I owned a rental house once, where the former owner had planted one in a planter just beside the public sidewalk. And as my partner would have nothing to do with Mr. Palm, it fell to me to periodically go over and saw off the fronds drooping above the walkway. Although I'm "experienced" with these behemoths, not once did I complete my task without drawing at least one rivulet of blood down my arm. But I felt it was better than facing a personal-injury lawsuit from the first pedestrian to touch a frond!

Adding insult to injury, I once had a Washington Palm sprout in a little bucket of soil in my own backyard. How the seed got in there, I have no idea! I tried everything I could to kill it "kindly." Withhold water, dump soap suds on it, pour salt water in the bucket. The tree perversely grew several feet high before running out of soil, I presume, and eventually died in California's long-running drought. Even now I am afraid to remove its carcass, so it still stands there, ready to pierce and person or animal that gets near. Grrrrrrrrr!