Crepe Murder in your neighborhood?

Crepe Murder in your neighborhood?
It’s late March once again, the time when we look forward to spring blooms, the return of songbirds, and a parade of maimed crepe myrtles reduced to stumps by bored guys with saws.
Since I returned to the south from Alaska I am amazed how every year the horrid practice of stupidly turning beautiful trees into stumps, but people do it anyway.
Why?
Because they see work crews doing it to trees around parking lots at the mall.  (One can never go wrong taking gardening cues from the landscape at a Galleria. Eye roll.)
Or a truer reason is because they see all their neighbors sawing away their crepe myrtles and don’t want to be labeled a “no-cut nut” on Facebook. (Social media can be so cruel.) Those idiots who planted a crepe myrtle that grows 30 feet tall and wide six inches from the front door, shame on you!
Crepe murder may never end, but that doesn’t mean we have to accept it.  When you spot a crepe myrtle that has been savagely chopped into a grotesque monster, surreptitiously take a photo of it with your phone.  Post the photo on my Where’s the Flamingo Facebook page, let everybody see.
You may think yours is a futile gesture, but I assure you it is not. If nothing else, your participation will remind you of how enlightened you are. Send me your photo and together we will exact revenge.
In the words of British statesman Edmund Burke, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men [and women] to do nothing.”
Ice

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