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goldenlaurelleaveswrites · 3 years ago

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Songs, Snowballs, and Storms

Chapter 2

The next chapter in my secret admirer fic for @ladybugs-and-black-cats as part of the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers secret admirer exchange.

I Hope you enjoy it!

AO3

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Her heart fluttered in her chest as she nervously flittered about her apartment. The swarm of butterflies in her stomach fluttered their wings with every step she took. She had already changed three times. Now she was deliberating between two shades of lipstick. Alya would have told her they were both pink. But they were different. And she wanted to get it right.

She still couldn’t believe it. She was going out on a date with Luka Couffaine. The most incredible singer she had ever heard. In her opinion, he was even better than Jagged- not that she would ever tell the rockstar and her honorary uncle that.

She still couldn’t believe it.

Time had slowed the instant she had seen his face as his disguise slipped off. And then those teenagers had shown up, and honestly, it was ridiculous that they had been chasing him through the streets. In that moment, she had been too shocked from the realization of who he was and too worried about accidentally giving him away to spare a thought to the fact that Luka Couffaine was there in her shop.

But then the girls had left.

And she had been left absolutely mortified. Mortified because she had gushed about how heartfelt and soulful his music was- and to a complete stranger! Who just happened to be the singer himself. Mortified because of the way she had gone on about his music without even recognizing him when he was standing right in front of her.

And then he had laughed… and it had been one of the most wonderful things she had ever heard, despite her embarrassment. He hadn’t seemed to mind her going on about his music. He hadn't seemed to mind her not recognizing him. He had even thanked her for common decency.

Everything after that had been surreal; the way he had asked for her help in picking out the right size dress for his sister and for help picking out a dress for his sister’s girlfriend. She really hadn’t thought he would actually buy anything as soon as her embarrassment had ebbed away. But he had. Just because, he had said when she asked why he was getting his sister a dress.

He was cool with his blue hair, tattoos, and piercings. He was a rockstar- of course, he was cool. But there had always been a sensitivity to his music, especially in his earliest stuff. Especially in the first song he had ever released; before he was famous. Her very favourite.

It was that sweetness that had helped her nerves fade away that day in the shop. It had been that quiet sweetness that pulled her into easy conversation. And that had been the most surreal part. Because if she had told her past self that she would be casually conversing with the most incredible singer in the world, she wouldn’t have believed herself.

Yet, there they had been. Talking about their childhood homes, about their favourite places in the city. About everything and nothing. They had so easily slipped into conversation. It had felt like she had known him forever. It had still felt surreal- like a half-awake dream that she had accepted as fact.

Then she had seen the spark of inspiration strike him, and it had been like looking in a mirror. Because she knew that feeling. And it was like something in her soul had recognized him in that moment.

And then he had asked her out as she was ringing up his purchases. And she had said yes.

That had been the most surreal part of it all; exchanging numbers with a rock star. With him. Arranging a time and place to meet for a date. It had been so normal, and yet… at the time, she had been too adrift in la-la land to worry about it.

But now…

She glanced at the two tubes of lipstick in her hands. Peony Pink or Plum Blossom? There were so many things to worry about for this date that she felt a little ridiculous spending so much time agonizing over different shades of pink. Especially when she could be agonizing over something else. Like what they would do. Or what they would talk about?

What could they possibly talk about? Sure, they had talked in her shop. But on a date? What if he brought up music? She didn’t know anything about music. Except his music. Or rather, how his music made her feel.

And he was Luka Couffaine!

She was pacing again.

She was going out with Luka Couffaine. The most incredible musician in the world. The lyricist whose every word was nothing short of pure poetry. The musician who plucked on her heartstrings with every note of his guitar. The singer who had inspired her since the first time she listened to his music all those years ago- even before he was famous. Before he had been a household name. Back when he had been a boy with a guitar and a youtube channel. A boy with a guitar whose very first song had spoken to her soul in a language she hadn't even known she knew!

And she was going on a date. With him.

She stopped short, almost tripping over her feet in an effort to slow her movement.

She was going on a date with him, and he could arrive at any moment. And she didn’t have time to worry about this. Or her lipstick. Or her hair. Or her outfit…

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, checking to make sure the waves she had coaxed her hair into hadn’t been disheveled in her frenzied pacing. Satisfied with her hair, she smoothed down the non-existent wrinkles in her sweater.

Dress warm is what his text had said. She had no idea what he had planned, but as she cast a glance out the window, she couldn’t help but be a bit… dubious.

No one in their right mind would want to be outside on a day like this. She could barely see anything out her window with all the snow blowing around. The wind shaking the bare branches of the trees didn’t provide any more comfort. No sane person would be out in a blizzard like this.

But that was probably why he had said to dress warm. Because no one would be out there. Including his fans.

She couldn’t help but feel bad for him; she had seen Jagged’s fans in action. But Jagged loved the spotlight- he lived for it. He was loud and always the center of attention, lapping it up at every opportunity.

But Luka… in the interviews she had watched, he was always quiet. Not shy… reserved. And talking to him, even though he had been bright and friendly, she had still sensed that quietness in him. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like for him to have fans who didn’t respect his privacy.

Pursing her lips, she turned her attention back to her reflection. Smoothing her hands over her soft, fluffy pink sweater again. It was warm but still pretty.

Her phone buzzed on her dressing table.

Luka: Hey, I’m here but the shop is locked.

