great out there watching in judgment is actually the source of Calendars. Great stones erected have a permanence and solidity, a constancy, an immoveable and comforting bureaucracy. The week with it's seven days. And the year, round and neatly tied by leap day.
The Deer Tongue Lettuce seed came from Amish gardeners. Nor am I one to willy-nilly cast aspersions around as though they were confetti however much fun it is. However we have not had Dodder in the vegetable Garden since 2005. Oddly, In Pennsylvania I believe, all peoples who are not Amish are referred to as The English
Saturday June 15th 2013
Dodder in the Deer Tongue Lettuce. Which might sound like happy thing, but rest assured, there are few things a gardener assigns the word 'happy' to. I can think of Potato Rain. I can think of low humidity, and I can think of high temperature of eighty two degrees Fahrenheit. Which for those struggling with foreignness is twenty seven point seven seven Celsius.
The Deer Tongue Lettuce seed came from Amish gardeners. Nor am I one to willy-nilly cast aspirations around as though they were confetti however much fun it is. However we have not had Dodder in the vegetable Garden since 2005. Oddly, In Pennsylvania I believe, all peoples who are not Amish are referred to as The English
Friday June 14th 2013
However, despite it all, I have returned to the Rabbit of Usk, and the edge that ends in meaninglessness should be rounded with sandpaper, rather than left to the conclusion, "that's what I meant." The other solution is to paint the edge bright red, give it a "Look at me" flashing light and try to think of it as a hinge.
It's the valley of structure, I know, and as has been pointed out, structure more often defines meaning. Which in the matter of The Rabbit of Usk and Walking Stewart is a good enough reason to quote Dylan Thomas: "Dig no more for the chains of his grey-haired heart." But I miss Walking Stewart, and could so easily return him to his seat at my table. Give him the quality of a hinge, so that doors might open.
Thursday June 13th 2013
Definitions are rather crucial. What do I mean by religion? What do I mean by tradition? What do I mean by Nationality? And far too easy to suggest that someone who practices a religion or observes a tradition primarily because he or she considers it central to social cohesion is therefore somehow alienated. Or has lost his or her religion, or has lost his or her contact with a tradition, or who is for one reason or another expatriated.
Here I'd argue that The Pope doesn't have to believe in the Resurrection to be The Pope. What he has to do is to persuade others that he believes in the Resurrection. And why might he pursue such a deceit? Because he wants to be The Pope. And I can say this, because we as individuals, "Join" ideas. We do not "Belong," to ideas. Infuriating, I know, because barriers to membership can be insurmountable, no matter how the 'heart' might yearn to 'belong.' Wittgenstein wanted to belong to the class of Genius. Scruton wants to belong to the class of philosopher. And to my un-contactable comrade, there is no such thing as a flawed novel, unless you have joined an idea of what a novel might be.
Wednesday June 12th 2013
"Upper Level Disturbance" is how a weatherman says, "something unmanageable might happen sometime, somewhere soon." Today I am struggling with another "Upper Level Disturbance." It's a cross eyed dizziness that makes standing up tricky.
And it was an "Upper Level Disturbance" which a couple of days ago sent us running to a hole in the ground that I will insist upon calling a "Tornado Shelter," but which some might call Spider Habitat, and which others might call Snake Den.
Sunday June 9th 2013
Saint Teresa of Avila has a roof, three walls and in one of those walls is a door that opens and closes without undue physical effort. There remains a wall, the sit upon, and a weather proof window. So far there have been a few points of discontentment, an awkwardness here, a few cruel words exchanged there. But in the end I'd argue that progress has been very slow because of a discourse between us upon how best to conceal errors.
I am at the moment fully into a heated defense of "Forgiveness" as the only reasonable solution. And due to a surfeit of errors, I find myself becoming quite heated in pursuit of this defense. For her part Saint Teresa has some round about argument that describes the shattering of a myth, Fallen Angels. Which means that for her, all error either presents an opportunity to redefine the substance of her being or enter a diatribe against dimensional lumber, the incompetence of her designer, his inability to use a level, and a general rejection of any kind of acceptance.
Saturday June 8th 2013
I'm going to have to cage the Raspberry, or there'll be pecking from all and sundry, as well as Raspberry lovers. But much more exciting is the ripening Mulberry which was dropped off in the Vegetable Garden.
There is no doubt in my mind that it was a gift from the Woo Mockingbird, whose children are pretty much ready to be chased off the territory. I nodded my appreciation. The nearest Mulberry tree is really very far away.
Friday June 7th 2013
Yeah though I have walked through the valley of words there are times when a person has to pause, sit on a rock and smile for a time. What I have generalized under the category of "The Black Pox" and it's subset "Sooty Foot," when found in Cereals, Corns and Sugarcanes, is more locally referred to as "The Smuts." From a German word for 'dirt.' Oddly "Corn Smut" contains more protein than the "Corn Kernels" which Corn Smuts have usurped for their own nefarious ends. Where I live Corn Smut is considered a pest. Aztecs considered it a delicacy.
And even more worrisome "Before infection can occur, The Smuts need to undergo a successful mating to form dikaryotic hyphae." Which they do by hijacking the reproductive system of their unfortunate victim and then forcing say Grass to produce "Smut Galls." And you'll know how successful The Smuts might have been if you are shoeless in the cut grass and your toes turn black.
Thursday June 6th 2013 "D" Day
I think I am going to agree with those who argue that the plethora which comes under the title 'technological' should be thought of as a species with subsets of evolving species. And our relationship with 'technology' should be thought of in terms of symbiosis. Where two different species benefit each other at a cost to other species. From the flint knapper all the way to whatever it is that new age flint knappers do, our interdependence is determinate. And to say that our own species is in charge, strikes me as a misreading.
Better to think of our relationship with technology in terms of technology nurturing only those subsets in our own species who promote technologies own evolution, rather than in terms of something like freedom, or independence, or equality, or an end to world hunger, and the list can go happily on. Me, I'm still hoping for some kind of genetic leap, following cataclysm, but this is an old fashioned wish much doted on by those of us prone to the idea that God is technical device and all of creation is a desperate attempt to conceptualize an off switch. And while some might consider this view a touch dismal, I find it both elegant and elevating.