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A great photo of a solid fuel fireplace installation complete with hearth for stove slips and Three Step Oak surround. Leave us a comment below and let us know what you think.
According to the Maui Gold Plantation tour guide, when they manually harvest the ripe pineapples, they take the slips (area where the pineapple grows on top of) and stems and leave these out for about 10-14 days. Why would they do this versus just letting the slips just be ground up and composted?
Small amount of drying time preps the slips to accelerate the growing time when it is re-planted. Pineapples can take 16-24 months to ripen to harvest and this hack saves on some on that time & plant's energy as the stem and slip are already present for the next crop and slip & stem can lay down the root system faster and produce a flower for fertilization earlier. The tour guide (who was also the plantation manager) did say that they only re-plant slips two times before they start off with a brand new plant. The pineapple fruits get slightly smaller each time and after the third time, the pineapple fruits are just too small to be effectively marketed (no one wants to buy a small pineapple).
Porsche Taycan Turbo S. Jada Toys 'Pink Slips' series.
The card is generic and shows the full range of twelve models on the reverse which is marked ©2023. The castings all seem to be Majorette re-issues; the underside of the enclosed box is marked 'Majorette Pink Slips Assortment' and 'Made in Thailand'.
"Osage orange tree and fruit in the churchyard at St. Peter's Episcopal Church, Philadelphia. Six of the trees are believed to have been grown from slips Lewis sent to Jefferson, who forwarded them to Bernard McMahon of Philadelphia. McMahon, whom history remembers as "America's pioneer nurseryman," planted some in front of his store on Fourth Street, opposite the church.3
The Osage orange can thrive in any kind of soil, rich or poor, wet or dry. In the purposely crowded environment of a cultivated and well-groomed hedgerow, it is shrubby. Without competition, however, and in soil that provides sufficient nutrients, as in the churchyard of St. Peter's, it may reach a height of 50 feet or more — as this one does — with a crown spread of up to 60 feet.
According to Chouteau they were Osage apple trees; later travelers called them Osage orange, evidently because of the appearance of their fruit from a distance. Close up, however, the likeness disappears, and biologically they're nowise related to real apples or oranges. They aren't even edible except, reportedly, to blacktailed deer, fox squirrels, and hares. "An opinion prevails among the Osages, that the fruit is poisonous," Lewis related, "tho' they acknowledge that they have never tasted it." Undoubtedly an ancient cultural memory reminded them that its sap is notoriously bitter, sticky to the touch, and can cause severe dermatitis.
Farmers on the Great Plains in the 1850s called them "horse-apples" or, more commonly, "hedge-apples." When planted close together and regularly pruned, their thorny interlocking branches create natural windbreaks, dust-catchers, and impenetrable boundary fences that are guaranteed "bull strong, hog tight, and horse high"--but not so high as to shade out too many crops. On the other hand, relieved from competition and placed in the rich soil of a site such as St. Peter's churchyard, they reach up to 50 feet or more, spreading out their crowns to cast a deep but airy shade.
Indian tribes knew and valued this tree for its primary utility: its oak-strong, hickory-tough wood made powerful, reliable hunting bows. Early French explorers and traders translated its Indian name into bois d'arc,--"wood for a bow," which was easily anglicized into "bodark." Lewis was told, he wrote to Jefferson, "so much do the savages esteem the wood of this tree for the purpose of making their bows, that they travel many hundred miles in quest of it." Indigenous to the river bottoms now included in parts of Arkansas, Oklahoma, and northern Texas, it was prized not only by the Osages and their relatives but also by the Comanches, Kiowas, Pawnees, Omahas, Seminoles, and many others. The Scottish naturalist John Bradbury (1768-1823), who studied American flora along the Missouri in 1810, found bows as well as war-clubs made of bois d'arc among the Arikaras, 4 as did the peripatetic Prince Maximilian of Wied-Neuwied among the Blackfeet in the 1830s.
Having seen only a few five-year-old saplings, and therefore relying solely upon Chouteau for most details, Lewis explained to Jefferson that the fruit was "the size of the largest orange, of a globular form, and a fine orange colour." A grapefruit makes a better comparison as far as size — up to about six inches in diameter — and weight are concerned. For some reason, perhaps their more northerly latitude, the fruits of the Osage orange trees in Philadelphia can barely boast a tinge of pale greenish-yellow when ripe. Lewis also reported that the Indians "give an extravigant account of the exquisite odour of this fruit when it has obtained maturity, which takes place the latter end of summer, or the begining of Autumn." The fragrance of its Philadelphia relations is reportedly much more delicate than that of a citrus orange (Citrus sinensis).
he fruit of the Osage orange tree, which grows only on females of the species, is a syncarp — a stringy, fleshy compound that develops from a cluster of several of greenish watery-pale flowers.
