Tree And Plant Puns

He said, "Look at my hair. It used to be so magnificent, but it's completely gone now. My hair can't be saved. But look outside at the forest. It's such a lovely forest with so many trees, but sooner or later they'll all be cut down and this forest will look as bald as my hair."

"What I want you to do..." the man continued. "Is, every time a tree is cut down or dies, plant a new one in my memory. Tell your descendants to do the same. It shall be our family's duty to keep this forest strong."

So they did.

Each time the forest lost a tree, the children replanted one, and so did their children, and their children after them.

And for centuries, the forest remained as lush and pretty as it once was, all because of one man and his re-seeding heirline.

He responded with "I guess that tree will have more bark than usual".

A few weeks into their journey, they ran out of food. Unable to find plants to eat, and after an entire day of discussion, they decided that if they found meat before plants, the would eat it.

A day later, in the distance, they saw a small tree. As they got closer, they saw that there were strips of perfectly cooked bacon hanging from the bare limbs.

The first vegan grew excited. "Look! It's a bacon tree! Food!" And with that, he took off running toward it.

The other vegan hung back, looking at it suspiciously. "No, wait!" he called. "That's not a bacon tree!"

"Sure it is! It's a bacon tree!" the first vegan yelled over his shoulder. When he reached the tree, he jumped, trying to reach the bacon from the lower branches, but before he could, a pair of wild boar darted out from behind the tree and skewered him on their tusks.

The other vegan shook his head. "I tried to tell you it wasn't a bacon tree. It was just a hambush..."

So this is a bit long, sorry about that.

Zorro and his best bud the Lone Ranger were riding through the desert one day, I forget where they were heading to or where they had come from, but we can safely assume shenanigans of some kind were the driving force.

They have been travelling for most of the day and are starting to get tired. There has been a discussion about making camp for the night, but as things are they have agreed to continue riding for a while longer, till the sun starts to set. Away and off to the west the Lone Ranger spies a plant that seems to have large pink flowers that hang in strips with white stripes running the length of them.

"Zorro, what's that over there?" he asks.

Zorro turns in his saddle and raises his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "Ah, it looks like a bacon tree, quite common in these parts. Let's ride on, there is a good place an hour from now to set up camp."

The two friends ride on and as the sun is beginning to descend the have stopped and are making camp. As Zorro begins to make a fire he says to the Lone Ranger, "You know, I quite fancy some pork. You ride back to that bacon tree and get some for supper, and I'll finish setting up camp here."

"No problem Zorro, I won't be long" replies the Ranger, jumping back into the saddle and returning the way they came.

Time passes, and the sun begins to get low in the sky. 'Odd', thinks Zorro 'he should be back by now.' Another hour passes and the shadows are growing longer. 'I might have to go investigate, it's not like him to take his time.' More time passes, and, just as Zorro has decided that he must go search for his friend in the dwindling light, he hears the sound of Silver's hooves. Looking into the gathering gloom he sees his friend riding towards him. As the Lone Ranger nears Zorro can see the Lone Ranger is injured, there are cuts and bruises and he has an arrow through his hat.

"What on earth happened, Lone Ranger? Did you make it to the Bacon tree?"

The Lone Ranger dismounts and sighs heavily.

"That weren't no Bacon tree, Zorro. That was an Hambush."

Once, there was a young woman who wanted to do a little psychological experiment. So she carefully bred cherry trees to bloom in multiple colors, and arranged to have them planted such that the trees of one color would spell out the name of some other color. You know, to test the Stroop effect.

However, the instructions (which were, admittedly, odd) weren't transmitted to the workers (all starving underpaid grad students) effectively, so the groups of various colored cherry trees were planted such that the colors matched the names, completely invalidating her experiment.

She's now the Stroop drupe group blooper girl, Stroop drupe blooper girl, Stroop drupe blooper girl...

She now focuses on Anglo-Saxon royalty.

and the fact that there is a giant artificially planted tree in our back yard that is going to get too big to support itself eventually, or whatever, and we'd have to cut it down. I said we'd have to relocate the birds that have made a home in our tree first, naturally, or wait for them to leave. He said "how are you going to relocate the birds? You can't just send them an email and be like 'be out of here by next Thursday'." There was a pause, and moments later he says "oh you know what to do. " "You send them a tweet."

