Sexy Palm

24May07

Among the symbols for southern California, the Hollywood sign, the stars on the walk of fame, and the unforgivably indulgent Rodeo Drive compete for top representative of this region.  Debate may exist among which site most captures the L.A. spirit but the symbol flora sends is simply uncontested.  The indigenous terrain, the ubiquitous Chapparrel, would never suffice as our symbol; it’s too ugly.  No, the palm tree is our clear choice. 

This in spite of obvious shortcomings.  Against all the standards by which other trees prove their worth, these fail miserably.  They bear no fruit and provide little shade.  One can decorate them with Christmas lights, but only in jest.  They are not useful as lumber.  Little boys can’t climb them and lovers can’t swing beneath them.  No tree houses; no shelter from the storm.

But this is the very essence of their magic and precisely why they represent L. A.– they are good for nothing…except being sexy.  Their frons jut out and shimmy like jazz hands.   In the wind, their shake is like the swish of a well worn skirt.  Our skyline is peppered with their frozen explosions, tethered by their thin trunks like birthday balloons to the wrist of a child. 

But truth comes in the night.  At night, when the Santa Anas blow, the wind gives breath and the palms wisper.  You can’t escape their chatter, but you can hear what they say only if you listen closely.  They’ve been repeating the same mantra for years.  They tell the lie every aspiring starlet hears.  “Fame found here!”  Theirs is the siren’s song.

Filed under: Flora   |  4 Comments