I don’t know why, but I must have terrible ears. I must be the only person in The South^® who didn’t know that the shrub/bush/tree you see in so many front yards is called a Crepe Myrtle (sometimes Crape Myrtle).

Maybe it’s because so many of them are horribly trimmed back or that their flowers don’t last long, but I’d always heard Crate Myrtle, which makes just as little sense to my ear, but doesn’t surprise me. Maybe the wood was used in building crates. What the hell do I know? I’m no botanist!

I blame the weakening of English consonants as well as English vowels. People could have been saying Cray Myrtles, like the supercomputer of the shellfish, for all I knew.

The flowers of the Crepe Myrtle are lovely and Crepe-like, but the trees themselves, not so much. Too much pruning for my taste.

In any event, I hope my mis-heard French faux pas lightens your day.

Remember, “La première, c’est pour le chien.” (The first one’s for the dog.)

KISMET: The “Good Eats” Crepe episode aired last night after I wrote this post.