#autumn olives

[melgillman]

It's autumn olive season on the east coast, so I figured I'd share one of my favorite pages from my fruit foraging zine! You can do your local ecosystem a solid this fall by eating this invasive fruit & helping curb its spread.

Read the whole zine here! https://ko-fi.com/s/bd38ecf5e4

[meetmeinthecity01]

[thomas--bombadil]

Goats, tantalized by wintery forest berries.

(rosehips, sumac and autumn olive)

[fatimazainab]

Mary Oliver, In Blackwater Woods

[visually-corrupted]

Rachel Cook

[cricket-approved]

I never needed anything more

Sylvia Plath- Abridged Journals // my august corn field // @diarygirls // my golden summer // Mary Oliver - The Pond // another photo of mine // @nobodysflower // unknown // @fortuneaday // Keaton St. James - September Affirmation (Don’t Be Afraid)

[petaltexturedskies]

Mary Oliver, from Roses, Late Summer

[fullcravings]

Pumpkin Olive Oil Cake

[tanyaluca]

Olive Tree...

Tanya Luca

[adrasteiax]

In the deep fall don’t you imagine the leaves think how comfortable it will be to touch the earth instead of the nothingness of air and the endless freshets of wind? (…)

Mary Oliver, from Song For Autumn in “New And Selected Poems: Volume Two”

[eruptedinlight]

I love the meditativeness of the enfleurage process and the result is always 👌🏽 but every year i forget how i am picking, pulling apart, and tweezering flowers every morning from April to July until my fingers are numb

[waiting-to-spill]

does anyone else think about oliver and james and just die inside because

oliver survived through prison because of the thought of seeing james again. and when he was finally out, james was gone.

so to him, there was no point in those long years.

[evankinard]

when someone said everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about they must have been talking about oliver stark specifically cause this man is always going through something and vague posting about it

[soisgentilleee]

♪ heartbreaker - the cardigans ♪

ೀ

[medusa8bit]

trees rot down to nothing, throats dry out; these promenades, our graveyards. 🍂

unreleased video shoot, november 2007 | photos by tom sykes

[julesofnature]

In the deep fall don’t you imagine the leaves think how comfortable it will be to touch the earth instead of the nothingness of air and the endless freshets of wind? And don’t you think the trees themselves, especially those with mossy, warm caves, begin to think of the birds that will come – six, a dozen – to sleep inside their bodies? And don’t you hear the goldenrod whispering goodbye, the everlasting being crowned with the first tuffets of snow? The pond vanishes, and the white field over which the fox runs so quickly brings out its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its bellows. And at evening especially, the piled firewood shifts a little, longing to be on its way. 'Song for Autumn', by Mary Oliver