#dried organic herbs for cats

[animalsandpetscare]

The Benefits of Healing Herbs for Dogs

Introduction

In recent years, there has been a growing interest in using natural remedies, such as healing herbs, to support the health and well-being of dogs. These herbs offer a holistic approach to veterinary care, providing a range of benefits without the potential side effects of conventional medications.

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Common Healing Herbs for Dogs

Turmeric

Turmeric contains curcumin, a compound known for its anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties. It can help alleviate symptoms of arthritis and joint pain in dogs.

Ginger

Ginger is well-known for its ability to soothe upset stomachs and aid digestion. It can be beneficial for dogs experiencing nausea or gastrointestinal issues.

Chamomile

Chamomile has calming properties that can help reduce anxiety and promote relaxation in dogs. It is often used to alleviate stress-related behaviors and promote better sleep.

Lavender

Lavender has a calming and soothing scent that can help dogs relax and relieve anxiety. It is commonly used in aromatherapy and can be beneficial for dogs with separation anxiety or nervousness.

Echinacea

Echinacea is a powerful immune booster that can help strengthen the immune system and support overall health in dogs. It is often used to prevent and treat infections.

Benefits of Healing Herbs for Dogs

Using healing herbs for dogs offers a range of benefits, including:

Anti-inflammatory properties: Many herbs, such as turmeric and ginger, have natural anti-inflammatory properties that can help reduce inflammation and pain associated with conditions like arthritis.

Digestive support: Herbs like ginger and chamomile can aid digestion and soothe gastrointestinal upset, making them useful for dogs with sensitive stomachs or digestive issues.

Anxiety relief: Herbs like chamomile and lavender have calming properties that can help reduce anxiety and stress in dogs, promoting a sense of calmness and relaxation.

Immune system boost: Herbs like echinacea can strengthen the immune system and help dogs fight off infections and illness, keeping them healthy and resilient.

Skin and coat health: Certain herbs, such as lavender, can help soothe and heal skin irritations and promote a healthy, shiny coat in dogs.

Administration and Dosage Guidelines

When using healing herbs for dogs, it's important to consider the form of administration and recommended dosage:

Forms of administration: Healing herbs for dogs are available in various forms, including capsules, tinctures, teas, and topical preparations. The form chosen may depend on the dog's preference and the condition being treated.

Recommended dosage: Dosage guidelines for healing herbs can vary depending on the dog's size, age, and health condition. It's essential to follow recommended dosage instructions provided by a veterinarian or herbalist to ensure safe and effective use.

Potential side effects and precautions: While healing herbs are generally safe for dogs, some may experience side effects or adverse reactions. It's important to monitor dogs closely for any signs of discomfort or allergic reactions and discontinue use if necessary. Additionally, certain herbs may interact with medications or underlying health conditions, so it's essential to consult with a veterinarian before starting any herbal treatment regimen.

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Consultation with a Veterinarian

Before using healing herbs for dogs, it's crucial to consult with a veterinarian:

Importance of seeking professional advice: A veterinarian can provide valuable guidance and recommendations for using healing herbs safely and effectively. They can assess the dog's health condition, provide personalized treatment recommendations, and monitor progress over time.

Integration with conventional veterinary care: Herbal remedies can complement conventional veterinary care and may be integrated into a comprehensive treatment plan for dogs with chronic conditions or specific health concerns.

Tailoring treatment plans: A veterinarian can tailor treatment plans to meet the individual needs of each dog, taking into account factors such as age, breed, health status, and any underlying medical conditions. They can also provide guidance on selecting the most appropriate herbs and dosage regimen for optimal results.

In conclusion, healing herbs offer a natural and holistic approach to supporting the health and well-being of dogs. By incorporating herbs like turmeric, ginger, chamomile, lavender, and echinacea into their care routines, dog owners can provide their furry companions with a range of benefits, from pain relief and digestive support to anxiety relief and immune system boost. However, it's essential to consult with a veterinarian before starting any herbal treatment regimen to ensure safe and effective use. With proper guidance and supervision, healing herbs can be a valuable addition to a dog's healthcare toolkit, promoting overall wellness and vitality.

DISCLAIMER

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[antebunny]

Witchers v administration

[part one] this is part two of warlord!Geralt facing his mortal weakness: administrative warfare. Feat. soap-making, lots of food, and witchers getting to enjoy soft things.

-

To date, Lambert is credited as the one who brought feasting to Kaer Morhen. It’s entirely on accident, of course. But it’s not entirely untrue, either. But the story belongs to a human. A woman, three decades of age, by the name of Olga, born and raised in Novigrad’s crowded lower middle class districts. 

Olga first met Lambert on a beautiful spring day, bearing none of the storybook flower-blossom romance such days promised, but all of the pollen and drizzling showers. Like every other morning, she drags her cart out to the crowded streets of Novigrad’s morning markets, and sets up shop. Soon enough, the sun is fully out and so are the citizens of Novigrad. Smells of all kinds permeate the drizzly atmosphere. Fire smoke, charred meat, fresh fish and a thousand other organic scents waft past Olga’s cart. 

But her wares carry the strongest of scents: dried rosemary, thyme, coriander, cloves and more. All wrapped up in little bundles, set out along the surface of her cart for those middle class people who wish to enjoy some spices in their meals, but cannot indulge in the spice overdoses of nobility or upper classes. 

It’s a slow morning. Olga begins to grow antsy as the hours wear by. Growing herbs is not terribly expensive, once one has gotten started, but she would like to know why today her customers seem to have disappeared.

“You got this?”

At least, it was a slow morning. A tall man with red hair shoves a piece of paper in Olga’s face. She blinks twice, but really, it’s no use. Olga is not blind, but her vision is extremely poor. The man may as well have shoved a blank piece of paper at her.

“I can’t read,” Olga replies, vaguely puzzled at who exactly this man is. 

His red hair seems rather unkempt, certainly not upper class at all, but surely only nobility would assume that someone like her can read. Nearly everyone Olga knows is illiterate. Perhaps if Olga could make out the finer details of the dark clothes the man is wearing, she would know more about his profession. As it is, all she sees is a vaguely black blur, and since he is so much taller than her, she does not even bother to look at his face. 

“It’s a drawing,” says the man.

“I can’t see,” Olga amends.

The man grunts and brings the paper closer to his own face. “Do you have thy…me,” he tries. 

His rough demeanor makes Olga think of a tradesman, but she can’t think of a tradesman that doesn’t even know what he’s trying to buy.

Olga runs through every herb and spice in her inventory. She can’t think of a single thing. “What is it?”

“A plant,” the redhead says, frustrated. “It’s got…” he makes a spreading gesture with his hands. “Uh. Some fuckin’…needles or something.”

A plant with needles. And he came to an herb seller. Unfortunately, that describes a lot of Olga’s products, so both of them are forced to wait an uncomfortable twenty minutes until Olga can get ahold of Marjon, the bookkeeper and the only person of Olga’s acquaintance who can read. He can also see, however, or has close enough to average vision that he stops in his tracks when he sees Olga’s redhead customer.

“Witcher,” Marjon whimpers. 

Olga suspects it was meant to sound more like an accusation. It’s not. But it’s a revelation, for her. She finally cranes her neck up to study the redhead’s face, and sure enough, his eyes are unnaturally bright and yellowy. If they look like a cat’s, well, she can’t tell. And she knows now that the two dark things on his back are a pair of swords, not the traveling equipment she thought it was.

Perhaps she ought to feel more fear, but Olga has managed a perfectly civil interaction with the Witcher thus far. Mostly she’s just confused about what this Witcher wants with her herbs.

“Could you read the damn paper, please Marjon.” Olga interrupts whatever tense, manly standoff Marjon and the Witcher are engaged in.

The Witcher thrusts the paper at Marjon, who accepts with trembling hands. All three wait impatiently for Marjon to finish scanning the sheet.

“Thyme,” says Marjon finally.

“The fuck,” the Witcher says blankly. “It’s spelled with a Y.”

