Back in February of 2021, central Texas experienced what we’ve termed “Snowpocalypse.” We were iced in for five days, unable to step out onto our front porches, get mail, or get food. Many of us had no water, and others had no electricity due to downed lines. It was then that thousands of surrounding trees died.
We had high hopes that they would rally in spring, and a small few did. But most just died, and much money and time were spent in stumpgrinding and removal. Yards all over town have empty spots on their lawns, or small saplings still tied to the stakes. We let over a year pass until we finally gave up on our backyard palm tree. It gave up the ghost long ago.
Yesterday, however, we visited Margarita’s restaurant for the first time in years. It used to be visible from the road by its couple dozen large palm trees, swaying in the breeze. It was a lovely tropical vibe. Yesterday, we could barely see it from the road. Then we realized it, too, had suffered palm tree loss.
And yet all the trunks remain standing, like a once-tropical Stonehenge. At this point, they should be felled. But replacing them would run into the hundreds of thousands. Until then, I imagine they will stand proudly but sadly in the breeze.
Poor Tonto, stuck outside on a rainy day, while Buddy enjoys the warm house. Buddy was our Thanksgiving visitor, and the only dog with hypoallergenic fur, which meant he got to stay inside among the humans, especially the one with allergies.
Don’t feel sad for Tonto; Roxie kept him company. The patio was dry, and they were able to return to their plush dog beds by evening, when Buddy returned home. And if you think about it, Tonto doesn’t even have eyeballs, so he probably didn’t know Buddy was standing there.
This 1947 Blueprint yearbook referred to one of these fellows as “Lonesome Polecat,” and I immediately thought that that might be the best name for an indie folk band ever, until I Googled it, and DARNED if it isn’t a song from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. It includes the lyrics, “a man can’t sleep when he sleeps with sheep.” Goodness!
This Del Masters pinup opens itself up to many questions. Firstly, we all know that hitchhiking is frowned upon, especially once serial killers came into vogue. Who knows what kind of person might rescue her? Secondly, there is no way that seaplane could spot her thumb from so high above. Even supposing it is a seaplane that had the capability of landing Sully-style near her, the waves would topple her raft, especially if she insists on standing astride it. The last thing a pilot wants to see is a distraught young woman in a wet, white shirt.
Thirdly, both she and her luggage would be better off sitting down. Surely she’s not wearing stilettos, or the raft will be sunk in no time. Why is she on a raft in the first place? Did her boat overturn on a three hour tour? Did everyone else perish? Did one oar float away? It’s a good thing she’s decked out in her best seafaring ensemble, garters, and flimsy blouse. Let’s just hope that pilot isn’t on his phone, or he may just miss her.
Billy ought not take one step forward or those blueberries are liable to tumble down along the sidewalk. In fact, all of the produce seems balanced at a precarious angle, as you can see, and as they can see. This entire page is about seeing. I see a well-dressed family at the grocery store, perhaps in their Sunday best. What do you see?
Girls dancing to the music of the “mouth organ” (let’s call it a harmonica) to celebrate the August Bank Holiday on Hampstead Heath. Despite the layers of heavy clothing, they seem to be enjoying the moment just fine.
Cheapside, a street in London, in 1893 by Paul Martin, who noted that “refreshments of sherbet and water were 1/2d per glass” (or 1/2 a penny)
Nearly 130 years old, this image shows us so much, from the design of the watercooler to the fashion of the day, the architecture of the lamppost to the woman selling apples, the omnipresence of hats to the crowded London street. Fascinating!