Front page
Archive
Silflay Hraka?


Bigwig is a systems administrator at a public university
Hrairoo is the proprietor of a quality used bookstore
Kehaar is.
Woundwort is a professor of counseling at a private university

The Hraka RSS feed

Email
bigwig AT nc.rr.com

Friends of Hraka
InstaPundit
Daily Pundit
cut on the bias
Meryl Yourish
This Blog Is Full Of Crap
Winds of Change
A Small Victory
Silent Running
Dr. Weevil
Little Green Footballs
ColdFury
Oceanguy
Fragments from Floyd
VodkaPundit
Allah
The Feces Flinging Monkey
Dean's World
Little Tiny Lies
The Redsugar Muse
Sperari
Natalie Solent
From the Mrs.
ErosBlog
The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler
On the Third Hand
Public Nuisance
Not a Fish
Rantburg
AMCGLTD
WeckUpToThees!
Electric Venom
Skippy, The Bush Kangaroo
Common Sense and Wonder
Neither Here Nor There
Wizbang!
Bogieblog
ObscuroRant
RocketJones
The Greatest Jeneration
Ravenwolf
Ipse Dixit
TarHeelPundit
Blog On the Run
blogatron
Redwood Dragon
Notables
Greeblie Blog
Have A Cuppa Tea
A Dog's Life
IMAO
Zonitics.com
Iberian Notes
Midwest Conservative Journal
A Voyage to Arcturus
HokiePundit
Trojan Horseshoes
In Context
dcthornton.blog
The People's Republic of Seabrook
Country Store
Blog Critics
Chicago Boyz
Hippy Hill News
Kyle Still Free Press
The Devil's Excrement
The Fat Guy
War Liberal
Assume the Position
Balloon Juice
Iron Pen In A Velvet Glove
IsraPundit
Freedom Lives
Where Worlds Collide
Knot by Numbers
How Appealing
South Knox Bubba
Heretical Ideas
The Kitchen Cabinet
Dustbury.com
tonecluster
Bo Cowgill
mtpolitics.net
Raving Atheist
The Short Strange Trip
Shark Blog
Hoplites
Jimspot
Ron Bailey's Weblog
Cornfield Commentary
Testify!
Northwest Notes
pseudorandom
The Blog from the Core
Ain'tNoBadDude
CroMagnon
The Talking Dog
WTF Is It Now??
Blue Streak
Smarter Harper's Index
nikita demosthenes
Bloviating Inanities
Sneakeasy's Joint
Ravenwood's Universe
The Eleven Day Empire
World Wide Rant
All American
Pdawwg
The Rant
The Johnny Bacardi Show
The Head Heeb
Viking Pundit
Mercurial
Oscar Jr. Was Here
Just Some Poor Schmuck
Katy & Bruce Loebrich
But How's The Coffee?
Roscoe Ellis
Foolsblog
Sasha Castel
Dodgeblogium
Susskins Central Dispatch
DoggerelPundit
Josh Heit
Attaboy
Aaron's Rantblog
MojoMark
As I was saying...
Blog O' Dob
Dr. Frank's Blogs Of War
Betsy's Page
A Knob for Brightness
Fresh Bilge
The Politburo Diktat
Drumwaster's rants
Curt's Page
The Razor
An Unsealed Room
The Legal Bean
Helloooo chapter two!
As I Was Saying...
SkeptiLog AGOG!
Tong family blog
Vox Beth
Velociblog
I was thinking
Judicious Asininity
This Woman's Work
Fragrant Lotus
DaGoddess
Single Southern Guy
Caerdroia
GrahamLester.Com
Jay Solo's Verbosity
TacJammer
Snooze Button Dreams
Horologium
You Big Mouth, You!
From the Inside looking Out
Night of the Lepus
No Watermelons Allowed
From The Inside Looking Out
Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics
Suburban Blight
Aimless
The SmarterCop
Dog of Flanders
From Behind the Wall of Sleep
Beaker's Corner
Bad State of Gruntledness
Who Tends The Fires
Granny Rant
Elegance Against Ignorance
Moxie.nu
Eccentricity
Say What?
Blown Fuse
Wait 'til Next Year
The Pryhills
The Whomping Willow
The National Debate
The Skeptician
Zach Everson
MonkeyWatch
Geekward Ho
Argghhh!!!
Life in New Orleans
Rotten Miracles
Fringe
The Biomes Blog
illinigirl
See What You Share
Truthprobe
Blog d’Elisson
Your Philosophy Sucks
Watauga Rambler
Socialized Medicine
Consternations
Verging on Pertinence
Read My Lips
ambivablog
Soccerdad
The Flannel Avenger
Butch Howard's WebLog
Castle Argghhh!
Andrew Hofer
kschlenker.com
Moron Abroad
White Pebble
Darn Floor
Wizblog
tweedler
Pajama Pundits
BabyTrollBlog
Cadmusings
Goddess Training 101
A & W
Medical Madhouse
Slowly Going Sane
The Oubliette
American Future
Right Side Redux
See The Donkey
Newbie Trucker
The Right Scale
Running Scared
Ramblings Journal
Focus On Reality
Wyatt's Torch

