The flatlands are lush.
During the two months I was gone, the trees went from bare to fully leafed. Limbs from one side of many streets overlap limbs from the other turning roadways below into green tunnels. Flowers are in prolific bloom. Those in the photo above in one of Carol’s window boxes on our balconies. The small front yard of our condo building is hedged with lilacs whose perfume wafts up through open doors and windows.
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While I was in New Zealand, 60 Minutes in the U.S. ran an episode ‘Whisky Island’ about Islay, the home of my two favorite spirits: 10 year Laphroaig and Botanist gin. It can be viewed online, which I have done. I thank Kevin for bringing it to my attention.
I’d like to visit Islay, but some of these people make single malts a religion. I do not. I just drink it.
The juxtaposition of this with the above entry caused me to consider the use of ‘lush’ to mean drunk, which I also like to think I am not. A quick search online generally reveals ‘origin unknown’; but MODERN DRUNKARD MAGAZINE at drunkard.com (who knew?) suggests the Old French laschier, meaning ‘to loosen’, as the source. Another suggests lush ken which once meant ‘ale house.’
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I believe in having good equipment on my boats, if not much of it.
However, “Across American On A $100 Bike”, a link from Zane in New Zealand for which I thank him, gives one pause.
Praise for Brendan Leonard.
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From now until June 7 the wind will be weak from the west for a few hours on Sunday, May 31, and from the north, east and south the rest of the time.
The trouble is had I arrived in the Falklands early in the year, I never would have waited this long.