Each tiny green bump — 200 or more per syncarp — is the outer end of an achene (ay-keen) anchored deep in the pulpy core, each holding a single orange-colored seed. The black hairs seen in the photo are styles, each of which connected a stigma to an ovary.
Lewis described its makeup, presumably from Chouteau's account: "The pulp is contained in a number of conacal pustules [achenes], covered with a smooth membranous rind, having their smaller extremities attached to the matrix, from which, they project in every direction, in such manner, as to form a compact figure. the form and consistancy of the matrix and germ, I have not been able to learn. The trees which are in the possession of Mr. Choteau have as yet produced neither flowers nor fruit."
The ripe fruit contains a chemical (2, 3, 4, 5-tetrahydroxystilbene) that repels many insects.
Setting aside the analogy of the familiar citrus fruit, the tree shows ample evidence of the corresponding color. Patches in the gray outer bark are tinged with pastel orange; the thin sapwood is light orange; and the heartwood is yellow when first cut, darkening to orange as it dries.5 The far-reaching roots are sheathed in a dark orange bark. In autumn the shiny green leaves turn to a glistening golden-yellow.
sage orange is a very hard, heavy wood. Cottonwood and ponderosa pine, from which the Corps carved its dugout canoes, weigh 24 and 30 pounds per cubic foot, respectively; Osage orange weighs 48.22 pounds per cubic foot. It will hold a screw firmly if the hole is piloted first, but an attempt to drive a nail into this wood will test the temper of the nail and the temper of the nailer. Partly because of its density, it is one of the most durable woods in North America. When hedge-apples gave way to maintenance-free barbed wire fences in the 1870s and 80s the tough tree's rot-proof and mostly insect-proof stems made fence posts that could outlast the wire. Osage orange stems even served briefly as railroad ties, although to a limited extent, owing to the difficulty of finding enough long and suitably straight logs, not to mention the herculean effort it took to drive spikes into it. Today it is apparent that Osage orange will even tolerate road-salt and urban air pollution.
Osage Orange Flowers
When planted, nursed, and pruned to keep them in line, Osage oranges produce a thorny, tangled thicket of tough and durable little trees that made a windbreak and hedgerow up to 20 feet high that was impenetrable by man and beast alike. It was cultivated so widely throughout the country during the 19th century that it is now found in all but ten of the lower 48 states. Botanists today can only speculate that its original habitat was limited to southwestern Arkansas, southeastern Oklahoma, and northern Texas.
The proper noun is said to be a phonetic transliteration of the tribe's Indian name, Wazhazhe,6 via Canadian French traders into "Osage," from the Indian tribe of the same name.7 According to tribal legend, the origin of the tribe in the lowest of the four upper regions of the underworld resulted from the combination of two clans, the Tsishu, or peace people who lived on roots, and the Wazhazhe, or war people who lived on animals, which they killed with arrows shot from bows made of the strong, flexible wood of this tree.
nother Osage orange tree on the East Coast has borrowed a comparable measure of fame from another great American. It stands some miles southeast of Monticello in the front yard of Red Hill, where Patrick Henry spent the last five years of his life, 1794-99.8 It is an awesome physical specimen, rising sixty feet in height and spreading an 85-foot canopy on a compound trunk consisting of five conjoined stems totalling almost 27 feet in circumference. Its age has recently been estimated, conservatively, at 300 years.