She blanched when she saw the time. She had known he would get here soon. She had known he could show up at any moment now. She just hadn’t expected him to show up at this exact moment.

And of course, the shop was locked. Mondays were her day off from the shop, and she only worked Mondays if she had clients who wanted custom designs. That was why they were having their date midmorning on a Monday; they were both free, and most people would be at work or school. So the shop was locked, and she wasn’t down there to greet him, and he was standing out in the cold-

Marinette: Sorry! I’ll be right down!

She uncapped one of her tubes of lipstick—she didn’t bother to check which shade—and applied it with hurried swipes. As quickly as she could, she gathered her hat and scarf, pulling her coat on as she looped her purse over her shoulder. With her boots in hand, she locked the door behind her and ran down the hall towards the stairs, tugging her boots on as she went.

She burst out of the side door of her building—she didn’t want to risk getting sidetracked by going out through the shop— and was greeted by a faceful of icy wind. She rounded the corner to the front of the building, an apology already tumbling out of her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I lost track of time and…” her words died in her throat when she saw him.

He was wearing the same black scarf and beanie as he had been the day they met, though the beanie wasn’t pulled down as far as it had been. Blue strands of hair waved in the wind, bright against the black of his hat. But his eyes were even brighter. They looked like they were lit from within- almost like they were glowing. And the most devastating smile was curved across his handsome face.

Her knees buckled. The butterflies were swirling in a fluttery flurry in her stomach. The cold wind was even colder against the warmth blooming in her cheeks.

“It’s no problem,” he said easily, walking up to her and offering her his arm. “You look amazingly the way.”

‘I- uh, I do. I mean you do! Too! And uuhhh…. Thank you…” The warmth in her cheeks grew hotter as he chuckled.

“Thanks.” He held out his arm to her, “Are you ready to go?”

Swallowing thickly, she took his arm and let him lead her to wherever they were going.

***

“This is amazing,” she said before taking another sip of the rich and creamy hot chocolate.

“Best in the city,” he agreed, taking another slug from his own cup.

She had been dubious when he brought her a little hole-in-the-wall place. But he said long walks in the park were one of the best ways to get to know people, and ‘what was a long walk in the cold without hot chocolate?’

So she had ordered a cup of the hot chocolate he recommended, and then, with their warm drinks in hand, they had set off for a walk through the wind and snow. And despite the cold, it was the best walk she had ever taken.

And he had been right. A long walk was the best way to get to know someone.

“How did you ever find that place? I’ve lived here my whole life and never seen it before!”

“I used to work at the pizza place a few doors down from it- yeah, really.” He said when she cast him a surprised glance. “I used to buy myself a cup after a long day of deliveries in the winter. It was the best way to warm up after riding my bike all over the city in the cold.”

“You delivered pizzas on a bike? In the winter?”

“Yeah,” his cheeks turned a little redder. “I had to pay for my guitars somehow.”

She shook her head as a smile crept onto her face. “That doesn’t seem very safe. But… I get it. I used to work so many odd jobs to make enough money for sewing supplies.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Well, I helped out in the bakery a lot. And I babysat- but that almost didn’t seem worth the money,” she grumbled, eliciting a laugh from him. Her heart fluttered at the sound. “I also used to tutor people in math, mostly geometry because I’m good at it- it comes with the territory when you draft patterns. Then I started getting commission work, and I was able to drop the babysitting and tutoring.”

“That’s pretty incredible, doing all that. You’re a true renaissance woman.” Her cheeks burned furiously. They had been since she first saw him on the stoop of her shop’s door. And then he had complimented her and told her she looked amazing. And then they had started talking and…

She had never felt like this with anyone before. And it was just their first date. She just hoped it wouldn’t be their last…

“I don’t know about that,” she said a little breathlessly. “But you! You played guitar and wrote music. And filmed and edited videos. And delivered pizzas. That’s a lot.”

“I think you’re more impressive-“

“And I think you’re delusional!” She cast a glance up at him out of the corner of her eyes. He was unabashedly smiling at her. Some, the burning in her cheeks grew even warmer as she hid her smile in another sip of hot chocolate.

He really was as cool as he had always seemed in his videos. He really was as humble as he had always seemed in interviews. And he was so sweet.

He was also, she was beginning to learn, a bit of a dork.

A really sweet and funny and intelligent and stupidly hot dork.

He chuckled. “I think you would get along well with my sister. She tells me I’m an idiot on an almost daily basis.”

“You really love her, don’t you?” The answer was in the affectionate smile that came over his face whenever his sister came up in conversation. Even when he was moaning about how much she teased him.

“Yeah, we were pretty close growing up. We still are.”

“I wish I had a sister. Being an only child can be lonely sometimes,” she mumbled, looking down into her empty cup.

“Hey,” he laughed, nudging her gently with his arm, “you can borrow mine any time you want. But I have to warn you, she can be a real pain.”

She bumped her shoulder against him. “You’re mean.” But she couldn’t help but giggle.

“You’re only saying that because you’re an only child,” he laughed. “But she is pretty great. When she isn’t doing her whole queen of darkness thing.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer,” she giggled. “Are you done with your drink?”

“Oh, yeah- I can do that” he protested as she took his cup from him.

“It’s fine,” she said over her shoulder as she headed towards a rubbish bin, “You paid. I can at least throw them away.”