Olga would not have guessed that Witchers can read. She had never wondered such a thing before this morning. But she wonders now if all of them can read or this one. She wonders how and why they learned, and, if Witchers can hold a non-violent if gruff conversation with a no-name marketplace vendor, what else she’s been told about Witchers is untrue.

“Well,” Olga says, “You’re in luck, Mr. Witcher–”

“Lambert.”

“Mr. Lambert,” Olga corrects on the fly. “I just harvested my thyme.” She indicates the left-most bundle on her cart. “Dried and packaged. How much would you like?”

She had not thought that Witchers were the type to season their food. Then again, since Lambert was clearly sent out by someone to buy thyme, perhaps they are not. She wonders who in the world had a craving for herb seasoning and the ability to command a Witcher to buy them some.

Lambert shrugs. “I don’t fuckin’ know. A normal amount.”

“Well, it’s for cooking, right?” Olga goes out on a limb. “How many people?”

“Is it?” Lambert scratches his nose. “I just followed the smell.”

“I–yeah. Uh, yeah. Thyme is food. Seasoning. Food. Yeah.” Olga’s brain blanks for a second as she processes the idea of Witchers following scents like a hunting dog. It sort of makes sense, with what they say of Witcher mutations. Sounds useful for them. “Uh. So. How many?”

“Couple hundred.”

Olga looks down at her sad little cart. She should maybe be thinking about the implication that Lambert is part of the White Wolf’s army. Surely there’s no other reason for a Witcher to need to season the food of hundreds of people. Instead, her brain works out the logistics of growing enough herbs and spices for everyone. The cost calculation comes in at way too high.

“Well, fuck me.”

Lambert barks out a laugh, startling everyone in the nearby vicinity and scaring away poor Marjon, who had already inching away from them. He sizes up her cart. “I’ll buy everything,” he decides.

“Herbs are not substitutable,” Olga fusses. “You can’t just replace thyme with anything you like! And they don’t all go together. Thyme and rosemary are very nice on chicken of all sorts, but adding oregano is a bit too much, and paprika is also great on chicken but not with thyme and rosemary, but thyme and rosemary are also good with pork, and cloves are good for soups while–”

“Say,” Lambert interrupts, a strange light on his inhuman eyes, “want a job?”

And Olga, ever impulsive, agrees.

The thing is, Lambert is as impulsive as she is. Olga arrives in Kaer Morhen to find she is now in charge of feeding every Witcher and human in the castle every single day. It is sheer luck that Olga used to work as an herbalist in noble houses before she left that stability for the whims of the market. There, at least, she was subject to the whims of coin purses rather than the tempers of her masters. 

The good news is that the Witchers have absolutely no idea what they should be doing as lords of the castle, and as such there are no expectations for Olga. Moreover she can run the kitchens how she likes. Unexpectedly being appointed head chef for the Witchers is not how Olga thought she would spend her thirty-fifth birthday. 

The bad news is that she is the only cook in Kaer Morhen. The thyme, it turns out, was requested by a Redanian bard by the name of Jaskier, who missed the taste of seasoning on his food. Since she has free reign, Olga puts in her job requests with Eskel, who in turns asks the Witchers venturing out of Kaer Morhen to be on the lookout. Soon enough, they come back with a baker, whose life was saved by a Witcher from a drowner that killed her family. A butcher, ostracized by her community, picked up by a pair of Griffin Witchers. Another baker, who had no life-changing story with Witchers to speak of, but a positive interaction as a young boy and no family to speak of. 

By the time the sorceresses finish helping Olga set up her greenhouse, Kaer Morhen has six cooks, two of whom moved their entire families to Kaer Morhen. Most are truly desperate and alone, to willingly journey into the halls of which many horror stories are told. Only rarely do humans believed strongly enough in the goodness of Witchers to bring their loved ones to Kaer Morhen. And the Witchers never bring people who are truly afraid.

There are less Witchers than Olga imagined. When people told tales of the White Wolf’s army, she’d pictured the streets of Novigrad flooded with yellow-eyed monsters instead of market vendors. Down every lane and alley, tall and burly men with wolf-like teeth and a craving for human flesh. It all seems so silly, looking back. Even the largest of Witcher schools–for they have divisions, even amongst the Witchers–has no more than a few dozen people. Add to that a handful of humans (two sorceresses, one bard, two seamstresses, a stonemason, a laundress and a gardener spirited away from a noble house in Kovir), and Olga isn’t so overwhelmed with people to feed. 

Kaer Morhen keeps goats, and a growing number of pigs and chicken. The gardener starts a squash patch behind the castle. Olga adds vegetables of all seasons to her rotation of crops. Every once in a while a Witcher goes out to hunt for rabbit and other game, or they slaughter one of the sheep, and they have pumpkin lamb stew for dinner. The Witchers are always bringing back odd bits and bobs. Dried grapes from far south, for example, called raisins by Jaskier, which the bakers add to their morning round of bread-making. 

Sourcing their food is not a problem. The real problem is that their food sources are wildly inconsistent. On some days, Yennefer leads a herd of cattle through a portal and they feast like kings on roasted tomatoes and braised beef shank seasoned with rosemary and sage. On other days, all they have to offer is potato soup. So long as everyone gets fed, it’s alright. The Witchers, certainly, never so much as hint at a complaint.

“I can’t believe they used to cook their food in the main hall,” their butcher, a big man not so dissimilar in form from the Witchers himself, says one day.

Olga steps back from the ovens and wipes her brow. She’s still unused to this form of cooking, but they’ve all had to learn everyone else’s trade. “Mhm. It was every man for himself. Roasting rabbit over a makeshift campfire. Or making porridge.”

Yolan chuckles at the mental image. “Unbelievable.”

The cooks survey the rows of roaring ovens, working away on the racks of rabbit, pheasant and chicken. To the side, bucket after wooden bucket is filled to the brim with bloody rabbit fur, feathers, feet and the like. They still haven’t found a tanner, but all the Witchers know how to work fur onto clothes and feathers into arrows. They are used to being self-sufficient. 

“Still can’t believe this is the best castle I’ve ever worked for,” Fetrov, one of the bakers, throws in. He wipes his flour-sticky hands on his apron. 

Fetrov was the only one of them who knew how to bread chicken, and even though he’s taught all of them, he still breaded a good half of the meat in the ovens right now. Before Kaer Morhen he worked for a Redanian nobleman who was overly handsy with all of his staff, men and women alike. The Witchers, apparently, could smell their discomfort, and before they knew it they all found themselves in need of a new employer. But Fetrov was the only one to accept their job offer. He had not hoped for better, but he’d also had nothing to return to. 

As they did with every human, the Witchers had completely surprised Fetrov. They’d nearly rioted when he and Elyise (the other baker) put raisins in their bread loaves. Eskel tried to offer them some of the White Wolf’s treasure, from the many offerings of jewels and other delicacies given as tribute by terrified kings. 

“I can,” says Elyise. She’d brought her husband, a yeoman by the name of Ivarn, with her to Kaer Morhen. “When you live on the move, fresh bread is a delicacy.”

Fetrov scoffs. “As if dining on delicacies has stopped any noble from being horrible.”

“Hear, hear,” the others chorus. 

About an hour later, the long tables of Kaer Morhen’s great hall are swarming with sweaty Witchers. Each of them swings by the kitchens to grab their plate, silverware, etc. and bring it up the short staircase to the main hall. Kaer Morhen still doesn’t have any servers, and none of the six cooks can be spared to set the table. Initially the humans who brought their children to the castle thought that they would be put to work as table servers, but every Witcher who was told of that idea looked offended or outraged at the notion that Witchers were incapable of serving themselves. Children learn, train, practice and play in Kaer Morhen, but they do not work. 

Within a few minutes, the Witchers have piled into the benches, talking and laughing loudly. Mead, beer and wine slosh back and forth in the weirdest collection of cups ever seen. They tear into their supper like a horde of starving beasts. None of the cooks have ever felt more appreciated.

