A few weeks ago, my husband and I wandered the Bluegrass and ended up picnicking at the Italianate home of
Cassius Clay (a most interesting resident of the Commonwealth). There, warding off ne’er-do-wells, was this sign:
Richard Horan, author
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh985-DQD8cy-98kF841xhwx_GAXtW9KzJb0SQkWcQ_Lm9qOO3nNria6BJ3kS-D-0y1pn4fMk_ary7D5LSPsuR806NudTlSdfz0VLoRIYLr0kaZwj3f7M2KD5QRvXg3GQWZ4-Q88-lMfTo/s320/LullFirTree.JPG)
of
Seeds, and naturalist
John Muir would have been proud. I wish the sign had given us a clue about the age and history of the evergreen, but I was happy just to know that someone cared about it.
“Trees outstrip most people in the extent and depth of their work for the public good.”—Sara Ebenreck
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