So far, she had been able to keep her clumsiness under control. She had managed to avoid spilling on herself, and on him. She had managed to not knock anything over, or trip over her own feet.

So of course, her luck had to run out.

It happened as she was coming back from throwing out their empty cups. Somehow, she managed to trip over nothing—or maybe her feet, she wasn’t really sure—and she toppled into the snow.

Luka was beside her in an instant, kneeling down to check on her and offer her a hand up. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine” she grumbled, cheeks growing even warmer in embarrassment. “Just clumsy,” she added with a sigh as he pulled her to her feet.

“I had uh… noticed.” She blinked up at him; she had had it under control today! Mostly. Until now. “In your shop, you kinda… tripped over your own feet,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

He wasn’t laughing. And he definitely wasn’t laughing at her. He wasn’t the type. But his eyes were twinkling with a teasing glint, and a playful smile was curling into his lips.

“Maybe you should-“

Without thinking, she had swooped down and scooped up a handful of snow. It was barely formed into a ball before she had thrown it at him.

He gaped at her, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, then looked down at the white snow stuck to his black coat.

What had she just done? “I am so, so so sorry! I- I have no idea why I did that and- hey!”

He was laughing now, and there was snow stuck in her hair and on the shoulder of her coat. “I was just going to say you should maybe hold my hand,” What had she done? “But if it’s a fight you want, then game on!”

Suddenly, snowballs were flying through the air in every direction. Most of them didn’t hit their target. But that was fine; because the way he was whooping and laughing so freely was sweeter than any victory. And she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed like this.

Eventually, they got to the point where they weren’t even forming the snow into snowballs. They were just chasing after each other, throwing armloads of snow at the other.

She squealed as he caught her around the waist, and they tumbled down into the snow in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Her breath caught in her throat as their eyes met. His bright eyes were so soft and his smile was so gentle and warm. Their laughter faded until they were just smiling at each other. He was just… looking at her, holding her in his arms. He was so close their noses were almost touching. Her heart was fluttering, and there was a flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.”

“Do you think… do you think you’d like to do this again sometime?”

“Yes,” she whispered, almost bursting with glee.

#lbsc exchange 2022 #LBSC secret admirer exchange 2022 #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #pro lukamari #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine

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amayamiyaki · 5 years ago

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I recently got into writing angst. It's different than what I usually write but its always good to branch out of your comfort zone and learn try something new! So here's an angsty Shisui/Sakura oneshot!

If you're interested in sending me a prompt, please feel free to, along with the Sakur-pairing of your choice!

Title: Izana

Characters/Pairings: Shisui/Sakura

Rating: General

Prompt(s): meeting, hollow, binding

Izana

He's late.

Ironic for a man who’s compared to wind and lighting, but Shisui brushes aside the frustration that nips at the side of his neck. War waits for no one, after all—not even him.

Sliding off his mount, Shisui hands the reins of his steed to the attendant by the door and toes the sandals from his feet all in one movement, before slipping inside the teahouse. He hurries through the corridors, mindful of his swords as he passes the workers, smiling and tilting his head, searching, until the thundering laughter of his uncle catches his ear. A smile, true and soft, settles on his features, and he follows the voices until he reaches a set of doors manned by the wait staff. They bow to him, murmuring their welcomes but he can hardly hear them over the excited beating of his heartbeat. And when the doors part, it takes more control than he’d ever care to admit, to keep from rushing inside.

"Ah, there he is!” His uncle bellows, hand gesturing to him. Shisui bows lowly to his clan head, trying to keep his gaze from wandering to the women whispering to his side.

"My apologies, Uncle," Shisui began. "The meeting with Uzumaki-san went on longer than anticipated."

"It is of no concern," Madara replied with the wave of his hand. He appears unbothered—happy, even. "Sit. No more talks of war with women around."

Shisui straightens from his bow and makes his way towards his cousins, falling into the seat beside Itachi with a relieved sigh. Itachi pushes a choko towards him worth the side of his hand, observing him with a look of knowing.

"Uchiha Shisui, late,” He teases. “I never thought I'd see the day."

Shisui grasps the porcelain with a huff. "You know how the Uzumaki can get. They get lost in their thoughts more often than not."

Itachi hums but doesn't comment further, busying himself with the sake against his lips. However, that doesn't stop Sasuke. "Those fools enjoy the sound of their own voices."

"Sasuke." Itachi's voice is soft, but the scold is clear.

The two brothers share a bicker, their conversation veering towards swords and training and other things he can't find himself caring about; because how can he when his uncles share a laugh over the blush of the beautiful woman positioned between them?

She’s draped in scarlet silk and spirals of plum blossoms, her skin painted an ethereal white with brushes of pink and her rosy hair drawn up with glittering kanzashi. Her collar is red, the kind of crimson that makes Shisui think of war and death and fire—all things that he can’t even bear to imagine associating with her because she’s too beautiful for anything less than Amaterasu’s gardens.

Her Oneesan calls her Sakura.

She says her name with so much pride, smiles without restriction and tilts her glass encouragingly at the young girl who smiles back. Looking at her makes something within him burn—something wild and dangerous and wonderful.

"Won't you dance for us?" He hears Izuna ask. "You know Madara's heart only warms when you do."

The tease is innocent, Shisui knows, watching with a tight chest as the pretty Maiko beside him sets a gentle hand atop Madara's shoulder. But it still doesn't mean much to his heart.

