The 3200 year old tree so massive that it had never been captured in a single image until recently.
This giant sequoia stands 247 feet tall and measures 45,000 cubic feet in volume. The trunk alone measures 27 feet and the branches hold 2 billion needles (more than any tree on the planet).
This picture took a team of photographers from Nat Geo, 32 days and stitching together 126 different photos to make.
i love redwoods because they are at the very limit of what the dynamics of capillary action allows to exist i’m glad an evolutionary niche exists for “THE BIGGEST FUCKIN TREE THAT CAN BE”
Yo there is someone at the top.
This almost makes me dizzy to imagine
Anonymous said: #and this is why I have a huge crush on Atticus YOU ARE MARRIED
Darling anonymous pumpkin, people who are happily and monogamously married still get to have crushes on people! Crushes are harmless!
Seriously, if I have a crush on someone*, it means that any interaction I have with them makes me feel a trifle more giggly and happy than usual. Not that I’m pining for them or anything. Also, I plan on keeping that really handsome, charmingly curmudgeonly Brit that I married for a really long time.
*Unless I’m talking about the Rock Star Crush Objects, because those are the crush objects I get all swoony over. In a completely I-know-this-is-ridiculous-and-they-are-SO-unobtainable-bweeeee! sort of way.
Everyone has a crush on Atticus.
There are entire marriages who have crushes on that soft spoken, cocked-eyebrow bastard.
Why, if I had a nickel for every time I, myself, muttered “god damn it, Atticus, you are just… so… Atticus,” I could retire. Again!
I’m in one of those marriages.
(And really, poor anon if they think being married is the end of having crushes or noticing other people…)
Pitbull-tattoo. Artist: Angry Fox (Татьяна Кирпичева)
Kat and I were taking a Saturday stroll when we came upon this strange cemetery sitting atop a riverfront. This mausoleum, in particular, struck me as odd. All the S’s were carved backward, and there were strange combinations of letters carved throughout; all the way to the top of the concrete. It sits in a state of disrepair, completely abandoned over the years, almost looking as if it’s just about to tip over. Realistically, even when it eventually does, nobody will notice. There’s enough bird shit on the wrought-iron bars to instantly give you the bird flu, and dead leaves pepper the entire area. We’re probably the only people to go examine it in twenty years.
The saddest part was that this thing was built for two people, but only one person is inside of it. The man died in his fifties, and he had a separate tombstone beside his ready to go for when his wife finally bit the dust.
Her tombstone reads as follows: 1837 - 19__
She’s buried next to somebody else for the rest of time.
I’m sure if her husband could somehow know that, if he could know that she’d found love elsewhere; he’d knock the damn thing down himself. He probably would be buried in the ground instead. At least then the worms would have kept him company.
Jon Stewart is back from vacation, and he’s not wasting any time going after one of his favorite targets: Fox News.