Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Spider Web

I was looking at my big oak tree out front and realized it needed trimming. The branches were rubbing against the top of the PT Cruiser, and every time I got out of the car I was getting a mouth full of Spanish moss. The problem is that I love the Spanish moss, and I was reluctant to pull it down so that I could cut those branches off. So yesterday afternoon I carefully removed the moss from every branch I intended to cut and put it in a recycling bin. I then climbed the ladder and started cutting. Half an hour later, with my hand dripping blood, I had raised the level of the tree branches about four feet higher off the ground. I next started to re-hang the Spanish moss. First I climbed the ladder and hung it from the branches I could reach, and then I went up on the roof of the house and started flinging moss into the upper reaches of the tree.

Yes, my neighbors think I'm odd. I mean, who does that? Who rearranges Spanish moss? What kind of man would go to all that trouble? Well apparently the lady across the street thinks a crazy man does that. As I was fussing with the moss, making sure it was arranged just right, I heard a voice with a heavy accent calling up to me.
"What ees that? Espider webs?"
"No not spider webs. It's Spanish moss ma'am."
"Why you do that. It kill tree, no?"
"No, the tree will be fine."
I don't think she believed me. When I was on the roof flinging moss like a out at the top of the tree I could see her standing across the street talking to another neighbor. They were both looking my way, then she shook her head, and walked back into her house.


  1. Yeah, well -- people thought Einstein was stupid, too. So just carry on.

  2. On our way back from Georgia visiting my Grandparents my father allowed us to stop only once to pee. There my mother would steal Spanish moss from the trees at the Mississippi rest-stop to hang in the trees at home in Dallas. FYI she used gloves to keep her hands Southern-soft (and blood-free).

  3. Hostess, When I was taking the moss off the trees to bring home, the people in Savannah kept warning me about 'chiggers'. I of course thought they were referring to Mark. But no, they were talking about some kind of blood sucking insect, and Mark is no insect.

  4. Oh yes...I know what chiggers are.
    They burrow in and start to itch like mad. The only way to kill them is to scratch the hell out of the bump then suffocate them with a dab of nail polish. Sadly enough, some people will say chiggers and mean something else, but that's because they have no front teeth and kind of whistle when they talk.

  5. I am also still very interested in your book project. As the saying goes: Everyone has thought about writing a book, then something good comes on TV. How long did it take you top write it? Is it a juicy fiction novel, or a juicier memoir of your own life? Will you self publish if a publisher doesn't jump on it? I will buy it from Amazon and mail it down to you to autograph because you are the only person I know who has written a book--if you don't count the chore list my girlfriend writes for me every weekend.

  6. Hostess, it took a little over a year to write, is 65k words, and is fiction based on incidents in Mark's life as a boy, and mine, yet it is a love story between two heterosexuals. I will only consider self e-publishing after exhausting all avenues of having it published by a real publisher. I want to see my name in Borders book store... what? Okay then Barnes and Noble. I better get that published fast before they close down too.

  7. There is no truth to the rumor that Borders bookstores all move to Southern Texas, Southern Arizon, southern New Mexico, and Southern California.