"Izuna-san," She reprimands, though not unkindly. "Madara-san's heart is always warm. Can't you tell from the blush on his face?"

Madara turns away, but the corner of his lips curl with a hint of mirth "It's the sake, I assure you."

Sharing a sly look with the rosette and her Oneesan, Izuna’s hand comes down hard on Madara’s shoulder, making the elder of the two jerk forward. “Yes, yes. The pretty women on your arms have nothing to do with it.”

Perhaps it’s jealousy that makes Shisui’s knuckles whiten. He always was prone to jealousy. All Uchiha were. It’s in their blood, after all.

Sakura waves her hands and tilts her head, hiding her giggle behind her hand as Izuna teases his older brother, and it kills him, because those smiles are his. He owned them the moment he laid eyes on her—back when she was a fresh Maiko, dancing to the melancholy thrum of a koto and the hum of cherry blossoms in Spring skies.

He brings the sake to his lips, hoping to wash away the taste his uncles’ affection leaves in his mouth, when their eyes meet—pine and evergreen against wintry steel—and suddenly his chest feels less hollow.

The smile she wears now is his. He knows it. He feels it as deeply as his bones because that’s the smile she gifts him when he holds her in his arms, hidden in the shadows behind her okiya. It’s the same smile she gives him when he folds her hair behind her ear and kisses her brow.

It’s his and only his.

So his eyes soften and the jealousy resides, folding neatly into a little box at the base of his stomach. Shisui watches as Sakura finally acquiesces to their playful demands. Although her name is rooted in earth, she stands with the fluidity of water, walking in that way that makes the train of her kimono sway like a rippled pond. Then she stands at the front of the room, exactly where she’s meant to be.

Rawbone fingers pluck at a shamisen, the koto purrs; and Sakura dips her head to expose the unmarked skin at the back of her neck. It makes his breath stutter and his fingers twitch, and one glance at his younger cousins prove he isn’t the only one pleased with the sight. His uncles hum around their tobacco pipes, hands waving at the smoke that flitters into their faces, greedily taking in the graceful bow of their pretty dancer while his cousins shift in place. But it isn’t until she lifts her gaze to him once more, revealing something beautiful in those beryl eyes, that Shisui finds his chest truly bound.

She clutches the sleeve of her furisode, tugging it back to reveal a sliver of her pale wrist and the glitter of her fan. She rolls onto her toes, turning so her shoulder faces them, peers at them from the corner of her eye; then she gently waves her fan in a way that upturns her wrist.

She tells him a story—a story about a fleeting beauty that imprints his heart.

Her fan, spread wide, flutters and sways, traveling downwards. Then she taps it, creating the thunderous sounds of rainfall. She demurely hides her face with it, stepping towards the left, then again to the right. Then she lifts the fan above her head, shielding her petal locks from the showering rain. She lowers the fan to face the front of her, folding it inwards from both sides before reaching into the air with greedy fingers.

She draws the sunlight with her fingers, painting a vision of blooms and wind—the beginnings of Spring. He holds her fan tightly now, flat and with both hands, similar to how he holds his blade in its sheath, then pulls her hands apart to reveal a blade; she poses with it crossed over her shoulder.

The scene is different, he realizes. He recognizes the way she unravels her fan, tilting it as if she’s pouring sake, how she spreads it open like the petals of her namesake, before presenting it as a tray. He recognizes it, because it’s their story.

Her dance speaks of their romance, the lyrics her Oneesan sings purring of the way he had charmed her. She loves him, but never says it—she never does, even when their fingers intertwine beneath burning candles.

And it makes his chest hurt because he wants and wants and wants to hear her say it. No one knows. No one understands. Because to them, it’s a dance but to him, it’s a confession.

With the flick of her wrist, a second fan appears with an abrupt snap. The curves of her fan point inwards and she makes them flutter, like the wings of a butterfly. She lowers to her knees then, her smile more prominent than before. Her movements become more confident, more powerful if that’s possible. She connects her fans, creating one large one that makes him think of the insignia emblazoned across his back, rocking it back and forth above her head and spinning as she rises.

It makes him breathless.

The scene changes again, the music dropping into something quieter, more ominous while her expression hardens. Her fingers loosen from her left fan, making it dangle like a bud on a branch, then she twirls it, slowly turning on her heel with her right fan drawing the sunrise. She leans back, almost in a curtsey with her right fan poised above her head and the left in front of her, transiently similar to the way he wields his swords.

A battle comes in the morning.

Something creeps along the nape of Shisui’s neck, nuzzling him uncomfortably as he watches Sakura’s dance. Beside him, Itachi’s fingers tighten into his hakama and Sasuke’s chest is still. He chances a glance at his uncles to find all three leaning forward, so entranced in the Maiko’s romance that they don’t notice the emptiness of their glasses or the falling ashes of their tobacco.

She tucks her fans into her obi; hides her knuckles in her sleeves and pulls them to cover her body, tilting her head from side to side before lifting her hands in offering. She turns again as bells chime, revealing the spider lilies embroidered along the hem of her elaborate obi and the mountain painted into her neck. She stomps on the tatami, hands smoothly rolling to the side like swaying branches, then turns to the side, peering at them over her shoulder with the faintest upcurve of her scarlet lips.

And then her movements are frantic.

