#sparkroot

[thefearsomefangirl]

I'm soft for many ships, and I like Liquiroot and Quackervolt as much as next FF fangirl xD but...

but I have to admit...

⚡️ 🧪 <- this two... are doing too many things to my brain lately

I'm going to explore this more: Two awkwards nerds in love... different science fields, but they're scientists non the less. Both can speak to beens who cannot speak for themselves. They both know what it is to been bullied and rejected... and then, what it is to been affected by an experiment (the most important project of their lives).

So, yeah, I can see these two getting along in New ways xD

And that is my QUEST now hahaha

(Side quest is to find a good name for their ship xD I've been jealous of how silly and nice sounds Play Thyme for QJ x Reggie insted of the typical Quackeroot hahaha bushvolt and Megaroot are too on the nose (like many are :,) ) Electric Root; Bulb friends, Flash Leaf, Flower Shock, Clash lab... now I'm rambling... point is, if someone have a good name, please tell me)

[prabhugikwad1987]

https://www.linkedin.com/company/sparkroot-solutions/

[vegcats-blog]

You’ll never know what you’ll find on an adventure! This comes from Congress in Downtown Tucson. Sparkroot, a very lovely coffee shop and breakfast haven, has made this wonderful Vegan biscuits and gravy along with the beautiful cup of soy hot chocolate. Best. Breakfast. Ever! #uofa #uavegcats #vegan #sparkroot

https://www.instagram.com/p/BSyyGJ8gsox/

[jojoseames]

Heat Wave is one of my favorite MetaZoo: Wilderness spell cards; just had a lot of fun with it. Since the Gee-Gee Bird is a cryptid that's all about being miserably cold, of course I had to use it for a card all about being miserably hot. Poor boy just can't catch a break!

Originally, I was going to draw Gee-Gee holding a fan, and I was asked to put a plant or flower on it as a design. I think. I drew the Kindling Sparkroot on the fan as a pattern, as it's the only plant of the Flame aura (I think?) Something Frost themed would make more sense to put on a fan, to make one think cool thoughts, but that might have ended up reading incorrectly, giving the sense that the meaning of the card is cooling down when one is hot, instead of an overwhelming heat that makes the idea of a refreshing breeze into a fool's dream. Anyway, I don't know if I misunderstood the request, or if it was asked oddly, or if someone changed their mind after seeing the pencils, but I was asked to change it again, to replace the fan entirely with a leaf used for the same purpose. I used the same leaf that the Snipe carries around as an umbrella.

I also added the Belled Buzzard into the background just because I like that cryptid and felt that the composition needed one more little something in there.

[annesembroidery]

6 #puffyjackets for @sparkroot.. #embroidering #embroidery For the #holidays #christmasgifts & #festivusfortherestofus (at Anne's Embroidery) https://www.instagram.com/p/B6QvI-slAcH/?igshid=9fccw78m50an

[innervoiceartblog]

GETTING LEAPT: GODS HIDE IN ROUGH PLACES (rain spattered notes from journal)