“Is this what it’s like to be a noble,” marvels Keldar, a Griffin Witcher. 

The Witchers around him take an extra second to examine the food on their plates. Crispy breaded chicken, seasoned with parsley, basil and black pepper. Each person gets only one piece, but there’s also sliced cucumber, roasted rabbit, cheese, rye bread, blackberry spread, a mysterious green paste which some Witchers are putting on their meat and others are putting on their bread, and White Gull. Very few of them had to hunt for their food. None of them had to cook. In fact, all of them were kicked out of the kitchens while the cooks got busy. None of them understand what it is they’ve done to earn free suppers like this. 

“Oh, absolutely not,” says Jaskier.

“Eh, close enough,” says Erland of Larvik.

Across from him, Kristov (also of the Griffins) raises his mug in a mostly sincere toast. “I still can’t believe it.” 

“Hear, hear,” the others chorus. 

The feeling, it seems, is mutual.  

But Olga left family behind in Novigrad. Now that she has come to see the Witchers as a sort of family, she would never betray them. Yet she still aches for her true family, so every once in a while, Olga accompanies a pair or trior of Witchers whose Path takes them past Novigrad. During each of her visits, Olga struggles to balance her desire to tell the truth of the Witchers with the secrecy of their lives. 

Part of what makes Kaer Morhen so strong is the unmatched loyalty of its inhabitants. Every other castle sees workers, servants and employees come and go. Every other castle has nobles, head servants, and people in positions of authority abusing their power over others. Spies, double-crossers, people looking to make extra coin; anyone might be convinced to sell their secrets for the right price. 

Such treachery is not true of Kaer Morhen. All the common person knows of Kaer Morhen is that it houses a fearsome army of Witchers. Their leader is the White Wolf, the most fearsome of all, named for his stark white hair. Spymasters, mages, kings, and those in the business of information, also know of Viscount Julian Pankratz, sent as tribute by the Redanians. Some have schemed unsuccessfully to get their own nobles implanted in Kaer Morhen, viewing the Redanians’ venture as a victory. Others believe the viscount met a vile end at the hands of the White Wolf. Most know that he has become the White Wolf’s beloved, but most believe he is beloved the way a wolf loves a deer. Ripping its throat out tenderly. Licking the blood off its dying body. Violence, sex and love: three radically different concepts with but one meaning to monsters. A few know that he has become Jaskier the bard. None know the inner workings of Kaer Morhen.

It is Olga’s responsibility, when in Novigrad, to keep these workings a secret. Everything from the much-loved hot springs to the bags of flour carried over the shoulders of miffed Witchers who have no idea how bread is made. Still, she can’t help but argue in favor of the Witchers. Even though she knows the danger of advertizing her knowledge of Kaer Morhen. Even though many refuse to believe that she’s ever set foot in Kaer Morhen, or refuses to believe a word of what she says about the Witchers. 

On one such stay in Novigrad, Olga picks up a young seamstress by the name of Vasilisa. She is not insanely impulsive, as Olga is (or was, to join Kaer Morhen the way she did), but perhaps too curious for her own good. For Vasilisa, despite having a family of her own, accepts an offer to work in Kaer Morhen as a seamstress. 

And for a while, it is okay. Vasilisa assists in the development of Kaer Morhen’s black dye, getting her hands deep in monster guts. She washes clothes with Triss’s “blue smell” soap suds, sews sturdy shirts and learns to repair armor. They get a leatherworker who teaches all the seamstresses the basics of how to make shoes, and Vasilisa figures out how to work in embroidery to her boots. She sews dresses and sleep shifts and puts in her own requests for colored threads and fabric and the like. The Witchers all know how to sew–to be self-reliant, one has to be able to mend one’s own clothes, shoes and armor, after all–but none of them can make soft shirts and snug boots quite like the humans of Kaer Morhen. 

It is so much better than she had feared. The other humans become her friends and Vasilisa loses her reservations around Witchers the more she comes to love the hot springs. But it was still the wrong decision. And eventually, Vasilisa has had enough.

“I want to quit,” Vasilisa confides in Cenna, their laundress and as the original human in the clothing department their head tailor as well. “Can I quit?”

“Well, of course you can, dear,” Cenna replies easily. 

The sewing circle, now five strong, share a room deep in Kaer Morhen for their work where they can speak in private. Everyone looks at Vasilisa in surprise at her announcement, for she has seemed nothing but happy in her time at Kaer Morhen.

“What happened?” Questions the tailor, a young man by the name of Vilkor. “Did one of the Witchers do something?”

“No, nothing,” Vasilisa denies. She sets her embroidery aside. “Or rather, everything. I have loved it here, truly. But I miss my family, and I miss the markets of Novigrad. I miss having a quiet dinner with my family, and getting contracts for dresses and cloaks, instead of watching out for hidden knives they forgot to remove and–oh, everything, really. It is not for me. I know that now.”

The others all nod along. Kaer Morhen’s communal style of living simply isn’t for everyone. Some of them, who lack any other place to go, simply have to adjust. But Vasilisa, who left family behind in Novigrad and came, in part, for the adventure, wants to go home. It should not be a problem. And yet.

“But the secrets,” Vasilisa continues. “I mean, I know everything.”

That isn’t quite true, but what she knows could make the best spymasters go mad with envy. The names of half the Witchers, the range of their abilities, how they like their ale, how they take their bread. What potions they take that make their eyes turn black, and how long the effects take to wear off. What weapons they carry, and where they are typically sewn into their clothes. It is fatally dangerous knowledge to carry.

“And no one’s ever quit before,” Vasilisa concludes. “They’ve never let anyone who knows them to just…leave. Have they?”

They have not. It is a terrible test. The Witchers will swear that they hold no one against their will here; anyone who wishes to harm Kaer Morhen’s people is turned away or killed. But they cannot risk their people’s safety, and Vasilisa at the mercy of Redania and Temeria’s kings would be the greatest risk of all. Therein lies the first true test of Kaer Morhen’s mettle. 

[brokoala-soup]

I think my aesthetic might be something along the lines of cottagecore and light academia with a tinge of Studio Ghibli and bits and pieces of chaotic academia. So this includes:

classical music blaring out of cheap speakers, homemade food served in reused takeout containers, half dying houseplants in everything but traditional flower pots, the fragrance of jasmine and mint, mirrors reflecting sunlight on to disorganised bookshelves with the most random collection of books, soups in glassware, gel pen doodles all over my notes, herbal teas in whiskey glasses, locally sourced incense sticks, handmade woolen blankets over commercially sold quilts, baking granola bars on a lazy sunday afternoon, adding chocolate to literally everything, mid day naps when the weather is cloudy yet humid, ribbon ties instead of stapler pins, making my own spice powders, scented oil lamps, being obsessed with cloves, sleeping on a bed full of pillows only to find over half of them on the floor next morning, missing alarms because closing my eyes for two more seconds won't make me fall asleep again, picking flowers and herbs from the garden, sleepy afternoons, careful skincare but with the most day to day products, eucalyptus oil, use and throw inhalers to deal with my anxiety because the smell of menthol calms me down, short nails and neutral manicure, smelling like flowers one day and like the sea the other, getting excited whenever I spot the moon, absolutely in awe and in love with the clouds because they're amazing and so creative, puppies, calligraphy using ball pens, homemade mocha latte using soya milk, my grandma's childhood earrings that I wear all the time, newspapers, organic vegetables sold by retired social workers, tote bags, reusable metal water bottles, hot showers and cold rinses, using my grandmother's favorite brand of soap because I love smelling like her, herbal hair oil, smelling like sandalwood, cooking pasta with the family, reading secondhand books, collecting fused light bulbs, pencil underlines, postcards, 1 am poetry, pop instrumentals and pensive journaling, benzene rings on page margins, berry flavoured cough syrup, baking bread, long walks, loud conversations, thrifting, e-books, chocolate wrappers hidden between dictionary pages, colourful periodic table prints, plushies, honey, fleece blankets, sleeping cats, signet ring, dried rose I'd bought for myself and carried around like a trophy travelling back home with it in the public bus, twinning perfumes coincidentally with my best friend, vintage looking brand new ink pen and expired ink, sticky notes with motivational quotes covering my wall, never buying perfumes and only using the ones I'm gifted, random words that remind me of niche incidents or memories written along the corners of my study material, pearl jewelry set that my dad gifted my mom but it's me who wears it now, combat boots bought at ¼th it's price at a discount clearance sale, all my jackets being bought from different countries by my dad and thus each serving as a token of memory, lipstick shades that match only extremely specific vibes and look off and odd at other times, cherry lip balm stick that I've used only twice, daily calendar sheets reused as a notepad, birthday candles from my 16th birthday sitting on my work table, the lingering smell of multiple beverages in my room because I seldom wash the cups I drank them from and now they're cluttered all over the room, hand me down luxury watches older than me, chipped nailpolish, reminders written down on tissue papers, bus tickets all over my bag, sugar-free chewing gum, deodorant that never washes off my clothes, wearing clothes purchased 5 years ago and getting compliments simply because it's not trendy but is unique, mini origami cranes, rose sprays, lychee scented sanitizer, baking bread at home on weekends, homemade hair masks, turning up late because i was busy enjoying life walking through the eucalyptus grove on the way to class, running to the station yet missing the train, all my everyday ornaments having a deeper meaning to me.