She moves to the left, then to the right, jolting forward before reeling back as if surrounded. Her expression is harrowed, brows knit tight as she faces enemies only she can see. Her shoulders become limp, her posture withdrawn; her arms sway from front to back almost lifelessly.

And then she draws the curls of raging waves with her fans.

Shisui sucks in a breath as he watches her left fan drop. She clutches the one fan between both hands now, slowly unraveling it like the petals of a flower.

Sakura turns back the way she came until she faces them again. She closes the fan again, her head canting side to side and expression somber. She looks lost. Hollow. And then she holds the fan like a knife, points it towards her belly as she slowly peers up at the heavens, and Shisui swears real tears glitter in her eyes in those seconds before they close.

And so the blossoms fall, so thickly they form clouds.

The music fades to an end and she comes to a stop with her head bowed and her fan poised. Shisui finds himself so entranced, that all he can do is stare—remembering himself only when the other men in the room applaud and coo.

“She’s wonderful,” Madara praises, clapping. And it stuns him, because Madara had never cared for geisha before. “Your Imouto’s dances get more and more intricate with every day, Tsunade.”

The blonde woman laughs as she refills his glass, eyes flickering towards her prodigy, who is already smoothing out her kimono. “Thank you, Uchiha-sama. Sakura is a special girl.”

“A special girl indeed,” Fugaku speaks up. “With a gift of storytelling.”

“One would think her tears were real,” Kagami agrees.

“You both must come to our compound,” Izuna insists. “Celebrate with us tomorrow night, after we’ve finally taken reign of Danzo’s castle.”

The young Maiko floats when she walks, and it’s with a displeased wilt that Shisui realizes that even though she sits beside him, it isn’t him that she sits with, but his youngest cousin. She doesn’t look at him, but Shisui can see the tremble in her fingers as she pours Sasuke’s sake. She acts as if there’s nothing between them, yet presses the side of her thigh into his.

It’s subtle, so fleeting that Shisui could convince himself it was a trick of his imagination. But then she does it again, and he knows.

So even though it isn’t him that she pours her sake for, or him that she charms with coy looks and her sharp tongue, he knows her heart belongs to him. He’ll tell her tomorrow—how much he loves her—after he storms Himura castle and takes the head of the man who killed his father.

He’ll tell her he loves her, and buy her freedom with his spoils. He'll spend the rest of his life traipsing through gardens of her favorite flowers, braiding the hair of the daughters she'll gift him. He'll give her every thing she so desires.

A shame he tells her with his dying breath.

#shisui x sakura #shisaku #shisui uchiha #sakura haruno #angst #naruto fanfiction #writing prompt #geisha sakura #uchiha family #star crossed lovers

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tinyshe · 5 years ago

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Garden Report 20.10.29

The season if definitely wanting to move towards Winter but I have to question the confused plants in the garden. Part are ready for Winter and the other part thinks maybe it could just be Spring again?! I have two baby plums and the brambles are starting to bloom again!

Bronte, Rossetti and Alcott are now giving us an egg each a day regardless of the colder weather and the shorter daylight. I give them lots of treats and snuggles so maybe they feel obligated. My last batch of chickens had several Gold Laced Wyndottes and those were laying eggs year round except when they went through a full molt once a year for maybe a week or two. I don’t use artificial light nor heat but we also don’t get much snow. Once they lay, they are getting higher protein lay ration diet and if it is really cold, they will get warm mash in the morning and a high protein snack in the late afternoon to stoke their little internal heaters. I like that they are all laying now because they are easier to catch and cuddle ... even Alcott, Miss flitter - flutter ‘you can’t touch this’ is even more open to me scooping her up. Maybe they just miss me being in the back garden. I can wish :) Bronte still yammers if she sees me in the kitchen making tea and will keep it up if I haven’t been out for a sit. Their coop is less than a stone’s throw from the back stoop so she can see what ever I do at the back end of the house. Makes for some tippy toe dinner preparations in dim light when I want them to roost so I can lock up for the night but if they see me active in the house, its no go. My haiku for this: Hiding from a Hen / A Ninja in the Kitchen / Go to bed feather head! Well, I tried ... on both parts.

Most of the work has been focused in the front garden, getting it in a presentable state, the topiary and hedges in order and an early winter pruning. So much had gotten so overgrown this year! Lots of rain = lots of growth. Looking forward to getting it primed for maybe a Spring sale. Part of me is very hesitant but I am trying to remember if its to be, God will open doors so there shouldn’t be that fear but trust (I’m a “yeah-but” girl from way back with plan A, B and C raised with lack of trust and sad, wistful hope). Old habits die hard; I just need to put one foot in front of the other (and not beat my head against brick walls).

More trouble with the neighbors but nothing new, they’re just taking it up a notch. I think apartment dwellers have it really tough with this C19 lockdown business and it doesn’t come out in a positive way. Too bad more didn’t have the incentive to garden in some fashion if it was even just for mental therapy. This weekend I hope we can finish getting the lattice panels up. I wish they offered more privacy and a real barricade and not some pseudo security/ barely a visual obstruction. But this should at least keep the majority of the garbage out of the garden that comes over the fence.

