These images I’ve been discovering recently are at the bottom of the Gmail Inbox when you open up “full Gmail” (and who wouldn’t, as the quickie, widget version of Gmail seems to be buggy).

If you love his funny tales of curing animals in 1930s and ’40s Yorkshire, you will be delighted to know that there are a few more such anecdotes sprinkled in these books. Also, it’s wonderful to hear how much of the books is based in literal truth; I wholeheartedly agree with his son’s sentiment that knowing the stories are real makes them better.

A little digging on the Internet will show you ivy-covered “Skeldale House,” where Wight lived and worked, and give you the true names of his colleagues, the “Farnon” brothers, in real life named Donald and Brian Sinclair. The biography is even more satisfying; Wight’s son, who grew up to join his father’s veterinary practice, knew many of the people alluded to in the books very well, and he describes a number of the incidents that got written up.

Fans of the books will be tickled to learn that though the eccentric and charming “Siegfried” was a little affronted by his portrayal, the real “Tristan” was highly entertained by his fictional counterpart and adopted a habit of going into bookstores and moving the Herriot books into the bestseller racks, to help the enterprise along. “Siegfried” remained a staunch friend, though.

“Granville Bennett,” the skilled small-animal practitioner who entertained so lavishly, is real as well; when Wight’s own pet fell ill, he rushed the little dog around to “Granville’s” surgery just as Herriot did with other pets in the books, and when the second movie was made based on the books, “Granville” was among the friends who came to watch the filming — with the trunk of his MG converted into a well-stocked mini bar.

One of the more unbelievable characters is “Calum Buchanan,” portrayed as not only a veterinary assistant with a strong love for animals but as the keeper of weird pets including a badger he carried slung over his shoulder. This is no less than the stocking-top truth, it seems, and there’s a photo to prove it.

I won’t spoil any more anecdotes; I was so happy to learn there was more to be told that I want other fans to have the same experience. So definitely go buy these two books, if you yearn for more of James Herriot. The books are not all funny-story narrative, far from it, but there are nuggets amid the biography and the photo essay.

As for the original James Herriot books themselves — “All Creatures Great and Small,” “All Things Bright and Beautiful,” “All Things Wise and Wonderful,” “The Lord God Made Them All” and “Every Living Thing,” plus smaller story collections — even when they were being written, primarily in the 1970s and ’80s, he was describing a time that had already vanished, and so I think the books are going to be truly timeless. His style is very clear and free of jargon — he uses the correct veterinary and medical terms for everything but explains so plainly that you understand the tricky bits completely from context.

You even get a nice feeling that you are learning a little about veterinary medicine while you’re being entertained, and that’s one of my favorite setups always, to be doing two things at once.

Many aspects of his work have been praised: their warm-heartedness, of course; their humor; their loving descriptions of the Yorkshire countryside; and, as I was glad to read in the biography, their service to the veterinary profession in portraying vets as caring, hardworking, highly competent and very human. I often wish journalism had a similar ambassador. He was honored explicitly for this by the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons.

That last aspect gets close to, but doesn’t quite get at the main thing I personally drew from his works. When I was very young and reading them for the first time, what I absorbed was his incredible empathy, for the animals of course but overwhelmingly for the people. Clients rich and poor, rude and friendly, complaining and stoic, book-smart and street-smart, quiet and chatty. His work took him onto their farms and into their homes, directly affecting their livelihood and also their deepest emotions. Some hurled abuse and resentment, both direct and subtle, at the vet who hauled himself from bed at any hour of the night and patiently treated their animals with loving care. Each of their characters gets loving treatment, as well.

He finds much to admire and dozens of ways to forgive. He shares his fascination with quirks of behavior. Meanwhile, he is unfailingly self-effacing, and you get the sense that this is just the way he deals with the world. It’s a joyful way to go about things.

Also, he gave me the ability to see the human side of the vet or doctor or salesperson or waiter who is helping you — drawing an indelible picture of the difficulties they put up with in working with the public. This affected me immediately as a child. Youth is a self-centered time of life, but “James Herriot” taught me to have a care for the feelings of people who were trying to help me. I’m grateful.