[bonefall]

Previous anon, I just want to suggest that if you really want the cats to have cinnamon, you can have SkyClan steal it

Oh absolutely! I can always rely on my SkyClan to steal a particular thing I need-- but I try to limit the things they steal to the sorts of things that are obviously useful.

Like, let's imagine My Boy Reedclaw is breaking into a house for fun. Perfect scenario, too, the humans are gone, he has as much time as he needs and isn't trying to bolt quickly. He even remembered his basket that day!

He still has a limit, he can't fleece the whole house. He can't haul away anything too large or too heavy. He starts rooting through the cubbards and finds their spice rack... with no idea what is in these little plastic containers. He can recognize rosemary, THAT looks like dried parsley, and... is that cloves? He knows THAT is extremely toxic.

What kind of horrors do twolegs do on the daily if they have poisons in their spice supply? And there's dusts and powders of all scents and flavors. Something red, something yellow, he picks up the cinnamon shaker, gives it a lick, and starts gagging. Cinnamon challenge in real time. Ick!

At this point, Reedclaw would have just moved on. But, today he decides he wants to bring this back. He shoves the whole supply into his basket and ducks back out the way he came.

In front of SkyClan, he shakes out his haul.

The rosemary, parsley, they know what to do with that. But why would they even risk using the brown-coughpowder? They notice right away that cloves are part of this haul, any one of these unknown herbs could be a poison.

They could trial-and-error it, but that does risk Clanmates' health and safety. They don't know about the medicinal benefits before they do that. Lastly, it's a limited supply. You never know if the house you're going to break into is going to have cinnamon in the spice rack, if you did find out its uses.

No, SkyClan agrees that stealing from humans is a luxury, not something they should rely on.

There IS a medicine I like to imagine does get stolen from humans though... antibiotics. Kittypets learn quickly that some of the pills fed to them make them stop being sick, and they learn fast that this is something that Clan cats will trade for.

But it's something Clan cats have to be wary of; they can't tell pills apart from each other, and it's always a possibility that a kittypet lies and just exchanges any stolen bottle of vitamins for special food.

I like to think BloodClan actually has this down to a science, knowing exactly where to steal from, organizing raids, and most importantly, having its patrol leaders learn how to read, just a tiny bit

[xgoldxnhour]

‘you’ve been gone for hours.’ (Mrs & Mrs verse)

@mettleborn

Days off are hard to come by in this work, so, they take in stride—indulge in little hours of pretending of what could be assumed as normal. It was an early morning as she took a run on the East River path alongside all the other normal people on their normal routines. Most were on work calls or listening to latest weekly podcast of whatever hyperfixation was highlighted that week. Passing by careers, flourishing and downfalls, El couldn’t help but smile. It seemed nice but the separation was necessary. How none of these people know about what exactly happens right under their noses. Ignorance is bliss.

And on her way back, she found the community had set up their annual art & wine festival—right there out on the street only a mile or so up the road. Collaboration of farmers and their organic harvests and homebrewed wines and spirits. Artists of all forms and all backgrounds. A melting pot of cultures and expressions. Truly the embodiment of New York. So, she dilly dallied and moseyed along through every aisle and every tent to see what treasures lies behind them. There was an older woman named Sunny who made her own fermented ginger honey and ‘boozy pies’. Peach bourbon. Salted Whiskey Honey. Apple Pie Moonshine. She sparked up quite the conversation about her husband and how they exactly discovered this little passion project of theirs when they were little drunk and high and baking in the middle of the night. She then proceeded to ask El if she’s married and what he may like. “Oh, we drink. For sure.” El laughs with a tilted smile.

Walking through the door, bags in hand, she makes her way to the kitchen with her findings with John waiting. Pumpkin seems to make a kinder introduction as he rubs against her legs as he walks by. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you were waiting up on me.” There’s a tinge of sarcasm but far less than her usual jabs. It was the truth.

“Went on a run and made a couple of stops. There’s a whole…like…festival down the way. I got some lemons and sun dried tomatoes for that pasta dish I wanna try tonight.” Setting it down, she begins to unpack her adventure. There were a couple of other ingredients and fresh herbs for dinner and just to have. Some plant-based cat food that Pumpkin will probably ignore and a hefty slice of that Peach Bourbon pie. She wasn’t gonna buy a whole one in case Sonny was full of shit but didn’t hurt to try and share. Hell, they might love it. Imagine that. “Support local and all.”

She turns her head towards him, attempting to discern if he was actually angry or not. Anger, annoyance or genuine worry. Did they get a new mission unexpectedly? Mr. Hihi was pretty good at surprises. Slowly, she walks towards him, hands on her hips—leaning close. “Why? D’ya miss me, John?”

[quitethepirategal]

GIRL GANG AU HEADCANONS LETS GOOO

This au picks up right after her midlife verse, Recluse in Recovery.  Still working on how she got to the mainland or if she’s even on the mainland idk its a work in progress.  Shut up.

She doesn’t have her pet tiger Sasha in this au obviously. BUT she still has her little white cat Rosie! Rosie is an excellent morale booster and pest killer and will let almost everyone pet her. She’s normally a quiet, sleepy little thing.  But about once or twice a week she decides to be A Problem. She can do no wrong in Jessica’s eyes and as a result Jess actively ignores any complaints.

Her quarters are... a marvel. Imagine a tiny “plant mom” apartment from Pintrest, only its the 1700s and shoved into the corner of a boat. There’s a whole chest of textbooks, diagrams and illustrations are tacked to the wall, there are herbs and flowers hanging from every beam of the ceiling to dry, she has dried citrus by the window on a string, plants are hanging all along the widest wall, she’d started painting flowers on her other wall, there are pits and seeds in her jewelry box somehow, she has made plant pots out of things that should Absolutely Not Be Plant Pots, and there are jars and bottles of all kinds just... everywhere. She has a cot, as is the ship’s design, but its been claimed by all of her projects. Everything is just two seconds away from being a mess, her cot is a perpetual mess, but her desk is obsessively organized and pristine. It looks like a Ghibli room. There is a perpetual sprinkling of dirt and cat hair and some jars are literally just glued to the furniture and floor.

A very powerful aroma comes out from her quarters at all times. Is it a wonderful smell? Is it a terrible smell? WHO KNOWS! It over all smells like tea and dirt with a hint of compost.

Unsurprisingly, between the smell, the clutter, and the unusable cot, Jessica doesn’t actually sleep in her quarters apart from the rare occasion of falling asleep at her desk. Her quarters are more like her office, she works in there. But as for sleep? Jessica is a fucking goblin who can literally fall asleep anywhere. She likes to sleep on deck under the stars the most, or cuddled up to a crew mate if possible. But on far, far too many occasions some one will open an empty barrel or look under a fucking table and just...” Ah, there she is..” This is a 45 year old grown ass woman.... barreled. Unbelievable.