Harvesting all the Asian greens. They are not cut and repeat very readily but I could be impatient since I have lost all track of time. Last of the blackberries today as that after October 31 the rule is no more, as they have been breathed on by the pooka and now considered the pooka’s fruit (as my kids say ‘eat it and ... diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie!’). But we have had our fill. They are rather insipid and we are all too lazy to do anything with them but to eat out of hand and even then, I have been known to take the berries to the chickens if the children don’t eat them in a day or two. Most of the herbs are done except for the evergreen and growing rosemary. I still have tons of lemon verbena on the shrub. The single basil plant and the summer savory are going to seed finally so I am hoping to collect those before someone/something devours them. I forgot to move my succulents in the protection zone and the frost took some. I’m strangely fine with that. I normally would be so annoyed with myself but I am trying to take things as they come.

Still no work on the summer house. Getting a wee bit discouraged but I’m being pulled in too many directions to get a grip on starting that project. I am trying to hand it off but no one wants it >;) I do have a friend that has offered to come and help out some but I just have to make the time appear so it can happen. Once the frame / skeleton is up, we can place the new ripple roof, then take out the windows and do rock work slip form one half wall at a time as we “repair” the summer house. I just don’t like cement work in the winter; its a lot more work watching frost/freeze temps and having proper insulation is in place during the curing. Doing half walls on short runs hopefully won’t be a problem.

#catholic gardener #gardening #eggs #chickens #winter garden #asian greens #end of harvest #winter #urban homestead #permaculture #to move or not to move #prepping spring sale #home sale #summer house #garden construction #cement work #herbs

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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

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“Next thee not me”

I will sea would have being. His eyes pale life, my sigh’d, plunge in vain Pharaoh’s children’s eyesight: for the wind do not so fair fruitful would thee alone, in his poor but heaven longing

lies; wee Pope but all of Lochroyan at fine gold, and singly, but is no tears through a dead: love by the floureth his to Honours after woman, with the most leave me as there’s

bittered to expelling on so wanton me pat. Someone … and the vegetabled him a clash’d golden Vessels aloud: fairest admired, devoid of a hear’st on

its best, shaking, in and morrow drown’d with wind blossoming struck me, not all seems that ’s understands reporten I were color any Day hast leave me thus hearse. ’ The met and

gray, knees I cannot the listened soul lover’s her hue, how from his he sterious throw down by cynics like spoil it, get married comely grace! The dreams are grapes, diaper’d this; thence, thyrsis

thy sides Venus have kissing her device the did bredd, and an oldest bound; for me! Come to a suddenly; and that delightes were rising Zephires. He innocence

are alas angry for the kitchen filled; all the rose attend: for such longing agains by us with. No statue of hopeless forgetting the sayne for love, as once made the

world’s mast wayle my love, my shephearde him remained to the sun had heard a widdifu’, bleed a hundred thee? Three, back’d at the citizen self to the Sea whereat Voice went as

flowering approaching from dim throughts dim and gone with my heart is Adonis’ heat another that doth reproof of the said, I know tells it golden gleams—in which whose genius,

and weep. Next thee not me? And yet come and yet to guide philosophic gown: lycius comfort is my loue, my days. Not one; and crown’d. In her break. And long leaves with us, if dumb?

And when heame and singing. Him on to unwind,—and of Wisdom in the green, she did stand and this kneels; witness’d in fear doth protective, and flute, and a woman to pestlesse, endless

flutters of hel, all from the round, and die the refrigerator say so fills! ’ Ane, and He was a dying palm, thing shed upon the ether thy soul loved’s, and franch. What

and darts, O princesses blaze into his until the breedeth are tired everywhereof shy Thames are the field, that makes to well she same? You said, Those vapour hidden plum.

Time to my soul sublimer that vow, then, Sir, and thee: the flitter that the got much, nor falls in the brows what years so curst, an Arke a realists in a wound, since I heart waking,

’ she look in my below? If I might different: yet stir of charge, and play about in ground. Pass that downe his from a black-fac’d night, twould neuer so. And gave to Loue I had Thyrsis!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #180 texts #ballad

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blackjackluka--archive · 8 years ago

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i went to walmart today and found the lalaloopsy mini bug collection for $1

i got plum flitter flutter and lil lucky ladybug

also got a couple teenie genies for myself and found zeta for my sister (she hasn’t come home yet so im excited to see her reaction)

really happy w/the lala bugs they’re so cute

#rebekah rambles

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networkingdefinition · 6 years ago

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Hummingbirds Quotes

Official Website: Hummingbirds Quotes

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push(); • A day so happy. Fog lifted early. I worked in the garden. Hummingbirds were stopping over honeysuckle flowers. There was no thing on earth I wanted to possess. I know no one worth my envying him. – Czeslaw Milosz • A rhododendron bud lavender-tipped. Soon a glory of blooms to clash with the cardinals and gladden the hummingbirds! – Dave Beard • Across the downs a hummingbird Came dipping through the bowers, He pivoted on emptiness To scrutinize the flowers. – Nathalia Crane • After a few mouthfuls of moon-flavored air, even the stubbornly drowsy can find themselves wide-eyed.. All the normal noises of life were gone, leaving behind the secretive sounds, the shy sounds, the whispers and conversations of moss disputing with grass over some soft piece of earth, or the hummingbird snoring. – N.D. Wilson • And in time it will be as though men had never come to this perfect corner of the world-never called it paradise on earth, never despoiled it with their dream factories; and in the golden hush of the afternoon all that will be heard will be the flittering of dragonflies, and the murmur of hummingbirds as they pass from bower to bower, looking for a place to sup sweetness. – Clive Barker • As long as the hummingbird had not abandoned the land, somewhere there were still flowers, and they could all go on. – Leslie Marmon Silko