If that figure is correct, how did the tree get to the Piedmont of Virginia, a thousand miles east of its native habitat, nearly forty years before the first English settlers arrived? The most plausible explanation rests on archaeological evidence that Indians were living on the banks of the Staunton River in the vicinity of Red Hill by at least 1670. Perhaps, as the most important materiel in Nature's high-tech arsenal, the cutting from which this tree grew was passed along the North American Indian trade network, or maybe even brought back from the Red River Valley as a trophy or a souvenir by some prehistoric Indian hunter or tourist.9
--Joseph Mussulman, 11/05
1. Jean Pierre Chouteau (1758-1849) and his older brother Auguste (1749-1829) were the leading entrepreneurs in St. Louis and Upper Louisiana at the turn of the 19th century. They were especially influential in maintaining good relations between the U.S. government and the Osage Indians, the tribe Jefferson maintained was "the great nation South of the Missouri,...as the Sioux are great North of that river." Secretary of War Henry Dearborn appointed Pierre Choteau as agent to all Indian tribes in Upper Louisiana. Pierre's home in St. Louis was the unofficial headquarters for Lewis and Clark during the winter of 1803-04. Donald Jackson, ed., Letters of the Lewis and Clark Expedition, with Related Documents, 1783-1854, 2d ed., 2 vols. (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1978), 1:199-200. William E. Foley and C. David Rice, The First Chouteaus: River Barons of Early St. Louis (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1983), 105-118.
2. Jackson, Letters, 1:170-71. Clark's description of the "great Osage vilage," situated on the upper Osage River and the Arkansas River, is the first item in his "List of the Names of the different Nations & Tribes of Indians Inhabiting the Countrey on the Missourie and its Waters," which he assembled during the winter at Fort Mandan. Moulton, Journals, 3:390-91. The village was situated at the main forks of the Osage River in west-central Missouri near the Oklahoma-Missouri border. The principal habitat of the tree was along the Red River of the South where it crosses the Texas panhandle.
3. Donald Jackson, Thomas Jefferson & the Stony Mountains: Exploring the West from Monticello, Reprint, with a foreword by James P. Ronda (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1993), 161 n.52.
4. The design that Bradbury described resembled the ""war hatchet" Clark sketched in his journal on 28 January 1804.
5. On March 20, 1804, John Sibly, who was later named agent to the Osage Indians, wrote to Thomas Jefferson from Natchitoches on the Red River in Louisiana. Sibley had found in that vicinity "in almost exhaustless quantities a yellow wood the French call it Boi d arc, or Bow wood,...it has a beautiful fine grain, takes a polish like a Varnish when it is Nearly the Patent yellow Colour it is more elastic than any other wood; the Indians use it for Bows, and the Inhabitants sometimes for Ax helves and handles for other Tools, I think it would be highly esteem'd by Cabinet makers for Inlaying & Fineering, and by Turners. But probably would be more Valuable as a dye wood; a few days ago I had some experiments made in colouring with it and have taken the Liberty of Inclosing to you some samples of colours it produs'd....I have no doubt by a person skill'd in dying a very numerous Variety of Colours might be produc'd from this wood as the Basis; from an experiment I believe the Colours will Neither wash out; nor fade by washing." Doug Erickson, Jeremy Skinner, and Paul Merchant, eds., Jefferson's Western Explorations (Spokane, Washington: Arthur H. Clark, 2004), 309. Sibley was correct on all counts. It was used to make khaki dye during World War I, and is still widely used as a yellow dye by artists and craftspersons.
6. Clark thought their own name for themselves sounded more like Bar-har-cha. "List," in Moulton, Journals, 3:390.
7. Eagle/Walking Turtle, Indian America: A Traveler's Companion, 4th edition (Santa Fe, New Mexico: John Muir Publication, 1995), 79.
8. "Red Hill: Patrick Henry National Memorial," www.redhill.org/tree.htm. Accessed November 12, 2005.
9. Nancy Ross Hugo, "The Mystery of Patrick Henry's Osage-Orange," American Forests (Summer 2003), 32-35. The bow and arrow began to supplant the atlatl in North America about 1,500 years ago."
From Discovering Lewis & Clark ®, www.lewis-clark.org © 1998-2009 VIAs Inc.
© 2009 by The Lewis and Clark Fort Mandan Foundation, Washburn, North Dakota.
Journal excerpts are from The Journals of the Lewis and Clark Expedition, edited by Gary E. Moulton
13 vols. (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1983–2001)
For the first organized Random Walks NYC, I decided to use a pocketful of slips marked: left, right and forward, instead of flipping a coin. No backward slips were included, because that would just have been too frustrating. As it is we ended up walking down the same stretch of First Avenue twice. But the gods of random were kind to us, bringing to us some really cool sculptures in community gardens, and some interesting people along the way.
Last shot of the day at Harrowden Junction, Wellingborough. 66169 with the 6O41 Corby-Dollands moor working, running some 4 and a half hours late. 21st November 2006
Porsche Cayenne Turbo S, Jada Toys 'Pink Slips' series.
