Frondless Palms

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.

I Fall Into You, And We Keep Growing

WI Brown 1928

An elm tree in Andrew County, Missouri fell smack dab onto a sister tree 25 feet away. Instead of dying, the two continued to grow together. At time of picture in 1928, it was 75 feet tall and quite the climbing tree for youngsters.

Manicuring With The Briggs & Stratton

America 24/7, Smolan & Cohen, by Philip Greenberg

Back in the last century, Briggs & Stratton used to release a list of the best 10 lawns in America. In 1998, this seventh floor garden at 30 Rock ranked among them. Seen here is head gardener Eric Pauze 24 years ago, when he earned the honor. Among his duties are planting pink geraniums and trimming hedges, as the gardens are designated state landmarks and must be treated with dignity and respect.

But mowing stripes seven stories high is the least interesting thing he does. Yep, he’s the Christmas tree picker for Rockefeller Center! Not the fake version you see on all the Hallmark movies; nope, he’s the real deal. He visits nurseries throughout the tri-state area, searching for the perfect tree. He’s been known to scour trees in other states as well, and says he’s never been turned down by an owner, though they are skeptical that he is the actual man with the coveted tree-procuring position. Well, here’s the proof.

More Than Nice

Last year, when travel was limited, I shared with my dear readers, in two separate posts, some lovely vintage postcards from the C├┤te d’Azur. Today, we add the third and final installment.

Francois DuJardin 1950

Picasso 1962

Ah, Yes, Eyas

I saw this chart today, and found it interesting that a peregrine falcon can soar on wings at 242 mph. It made me wonder why more sports teams don’t call themselves peregrines instead of the generic falcons.

But then I learned something else. Nearly half a century on this earth and I had never known the name for a baby falcon.

Eyas.

Like the end of Tobias.

And baby chicks are eyasas. Did you know that?

Check out these eyases.

Now you armed with information as you go into 2022. Go forth and tell your co-workers.

Americans Walking On Eggshells In Everything They Say Or Do

I saw this today and thought it looked like a pretty good representation of today’s world, at least in the USA.

ebaumsworld

You can’t say what you really feel today without threat of cancel culture, and the media shames you if you don’t cowtow to the issue du jour of the social justice warriors, regardless of the idiocy of the demand. Take Henry Winkler, for example. People lost their freaking minds when he posted this a few days ago.

Somehow, in this twisted, brainwashed land where tolerance is demanded but yet everything is offensive, Winkler’s statement was perceived by some idiots as horrifying. Nature is horrifying? Fishing is horrifying? Some vilified him for “traumatizing the fish.” Do these same people vilify fishermen? Is it okay to fish if you’re not a professional fisherman? What are the rules these days? Where do people think FOOD comes from? What about Native Americans? Let’s cancel them. I’m pretty sure they spent all day hunting and fishing. God, what if your grandpa fished? Think about it. What if he didn’t catch and release like Fonzi? Then what? What if he ACTUALLY KILLED IT AND ATE IT? Murderer!

Guess what? You must pay for the sins of your fathers! Take your burnt offering to the wood nymphs and offer reparations for their deeds. Just think, your very lineage, your great-great grandparents who could have simply gone to the General Store and purchased couscous and tofu burgers, chose instead to learn a skill and go fish in nature, where humans have dominion over beasts.

We have a nation of snowflakes, poised to find offense at every turn, and he who screams and cries the loudest with the biggest toddler fit is rewarded by every media outlet in the system. America has lost its might, its reasoning skills, its spine, its balls. For God’s sake, let the man fish. It’s not like he smoked Parmesan cheese or sniffed children.

Oh, Henry, you warm, loving human being. God bless you for enjoying nature and sharing your enthusiasm. Bless you for not looting and rioting and burning cities down like so many others right now. God bless you for not sitting on your ass, collecting unemployment checks while restaurants fold because of lack of servers. God bless you for your smile and your kindness. Let the harsh words of the misinformed fools roll of your back. Fish, Henry. Fish your bippy off.

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