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John A Silkstone

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Member Since: Nov, 2010

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L'altruisme, les sources de valeurs vivement critiquées dans
by Antoine Raphael

Ce roman est la version française d'un livre anglais "Concern, the sources of values under fire in Cows Island, récemment publié par le même éditeur  
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Garden Politics
By John A Silkstone
Friday, November 26, 2010

Rated "G" by the Author.

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A little nonsense written for my grandchildren.

“Not only do we grow to be the tallest in the garden,” said the runner bean, “but we also have leaves that are a most attractive shade of green that highlight our pretty red and white flowers, and the crowning glory of our beauty lies in our long succulent bean pods.”
“You are nothing but a braggadocio,” announced the leading cabbage, as he stood at the top of one of many regimented rows, “where would you be without our protection? At least we don’t need canes to support us.”
“Quite right,” said the cauliflower. “Those beans are always trying to rise above their station.”
“Thank you white heart.” answered the cabbage, as he unruffled his leaves, “and furthermore, without those long canes to help support...”
“For climbing on.” interrupted the runner bean.
“For support.”
“For climbing on.”
“For support.” insisted cabbage. “If you didn’t have that scaffolding to cling to, you’d be”
“Us!” muttered the peas quietly.
“Yes, like the peas,” continued the cabbage. “All gangly and...and...”
“Sweet and pretty?” suggested the peas shyly.
“Quite right.” agreed the cabbage.
Over by the compost heap, the gourds were sobbing quietly. “We are so ugly,” they lamented, “look at us, we grow to be so knobbly and misshapen.”
“Hey Inglese.” shouted the calabrese, his green beret sitting at a rakish angle. “look at whata you do now. You no savvy?”
“Savoy, actually.” interjected the indignant cabbage.
Kale, who had been observing the whole proceedings from behind the beetroot, snorted in disgust.
“What! Did you say something curly?” enquired the cabbage in an authoritative voice.
“I think.” said an elegant sweetcorn, “that curly was expressing his complete disapproval of such senseless arguments. Why, everyone has their own elements of beauty within themselves, even the gourds are handsome in their own way.”
“We are?” chortled the elated gourds, who began to cheer up and comfort the tearful onions.
“Yes, you are,” continued sweetcorn with an almost ecclesiastical reverence. “I have to concede that the runner bean is also beautiful.”
“You all heard that,” called out the runner bean. “I told you that we are beautiful.”
“Be quiet!” commanded sweetcorn
“Humph.” said curly, in total agreement.
While cabbage almost turn red in anger.
Sweetcorn continued. “Cauliflower has a heart that is pure and white, therein lays its beauty. The cabbage has a hard heart...”
“Hold on there a minute...” interrupted the leading cabbage.
“Please let me finish,” said sweetcorn.
Cabbage mumbled angrily under his leaves, disturbing a slumbering potato.
“What’s all the commotion about?” inquired the potato, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

A cacophony of voices engulfed the garden.
“Please, please everyone.” said sweetcorn. “Sire, we were discussing the beauty of each individual plant.”
“Oh!” said the potato.
Sweetcorn continued. “Yes, even you sire, are beautiful.”
The potato remained silent, but appeared to be keeping an eye on the proceedings.
“You are the king of this garden and beautiful in your own right. If I may be so bold as to say so. Your flower though small, has a childlike beauty that transcends all of our ambitious displays. Its petite golden crown surrounded with small white petals is magnificent.”
King Edward approved and promptly resumed snoring.
“As I was saying,” continued sweetcorn in a hushed voice, so as not to disturb the King again. “The cabbage does have a hard heart, but his beauty lies in its courage. Where would we be without their staunch support which protects us from the cold north winds?”
The Cabbage appeared to be content with the explanation and settled down again.
“So you see,” continued Sweetcorn. “We all have beauty, hidden or otherwise. We are all equal within the garden.”
There was a general murmur of agreement, before everything settled down in the garden again.
“I’m still good looking.” muttered the Runner Bean.
No one answered.

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Reviewed by J Howard 5/11/2011
i am in prayers that my garden thrives to have just such a conversation-loved the cleverness. thanks so much for sharing the fun-

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