June 01, 2002

I Probably Should Be In

I Probably Should Be In Therapy or Blame it on Dad.

Ahhh...the Worm Farm.

That takes me back a ways. I can remember the golden Summers of our youth spent trying to breed worms in that busted freezer. How many children do you supposed carried the goal of a worm farm through their youthful years, through young adulthood, into comfortable married suburbaninity? Hell, how many children spend any part of their life attempting to convince worms to be fruitful and multiply? I can't guess that there are many. I don't even remember why WE did it. I guess ostensibly the worms were for fishing.

You know, the more I think about the things we did as children, the more I am convinced that we are wholly abnormal. I blame it on dad. The gardening instincts certainly come from dad.

They say that man is made in the image of God. I think that if this is true, then it is most evident in the desire of man to create and grow and govern his own world. What better way to do that than through gardening? What better place than your own back yard? I am sure that Dad, being a man of the cloth, reflected God's image in this way. Dad is a man who, every April or May, plows under his entire back yard in obeisance to some primal call that's been passed down through the ages ever since Adam hitched up his plow-mule, laid aside his hunter-gatherer ways, and moved into the Garden. I remember those Spring days of my childhood vividly. He would plant tomatos. He would plant peppers. He would plant squash, and sunflowers, and pumpkins, and watermelons, and marijuana, and this stuff that I never could identify, but which dripped milk-white sap that made you itch like you had the crabs if it came in contact with your skin.

At first, it would be this beautiful, organized, well-planned garden. The tomatos were neatly tied to their stakes. The sunflowers tracked the sun in neat rows. The pumpkins nestled gently in the freshly turned soil. Dad would water the garden daily. He would weed with vigor. He would crap his own weight in fertilizer daily, adding roughly 11 times the potash to the potash starved soil of our lawn. And then the cyclical rebirth that is the Spring would give way to the soul-sucking heat of Summer.

Satan tempted Eve, Eve tempted Adam, Adam ate the apple, God gave 'em both the boot and the Garden of Eden grew thick with weeds.

By mid-June, the back yard was for all intents and purposes, impassable. Thanks to all the fertilizer Dad crapped into the garden, the weeds grew as high as an elephant's eye. The tomatos were overrun and dropped yellow from the vine. The smell of rotting tomatos lingers like the stench of death over my childhood memories. The sunflowers, overshadowed by a thick canopy, tracked in all different directions, individually guessing at the approximate location of the sun. The pumpkins grew voluminous, only to develop, in their gluttony and sloth, festering bedsores on their pale, fetid underbellies. Several neighborhood children wandered into the jungle that was our backyard and were never heard from again.

Anyway, I forget what my point might have been. I guess if I were your wife and knew the family history of gardening, I'd probably be annoyed if you bought a worm farm too.

Posted by Kehaar at June 1, 2002 09:07 PM | TrackBack
Postscript:
First time visitor to House Hraka? Wondering if everything we produce could possibly be as brilliant/stupid/evil/pedantic/insipid/inspired as the post you just read? Check out the Hraka Essentials, the (mostly) reader-selected guide to Hraka's best posts, and decide for yourself.
Comments
Post a comment Note: Comments with more than two dashes per line will be blocked as spam.









Remember personal info?