She loves fermentation and is on a mission to find every kind of pickle-able food and every kind of booze. Those experiments are usually kept below deck and half the time result in something delicious! The exceptions being the mead bucket in her closet, also glued to the floor, and a jar of a honey based aphrodisiac.

Speaking of honey, HANDS OFF OF HER HONEY. She has a jar of it hidden in her room that she only breaks out for special occasions. If you ever steal from her she’ll be incredibly disappointed, hurt, and aggressive. But if you steal her FOOD, hands are being thrown.

PLEASE GIVE HER YOUR CITRUS PEELS! The ship is normally stocked with limes, lemons, oranges, and the like to prevent scurvy. But after you enjoy your fruit be sure to give her the peels and seeds! She either stores or plants the seeds and dries the peels to make oils, teas, perfumes, soaps, and seasonings. Or she just eats them.... yeah.

A minor role she’s taken on the ship is partial waste management.  I’ve already mentioned fruit skins and peels, but she also built a little compost box below deck ( most likely without the captain’s permission ) for scraps that don’t end up in a stock. There’s also a separate bucket for meat or dairy scraps that can be turned into fish bait.  She helps with sterilizing and straining the collected rainwater, helps render fats and lye for candles and soap, dries out bones for making needles and things, and has even been known to make twine or cord out of ruined fabric or unused plant fiber once in a while. She oversees the health of the chickens to the best of her ability. She herself however regularly gets reprimanded for her excessive water usage.

Actually she gets reprimanded for quite a lot. Dirt in the galley, wandering off, experiment gone wrong, reckless pursuit of data or samples, being a hoarder, digging through junk, excessive use of paper/parchment, leaving her plants on deck, keeping people up at night, too down bad, etc. It’s never often enough to be a problem but sometimes she can be... a lot. It would actually be much worse were it not for the fact that they only catch her on her bullshit less than half the time.

She has a small file for every crew member. She documents the basics like allergies, known conditions, and other medical facts of course but she also jots down your tea preference, your zodiac sign, your favorite smells, favorite flowers, and whether or not Rosie likes you. That way everyone gets their favorite tea every once in a while. 

Yes she is still going to have her magic bullshit hearing aid and yes it still comes with her magic pet hermit crab.  Fuck you.

And now, a Headcanon for every crew member ( so far ):  

Jessica is relatively new too the crew so many of these are less of a headcanon and merely more of a first impression for now. These will be updated as relationships progress.

The Captain ( @emcads​ ) is absolutely her secret crush but, in a rare instance of humility, Jessica doesn’t believe she has much of a chance. She would follow her to the ends of the earth and is constantly making sure she has her favorites in stock. Every now and again she make her something particularly special, like a soothing incense, or a spicy aged chili sauce, or a decadent soap with rose water and gold flecks... all in a devoted, bashful attempt to remain in her favor. And it usually works!... Right up until her science antics annoy her again...

 ( to be continued )

[mxgicthot]

Apprenticember Day 12 💜

What does their home look like? Their room?

.

Haleth lives in a small building that's converted into a downstairs apothecary shop and upstairs living space.

Her home is very spacious and airy. She always burning incense that gives off a spicy sweet scent.

The shop walls have large windows helped illuminate the building with natural light. The tall shelves that occupied the floor filled to the brim with equipment, textbooks, personal journals and neatly labelled jars filled with oils, creams, elixirs, potions and charms. There's all sorts of herbs hanging from the walls.

You'd also notice alot of her folk superstitions, there's a horseshoe nailed on the front door, salt in the corners and on the windowsills, bunches of dried chillies hanging from the doors (to keep evil spirits out).

She keeps the backroom very organized, all supplies are labeled neatly, it can get a bit messy during the week but she makes time to clean.

Her living space upstairs consists of an open kitchen and sitting room, mini study/library, 2 small bedrooms and a bathroom.

Haleth's room is cozy, she has a decent size bed, few pieces of furniture because she doesn't like clutter. Her shelves are filled with a variety of pot plants. The high windows allow lots of natural lighting. She also has a mini bed next to hers for her cat.

[bunnys-cat-blog]

Decided to dig up an old bunch of custom herbs and conditions. Sorry if they dont all make sense.

Eyebright - A leafy plant with white flowers. Used to treat inflammation, runny nose, and respiratory issues.

Fennel seeds - Long thin yellow or green seeds gathered from the fennel plant. Promotes digestion and eases stomach discomfort.

Angelica - A plant that grows in a round formation of green or white tufts. Helps release gas and relax the body. Can be harmful for queens or when mixed with the wrong herbs.

(Cluster's)Mint - A very strong smelling plant that is usually used to hide unpleasant smells, but is also used to ease throat pain given the right preparation.

Slippery elm - The soft inner bark of a certain type of elm tree. Rare in most places, but useful for adding volume to poltices of dry plants and can also stand in for honey in the winter months. Often stores cold even in the hottest weather.

Basil - A tender plant often found growing in twoleg gardens. Used to calm high fevers, but can Also be used to alter the tastes of herb mixes for picky cats

Hawthorn - A small red berry used to reverse the effects of poisons on the heart. Also may cause the heart to seize if taken in excess. In emergencies may be used to promote digestion. Rare and often mistaken for death berries.

Valerian - Clusters of small pink or white flowers that grow high above the ground. The flowers can be used to calm cats with their smell, while the roots may be used as a queen-safe alternative to poppy seeds.

Cassia - An extremely rare but very useful tree sometimes grown by twolegs. Characterized by small stems, about twice the height of a cat, and tall clusters of yellow flowers. The flowers are used for curing poisonings or soothing infections. The dry, aromatic bark keeps for a long time without growing stale and is used to treat venom.

Sow Thistle - A common, slightly woody, flowering herb that is used to soothe runny stomachs and kit-bearing pain or nausea. Can also be safely combined with other herbs to make them last longer without dulling the effects.

Seashell - Shells of strange sea creatures found in tide pools and sometimes in two-leg Gardens. The scrapings can be added to poultices and herb mixes to assist in mending broken bones

None of these are cannon (obviously), I just wanted to make some herbs and diseases for my experimental anti-social and research-oriented apothecary. Most of his research was done through trial and error. and no, he never uses himself as a test subject.

Cat diseases or wounds

Stump - an inability to heal wounds or grow back fur. Treated with hawthorne to promote digestion, seashell to fuel healing, and preventative herbs to quell any underlying infections. Give constant water. Not contagious

Red blink - a reddening infection of the eyes. Treated with the consumption of eyebright or cassia flowers. The infected eye must be cleaned with wet moss or slippery elm, never by tongue. Highly contagious.

Swell - an abnormal swelling of the abdomen that can cause loss of appetite. It is known to progress quickly and can cause organs to burst. Sometimes mistaken for pregnancy by she-cats. Treated with a combination of fennel seeds and angelica. Not contagious.

Bone rot - a soreness in the bones and joints. Often lumps form along the bone. Cannot be cured. Patients are often given pain killing herbs. fatal. Not contagious White blink - a cloudiness and whitening of the eyes that highly limits vision. Untreatable. Not contagious. More common in older cats.

Rough throat - a reddened and scratchy throat accompanied by a harsh cough, weakness, and fatigue. Treated with rest and crushed dried mint leaves mixed with slippery elm or honey or soaked in water, as well as watermint. Do not combine this mix with angelica. Mildly contagious.

Kitten cry - an illness of the throat that can cause a kit to be unable to cry or meow. Treated by applying gentle pressure to the kit's throat and suckling it on moss soaked with a mix of water and chewed slippery elm or anti inflammatory herbs. Contagious

Paw rot - a disease where the pads of a cat's paws become infected. Treated with wraps of slippery elm to keep it cool and either chervile or burdock. In severe cases the infection spreads and requires amputation, either with claws or sharp objects. The resulting stump must be treated with a poultice of cassia and goldenrod twice daily for three moons. The patient is to be fed painkillers and anti-inflammatories and require retraining in order to see normal activity again. Not contagious. Caused by coming in contact with a polluted substance while the paw pads are cracked or wounded.