Anyway, if you are looking for something fun to read, and you like animals, and you enjoy well-written books that leave you feeling positive and happy, I strongly suggest you check these books out and see if they suit you. Should it turn out that you do enjoy them, you’ve got several thick books ahead of you to enjoy. And I am envious that they are still in front of you.

(Amazon images used by permission; purchases made by clicking through these links support this blog.)

To me, this is easily the most beautiful of the early Texas flags… if it really existed. Some say it was designed by Lorenzo de Zavala, Texas’ first vice president and a drafter of her constitution. Others say it was invented nearly a century later. Even the Texas Almanac says there’s “no historical evidence” for it, while noting that it’s flown in Texas to this day. Me, I think it makes a nice shirt that handsomely indicates your interest in Texas history; as they said in “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,” “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

About my design: Such a star would have probably been painted or appliqued (that is to say, a star cut from white fabric sewn to the blue), and the letters painted. My graphic depicts an embroidered star and letters only to add some richness to the image.

Peter Asher had his room done out in wood, a lot of people were decorating their places in wood. Norwegian wood. It was pine really, cheap pine. But it’s not as good a title, ‘Cheap Pine,’ baby.

For a famous guy, John famously had some issues with women (witness the original lyrics of “Day Tripper” — hint: She was not a “big” teaser). Also I didn’t realize until years later that he supposedly burns down her apartment (or whatever it is) at the end of the song. To which I say “Hmph.”

So to create the effect this song apparently should have had on me, I have reworded it slightly.

She texted ‘Come over’ so I rushed to get to her flat
I plied her with liquor and told her she didn’t look fat
We laughed at ourselves / isn’t it swell / IKEA shelves

She played me her John Mayer albums and I found them vile
I told her I wanted to bonk now and she didn’t smile
She put me through hell / isn’t it swell / IKEA shelves.

Still mysterious: how British people sleep in bathtubs.

This was my pre-Christmas tip on Twitter: Tin snips, which will only run you about $14, are the answer you have been searching for to annoying plastic packaging.  They cut through that stuff the way scissors slice through paper.  It’s very satisfying.  Also, grab these when you have to cut up credit cards.  Snip!  You’re done.

A young woman in Georgia made this flag bearing a blue star for a battalion that was heading to Texas in response to a call for help. (It’s more often pictured with the words “Liberty or Death,” but I preferred using the version that names Texas.) James Fannin flew it — or actually, the shreds of it — at Goliad as the “first national flag of Texas.” Many of the Georgia troops in this battalion were killed in the Goliad Massacre, but as the Handbook of Texas notes, not entirely in vain: The executions ordered by Santa Anna bolstered support for Texas independence.

About my design: Troutman probably appliqued the blue star on her flag; my design, like my other shirts, shows an embroidered star instead. This gives a richer and more detailed look, but at full size, it would have been so heavy the flag probably wouldn’t flap! Also, as noted above, the original flag likely read “Liberty or Death,” but I thought most Texas history fans would prefer to wear a shirt with this slogan, which is also sometimes given in descriptions.

Click to buy the shirt!

A University of Minnesota hybrid that’s a little touchy to grow, Honeycrisp was introduced in 1991 but spread slowly at first (the trees take a few years to bear, for one thing). All it takes, though, is one taste of a Honeycrisp. People love them so much they will pay $1 a pound more for them; thus more growers are planting them, and the Honeycrisp is spreading. A Minnesota grower says:

Whenever we give sample slices of Honeycrisp at the orchard, new converts are won over. No matter if one customer prefers tart apples and another customer prefers sweet apples, we find that 80% of them prefer Honeycrisp. We just give them one slice, and Honeycrisp is their new favorite. I don’t know of another sweet apple (Honeycrisp must definitely be classified as sweet) that attracts the tart folks like Honeycrisp does.

I can testify to the phenomenon. I’m a lifelong carnivore who prefers veggies to be seen and not heard, and rarely does fruit darken my door unless it is parked inside a pie. Even so, I have a weakness for apples n’ cheddar, and the first time I had a Honeycrisp, I said something quite rude out loud. I LOVE them. I’ve even talked a total stranger into buying them for his kid at the grocery.

Honeycrisp (left) leaves even sweet apples like Ambrosia (right) in the shade.

