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FOREST AND TOSCA CLICK ON YOUR FAVORITE EPISODE ABOVE.
 New Original Illustration by Peter Loewer at BlackBird Frame & Art NEWEST EPISODE OF "FOREST AND TOSCA" While Forest sat reading his copy of "The All-Is-Well Street Journal," Tosca rushed from one precious object to another. She flicked a bit of imaginary dust here, then flicked a mote of something else there. "Forest, enough is enough," she said, her petulance masked by the fluttering of her deep-dark-forest shade of mascara. "I don't know why you persist in reading that paper, muttering 'un-huh' and 'un-ah' under your breath and ignoring my desires for being close to you." "Tosca," he answered, accompanied with more rustling of his newspaper, "forgive me because I am reading about our beloved Yellowstone. There are so many wonderful things happening there thanks to the wishes, among others, of all my family, your family, many friends, and beloved stockholders in the entertainment engines of our great land." "Yellowstone, our yellowstone?" "No, Tosca my love, not your engagement ring with the topaz as big as the Ritz. Rather Yellowstone The Park where we first plighted our trough, kissing with passion as the geyser spewed forth little short of Kryptonite on what turned out to be the most telling union of the last century." "Oh, Forest, do you really remember? Oh, the wonder of being married at one of the great parks in the country--no, the world. So wonderful, too, when you set that date to match the anniversary of the park just 130 years after it began. And that date celebrated what President Nixon wrote for its 100th anniversary, too." "Yes, Tosca, it was our beloved president -- of course you've forgotten that dear old Spiro was a second cousin of my uncle Milliard-Agnew -- who said '... parklands and wilderness become more precious to us with each passing year, and the forces that militate against them intensify.' I'm sure he would have said more, but at that moment the geyser erupted and much of his commentary was lost." "Well, I remember what we wore. You in that explorer parka made of undyed virgin mink from that marvelous farm in the outback of Studly, Indiana. And me in my gown of virgin yak-fleece, stitched with silver threads and studded with tiny diamonds that sparkled under the glorious sun above. Ah, Yellowstone. But what has happened to our park?" "Why, the White House in their continued actions to make life better for the privileged has overturned the complaints of government scientists and experts," said Forest. "You know the types. Endlessly talking about greenhouse gas this and safety that. It was just ridiculous that it should be applied to Yellowstone. What harm could there be in opening the eastern entrance to the park during the worst three months of winter? Thank heavens they have the brains to overlook threats of avalanches. It's those adventurous things in life that make life exciting and worth living." "Forest, please spare me the details. When you go on about our climate -- or you're latest kick of exposing those who want to conserve energy -- you simply remind me of the plot forcing those big box-stores with their cheap products for the under-classes to give up those long fluorescent lights with their nagging flickers and trade them in for the new, and very dangerous -- what do they call them? -- oh, yes, CFL bulbs with their mercury coatings." "Ma-Ma," came the voice of son Jason from under their wall-wide entertainment center. He had been checking the validity of various electronic chips in order to improve the satellite image and, at the same time, keep abreast of scientific advances, "everyone knows long fluorescent lights are also coated with mercury." "Shush, my son," said Forest, "you never correct your mother." Forest rustled the newspaper with a bit more force to call Tosca's attention to his current complaints. "It seems that it costs a mere $3.5 million or so to keep the route at the eastern entrance to our Yellowstone open. But there are those who keep saying, it's not cost effective for the expected 463 visitors along that route. Thank heavens for the good businessmen, and women, of Cody, who know that is but a pittance to keep our sportsmen, and sportswomen, out in the chill of winter in their continual battle with nature and, thus proving, the climate is not getting warmer but actually colder." "Your cousin Clyde was actually one of those snowmobilers, was he not?" asked Tosca. "Yes," said Forest with another rustle of the Journal, "and rightfully so. After all, my pet, we give so much for our country. We should get more than a tax break here and there." "But who stood up for us?" "As I said, the Cody business community -- good folks who throw national interests aside -- who protested the closure of the pass and pointing out, and rightfully so, it would impede winter tourism. For what has the national interest have to do with those of us who know that only the international can count on us to keep the sport of life open, no matter what?" Tosca thought for a moment, smoothed the pleats of her floor-length kilt, knit especially for her at an outpost of blanket-makers in Egypt, and suddenly exclaimed, "Forest, I do love you so." "And I," said Forest, "shall go now into the food preparation hall and start our lunch." So Forest began to sharpen his special salad knife and began to slice three limes into such thin bits of citrus, that even he was excited by the sight and pungent aroma soon to be thrown into the salad bowl carved from one piece of the rare giant sumac. "And God bless our children," said Tosca, as she called for Jason and Pixie to wash themselves in preparation for lunch. "After our repast you must ask Pixie to recite her newest bit of magnetic poetry. I know that because we private school out kinder, they will not have to listen to Laura's one mistake, her devotion to puzzle-making and magnetic poetry in the park's youth program." "Magnetic poetry?" interrupted Forest. "You know, my pet," said Tosca. "Those bits of exotic words -- often misunderstood when divorced from the words just before and just after -- that are printed on little white-coated magnets to be affixed to refrigerator doors that our First Lady loves to--" "Tosca," he said with tears stirring at inside corner of each eye, "I love poetry, especially when written by chance. It has such appeal when I think about manifest destiny." "Yes, Forest, we do agree about taking one's destiny in one's stride. But if you don't hurry that lunch and we don't get out of here, we'll miss our walk in the woods. Perhaps we'll find a lovely flower saluting our entry into its part of the world." "For you, Tosca, anything," he said with feigned resignation, and tossed a few just-shipped snails from Ecuador into the mix and began to stir with a large silver spoon that was once used by the Sultan of Shehiva to hustle along the ladies of an Arabian harem. "Life is good," he said. Copyright 2008 Peter Loewer All Rights Reserved. Use Rights are granted to TheGreenerHome.com and tgh8ft5loewerrememberingyellowstonebb1 ABOUT FOREST AND TOSCA (AND PETER, TOO) Forest and Tosca is written by Peter Loewer, one of America's top authors and illustrators of all things botanical. Peter Loewer is a popular illustrator, printmaker, writer, author of over 30 books, radio personality and activist. He is based in Asheville, North Carolina, and lives amidst the trees of Kennilworth over-looking a small lake and his partially hidden neighbors. Forest and Tosca is a parody about two privileged people of the upper crust who enjoy the finer things in life, including fine art, fine wine, fine mountain vistas, and the fineness of their love for each other and themselves. This first episode of Forest and Tosca, entitled "The Fog Descends," is part of a larger composition with the working title, "On the Green Road with Forest and Tosca." It was published for the first time on TheWildGardener.com. SYNDICATED WEBSITE RADIO EMAIL tgh8thewildgardenerforestandtoscachap1bb1 |
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