Sun fall - a condition caused by a lack of shelter from the heat until cats are no longer able to support their own weight. The cat must be taken to shade or bathed in cool water. Can Also be helped by slippery elm due to the herbs habit of storing cold, even in the dry season. Can cause shock if cooled too rapidly.

Snake bite - must be treated immediately before the venom can spread. The cat must be fed Cassia bark or flowers, or in severe cases hawthorne, and the wound must be thoroughly cleaned, treated to prevent infection, and covered with a wrap of cobweb, or in hot climates slippery elm can be used to keep the wound cold. If none is available shade is recommended.

[catpeek]

Natural Flea Control Solutions for Cats You Should Try

Are you looking for effective ways to keep your feline friend flea-free without resorting to harsh chemicals? You’re not alone! Many cat owners are turning to natural remedies to protect their beloved pets from these pesky parasites. Below are some simple and effective natural flea control methods that can help you keep your cat comfortable and healthy. 🐈✨

Natural Flea Control Methods

1. Essential Oils 🌿

Essential oils can be powerful allies in the fight against fleas, but it’s crucial to use them safely. Oils like lavender, cedarwood, and peppermint are known for repelling these unwanted guests. Always ensure to dilute essential oils with a carrier oil before applying them to your cat's skin, as concentrated oils can be harmful. A few drops in a carrier oil and gently massaging it into your cat’s fur can create an effective barrier against fleas.

2. Diatomaceous Earth (DE) 🦠

Diatomaceous earth is a fine powder made from the fossilized remains of tiny aquatic organisms. It’s a natural way to eliminate fleas as it damages their exoskeleton, leading to dehydration and death. Simply sprinkle food-grade DE around your home, particularly in areas where your cat spends a lot of time. Leave it for a few hours before vacuuming, and watch those fleas disappear!

3. Flea-Repellent Herbs 🌱

Certain herbs can act as natural flea repellents. Try growing rosemary, mint, or basil in your garden or using dried versions around your home. These herbs not only repel fleas but also add a fresh aroma to your living space! Plus, they are safe for cats and can be an excellent natural deterrent.

4. Regular Bathing 🛁

While not always a favorite for our feline friends, regular baths can help in controlling fleas. Use a gentle, natural shampoo designed for cats. The water and soap can wash away fleas and eggs, reducing the overall population. Just be sure to dry them off quickly afterward to prevent them from getting cold!

5. Vacuuming and Cleaning 🧹

Keeping your home clean is vital in the battle against fleas. Regularly vacuum carpets, furniture, and areas where your cat tends to lounge. Be sure to empty the vacuum bag or canister outside immediately to prevent any surviving fleas from re-entering your home. Consider washing your cat’s bedding in hot water weekly, as this can help eradicate any remaining fleas and eggs.

6. Comb Your Cat 🧖‍♀️

Using a flea comb is a straightforward and effective way to remove fleas manually. The fine teeth of the comb can catch fleas and eggs, making it easier for you to dispose of them. Regular grooming also allows you to check for any skin irritations or abnormalities that may require a vet’s attention.

Conclusion: Keep Your Cat Happy and Flea-Free! 🎉

By employing these natural methods, you can effectively control fleas without compromising your cat’s health. Regular maintenance and a proactive approach are key to keeping your furry friend safe and comfortable. For a more in-depth look at these natural flea control methods, check out our comprehensive guide here: Effective Natural Flea Control. Your cat will thank you for it! 🐾❤️

[valgasnewsthings]

Benefit ortosiphon.

  And you are not heard about this plant as calling a kidney tea, as diuretic and antiseptic, and peoples calling his cat s moustache , as in his flowers are stamens, like mustaches.In  medicine his calling ortosiphon stamens, as a famous kidney tea as effective remedy for urinary ways diseases, and growing on Islands of South-East Asia.In medicine using leafs, side and top shoots.Kidney  tea success fighting with a chronic and acute for urinary ways as cystitis, urethritis, edemas in pregnancy. And effectivity in edema caused in insufficient for blood circulation , in urinary stones , fighting removing from organism calculus  and abundant salts, as rising liquid removing ,thanks for washing urinary ways and kidneys.  And his cure effect is describing by his chemical structure as with biologic active substances, to a few are having organic acids. calium salts, tannins, bitter glycoside , ortosiphonins, fatty oil, saponins triptans.

And very famous he is in urologic practise and prescribing in damage kidneys with protein in urine, edema, urinary ways inflammations, infusion of ortosiphon is antiseptic and diuretic remedy.

And remedies of ortosiphon  are relaxing smooth muscle, inside organs, and such tea in pregnancy fighting edema, normalizing arterial pressure, urea acid removing and preventing nephropathia . And in medicine using decoctions, infusions, teas , and any cooked remedy keeping two days. And not clear side effects having, but entering in his structure active components causing allergy reactions, and thus his not using children's till 12 y.old, and in heart, kidneys failure, if in kidneys having calculus , thus diuretic effects provoking are stones mobility and plug urinary canals. Thus before using remedies you need to receive specialist advices. Just doctor will rate disease picture and prescribe a saving cure.

And in a few cases phyro- teas kidney Wil not giver right results and harmful.

In chronic diseases , inflammations use 2 tbl.sp. of dried and chopped leafs ass in 250 nl. hot water and infuse 20 min, filter, use before every meal time as 1/2 glass drinking.

In urinary stones an cystitis use one tea.sp. dried leafs of herb in glass of the hot water, infuse 20 min, filter, add hot water till top, use for 2 times/day on 0.5 glass before meal.

In inflammation for urinary organs , urinary sour diathesis and  hypertension help is kidney tea cooked in thermos. 2tbl.sp. of dried leafs in 0.5 l. of the hot water, infuse 2 hours, filter, use on 150 ml. before meal.

from Valga s health news,gardening,and cooking ,and beauty . https://ift.tt/IqtwDmE via https://ift.tt/BEegwqx

[webpros]

HawaiiPharm Pet Rejuvenation-Cat, Veterinary Natural Alcohol-Free Liquid Extract, Pet Herbal Supplement 15x4 oz Price: [price_with_discount] Customer satisfaction rating 4 (according to Amazon product Details) This veterinary natural alcohol-free pet rejuvenation liquid extract is made from dried astragalus root, codonopsis root, wool flower root, ginseng root, schisandra fruit, Chinese angelica root, Chinese yam, dried ginger rhizome, and Siberian solomon rhizome. This tincture contains a nice blend of herbs that can improve appetite, digestion, organ function, and enhances the immune system. This is a good rejuvenating tonic for any older or less active pet. Any statement on this page has not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is an herbal supplement and is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. We recommend that you consult with a qualified veterinarian before using this or any other herbal product. Item Weight: 4 ounces First available date ‏ : ‎September 27, 2016 Manufacturer ‏ : ‎ HawaiiPharm ASIN ‏ : ‎ B01M0LIBDL Country of origin ‏ : ‎ United States Hawaii Pharm Pet Rejuvenation-Cat Supplement is free of GMOs, gluten, heavy metals, artificial colors, preservatives, and synthetic fertilizers. Super Concentrated Pet Rejuvenation: Veterinary Alcohol-Free Natural Extract for Cats - 1:3 Dry Plant/Solvent Ratio! 1 ml of our glycerite is equivalent to approximately 300 mg of dry plant. Pet Rejuvenation-Cat Pet Herbal Supplement is a 100% drug free and non-addictive natural glycerin based liquid formula proudly made in the USA, Hawaii to ensure the highest product quality. Suggested Use: For dogs under 30 pounds, use 0.25-0.5 mL 3 times daily; for dogs 30 to 60 pounds, use 0.5 to 1.0 mL 3 times daily; for dogs over 60 pounds, use 1-2 mL 3 times daily; For cats, use 0.25-0.5 ml 1-2 times a day. #HawaiiPharm #Pet #RejuvenationCat #Veterinary #Natural #AlcoholFree #Liquid #Extract #Pet #Herbal #Supplement #15x4 See more related items: HawaiiPharm Pet Rejuvenation-Cat, Veterinary Natural Alcohol-Free Liquid Extract, Pet Herbal Supplement 15x4 oz Read More: This site is affiliated with Amazon

[preppyprincesspuppyboutique]

Mr. Willy Wilson LOVES this treat.