Honeycrisp apples got me to eat apples regularly. (That whump! was my college roommate, a nutritionist, hitting the floor.)

Are they different?  Turns out, yes.  Cells in the Honeycrisp are apparently twice as large as in other varieties, and the pectin holds the cells together more tightly than in other apples. This could explain its crisp texture, juicy burst and long shelf life. The great flavor is probably due to its hybrid parents, but those specifics are lost: Researchers found one parent was the Keepsake apple but can’t identify the other.

So far Honeycrisp apples are not available all year — they start to ripen in September and stay good till April or even June– and even if they do become widely enough grown for year-round stocking, surely they wouldn’t be as jaw-droppingly tasty in the off-season. So I’m already trying to line up alternatives for when my supply dries up. But I think I’m in trouble.

Ambrosia is a similar-looking (yellow with a red blush) apple – not as big, but nice and sweet. It’s not the same, of course, and its season is shorter anyway — October-January. But it’ll do if the Honeycrisps are sold out.

Growers are hoping the new SweeTango variety will make people even loopier — a Honeycrisp cross, it’s supposed to have the same crispness and even more flavor, and should be available nationwide in 2011 or 2012. But tighter controls on its production and distribution mean that it will likely be available for short times. That’s basically intended to ensure the quality (and prices) stay high, of course. Yucky mealy mass-produced fruits have already turned too many people off apples.

The patent on Honeycrisps expired in 2008, and since even Texas grocery stores are now hawking them, they are obviously on the path to world domination.  Keep the quality as high as you can, though, will you, dear growers?  This is a truly amazing creation.

Allegedly flown in the first battle of Texas’ revolution against Mexico, in October 1835, the flag depicts the legend “Come and Take It” under an old cannon Mexico had given to the DeWitt colonists to defend themselves against Native Americans. Under Santa Anna, Mexico began taking away the colonists’ arms, and requested the cannon back. The colonists, freaked out by the increasing dictatorship, said No, but thank you; we’ll keep the cannon. Mexico sent soldiers, but instructed them to avoid conflict if possible; the Texians fired on them; the Mexicans retreated.

About my design: My basis was a photo of what some say is the actual cannon. Following Noah Smithwick’s description, this design has a Lone Star above the cannon. (The Handbook of Texas hypothesizes that the flag of Col. James Long’s 1819 expedition might have been the first to use a lone star for Texas.)

Click to buy the shirt!

A few stretches from the book “Yoga for Suits” — designed for folks wearing work clothes; often one or more of my coworkers will stretch along with me — loosen things up nicely.  Here are three examples if you’d like to try (click image for a printable PDF), next time you want to flee the office but you still have a few hours to go. Do them slowly, breathing deeply:

(My illustrations are embarrassingly rudimentary, but I promise, if you buy the book you get full-color photos and proper instructions, as well as a very practical discussion of yoga philosophy.)

Also, I often have trouble getting to sleep.  My mind keeps running in circles and won’t slow down.  This meditation MP3 really helps me. It’s 8 minutes long (I often fall asleep before the end of it) and, to be honest, I like it because it’s very straightforward and doesn’t have flutes or somebody telling me to visualize unicorns. You get the rhythmic rise and fall of a Tibetan singing bowl, kind of a humming, white-noise sound, and a gentle voice giving you simple instructions that focus your attention on your breathing.

There is much more to yoga and to meditation than a 3-minute stretch at your desk, or just trying to get to sleep, of course. I simply offer these up because — truly — they work for me.

short link for this post: http://bit.ly/deskyoga

The first national flag of Texas, approved by President Sam Houston on Dec. 10, 1836, has a gold star on a blue field. It was designed by David G. Burnet, an unlucky but “articulate” fellow who was briefly ad interim president of the independent republic of Texas in 1836. Due to an undeleted clause, though, Texans between 1933 and 1965 unwittingly pledged allegiance to this flag instead of the Lone Star flag, which had been adopted in 1839. (In between the Burnet flag and the Lone Star flag, Texas used its naval flag.)

About my design: As on my other shirts, I depict the star as embroidered, just to add a little richness to the image. However, a star this size would likely have been painted or appliqued in real life, not embroidered.

Click to buy the shirt!