So… Ricky Rebel wore this to the Grammy Awards the other night, and tweeted out his support of Donald Trump. Ick, eww, gross. For that reason, his Hunk of the Day honor (which may have brought him more recognition than the Grammy voters deigned to give him considering that he’s never even been nominated) has been changed slightly. This site has no place for supporting such a hateful political stance, and someone wrote it up much better than I could when it comes to anyone who supports Trump at this point:

“We have all a sufficiently hard battle to fight in life and we fight it a great deal better from feeling that we have a wall of friendship which we stand up against and have only to think about the foe in front of us.” ~ Isabella Stewart Gardner

When you think about it, the first way most of us learn about Valentine’s Day is not in any romantic sense, but in a loving friendship sort of way. In grade school, we were tasked with creating card receptacles for any Valentines we would receive. These little bags were secured to the edge of our desks, and we would go around and deposit the Valentine’s Day cards we wished in our classmates’ bags. Looking back, this feels extremely dangerous – it left the possibility for empty bags for the unpopular among us, and though that never happened to my recollection, it did make it obvious whose bags were full and whose were notably on the lighter side. I’m trying to remember if I was ever cruel enough to not give out a card to anyone, and though it sounds like something I might relish in doing (especially to Sammy, who was mean as a viper to many of us) I honestly think my mother made me fill out cards for everyone.

Back then, Valentine’s Day was a frivolous and frilly holiday where some of my favorite colors were celebrated and sanctioned for all (pink and red, whoo-hoo!!!) Hearts and flowers were the order of the day, and I loved both. It was a day of artifice – of lace doilies and conversation candy in all sorts of pastels – and I thrilled at it all. Underneath that, however, was the collection of Valentine cards from all my classmates. I was popular enough to get one from everyone – even Sammy, I’m pretty sure – and most came with personal messages from friends. How could anyone not like such a day? That celebration of love – in the name of friendship – has remained with me over the years. Despite the awfulness that became the holiday once I was old enough to be cognizant of being single and alone during my early twenty-something years, part of it still touched my heart. Yes, it’s silly and foolish and an absolute travesty to celebrate not being alone (as if there’s anything intrinsically better about someone who has paired off), I still believe in the celebration of love. When it’s the platonic love among lifelong friends, how can anyone be bitter about that?

Eventually we outgrew the Valentine Card bags, and even the friendships of grade school. Yet whenever ‘That’s What Friends Are For’ plays in a store or on the radio, I think back to the group we were then, back when we as kids were all more or less friendly in spite of our gender or race or financial situations. When left to our own devices, we as children tend to have our shit together better than most adults who only want to separate and label and divide. Valentine’s Day reminds me of that love.

The fiery shadings of the Coral Bark maple lend pizzazz to the winter garden. They rings of a deeper red when brought inside at this time of the year, and when I added them to a bouquet of evergreens during the holiday season, I thought that was all I needed. Then they started budding out at the end of their vase life, which gave me an idea to try my hand at forcing a new batch.

Regardless of whether or not it works, they make a finely handsome statement as they are – subtle yet elegant, and the shading of the bark is just enough to ensure that this is more than a bunch of dead branches. If they are good enough to pop into a few chartreuse pom-poms of maple foliage, so much the merrier.

To force branches in the winter (think forsythia or cherry or any early-blooming tree), I usually find a pocket of relatively warmer days (last week’s quick thaw of 50 degree days worked well) and cut off a few prime stems. (If you notice that there are tiny buds ready to swell, that’s an indication they may force well.)

With smaller branches, it’s best to soak them in a large bucket of lukewarm water for a few hours (completely submerged if possible) to rehydrate their system. The branches here were too long and unwieldy to fit into a bucket, so I gave them a shower – literally, in the bathroom – for a few minutes, wetting every inch of them and letting them take in as much as possible before re-cutting their stems and plunging them into a vase.

We shall see if they deign to send forth a few leaves. I do so hope it happens – it would be lovely at such a barren time of the year. Keep your fingers crossed and say a little prayer for this coral-barked beauty.

No real reason for this to be funky, other than I’m in a funky way. I don’t mean deep-groove funk, I mean funky in the strange, odd, off-kilter way of full-moon moments, or when Mercury is in retrograde. I don’t know if either of those things is happening right now, and that’s probably for the best. May ignorance be bliss. On with the weekly recap…

A really bad parking job. 

Chris Hemsworth gratuitously shirtless. 

Adam Levine’s nipples. 

Tiny Threads run on and on. 

Best life hack ever? Possibly. 

Eyes of winter.

Tulip curves.

Sky of winter. 

When Iris eyes are smiling.

Life in miniature.

Tillandsia heads.

My days at the roller skating rink.

Hunks of the Day included: Gabriel Phoenix, Jordan Fisher, David Andrews, and Beau Mirchoff.