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Hummingbird', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '68', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_hummingbird').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_hummingbird img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • By the way, did you fellows know that a hummingbird weighs as much as a quarter? Do you think a hummingbird also weighs the same as two dimes and a nickel? But then she asked a question of her own: How do they weigh a hummingbird? – Calvin Trillin • Charm is the enchanted dart, light and subtle as a hummingbird. But it is deceptive in one thing: like a sense of humor, if you think you’ve got it, you probably haven’t. – Laurel Lea • Coming eyeball to eyeball with a hummingbird on my terrace is as exciting to me as any celebrity Ive met as a result of Downton Abbey. – Lesley Nicol • Dancing is such a despised and dishonored trade that if you tell a doctor or a laywer you do choreography he’ll look at you as if you were a hummingbird. Dancers don’t get invited to visit people. It is assumed a boy dancer will run off with the spoons and a girl with the head of the house. – Agnes de Mille • either you take in believing in miracles or you stand still like the hummingbird. – Henry Miller • Flutter like a hummingbird, Dive like an eagle, Ain’t no bird that’s my equal. – Twilight – Kathryn Lasky • furious flutter awakened hummingbird heart hello hello love – Megan McCafferty • Gentle day’s flower – The hummingbird competes With the stillness of the air. – Chogyam Trungpa • He has the attention span of a hummingbird. – Christopher Moore • He was becoming unstuck, he was sure of that – his bones were no longer wrapped in flesh but in clouds of dust, in hummingbirds, dragonflies, and luminous moths – but so perfect was his equilibrium that he felt no fear. He was vast, he was many, he was dynamic, he was eternal.- Tom Robbins • He wasn’t that good looking, he had the social skills of a wet cat and the patience of a caffeinated hummingbird – Karen Chance • How do you view God in a desert? There’s two types of birds. There’s vultures, and there’s hummingbirds. One lives off dead carcasses, rotting meat. The other lives off the beautiful, sweet, nectar in a particular flower, on a particular desert plant, in the same desert. They both find what they’re looking for. Do you know – take it all the way back into the Old Testament – and the Muslim and you, we actually serve the same God. Allah, to a Muslim; to us, Abba Father, God. – Brian Houston • I always loved those little creatures [hummingbird], always feel blessed when they appear nearby. There’s a magical quality to them. I finally put one in a song. – Leonard Cohen • I had the metabolism of a hummingbird on crack. – Ilona Andrews • I like snakes. I like hummingbirds. There’s nothing on earth I don’t like. Frogs. Salamanders. The bunnies, the giraffes, the hippopotamuses. – Ted Turner • I love devastating movies, documentaries and hummingbirds (yes, in that order). – Tig Notaro • I would say the hummingbird really deserves the royalties on [some of my songs]. – Leonard Cohen • I’d like to be like a hummingbird. You see them every now and then. You don’t see them everywhere. – Shailene Woodley • I’d written a lot of songs with hummingbirds in them. None of them ever came to anything, but I did write a few lines last month. It went like this: ‘Listen to the hummingbird whose wings you cannot see. Listen to the hummingbird, don’t listen to me’. – Leonard Cohen • I’m a Gibson guy. I play anything from Hummingbirds to J200s. – Corey Taylor • I’m more of a culture hummingbird. – Jai Rodriguez • In Mexico people wear hummingbird amulets around their necks to show they are searching for love. Here people pretend that they aren’t. Searching. – Francesca Lia Block • it doesn’t matter if Prince Charles falls off his horse or that the hummingbird is so seldom seen or that we are too senseless to go insane. coffee. give us more of that NOTHING coffee. – Charles Bukowski • Most elegantly finished in all parts, [the hummingbird] is a miniature work of our Great Parent, who seems to have formed it the smallest, and at the same time the most beautiful of the winged species. – J. Hector St. John de Crevecoeur • Much still remains to be learned about his sex life because the Hummingbird is quicker than the eye. – Will Cuppy • My mind, I know, I can prove, hovers on hummingbird wings. It hovers and it churns. And when it’s operating at full thrust, the churning does not stop. The machines do not rest, the systems rarely cool. And while I can forget anything of any importance–this is why people tell me secrets–my mind has an uncanny knack for organization when it comes to pain. Nothing tormenting is ever lost, never even diminished in color or intensity or quality of sound. – Dave Eggers • My mother’s eyes were large and brown, like my son’s, but unlike Sam’s, they were always frantic, like a hummingbird who can’t quite find the flower but keeps jabbing around. – Anne Lamott • My work is the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird – equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums. – Mary Oliver • One day a hummingbird flew in– It fluttered against the window til I got it down where I could reach it with an open umbrella– –When I had it in my hand it was so small I couldn’t believe I had it–but I could feel the intense life–so intense and so tiny– …You were like the humming bird to me… And I am rather inclined to feel that you and I know the best part of one another without spending much time together– –It is not that I fear the knowing– It is that I am at this moment willing to let you be what you are to me–it is beautiful and pure and very intensely alive. – Georgia O’Keeffe • Question four: What book would you give to every child? Answer: I wouldn’t give them a book. Books are part of the problem: this strange belief that a tree has nothing to say until it is murdered, its flesh pulped, and then (human) people stain this flesh with words. I would take children outside and put them face to face with chipmunks, dragonflies, tadpoles, hummingbirds, stones, rivers, trees, crawdads. That said, if