[urban-homesteading]

How to Make Money from a Mini Farm

Chickens, Ducks, Quail

Eggs for Eating – You can sell your eggs to your friends, family, neighbors or farmer’s market. I wrote more about that here – Selling Eggs From Your Backyard Homestead. You’ll get the best price for free-range or pastured eggs.

Fertile Eggs – If you’re able to have a rooster on your property you may find a a business selling fertile eggs for others to set in their incubators. You’ll get more money for rare or popular breeds so do a little research on what people are looking for in your area.

Day Old Chicks or Ducklings –  Some homesteaders do not want to deal with incubation. They’d prefer to to buy young chicks for their brooder. You should also check with your local feed stores – they make be interested in carrying chicks, quail and ducklings; and on a regular basis.

Rabbits

Fiber Rabbits – I see more and more homesteaders spinning their own yarn. I believe fiber rabbits may become even more popular in the next few years. You can sell the rabbits or just their fibers (which does not require dispatching them). You’ll need a mentor to show you how to properly harvest the hair from your fiber rabbits for sale.  See Raising Fiber Rabbits.

Pet Rabbits – As a mom that was bent on only raising meat rabbits, I still got suckered into a little pet Lionhead. Pet rabbits are fun and many seek them as alternatives to cats and dogs in the house. Lionheads are particularly popular with kids because of their sweet temperaments and fluff.

Rabbit Droppings – Yep, you CAN sell rabbit poop. Gardeners love that rabbit droppings can be composted or put right into their gardens for as a fertilizer. You can sell it by the bag full – and if you have a rabbit you know how much just one can produce each day.

Worms & Compost

Meal Worms – I can tell you my chickens and quail have always loved receiving fresh and dried meal worms as a treat. And raising meal worms is fairly easy. You can have a market through direct sales to owners of poultry, pet birds and pet lizards; but you may also have pet stores who will buy your stock.

Red Wigglers – Great for vermicomposting and fishing, red wigglers are a popular worm that you can grow for your own use as well as for sale. See How to Get Started Raising Red Wigglers.

Compost – From worm castings to compost for planting; if you have extra to sell you will quickly have a market.

Herbs

Sell fresh herb plants or cuttings – If you have the space to grow herbal transplants in small pot this can be a viable business. Also cuttings for people to dry for their own use, is another option.

Sell dried herbs – Or sell your herbs already dried and packaged.

Make your own herbal teas for sale – Do you make tea blends? You can make some from your own herbs or ones you purchase.

Garden

Seeds – Do you save seeds? You may have a market for selling your own seeds, especially if they are organic and/or heirloom varieties.

Transplants – I always seem to have more pepper and tomato seedlings than I really need. If you do too, or you want to do it on purpose, you could offer seedlings up for sales. Some people just don’t want to wait on seeds when they are planning and planting their gardens.

Fruit and Vegetables – Check your local rules and regulations first; but selling your excess harvest can bring a good income in. If you have enough, you may want to consider a booth at your local farmer’s market.

From Your Kitchen

If you’re skilled in the kitchen and have the time to produce extras, you might be able to sell your goods. You’ll need to see what laws there are about selling foods and see if you can meet the standards of your state first.

Jams, Jellies and other Canned Goods

Artisan Cheeses

Fresh Baked Breads

Starters for sourdough, kombucha, keifer, etc.

Crafts

This could be an entire post on it’s own because handmade items are popular at locally, in farmer’s markets and even online. If you have a gift for crafts you might just have a budding business right at your fingertips!

Homespun Yarn – Knitters and crocheters appreciate homespun yarn for their special projects.

Candles – Make candles in cute containers for sale. Or offer candles made from special ingredients like your homegrown beeswax.

Soaps, Lotions, Salves and Balms – If you love to make these handmade personal items you could have a wonderful business! Consider using locally grown / sourced, organic or specialty items whenever possible.

Needlecrafts – Do you sew? You could make reusable pads or offer mending or tailoring services. Do you knit or crochet? Make afghans, scarves, sweaters, or even wash clothes for sale! Do you quilt? Make handmade quilts to order and you could make a nice profit.

Woodworking – If you’re willing to practice woodworking, there are many products you could make and offer for sale. For best profits consider using woods offered for free or inexpensive scraps.

[namusthetic]

Pick one of my 5 different personalities to hang out with

N. 3

Keeps a cabinet full of labeled jars with spices and other ingredients to make different teas

Lives in a cottage in the woods

Bakes every Sunday afternoon

Drinks afternoon tea in their garden chatting with their cat and other animals that happen to pass by

Grows their own vegetables

Builts shelters for wild animals during winter

Sunbathes on the roof

Reads poetry in the golden light of the early morning on the kitchen table, while waiting for their coffee to brew

Goes on long walks with their sketchbook to draw plants and small animals

Goes regularly in the woods to pick up plants, flowers and fungi for their teas and recipes

Lives in organized chaos

Makes good charm pouches with dried flowers and herbs

Tries to help every lost person that ends up at their doorstep

Lives alone, but is not lonely

Has long night talks with the fire in the fireplace

Makes jams and tea blends to sell at the near town's market

Has dream catchers, plants, wind chimes, posters and more hanging from the ceiling

Playlist:

A Huge Tree in the Tsukamori Forest by Joe Hisaishi

Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles

Witches by Alice Phoebe Lou

Choking on Flowers by Fox Academy

august by Taylor Swift

Sofia by Clairo

Shimmering Water by Plastic Patina

Sho's Lament by Cécile Corbel

The Moss by Cosmo Sheldrake

One Summer Day by Joe Hisaishi

Into the Open Air by Julie Fowlis

Meet Me in the Woods by Lord Huron

Young by Vacations

Trouble by Cage the Elephant

Hearthside by Plastic Patina

Cherry Wine by Hozier

rises the moon by Liana Flores

[wills-woodland-warriors]

Garden Day

FleaThistle huffed, shaking the seeds off of his paw pad and into the small hole he’d dug. 

He sat back, stretching out his shoulders and for a brief moment he tried to imagine that the sun was still here, that this was just another time building a garden after sneaking away from camp. 

Opening his eyes, the mangled shadowed branches above swayed slightly in the wind, with small wispy clouds covering one of the red moons. 

The dim light shun down on his garden, making the poppies look almost as if they were glowing. 

Convincing cats to let them pick through their fur to find stray seeds was quite a challenge, but with the help of some friends they ended up with a good pile of seeds. 

MottleCry was kind enough to help them gather organs, and he’d even convinced GoblinSnap and GremlinFrost to help! 

Even if the two were a bit concerning in the ways they got them.. 

Picking through his fur, he thought of all the people who had helped him with the garden.   

MouseSpots was another friend who helped out, along with BasilTooth and Ferndoe. 

As soon as FleaThistle found the small, speck-like poppy seeds he knew that he had to grow her some flowers. Depending on how many they can grow, she might even be able to give the newest residents some as welcoming gifts! 

It was kind of weird, being so excited while in hell. FleaThistle had expected to be killed again within the first few minutes, but most of the cats here were relatively nice. 

He’d been so scared, so anxious when he had arrived. Frozen in the spot, he had squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the pain. 

But none of them hurt him, and now he’s here. Building a garden with some amazing friends. 

Especially FadingStar. He was so cool. He listened and even took interest in his plants, and was the one to suggest starting a garden. 

