photography from the Chesapeake Bay watershed by Bill Emory
The great grand-daughter and the great-great grand-daughter of the lady who built my house visited last night.
They visit partially for love of place and because they value a tradition where tales are told to succeeding generations of preceding generations.
Who will tell your story?
Who will give a tinker’s dam.
White Oak is a long-lived, slow-growing tree, reaching 60 to 100 feet in height with a spread of 50
to 90 feet in its native bottomland soil (Fig. 1). Old specimens can be massive, growing to be several
hundred years old. Since trunks can be six feet in diameter leave plenty of room for this tree in the
landscape. The trunk flares out at the base lifting sidewalks and curbing if planted in tree lawns less
than eight feet wide. The red fall color is fairly reliable year to year and is outstanding among the
Oaks in USDA hardiness zones 8a and colder areas. Brown leaves may be held on the tree into the early
part of the winter.–Gilman and Watson
According to the USDA’s Woody Plant Seed Manual, Quercus is the largest genus of trees
native to the United States (Little 1979) and was designated as the “national tree” by the National Arbor Day Foundation in 2004.
White oaks typically don’t bear acorns until their twentieth year. The large seedcrop years are spaced out, every four to ten years.
Nurseries don’t do much of a job propagating these.
This time last year I had twenty of these juveniles in pots. This year I haven’t been able to find a single acorn. I’ve checked in four counties. Bicycled to neighborhood in CHO looking for acorns where they are typically plentiful. No joy.
Smallest acorn crop in 20 years. New York Times has the story!
solitary commander, rebels arrested
de·camp
verb (used without object)
1. to depart from a camp; to pack up equipment and leave a camping ground: We decamped before the rain began.dictionary.com
We are supposed to inhabit the present. It is something I don’t do well. I don’t understand opportunity when it is in front of me. There you go. Don’t understand the visual when it is in front of me. End up wondering after the fact. Was that love? Was that a gift? End up wondering about details too. Was that thing significant? Was that thing mundane?
This photo is a 0.1666th of a second from the last day in November, 2338 hours. The Charlottesville Virginia Occupiers being removed from a City park for violating its 11p.m. curfew.
Were the ball-caps significant? They were a florescent green. Did they have a printed message? Seven people in the frame are wearing the caps.
The items on a pole on the left and the words “occupy for justice”. Looks like a standard, a repurposed 21st Century Aquila
In profile this staff and standard resembles a bird with a heron-like beak. In profile it looks like a kill stick. What is it intended to convey? How is it used?
There are police or firemen on the right, blurred. They are moving… to arrest the naked lady? Who are the actors? Who is that female illuminated enface in the foreground? Does her video include commentary? What is she saying? Is this what democracy looks like? Is this what Kabuki theater looks like? Who is that man on that horse?
O Lost!
Future uncertain.
Do we stay or go?
Go where?
Some staying.
Hey, the officer is making me nervous.
What is going to happen to our stuff?
Porta Johns are leaving.
Discussion
decision making
Gray’s birthday party in the basement.
early stages of the Christmas setup
New Orleans artist Adrian Fulton at work, 622 Conti Street.
On the way to Dividing Creek we pass this store. Old style. Organic. Presumably grew in response to the needs of the local population and the owners. Forty years ago “country stores” were prevalent, nowadays there is the WalMart.
I’ve been snapping a Thanksgiving picture for years. There were twenty people in the photo today but only seven repeats from twenty years ago. Whither the absent?
They are covered up, moved on, elsewhere, otherwise engaged and alone. For better and for worse.
The missing are all missed.