Anthropomorphic turtles

Shut-up, woman!

Ray Bradbury has passed away

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-18345350

One of my favorite science fiction authors passed away yesterday evening. Chapter 9 of the Martian Chronicles, "The Green Morning", is possibly the most meaningful science fiction pieces ever for me, which I read multiple times over during youth. The specter of thousands of trees growing overnight thoroughly enchants the imagination.



It was a green morning.
As far as he could see, the trees were standing up against the sky. Not one tree,
not two, not a dozen, but the thousands he had planted in seed and sprout. And not little
trees, no, not saplings, not little tender shoots, but great trees, huge trees, trees as tall as
ten men, green and green and huge and round and full, trees shimmering their metallic
leaves, trees whispering, trees in a line over hills, lemon-trees, redwoods and mimosas
and oaks and elms and aspens, cherry, maple, ash, apple, orange, eucalyptus, stung by a
tumultuous rain, nourished by alien and magical soil and, even as he watched, throwing
out new branches, popping open new buds.
"Impossible!" cried Mr. Benjamin Driscoll.
But the valley and the morning were green.
And the air!
All about, like a moving current, a mountain river, came the new air, the oxygen
blowing from the green trees. You could see it shimmer high in crystal billows. Oxygen,
fresh, pure, green, cold oxygen turning the valley into a river delta. In a moment the town
doors would flip wide, people would run through the new miracle of oxygen, sniffing,
gusting in lungfuls of it, cheeks pinking with it, noses frozen with it, lungs revivified,
hearts leaping, and worn bodies lifted into a dance.
Mr. Benjamin Driscoll took one long deep drink of green water air and fainted.
Before he woke again five thousand new trees had climbed up into the yellow
sun.

The Green Morning

Requiescat in pace

Trees of Houston

After writing the post on the Trees of Austin, I fell to thinking. Houston does have some trees of great age, and many beautiful tree-lined streets. However, the trees on those streets are no more than 60 or 70 years old. Where are the trees aged between 70 and 150 years? It's as if there is a danger zone there, when the neighborhood around the trees is considered to need re-development, so the trees are chopped down to make way for sprightly new trees. Moreover, big trees might be an eyesore, so out they go.

Here's an example. The area in front of the Old Science Building at the University of Houston had several large trees in the '80s, but by the toddler years of the noughties they were gone, replaced by crape myrtles. 

In the eighties, perhaps the '70s

June 2012

Now, there are a few great examples of old trees in Houston. One was mentioned in the last post (the large tree in the middle). Another is this great example of an ancient magnolia, that venerable species of the South with its enormous, heady-smelling flowers. Its trunk is probably five feet in diameter, if not more.

Another wonderful tree is this one, located on the site of a former stockyard, now a field used for intramural sports. It used to have a fence around it, but that's been removed (probably no one wants to go near a tree as well-guarded by high grass, cacti, and probably snakes). It is supposed to be the oldest mesquite tree in Harris County, as a result of efforts of grounds supervisors who have maintained it for the past three decades (source). 

Most of the tree sprawls out over the ground.

Who has defiled the tree with a cable spool?

But let's be honest. The reason most such trees are preserved are at least indirectly because of local governments that recognize their worth and retain them. Beautiful neighborhoods might not stay that way for long.

The Trees of Austin

One of the things that struck me most about Austin when I was there was the respect given to its trees. Although Houston has many trees, more than many other cities in fact, the trees are treated like disposables. They are planted to fill in spaces on newly-developed properties, then when they get too big are chopped down, or all the limbs are lopped off in the worst kind of tree pruning possible. Thus, there are nearly no trees older than 60-70 years anywhere in Houston. This tree is a rare exception.

Austin, perhaps because it's a much smaller city, has more trees and respects them. Old trees are built around, not chopped up. This makes finding hundred-year-old trees a common and beautiful occurrence. Here are pictures of various oaks and yews(?). Some of them were taken on the campus of St. Edward's University, a small private university located on a hill out in the boonies, even though it's just 3-4 miles from downtown, visible from campus. (Some of these pictures were taken with a 1.3 MP phone camera.)

This three to four-hundred-year-old tree, called Sorin Oak (named after the founder of St. Edwards's,  is the largest tree in Austin. 

A stand of oak and yew trees near St. Edward's.

The Great Outdoors Nursery, to which a whole post will be dedicated to later, is built around this oak, estimated at 400 years old.

The branches of this oak, and others like it, are wonderfully convoluted and twisted.

Trees on an apartment building/hotel, seen when lost along the lake.

Another ancient oak tree on the State Capitol Grounds.

On the grounds of the State Capitol complex.

Bell Tower of UT.

Near the primary greenhouse of UT

These trees are planted all over Austin. The flowers smell like beer. 

More trees by St. Edwards.

Twisted tree near the library on St. Edward's campus.

An experiment with setting the white color manually. The tree was too mysterious not to pass up, and the usual settings didn't capture its aura, as seen below.