Last saturday, I was at my parents' house to watch the game. While my dad and I are watching, my mom is on her laptop looking at trees to plant in the back yard, and constantly asking my dad what he thinks about every species of tree she comes across. Suddenly, my mom's phone receives several text messages, emails, and app notifications simultaneously. My dad looks at her and says, "Well, aren't you Poplar today? Leaf me alone and go check your phone." I laughed my ass off, as did he. She was not amused.

Oldest son (at a restaurant): do they accept dogs here? Me: no, it's cash or card

Waitress (bringing our after dinner drinks): I have three ports. Me: it was supposed to be two ports and a starboard

Youngest son (while we were driving): look, a cow... nevermind, it's gone Me: yes, we mooooved on...

Me: those plants around the redwoods are ferns Oldest son: they grow really close to the trees Me: yeah, they're really frondly...

We were sitting around the dinner table talking about buying some trees to plant in the lawn this fall.

Dad says: "We need some thug trees."

We all give him a puzzled look and ask what on earth he means by that.

His reply: "I hear they're very shady."

The CIA had changed its recruiting practices, what with all the recent leaks and other problems. So Mr. Johnson was more than a little surprised to see a pine tree, which was dressed in a rather nice suit, waiting outside his office when he arrived at 9 am. He asked his secretary, "Gladys, who is this?"

"Mr. Johnson, this is Mr. Cone, our newest hire. He wanted to talk with you about the Honduras assignment."

Mr. Johnson spoke to Mr. Cone in his office. His new pine tree colleague was very knowledgeable and well-spoken, but there was something about him that threw Mr. Johnson off. He tried to dismiss his concerns as imaginary, but it gnawed at him all through the morning. He barely touched his lunch, as some of the things Mr. Cone had said were still swirling around and around in his mind. He was sure something was wrong, so he went in to see the head of their office branch, Mr. Smith.

"Johnson! Come right in, come right in," said Mr. Smith, puffing on a cigar. Mr. Johnson poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and sipped at it nervously.

"You're being rather quiet today, Johnson. Tell me, what's troubling you?"

"It's just this new guy, Mr. Cone," Mr. Johnson said carefully, staring at the bottom of his whiskey glass. "Are we sure we know him as well as we think we do?"

Mr. Smith took only a small puff from his cigar before letting his hand rest back on his desk. "Now really, Johnson," he sighed, "you're a good agent. Your caution has served you well in the past, but paranoia doesn't look so good on you. Mr. Cone has the most impressive resumé I've seen come across my desk in the last fifteen years. I've personally had him vetted by the best men in the business. He's going to be an asset to this office."

That was the response Mr. Johnson had been afraid of getting, but he continued to press his cause. "I understand that, sir. It's just that I'm getting the strangest feeling from this Cone fellow. Don't you think he's a little too perfect? A little too well-qualified?"

Mr. Smith stopped smoking his cigar altogether. A distant look came into his eyes as he mulled over the possibilities. "You don't suppose--"

"Yes," said Mr. Johnson, "I think he's a plant."

Note: I'm a mom, not a dad, but I'm pretty sure I only thought of this because my father-in-law tortures me with these kinds of stories almost constantly.

And on the way home, we were discussing how plants retrieve nutrients, and why pine trees can survive through the winter. I said, "I wonder if it stems from the shape of their leaves?" To which my dad responded, "Well, I suppose we just got to the root of the problem, so I bet we can just leaf it at that."

He said, "Look at my hair. It used to be so magnificent, but it's completely gone now. My hair can't be saved. But look outside at the forest. It's such a lovely forest with so many trees, but sooner or later they'll all be cut down and this forest will look as bald as my hair."

"What I want you to do..." the man continued. "Is, every time a tree is cut down or dies, plant a new one in my memory. Tell your descendants to do the same. It shall be our family's duty to keep this forest strong."

So they did.

Each time the forest lost a tree, the children replanted one, and so did their children, and their children after them.

And for centuries, the forest remained as lush and pretty as it once was, all because of one man and his re-seeding heirline.

He said, "Look at my hair. It used to be so magnificent, but it's completely gone now. My hair can't be saved. But look outside at the forest. It's such a lovely forest with so many trees, but sooner or later they'll all be cut down and this forest will look as bald as my hair."

"What I want you to do..." the man continued. "Is, every time a tree is cut down or dies, plant a new one in my memory. Tell your descendants to do the same. It shall be our family's duty to keep this forest strong."

So they did.

Each time the forest lost a tree, the children replanted one, and so did their children, and their children after them.

And for centuries, the forest remained as lush and pretty as it once was, all because of one man and his re-seeding heirline.