environment

There was a time that “tree hugger” was a dirty word. If you were accused of being a tree hugger, that was an insult. It meant you were a softie, perhaps a bit tetched in the head because you loved trees.

“Tree hugger” was also the catchall name – a slur – for an environmentalist, someone who loved and respected the rich and diverse life on this planet. And there were, and still are, too many people that view the environment as something to be used and abused.

But to others of us, “tree hugger” is a mighty fine compliment, thank you. I will happily accept your calling me a tree hugger. And if you’re still here reading, and looking at photos, I feel pretty confident that you are a tree hugger, too.

Nice to meet you.

The photographs here are selected from those I’ve taken over the last 10 years or so with my phone or digital camera. I have many others taken with SLRs, but they are stored in other formats, not available on my computer.

Some of these are taken around my own town, others in Frenchtown and Clinton, NJ, Tinicum, PA, and a couple at Grounds for Sculpture in Hamilton, NJ.

They all say one thing – trees are magnificent beings. We can be grateful that they share their beauty with us, season after season, clean our air, offer us shade, and provide homes for so many forms of wildlife.

Have you hugged a tree lately? You might feel a little too embarrassed to brazenly wrap your arms around a tree and hug, but I’m sure a little pat and a quiet `thank you’ would be appreciated.

I’d forgotten what a great writer Carl Hiaasen is. In the last week, while I focused on everything imaginable to keep one of my animals alive and recovering steadily, my focus was hardly on reading, much as I tried.

I started The Magician’s Elephant by Kate DiCamillo, certain that her magic would be a welcome respite from the vigilance I needed to keep over Gypsy Rose, lest she fall and seriously hurt herself. Sad to say, I finished the book, but could not appreciate the magic in my frazzled state, so I added Kate back to the waiting-to-be-read books stack. When I pick this book up again, I know I will be in a better place to appreciate one of my favorite children’s book authors.

At the oft-mentioned annual library book sale, I picked up Carl Hiaasen’s Skinny Dip. I’ve read a couple of his other novels – Sick Puppy, (which I kept), Lucky You and Basket Case – but none recently. I was drawn to this book as being a perfect read right now. Not only was I right, but I now remember how much I enjoy his writing. Aside from an excellent use of the English language, Hiaasen has a tongue-in-cheek, lightly sarcastic sense of humor injected with an appreciation of the absurd that makes for not just enjoyable reading, but sometimes laugh-out-loud funny.

His stories take place in South Florida and center around murder, personal greed, and political corruption. Those that I’ve read are intricately laced with the issues that challenge the area’s environmental survival, yet these never jump out at you or intrude. In Skinny Dip, Joey Perrone is heaved overboard a luxury cruise liner by her husband Chaz. She knows too much about something illicit he is involved in, and as a secondary gain to her murder, Chaz plans to eventually figure out how to inherit her millions. But he dismisses her having been a collegiate champion swimmer, and with the waters being as shark infested as they are, he assumes she will be dead or presumed so. Her survival is known by only one other person, Mick, a retired detective who rescues her from the shallow waters just offshore. “Instead of rushing to the police and reporting her husband’s crime, Joey decides to stay dead and (with Mick’s help) screw with Chaz until he screws himself.” Throw in a droll Norwegian detective, Karl Rolvaag, and Hiaasen’s humor and Skinny Dip has all the makings of another great tale, and I’m only five chapters in.

Thanks, Carl, I believe I’m back to reading!