you’re going to force me to give them a book, it would be The Wind In The Willows, which I hope would remind them to go outside. – Derrick Jensen • Quick as a hummingbird…she darts so eagerly, swiftly, sweetly dipping into the flowers of my heart. – James Oppenheim • Regularity chauvinists are people who insist that you have got to do the same thing every time, every day, which drives some of us nuts. Attention Deficit Disorder – we need a more positive term for that. Hummingbird mind, I should think. – Ted Nelson • Shortly before she died Janis Joplin gave me the Gibson Hummingbird she recorded “Me and Bobbby McGee” on … Janis was a good guitar player, for her purposes .. she just wanted to play along with her songs, and she had a real pure and nice style for that. – Sam Andrew • Some of my old memories feel trapped in amber in my brain, lucid and burning, while others are like the wing beat of a hummingbird, an intangible, ephemeral blur. – Mira Bartok • Some people never find the right kind of love. You know, the kind that steals your breath away, like diving into snowmelt. The kind that jolts your heart, sets it beating apace, an anxious hiccuping of hummingbird wings – Ellen Hopkins • The first and most important thing for me is that people feel how beautiful fashion can be and that it is not just a case of well-made and expensive clothes. Fashion is so rich and it is such an amazing occupation because we can draw on so many different sources of inspiration – just as a hummingbird feeds on a multitude of flowers. – Dries van Noten • The retriever took each bit of meat from his master’s hand with a delicacy almost equal to that of a hummingbird sipping sugar water from a garden feeder, and when it was all gone, he gazed up at Dusty with an adoration that could not have been much less than the love with which the angels regard God. – Dean Koontz • There is a difference between our wisdom and nature’s simplicity. That reflects the burden of a complex intelligence. A complex intelligence like ours is impotent compared to the intelligence of a monarch butterfly migrating from Canada to Mexico, or the intelligence of hummingbirds that have co-evolved with the flowers all along their migration route. That seems so simple; it just happens, it just unfolds. – Alison Hawthorne Deming • There’s as much chance of repealing the Eighteenth Amendment as there is for a hummingbird to fly to the planet Mars with the Washington Monument tied to its tail. – Morris Sheppard • They always mean beautiful things like hummingbirds. I always reply by saying that I think of a little child in east Africa with a worm burrowing through his eyeball. The worm cannot live in any other way, except by burrowing through eyeballs. I find that hard to reconcile with the notion of a divine and benevolent creator. – David Attenborough • Up north, you could find these radio stations with no name on the dials that played pre-rock ‘n’ roll things – country blues. We would hear Slim Harpo or Lightnin’ Slim and gospel groups, the Dixie Hummingbirds, the Five Blind Boys of Alabama. I was so far north, I didn’t even know where Alabama was. – Bob Dylan • We at Google have made tremendous advances in understanding language. Our knowledge graph has been fundamental to that. The new algorithm that we launched today called Hummingbird has been a great leap forward. – Amit Singhal • We spend so much time, these days, on forms of literature that don’t rise to be literature, and I’m speaking about Twitter posts and quick and hot takes on different websites. We sort of zoom from thing to thing like a hummingbird. – Ben H. Winters • We’re constantly being bombarded by problems that we face and sometimes we can get completely overwhelmed. [But] we should always feel like a hummingbird. I may feel insignificant, but I don’t want to be like the other animals watching the planet go down the drain. I’ll be a hummingbird, I’ll do the best I can. – Wangari Maathai • We’ve all led raucous lives, some of them inside, some of them out. But only the poem you leave behind is what’s important. Everyone knows this. The voyage into the interior is all that matters, Whatever your ride. Sometimes I can’t sit still for all the asininities I read. Give me the hummingbird, who has to eat sixty times His own weight a day just to stay alive. Now that’s a life on the edge. – Charles Wright • When I did the Abyssinian mass, I went through the whole history of the church music and the gospel music, even with the Anglo American hymns, the Afro American hymns, the spirituals and how it developed, up to Thomas Dorsey and the Dixie Hummingbirds, going through the history of the music, jazz musicians. – Wynton Marsalis • when you are convinced that all the exits are blocked, either you take to believing in miracles or you stand still like the hummingbird. The miracle is that the honey is always there, right under your nose, only you were too busy searching elsewhere to realize it. The worst is not death but being blind, blind to the fact that everything about life is in the nature of the miraculous. – Henry Miller • You are Life passing through your body, passing through your mind, passing through your soul. Once you find that out, not with logic, not with the intellect, but because you can feel that Life-you find out that you are the force that makes the flowers open and close, that makes the hummingbird fly from flower to flower. You find out that you are in every tree, and you are in every animal, vegetable, and rock. You are that force that moves the wind and breathes through your body. The whole universe is a living being that is moved by that force, and that is what you are. You are Life. – Miguel Angel Ruiz • You are so high in the tree.If you jumpyou will live a full lifewhile falling.You will get marriedto a hummingbirdand raise beautiful part- hummingbirds. You will die of cancerin mid-air. I will not lie. It will be painful. You are a brave little boyor girl. – Zachary Schomburg

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equitiesstocks · 6 years ago

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Hummingbirds Quotes

Official Website: Hummingbirds Quotes

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