The card, which is marked ©2024, is generic and shows the full range of six models on the reverse.
The castings all seem to be Majorette re-issues; the underside of the enclosed box is marked 'Majorette Pink Slips Assortment' and 'Made in Thailand'.
Sasha Cohen slips and falls while performing her free skate routine at the U.S. Figure Skating Championships in Spokane, Wash., Saturday, Jan. 23, 2010. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer)
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5th Day, 3rd Test: England v Australia, Edgbaston, 3rd August 2009
Matt Prior lines up with Andrew Strauss, Andrew Flintoff, Graeme Swann and Ravi Bopara.
NS 15T slips through the dormant for the winter agricultural lands of Valley Head, AL. This would be this units last run before being retired.
15.5.09
We're driving towards the orphanage. The highway is lonely, save for a few languid trucks ambling along. It is damp too, and a thick fog covers the countryside: a single light here or there provides the only hint of civilization amidst the interminable verdure. Inside the van, the smoke of cigarettes past wafts in the air, lingering like a lost soul. I inhale, and quickly cough. I subsequently open the window to the enveloping darkness outside, so slightly as to not disturb my companions in the back. The roar of the road echoes in my ears.
An unexpected wrench was thrown into our travel plans today. The trip began expediently enough as the bus on which Candy and I rode reached the Shenzhen airport with hours to spare; however, the unscheduled hiccups soon followed. We received an announcement over the public address system notifying us of a flight delay, due to a mysterious military maneuver, we deduced, high in the Shenzhen skies. Several more sonorous reminders came in punctual succession over the next six hours. It seemed as though we would be stuck, stranded really, at the airport forever, or for the day at least. Thankfully, after the police arrested some of the more aggrieved passengers, we finally boarded the plane and took off for central China. We were blessed to be on our way at last, none of us having blown a gasket during the afternoon tedium.
One more pitch black road awaited, down a single lonely lane lined with swarthy trees, standing as though sentries, and at length we arrived at the orphanage. The car stopped in a clearing, and we stepped out, onto a cement lot with soft puddles spread silently beneath our feet. We squinted into the twilight, our eyes trying to make sense of the surroundings. Our bags were unloaded, we made our way to the rooms, and soon enough fell asleep. I think we all enjoyed the repose, rendered especially comfortable by the new guest rooms in which we were staying.
16.5.09
We have only been here for barely 24 hours, yet it feels as though we have been here for much longer, as if time at some point in our journey decided to slow itself to a crawl. Maybe it was because of the litany of activities that we packed into the span of several hours, or perhaps it was the lack of worldly distractions, allowing us to focus solely on our mission, that caused us to suspend the hands of that imaginary clock in our mind. Whatever the case, we've enjoyed every minute at the orphanage; it is time definitely well spent in service!
Morning call was at 6:20; and after a prayer meeting we went down to finally visit the kids. They were playing on the vast driveway of the orphanage, savoring their moment of freedom before breakfast. To see so many friendly faces, in spite of their precarious physical and filial circumstance was definitely encouraging. I made a multitude of new friends; and did my best throughout the day to impact those kids with joy, honesty and patience. It is a powerful cocktail which brings love immediately to many.
The food at the orphanage is without processing, as natural as victuals can be in these days of impersonal industrial production. Large chunks of mantou, steaming bowls of soupy congee, and salty vegetables with slivers of meat have characterized our meals. It is the kind of humble stuff that lengthens life spans, and disciplines the palate.
We presented a wide range of activities - structured and unstructured; whole class and small group - to the kids, in the hope that we would manage them as much as amuse. In the morning, as though breaking the ice once were not enough, we ran through a series of dizzying, if not at times totally incoherent, activities designed to familiarize our dispositions to each other. Later, we established a makeshift fun fair, at which we ushered the children to rooms filled with (board) games, and puzzles, and other, more colorful activities such as face painting and balloon making. The kids couldn't at length contain their enthusiasm, busting into and out of rooms with impunity, soaking in the rapturous atmosphere. In the afternoon, our team attempted to tire them out: running topped the agenda, and by leaps and bounds, the activities, whether straightforward relays or schoolyard classics like duck duck goose and red light, green light, indeed began to tucker our charges out. We, too, were pretty beat by the time night began to creep over the horizon!
