This is water hemlock. A close relative to poison hemlock. It’s not something you might want to use for tea (unless you are ancient Greek philosopher).
Not to be confused with hemlock fir, which is a tree, a conifer, and not any more poisonous than other confirs as far as I know.
Herbaceous hemlocks are part of the nefarious parsnip gang. Many of them are known to make you very sorry you ever made their acquaintance. Like the Costra Nostra they move in on a territory and start to take it over. They play rough.
There are also yellow parsnip and giant hogweed which will burn the crap out of you if they come in contact with your skin.
So when frolicking in the meadows this summer simply wear a full body Tyvek suit, Neoprene gloves, boot covers and a face shield. You’ll be fine …
Celebrating the period in our history when the United States had 15 states. It was fairly brief, from June 1, 1792 until May 31, 1796, but a lot happened in those 3 years.
The Internet was invented, scientists determined that under certain conditions cats and dogs can rain and the last of the dinosaurs died out in Cherryville, Ohio (the giant websterthesaurus).
It is not surprising that this homeowner chose to paint her barn to commemorate this incredible time.…
The process of making chips. Knocking away pieces. As opposed to grinding, which makes grinds. …
It’s a funny word if you keep saying it. All words are funny that way. They get weird. Toy boat, toy boat, toy boyt, toe bot …
Obey, obey-ee, oy bey, stands up pretty well, better than toy boyt.
I think the official definition is “sit down and shut up.”
I Googled to see if I could find an O Bay, along some coast, somewhere in the world. I couldn’t find one, but I bet there is one somewhere. When people get there, they say oh boy! O Bay.…
Moving slowly, deliberately on the pavement. What’s the point. It looks pretty boring. No punching, kicking, slapping, flipping, headbutting, eye poking or nose twisting. These people don’t even wear cool clothes with colored belts telling us how good they are.
Match a tai chi master with a psychotic mixed martial arts fighter and the tai chi master will quickly be pummeled to the ground. No mercy.
So, what’s the point? Do it everyday for 5-10 years and you’ll start to get an idea. No one will be impressed. No one will really care but something will happen inside. Just stay away from psychotic MMA fighters (a good idea either way).
And proud of it.
I wonder if they rent the rat or own it. If they use it a lot, then ownership makes sense, though I don’t know how much upkeep and maintenance a giant rat requires.
This is a protest thing. (They also had a very nice casket on display.)
It appears that the men are implying that other people are rats. Big rats with red eyes. Quite formidable if you ask me (but I’m a coward).
They are quite proud of their rat. …
At first glance I thought he must be a good customer. He gets his own sign.
Upon closer look, I noticed a URL at the bottom corner of the sign. “Thankyoujesussigns.org” Naturally, I took a look.
Apparently, these signs are the result of direct instructions from God, the big one, the god with the capital G. I never knew God was a business coach, but it makes sense. What could possibly be a better coach than an all knowing, omnipresent being? The Thank You Jesus sign people are reportedly doing pretty well. They’ve raked in over a million bucks so far. They got good advice.
I hope they know that sometimes God can get really pissed and has been known to be rather wrathful. Don’t annoy him. You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.…
There should be more caution signs about turtles.
I’ve never had one jump in front of my car, but I’ve seen plenty making their way across the pavement. They don’t go too fast but they go pretty far.
A friend of mine told me he keeps turtle gloves in his car to help the Testudines cross the road. Experts tell us that the best thing to do is put them where they are headed, beyond the pavement and reach of tires.
Ideally you know what a snapping turtle looks like so you don’t get a finger bitten off. They won’t chase you but you better be careful, they don’t take any crap, either. When they rear up on their back legs, they aren’t backing down. They are winding up for a strike.
“It’s not a head shop, it’s a boutique.”
Mom owns the Woodstock Trading Company in Cherry Hill. It’s nestled between corporate stores, strip malls, gas stations and fast food joints along Marlton Pike. There’s an old hearse with four flat tires in the driveway and a carving of one of the Grateful Dead dancing bears in the front yard. Who wouldn’t want to stop in?
A sign at the front door asks us to be careful when entering. Please don’t let the cat out.
The store is crammed with T-shirts, memorabilia, and tons of other stuff. But no paraphernalia. Mom sits in the middle of the abundance warmly greeting visitors. She’s been in business over 30 years and really has no plans to quit. She also sells on line at www.woodstocktradeco.com.
Based on the explosion of highway growth around her, she must be sitting on a valuable piece of commercial property. I’m sure there are hoards of commercial developers who would love to get their hands on it and replace this funky, hand painted shack of a house with a gleaming Pep Boys or a spanking brand new Walgreens.
I didn’t let the cat out.
…
This road has inspired a thousand songs of lament and sadness. It is tucked away in rural Montgomery County, PA off an unremarkable county road. It draws weary singer/song writer pilgrims from around the world.
They come to walk it’s length and feel its influence. They come to immerse themselves in its atmosphere. They absorbed the feelings the name implies. They find themselves sinking into depression. Into isolation, cutting themselves off from joy, ready to compose.
Friggin’ nutcases if you ask me.…