"All human life on earth would change if we navigated our journeys deity to deity, not grid direction, zip code or sat nav." *** Ok, there's something of a hallucinatory grind to this isn't there? I appreciate it's hardly jail time, but it does work on us none the less. A fulsome pint of Guinness, eccentric friends and a pub garden have taken on an Eden like quality of imagining. It may be I have wandered the moor a little (and not been within 150 yards of a soul). It may be I have been stalking a hare. In the very early morning I got to old Crockern Tor and made libations for those near and far. All our kids got an extra slash of Lagavulin on the granite, and now feel much better about everything. The Moors: Mewy country, Plymn country, Yealm country, solitary Erme country, Avon country, Swincombe country, Blacka Brook country, Cowsic country, West Dart country, East Dart country, Double Dart country, the South-East desolate, the Eastern Highlands, West Webburn country, East Webburn country, Ashburn country, Lemon country, Bovey country, South Teign country, North Teign country, Taw country, East Ockment country, West Ockment country, Lyd country, Tavy country, Waltham country, and the wildest, roughest-glory country of all: Metheral brook, Maish Hill brook, Great Mire stream, Cheriton Coombe water. Before all of that naming there would have been a goddess at at every turn of the river, every beat of a fishing pool, and our very survival was learning the particular libations of the particular denizen. You gulp Ockment water, you better know the holy tit from which it so lovingly pours. Big Thoughts Of The Day : * All human life on earth would change if we navigated our journeys deity to deity, not grid direction, zip code or sat nav. So, the old names of places. * In some of these naming's, all crushed and upside down, are the gods, calling to get out. Crack the egg of a place-name, free the yoke of its power. I chivvy my processional of words out to the dingly danger of Hangershiel Rock, Dreshelcum, Braitor, Vurtor, Lether, Braitor. Who picked over you to lovingly score your dirt with these pungent names? At the end of pre-history the high moor got empty of people, changes in weather made crop growing impossible, and it became the kingdom of wolf, osprey, pole cat, badger, fox, adder, pine marten, boar, lynx, white-tailed eagle, a flood of wild ponies. When did these names crawl into use? Were they muttered in the old Celtic forts, before the roofs became mulch, lodge poles rotted, and children no longer collected water from our streams? Before the relentless rain and bleak cold swathed the moor, before the great eviction, was a word or two collected, to make a sound-house for a Goddess? A resting hut? I suspect not say the linguists. But some hid Celtic Goddess’s from the Saxons in their jaw. I know they did. The deities crawled up all fragrenty into our mouth and we nodded and say nothing of the paradise between our teeth. * Every story I’ve ever told is done to keep her company. True fact. LEAP OR HOP? Artists are waiting to Get Leapt. When Dermot was placed under magical bonds to elope with Grainne, he became Hare when he leapt the walls of the compound. He knew the ground he launched himself from, but where he would land he could not tell. He leapt a hero, and landed an outlaw. Every island Odysseus came to was a leap; in consciousness, character, substance. And he needed hare-tongue to twist and turn his way through whatever he may encounter. He bragged once to blinded cyclops and that did him damage for years. He rarely blurted after that. He learnt to go from somebody to nobody. Hare knows about that kind of camouflage. So us, here today, in lockdown. Are we going to leap, or are we going to hop? Culture is being forced to leap at this moment, but we run grievous risk of a rabbit hop back to safety not a hare leap into the deeper life. But in the quiet, restless now, some are glimpsing the fires of Ithaca, maybe for the first time. They are going to need sea legs, old captains, scrappy maps and strange intent. HARE: THE FELLOW IN THE RAIN He’s not a bridge, not a guarantee, but a collapsing ladder, a scalding pan, something brilliant you heard and eternally misquote. She places her paw on your pen as you think up your spiritual franchise and scats on the publishing contract. He waits patiently for his master in the shadows of Gethsemane, and was the first out of Eden with a tinny and toothbrush. Those big teeth you see. Hare understands his prescribed ordainment in the witty fever of life, she knows her gig, delights in his obscuration, changes the story, the record, the mantra, his name. I swear Hare is in the hay at Bethlehem silent knyghting the whole thing from somewhere back in the stable. In her calm, weird eyes, she looks at the baby born in the glow of animals and knows peace. Don’t ever say her naturalness is not beautiful to him, don’t even try it. Hare officially approves this message. If we chivvy open the coffin of half our heroes we’re going to find Hares. HARE I seen you nibble on seaweed and conifer leaves, lie still like a sun-browned plank all afternoon in the meadow, yet would not be dragged by your ears into a field sullied by rabbits. People say you are cold, but I heard the shriek as the kestrel hovered over your babies. The hawk will always win - so swift in bashing air - but I saw you punch one sideways as it lifted your wriggling kin. I seen you box to your death, skull caved and spit-chewed, upright and moon-drunk as the bigger bastard kills you but can’t murder your spirit. Can’t be done, to kill the spirit of the hare. I seen three Welsh farmers stuff the barrels of their guns with the root Black Bryony and still you stay stock as the air trilled with the deadly twigs. Not one hit you, just withered like their cocks as you showed them pandemonium. It’s not cold to fight like that, not cold at all. ~ Copyright Martin Shaw 2020 www.cistamystica.com A shout out to Rima and Tom at Hedgespoken books, Deja Hu and James Murray-White and Karis Petty holding a virtual, rocking Into The Wild Festival this weekend, Alisa Esposito at Sparkroot Farm planting many good things, Carla Stang over at Imaginal Futures, and the literally THOUSANDS of you showing up with your most dastardly, wayward, brilliant selves at this moment of magnitude. Only good things to you.