17.5.09
Yesterday evening, we surprised the students with a musical performance, followed by forty minutes of bubble-blowing madness; to be sure, the students could not appreciate our somewhat accurate rendition of Amazing Grace so much as the innocent madness of dipping one's hands in a solution of dish detergent and corn syrup and then whispering a bubble to life; and indeed, the moment the Disney branded bubble-making machines churned the first batch of bubbles into the air, with much rapidity weaving their frenetic pattern of fun, chaos erupted in the room. The students stormed the soap basin, and almost overwhelmed my teammates who valiantly held the Snitch and Pooh high above the heads of the clamoring kids.
During the evening's festivities, I grew progressively ill, until at last I dashed out of the room to sneeze. Outside, in the cool of the night, under a cloud of stars beaming so far away in the deep of space, I exploded in a rancor of sneezing. The fit lasted for five minutes, an inexorable depression in my system which sent both my body and my esteem tumbling down. I felt bad, not only for my exceedingly rickety health, but for my teammates and the children who may have been exposed to my sickness as it incubated within me; furthermore, everyone in the classroom was saying goodbye and all I could do was rid myself of a sniffle here and there, in between rounds of bursting from nostrils and sinuses. I was impotent, as though one of my insignificant droplets on the floor!
18.5.09
We are in a car heading towards a famous historical site in Henan. The driver's drawl slips slowly from his mouth, and what he says resonates intelligibly in our ears. Candy, Tanya and the driver are discussing Chinese mythology, and history, which, for better or for worse seem to be inextricably intertwined. We narrowly just now missed hitting an idle biker in the middle of the road; in dodging our human obstacle, the car swerved into the oncoming traffic, sending us flying inside the cabin. Reciting a verse from a worship song calmed our frazzled nerves.
How to describe the children? Many of them smiled freely, and were so polite when greeted that undoubtedly they had been trained well at some point in the tumult of their life education. Precociousness was also a common characteristic shared by the kids, whose stunted bodies belied the mature, perspicacious thoughts hiding just underneath the skin. Of course, in our time together we were more merry than serious, that quality being best left for the adults working silently in their rooms; and to that effect, the kids brought out their funny bones and jangled them in the air to stir up the excitement and to destroy by a jocular clamor any hint of a dull moment – we really laughed a lot. At last, although not all of them seemed interested in our staged activities – rather than feign enthusiasm and eagerness, some skipped our events altogether – those who did participate, most of them in fact, enjoyed themselves with abandon, helping to create that delightful atmosphere where the many sounds of elation reign.
Of the students whom I had the opportunity to know personally, several still stick out in my mind, not the least for my having christened a few of them with English names! David was bold, and courageous, willing to soothe crying babes as much as reprimand them when their capricious actions led them astray; he had a caring heart not unlike a shepherd who tends to his young charges. Edward, who at 13 was the same age as David, definitely grew emotionally, not to mention physically attached to me. He was by my side for much of the weekend, grabbing onto my hand and not letting go, to the point where I in my arrogance would detach my fingers within his, ever so slightly, as if to suggest that a second more would lead to a clean break - I know now that with the cruel hands of time motoring away during the mission, I shouldn't have lapsed into such an independent, selfish state; he should have been my son. Another child who became so attached to the team as to intimate annoyance was the boy we deemed John's son, because the boy, it seemed, had handcuffed himself to our teammate, and would only free himself to cause insidious mischief, which would invariably result in an explosion of hysterics, his eyes bursting with tears and his mouth, as wide as canyon, unleashing a sonorous wail when something went wrong. On the other hand, Alice remained in the distance, content to smile and shyly wave her hand at our team while hiding behind her sisters. And last but not least, of our precious goonies, Sunny undoubtedly was the photographer extraordinaire, always in charge of the school's camera, snapping away liberally, never allowing any passing moment to escape his shot.
That I learned on this trip so much about my teammates verily surprised me, as I thought the relationships that we had established were already mature, not hiding any new bump, any sharp edge to surprise us from our friendly stupor. So, consider myself delightfully amazed at how a few slight changes in the personality mix can bring out the best, the most creative and the strangest in the group dynamic: admittedly, Candy and Tanya were the ideal foils for John, they eliciting the most humorous observations and reactions from my house church leader, they expertly constructing a depth of character that even last week, in the wake of the Guangdong biking trip, I never knew existed! Most of all, I'm glad to have been a part of such a harmonious fellowship, for the fact that we could prayer together as one, and encourage each other too, and all the more as we saw the day approaching.