So last post, FreedomPop had decided to sabotage this blog. I had to reset the router/modem in order to get forty seconds online - then wait a while before it would work for another 40. Hence, I posted a lovely story with no pictures or video. It was a story nobody liked. "Where's the video? I like the videos!" "I didn't get your story, but it probably wouldn't be so bad with pictures." So, for the rest of this post I'll give you random pictures I've stole... collected from others people's FB posts, and I won't get in the way with commentary.
There! Nothing to whine about. Oh, and welcome back, Bloom County.
“No, those are strawberries – see the buds? Their leaves are
more ragged and not shiny.”
“So, like these?”
“No, that’s an ash maple, also known as Acer Nugundo, Box
Elder Maple, or Ash-leaved Maple. In Canada they call it the Elf
Maple and the Manitoba Maple. Some people call it the Cut-leaved
Maple, the Red River Maple, the Stinking Ash, the Three-leaved Maple,
the Western Box Elder, and the Sugar Ash. The Russians call it the
American Maple.”
“Uh huh.”
“It's a tree, Headley.”
“But it looks like a bush.”
“That's because it's young. If you look at the stem… Never
mind, just look for three shiny green leaves.”
“Like this?”
“Yes, Headley, that is poison ivy. You should probably put that
down now.”
I have a hard enough time telling green from blue, telling green from
green is just too much for me. Botany class seemed like a practical
joke. I half expected someone to slip a Chinese finger trap on me as
I stared at hundreds of nearly identical items with Latin names that
had been specially immunized against memorization.
The one exception – and not in botany, but in real life, was in the
swamp behind my house growing up. We had cattails, pussy willows,
elephant ears, and skunk cabbage. This stuff was memorable, but if a
plant didn’t look or smell like mammal parts, I was out of luck.
Flowers are different. I know a daisy from a marigold, a pansy from
a violet – but once you pick the blossoms, it’s all back to green
– just green.
It’s not easy naming green.
“Headley, help me weed the garden.”
“Sure, Mom. What do I do?”
“You pull the weeds and leave the flowers.”
“Which are the weeds?”
“That clover is a weed.”
“Got it.”
“That patch of grass is weed.”
“Got it.”
“Headley, you know the difference; just pull the weeds.”
“Like this?”
“No, Headley, that used to be a petunia. Go help your father.”
Maybe it doesn’t surprise you that I got a very serious case of
poison ivy when I was nineteen. My father wanted the entire back
yard stripped of foliage. My arms were rotting so profusely that I
had to have my hands strapped to a pole above my bed in order to
sleep.
(sorry - I probably should've warned you.)
The foliage grew back about a week before I recovered. I think a lot
of it had three shiny leaves, but what do I know?
