Posts Tagged ‘palms


four days of gray: 2

DSC04673the liquidambars leaned closer to the palms so they could hear the secrets they were sharing. the sun, try as it might, was unable to shine any light on the subject.


the movement of stationary objects (washingtonia robusta)

they never appear to be walking marching striding.


it’s a more stately movement, a glide, a slide, parting the clouds as they slowly pass by.


they may be late for the party, but they never seem to care.


a week of first paragraphs (again), tuesday

DSC02478 (1)v2

The house I lived in that winter in Washington had been a rooming house with fourteen rooms, rented out mostly to addicts, when my landlord bought it in 1974. Friends told him it was a bad idea, but he bought it anyway, and his father came from Alabama to help rebuild the interior from the ground up. As soon as he could, he rented the basement apartment. The bedroom on the top floor he rented from time to time. The rest of the house was his. It was one of those row houses people walk by on fall nights and stop beside to look at the architectural details, the molding, the chandeliers, the bookcases, visible through the tall windows,  while straining for glimpses of life within. Often when they did this my landlord was sitting there in the dark in the front room with his dog on his lap, looking down into the street. He would sit there thinking of the nights he used to look at houses like his, enjoying the reversal of roles, till he realized his upstairs tenant was coming up the front steps–when I would see him stand up, gather the dog to his chest, and bolt to his study–the nicest room in the house, with a bay window on the second floor, and a spacious desk, and all his books and papers.

–Andrew Holleran, Grief



i can’t help myself. [here, here, and here to begin with, there are more if you’d like to do a little search on your own.]


they just stand there, inviting observation, personification, adjectives, and even, yes, adverbs (-ly, -ly, and -ly). they’re majestic and plain, silly and magnificent. can you blame me?


comments on thanksgiving by a few of the neighborhood trees

“although i dress like this for thanksgiving every year, each year is a little different from the one before.”

“and of course, there are the iconoclasts among us, who insist on doing it their way — what’ s a liquid amber to do?”

“the good thing though, on this quiet day, is that there’s less smog which makes the sun sparkle in the ocean air.”

“i’m a ‘ginger’.”

the moon had nothing to say, yet in its silence it led the palms in a prayer (do atheists pray?)

“we are the lollipop league,” giggled the stand of eucalyptus (“the wizard of oz” being one of their favorite movies.)

“it took me ABSOLUTELY forever to get these leaves arrayed just so. ”

“i don’t believe that fancy-nancy leaf-turning act for a minute,” groused the magnolia, regardless of the prevailing evidence to the contrary.

“i don’t care what you believe,” said the resplendent liquidambar styraciflua, “my happiness does not depend upon your approval.” and with a flounce of her red leaves in the autumn wind she stood magnificent on thanksgiving day.


five palms, the weather, and a few thoughts about being aggravated

obvsly aggravation is different than being angry although it is often the precursor to rage (internal if you move around in polite society or external if you’re prone to psychopathic tendencies.)

i find that the things that aggravate me the most are the actions of others close to me that i am completely used to that nonetheless drive me to drink (metaphorically speaking, of course, and m., i am not talking about you should you be reading this.)

regardless of what bothers me, the palms continue to hold their own against the wind.

p.s. will this heat never end? a source of aggravation if ever there were one.

p.p.s. are you for or against the oxford comma?


palms (i didn’t mean to forget you)

the great thing about nature: it doesn’t care about time.

these palms had slipped past me this week and had patiently waited (they said, one can never be too sure what with the language difference) for their opportunity to be posted here on robert patrick.



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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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