[malumprospera]

Ah! I've never seen an herb like this before. Tell me, what does it do?

“Ah, that..” He stares up from picking at his nails for a moment, before he clears his throat and sits up.

“It’s called sparkroot - Circuses use it in their firebreathing acts a lot, and it causes a rather strong explosion in the right mixture. I only have a bit as it is rare and somewhat dangerous if improperly handled.”

“Are you interested?”

[rentitnow-blog]

[thefearsomefangirl]

"I TOLD YOU TO MAKE YOU A FRIEND! NOT TO STEAL THE HIGH TECH ONE OF SCROOGE MCDUCK'S HEAD SCIENTIST!" Shout Buhroot in panic recognizing Gearloose's Helper from the old papers of the University.

"Easy for you to say it. You can pick and choose a nice flower and call her your girlfriend, but the components for make me a best friend of my standards are a lot harder to find than just go out into the woods!" Reply back Megavolt, still struggling to keep still his new best friend. The little one was a fighter. He liked that.

"Why you..." Reginald, behind him, try to think in a nice way to explain in very few words (cuz they didn't have time for this) that he DID have standards and it wasn't as easy as to pick and choose a flower for making himself a companion. But since he couldn't find the words, and started to feel his face burning, choose to take another approach before saying anything he could regret.

"You should have ask Jack for help! I'm sure he has some spare parts of his toys that you cou—!

"I don't want spare parts anymore!" Shouted Megavolt with sparks bursting from his hands, whiskers and eyes. The sudden scream help to shock the Bulb, and finally set him off.

Bushroot stood silent. Still angry for the danger that bring such technology to the secret lab represented, but the hurted tone under those words froze him.

The plant mutant duck was about to say that he could understand that; that it was of course something he wanted for him, for them: true value, the real thing... but when a loud noise came from outside, he had to hold his tongue.

Bushroot and Megavolt shared a look for a second. And then, they nodded, recognizing in each other the look that told them than this talk could wait and the other was going to have their back in whatever that noise was.

And then they waited.

That was the worst part, because after a minute or two there was not smoke, not voice from the dark, not dramatic entrance. Nothing but a shadow in the corner. A shadow that was not Darkwing Duck's.

"You two kidnapped a friend of mine" said a quiet and strange new voice from the dark. A peculiar voice that they have been warned to encounter by old cell mates from Duckburg.

"Oh- oh..." said Bushroot, taking a step closer to Megavolt while the electric villain step up front and rise his hands in a defensive pose.

A short laugh could be heard in lab.

"Oh- oh is right, boys" said the voice, now with a humorous tone.

The stories were right, though Bushroot, looking to the ceiling while calling to his little friends underground to grow; that is strange voice for a hero.

-----------

Eh... I warned you they were taking over my brain. I wasn't going to publish it because I wanted to check my grammar, but... I really want you to tell me what you think hehehe

This is kinda a continuation of this train of thought + a little of my Sparkroot vision (that is a provisional name, btw)

...

(Please forgive the errors, is already hard for me to write in my native language (español), but this is the first actually snippet I write in English out of nowhere, so bare with me, and tell me if I get right my verbs xD)

[bbcpopup]

Another great meeting at Sparkroot coffee shop this morning. Vanessa Barchfield from Arizona Public Media gave us the lowdown on cycling around Tucson. “Beware of the trolley tracks.” 

[tucsonfoodie]

Eggs, Olive Oil, & Paprika on Toast at #Sparkroot in #Tucson. #tucsonfoodie (at Sparkroot)

[cathy-tea]

Vampire Code: The Cynda

Vampire Code: The Cynda

“What are they doing, Ama?” asked Sparkroot.

“Have a chat-chat-tickle-me!” laughed Rocket.

“They’re not having a tickle-fest,” said Cathy. “Though it does look like it,” she added as she glanced over to Jaclyn and Davion near the portico. “They’re getting married.”

After supper, while Jaclyn had helped Cathy wash the dishes, she’d leaned over and whispered, “Will you be my cynda?”

“Really?”…