September 16, 2019

Good morning crew,

If there is one consolation to finally having to say goodbye to summer it is getting to experience the changing of the leaves (well, that and Oktoberfest). It is still a little early for it, but I have already observed a number of trees showing off hints of red and gold. Fortunately I live in an area with plenty of deciduous foliage so I'm constantly encountering this miracle of nature.

There is something comforting and downright Norman Rockwellian to be walking down a homey suburban street canopied by rows of old growth trees clothed in a riot of brilliant colors.

It is even more impressive when you are submerged and surrounded by it. 70 miles or so to the west of me is Starved Rock State Park and it is really magnificent to go hiking through there in late September or early October. And they have just a huge log lodge right at the entrance to the park with a decent restaurant and bar in it, which makes for a really enjoyable day of tree watching.

In his book 'I'm a Stranger Here Myself' Bill Bryson makes some very relatable references to this magical time of year;


It is impossible to describe a spectacle this grand without babbling. Even the great naturalist Donald Culross Peattie, a man whose prose is so dry you could use it to mop spills, totally lost his head when he tried to convey the wonder of a New England autumn.

In his classic 'Natural History of Trees of Eastern and Central North America' Peattie drones on for 434 pages in language that can most generously be called workmanlike (typical passage: "Oaks are usually ponderous and heavy-wooded trees, with scaly or furrowed bark, and more or less five-angled twigs and, consequently, five-ranked leaves."), but when at last he turns he attention to the New England sugar maple and its vivid autumnal regalia, it is as if someone has spiked his cocoa. In a tumble of breathless metaphors he describes the maple's colors as "like the shout of a great army... like tongues of flame... like the mighty, marching melody that rides upon the crest of some symphonic weltering sea and, with its crying song, gives meaning to all the calculated dissonance of the orchestra."

"Yes, Donald," you can just about hear his wife saying, "now take your medication, dear."

For two fevered paragraphs, he goes on like this and then abruptly returns to talking about drooping leaf axils, scaly buds, and pendulous branchlets.


I can sympathize. There is definitely something glorious about this brief but spectacular orgy of colors. I just try not to think about the fact that I'll be raking mountains of it up in about six weeks.

Laugh it up,

Joe

joe@gophercentral.com

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Marriage Definitions

BACHELOR: A nice guy who has cheated some nice girl out of her alimony.

BRIDE: A woman with a fine prospect of happiness behind her.

COMPROMISE: An amiable arrangement between husband and wife whereby they agree to let her have her own way.

DIPLOMAT: A man who can convince his wife she would look fat in a fur coat.

GENTLEMAN: A husband who steadies the stepladder so that his wife will not fall while she paints the ceiling.

HOUSEWORK: What the wife does that nobody notices until she doesn't do it.

HUSBAND: A man who gives up privileges he never realized he had.

JOINT CHECKING ACCOUNT: A handy little device which permits the wife to beat the husband to the draw.

LOVE: An obsessive delusion that is cured by marriage.

MOTHER-IN-LAW: A woman who destroys her son-in-law's peace of mind by giving him a piece of hers.

MRS.: A job title involving heavy duties, light earnings, and no recognition.

SPOUSE: Someone who will stand by you through all the trouble you wouldn't have had if you'd stayed single in the first place.

WIFE: A mate who is forever complaining about not having anything to wear at the very same time that she complains about not having enough room in the closet.

Guaranteed to Roll Your Eyes

Finishing up our work at a trade show in San Diego, my co-worker Maureen and I decided to go sightseeing across the border in Tijuana, Mexico. While there, we went shopping and bought a few pieces of clay kitchenware.

As we crossed back into the United States, a customs official asked if we had anything of value to report.

"Not really," Maureen replied, digging in her bag for the bean crock she had purchased. Everyone around us froze as she continued, "I only bought a little pot."