Lost Trees

The phone rang. She answered it.

He said: “So where was the torture tree?”

She said: “I thought you weren’t checking the blogs any more from work?”

He said: “It was lunch time, so sue me. Where is the torture tree?”

She said:”It is near that Indian place on campus where you like to eat.”

He said: “I’m coming up on the quad now.” Thirty seconds of silence. “Okay, I am at the Indian place. Where’s this tree?”

She said: “Turn around. It should be right there. “

He said: “Turn around which way?”

She grumbled, “I don’t know which way is which on campus. There’s a building and a white fence.”

He said, “White fence? I don’t see any white fence!”

She said: “You know, this could take awhile. I don’t want to keep you from work.”

He said: “I have a few minutes and people are asking.” Pause. “So, it’s not here. Which way do I go?”

She said: “It is near your building. I pretty much walked a wide circle around Bilger Hall.”

He said: “That helps. Here’s the Barringtonia tree. Now where?”

She said: “The tortured tree is somewhere between the Barringtonia and Campus Center.”

He said: “Okay.” She could hear his foot steps on the pavement.

She asked: “Hon, are you near the art building?”

He said: “I was. I can go back.”

She said: “Okay. I took pictures of the huge Baobab Tree near the art building.”

“Once you find it, around the corner to your right is the Orchid tree you tried to tell me was a tulip tree. Then the real tulip tree. And somewhere between there and Campus Center is a shack (portable) and the tortured tree.”

He said: “I can’t even find the Baobab Tree.”

She said: “Are you between Bilger and the Art building?”

He said: “Yes.”

She sighed: “You’re on the wrong side of the art building.”

He said: “Well, I was on the other side. I must have walked right past it.”

She said: “You need to go back to work. Thank you. I love you for trying.”

He said: “Well, I wanted to try because I love you, but I do have to get back to work.”

She hung up the phone thinking how lucky she is and what a special man he is. Then she called the optometrist and made an appointment to have his eyes checked. Meanwhile, he was busy in his office enrolling her in a geography class and a memory enhancement course.

Lily of Pending Doom?

This is a Grand Crinum Lily. I spent weeks looking for the perfect photo op. The blossom begins to wilt almost as soon as it opens and it is difficult to find a fresh, crisp flower. In this photo you can see a few buds and many wilted remains -- and, miracle!, a few fresh flowers.


We were driving along the main road of our housing complex. As usual I glanced over these bushes near the entrance. I expected to see ... nothing spectacular. Instead ....

"Stop!" I yelled. "Pull over!" Luckily my partner is a mind reader (or experienced with my quirks) and he knew, despite my hysteria, that there was no real crisis pending. However, he also knew there would be a crisis pending if he didn't let me out of the car. He stopped.

"Hurry up!" He said, "We're blocking traffic!"

I hopped out of the car, climbed into the bushes and began snapping photos.


My partner pulled the car as far off to the side of the road as possible. The street there is narrow and the curbs are high. There really wasn't any place for him to go. He left the engine running and stayed behind the wheel in case he had to move, and I tried to snap quickly. The bushes were tall, so for the most part I was holding the camera above my head, snapping the shutter and hoping for the best.

At home I downloaded the photos. My partner didn't seem too impressed. "You certainly didn't center those well," he muttered.

"Hey, I'm short." I answered. "I was taking these shots blind. I think, under the circumstances, they came out pretty well. You could have come and helped me, you know."

"I was helping," he said. "I was making certain nobody crunched your car."

You know, [insert head shaking] sometimes I wonder about that guy's priorities.


Oh -- and with a little digital slight of hand, the photos are framed just fine.

Diversity, Part I

I love visiting the University of Hawaii at Manoa campus. Diversity abounds: the buildings, the languages, the people & their skin colors, and the plant life. Each step along every path brings something new and amazing.

For instance, this Coral Tree simply took my breath away. I stopped to photograph it, and a gentleman on campus stopped to query me. "What purpose is there in taking pictures of flowers?" He asked.



"Purpose?" I parroted and shrugged. "I just thought they were pretty."

"Pretty is not important." He flicked his hand like he was brushing away dust.

"But look at them," I pointed and said. "The shape --. The texture --. The amazing color --."



"Listen," he said. "If you want to see something truly amazing you need to study mathematics."

"But numbers aren't very photogenic." I replied.



He looked at me quizzically, shook his head and walked away. I was shaking my head as I watched him go.

Diversity.


Erythrina crista-galli, Fabaceae, common coral tree, origin, Brazil.

Zosterope japonicus japonicus, Zosteropidae, Mejiros or Japanese White Eye, named for the ring of white around it's eyes, is a song bird from Japan.

Diversity.

Celebrating 70 Years of Aloha

Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday dear Spam,
Happy birthday to you!

Yep, you heard me correctly. Today is the 70th Birthday of Spam canned luncheon meat. OC called me from work to tell me he'd read about it on the front page of the paper during his morning commute. I teased him a bit and promised him I would go to the store and get him some Spam for dinner. He demurred, but encouraged me to read his post.

Me being me -- upon being told the tribute to Spam never made it online -- I of course had to check. I did not find the birthday tribute, but I did discover that Hawaii leads the nation in per capita Spam consumption! Well, that did it. I had to go to the store and buy a can of Spam. I haven't had the stuff since I was a teen, maybe in the last several (okay, several dozen) years or so, it has gotten tastier.

Once in the store I was shocked to discover that Spam is no longer a single entity, but has grown into a whole family of products! The second shock was the number of people crammed into the canned lunch-meat isle. They were all buying Spam. One woman told me she was making Spam Chili. Another woman -- this one in line with me at the check-out counter -- told me that the 25% less sodium Spam, which I was purchasing, had 75% less taste. She said that once she took a can of it home and neither her husband nor the dog would eat it.

Since I have neither husband nor dog, I haven't quite decided what I am doing with the can of Spam sitting on my kitchen counter. Perhaps I will do what another shopper in the cash register line said she was going to do and put the Spam in my cupboard to save it for the 100 year anniversary. "By then," she said, "I might be senile enough to actually eat it."