Sunday Morning 9 AM

When I rolled out of bed at 7:30 it was 72°, sunny, and a little breezy. I left for my morning walk through the ‘hood at 9:17 AM. Immediately my name was called out by my neighbor Butch. Butch is an old guy who lives a short way up the street. Although, as it turns out, he is actually younger than me. So he says. How can an old guy be younger than me, The Kid? He’s probably lying about his age. People are so vain. I never lie about my age. I’ll admit to anyone that I’m 39. I am 39. Trust me.

Soon I walk past Violet Bank and the Cucumber Tree.  Violet Bank is a museum now, but once upon a time it was someone’s home. People actually lived in this big house that looks vaguely like a government building. The architectural style is called “Federal”. The house was built around 1815 to replace an earlier house that was destroyed by fire.

During the Civil War (sometimes referred to in the South as the “Recent Unpleasantness”), General Robert E. Lee made Violet Bank his headquarters for a time. It is said that from Violet Bank he heard the explosion that created The Crater. (For history buffs, see Battle of the Crater.)

In the front yard of this building called Violet Bank is the locally famous Cucumber Tree. The actual botanical name for this tree is Magnolia Acuminata, which is Latin meaning “Big and Gnarly”. Well okay, I don’t really know what it means, but that’s what it should mean.

The tree was planted in 1718, and despite its name, it does not have cucumbers sprouting from its limbs. (In fact, cucumbers grow on vines, not trees.) It is also called a Blue Magnolia, although once again I must point out that the tree is not now, nor has it ever been, blue. Not even a little bit blue. Not even bluish. So who’s in charge of naming these things? Probably somebody in the government.

I turned up Arlington Avenue, a short and pretty street. Soon I was at the CVS drugstore, which I entered to peruse the magazines (and ended up buying a copy of Scientific American). The checkout gal was an attractive and personable woman name Kaye, and we engaged in a little checkout banter.

I left and continued home. Now I’m blogging about – well, basically nothing – and yet you’re still with me, so I must be getting good at writing about nothing. If only I could monetize that skill.