Word: tree
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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From all indications, Ike declined to let his week's problems interfere with his springtime mood. One day he practiced golf shots on the White House lawn; another day he drove to Burning Tree for 18 holes. With Mamie and granddaughter Susan, 5, he planted a six-foot Illinois black walnut tree on the White House lawn, happily called his energetic shoveling "more fun than anything I'm doing in the office." told Susan she would "be an old lady before this is a big tree." At week's end he drove to Gettysburg, there inspected...
Under the continuously watchful eyes of some 4,000 metropolitan policemen, 1,700 special security troops and 36 squadrons of the Garde Républicaine in shining new casques, the matronly young Queen planted a tree, pushed buttons, laid a wreath, accepted gifts, saw sights, made pretty speeches, was dined and wined, received curtsies from some 3,400 ladies of France. In more private moments, she slept in Napoleon's bed, bathed in Empress Eugénie's bathtub, sat in an armchair used by Louis XV, and (according to the calculations of Frenchmen experienced in such calculations...
...learned about women from the Police Gazette was educational. And what is left of the child's fine art of doing nothing? "Many many hours of my childhood were spent in learning how to whistle . . . how to snap my fingers. In hanging from the branch of a tree. In looking at an ants' nest. In digging holes. Making piles. Tearing things down. Throwing rocks at things." He sees too many bored kids around now, and he makes a nice distinction: "Being bored is a judgment you make on yourself. Doing nothing is a state of being...
...kind of splashy effect with half a dozen rosebushes that estate gardeners get with whole beds. Today 70% of J. & P.'s rose sales are in floribundas. For those who want dozens of blossoms on a single stalk, J. & P. developed the 5-ft.-high, fast-selling tree rose, still cannot keep up with orders...
...Like careful Prufrock ("Do I dare to eat a peach?"), he has heard the mermaids singing each to each. The particular blonde mermaid who obsesses him is a girl only glimpsed behind a window. For Matthew Ligne spends most of his time observing the creatures-married couples, tree surgeons, enterprising alley cats-in the little closed-in world of his backyard. As he watches her from behind a curtain, she becomes a half-real apparition every man has known: "She was the girl seen for a moment on the street, or in a bus, in the park...