by Kurt Zuelsdof 

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.                   – Joyce Kilmer

So often a tree disappears without being recognized  for it’s accomplishments or what it may have stood witness to. As a self-proclaimed tree hugger I felt it necessary to honor the deceased -

Tony the Washingtonion Robusto Palm. Born 1800(something) -  Died 1-26-2009

 The life of  a tree must be so interesting and diverse. I often admire what they have witnessed both good and bad in our environment and seldom think twice about the visitors that have roosted in their branches, slept in the safety of the trunk, raised a  brood in their shade,  and see the world change around them.  . Many of you and scores more have passed by the Washingtonian palms on the small island along the South main channel of Clam Bayou.  These trees are a favorite roosting spot for the osprey and a hideout for the parakeets that play in the hallowed out trunk thanks to the woodpeckers. Born  as a fan palm his early days were spent watching the fishermen dry their nets and repair boats at Osgood Point. On more than one occasion Tony was threatened by peat fires that smoldered in the bayou and choked his  living branches. He was present when Al Capone bought a portion of the bayou and perhaps Tony  knows where J. Hoffa is?   He survived the hurricane of 1921 that wiped out the Gulfport Casino and several storms thereafter. Although I’m not sure when he lost his regal fans I know it has been at least 20 years.  

His partner, I’ll refer to from now on as Terry, stands alone on the small island in Clam Bayou… he will be missed.