The small sprouts struggled to grow in the damp and murky depths of the dark forest, but after some trial and error they had a bit of plant diversity, although they did have a lot of mushrooms… 

FleaThistle stretched, shaking the dirt from his pelt as he carefully stepped around the sprouts. 

MottleCry’s extra long claws were a huge help once he’d convinced the pale Tom, and he made small rows for them. 

FleaThistle crouched, leaping over a patch of moss with small spot-like white flowers in it, his paws slipping in the mud.

Sliding into a tree, he quietly tried to unpeel himself from the bark, looking up to a very confused FadingStar. 

“I left you for five minutes, what happened?” FadingStar said through a mouthful of rocks, the words muffled and distorted. 

“Trees.” FleaThistle blinked blankly, giving his chest fluff an awkward lick as he tried not to laugh. 

It was a pitiful attempt, broken by JackDawFoot rounding the corner with a pelt full of random leaves and twigs he’d gotten stuck in his fur while helping them. 

JackDaw looked at them blankly, with FleaThistle’s forearms still wrapped around the tree in an almost-embrace, and FadingStar trying to talk around a mouthful of rocks. 

FleaThistle tried to smile at JackDaw, but the absolutely massive Tom just shook his head slowly and walked over to help them as FadingStar choked on a pebble. 

FleaThistle gave a very happy little chirp as he properly detached from the tree, bouncing over to pick through JackDaw’s fluff for seeds.    

He dug through the soft, wispy grey-brown strands, tilting his head down so as not to have the fur tickle his muzzle, as he gently pawed through his fur, careful not to pull. 

They had found most of the seeds buried in JackDaws pelt so far, and in TurtleStepper’s herb pouch where he puts the dried herbs used for his asthma. 

Poking out of the fluff to look at the others, with them laughing and talking as if this were a normal day outside of camp, mingling between patrols, it was growing easy to feel at ease here. 

And maybe the dark forest wasn’t as bad as he thought. 

______ 

The garden is surrounded by pebbles that TurtleStepper collects

FernDoe spends a lot of time looking at the budding flowers. 

LoonFur has tried to pour blood on the seedlings in an attempt to “make them stronger” and FleaThistle didn’t have the heart to tell her no so he made a small patch for her to take care of a few small mushrooms, which are the hardiest ones he could find.

Jackdaw just walks by the garden once a day or so and just. Shakes a ton of seeds from his pelt. TurtleStepper has 100% had an asthma attack from this and been banned from getting too close to the garden 

While picking through jackdaws fur for seeds, FleaThistle just goes off about how pretty FadingStar is and jackdaw is just sitting there, fur over his eyes so he can’t even see, as a tiny ass sarcastic fleaball of a cat pokes his head out of his fur to talk about his crush.

FleaThistle keeps the first flower he ever grew in his nest

StumpPaw and FleaThistle have “gardening night” where once a week they teach everyone who’s interested how to properly care for a plant. 

Each cat gets there own sprout to take care of 

FadingStar belongs to @liberhoe 

MouseSpots belongs to @ambitiousauthor

JackDawFoot, FernDoe, BasilTooth, LoonFur, MottleCry belong to @residents-of-the-darkforest-of-the-darkforest 

FleaThistle, GoblinSnap, GremlinFrost belong to myself. 

[cuttoothed]

Day 8 of @jonmartinweek for the “AU” prompt.

This week has been such a delight to write for, and it’s the most productive and inspired I���ve been in a long time. I've really enjoyed all the great content coming out of this week. Thanks to the organizers for this wonderful event!

CW here for depiction of depression, though the term itself isn’t used. Depression symptoms are also shown to spontaneously improve over time, though it is stated that this is not a complete or permanent recovery.

*

There is a land with many gods. Gods of war and of peace; of harm and healing; of storms and snows. Gods of life and death; gods of hearth and home. The smallest village has its own small god; the cities have thousands, all clamoring for attention.

There is a valley with a kind and gentle god. He makes sure that the rains fall in spring, and in summer that the sun shines on the fields of growing crops. In winter he tempers the cold winds, gentles the frosts to spare the valley worst of the chill. The people love their god, and trust that he will always care for them.

Until one spring, the rains do not fall, and the clouds do not part to let the sunshine through. A freezing fog rolls in, blanketing the little village and the lands around it; the fields remain frozen, and those few plants that sprout from the frost-bitten earth rot in the clinging damp. The people despair, because their god has never let them down before. Have they done something wrong? Angered him somehow? They will have enough stores to survive one year without harvest, perhaps two; if their god’s kindness does not return by then, they will have to abandon the valley that has been their home for centuries.

The most senior leaders from the village go to speak with the god, in his shrine on the hillside. The god is distressed at their plight, but he tells them he cannot help; his soul is mourning, and he does not know why. He has tried to call on the sun, on the soft rains, but his heart is too sorrowful, and all that comes is fog.

The people of the valley try everything they can think of, to restore their god’s happiness. They bring him gifts, recite stories and songs; they throw a carnival in the foggy village square, with costumes and games and music. They offer to search for anything that will make him happy, if he will only tell them. But the god cannot tell them, and nothing brings him joy, and the fog remains.

*

One day, a scholar comes to the village. Jonathan Sims is from the city, from one of the temples of knowledge, where they have heard about this valley and its inconsolable god. He walks through the cold, mist-shrouded streets, and up to the hillside where the god’s shrine is.

The shrine is a cottage, small and quaint, with lights in its windows and smoke curling from its chimney; it isn’t like any shrine Jon has seen before. He hesitates before knocking on the door, unsure if this could truly be the home of a god. The person who opens the door looks like a man, with a kind face, and rough, home-spun clothing; he is quite unlike the gods of the city, who are sharp and polished and alien. But one look at his eyes tells Jon that this is the god: they are ageless and endless, swirling like silver-gray fog.

“I’m sorry,” says the god, “I’m not really in the mood for visitors at the moment.”

“Please,” Jon says, before he can shut the door. “I’ve brought jasmine tea—I heard you enjoy it?”

The god hesitates a moment, then says:

“All right, you can come in—but just for tea.”

The inside of the cottage is what Jon would have expected from its outside, cozy and cluttered, with a fire crackling in the hearth. The god fetches saucers and cups and brews a pot of the fragrant jasmine tea, and there are little cakes with dried fruit and honey, which the god tells him were a gift from the village.

“I’m not much of a baker myself,” he admits, pouring the tea. Then he asks: “What’s your name?”

“Jonathan Sims—Jon. What, uh, what should I call you?”

“I don’t have a name,” says the god. “The people around here just call me “the god”, and I’ve never thought to ask them for one.”

“You could always choose one for yourself.” The god gives him a curious look, as if that’s not something that had ever occurred to him.

“I suppose that I could,” he says. He takes a sip of his tea. “This is very nice, thank you.”

Jon has never had tea with a god before. The god asks him about the city and his work for the Temple of Beholding, and Jon finds himself talking freely; this god is very easy to talk to. His face is open and kind, and he listens attentively as Jon talks about the city, its people and its gods, about the work of the Temple to gather knowledge, to understand their world.

“Why did the Temple send you to me?” the god asks at last.

“We heard of what happened in the valley—of the fog,” says Jon, and sees guilt flash across the god’s face, the silver-gray of his eyes darkening. “I came to see.”

“Not to try to cheer me, then?” the god asks. There’s a bitter note in his voice.

“No, not to cheer you. Just to speak. To understand.”

“I’m glad you aren’t wasting your time, then,” says the god. “My people have done all they can to lift my sorrow. And I have tried, every way I know how, to send this fog away, to clear the skies, but I cannot—”

He shakes his head in frustration, lines of worry and grief etched across his features. Jon has the sudden impulse to reach out and comfort him; but this is a god, and besides, they’ve scarcely even met.

“I’m sorry that you carry such a burden,” he says. The god looks at him, and his mist-colored eyes are grieved.

“My sorrow isn’t important, only that it causes me to fail my people.” He turns away, his expression pained. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t bother you with my troubles. It’s probably best that you leave.”

Jon wants to protest, but he thinks it’s probably not a good idea to refuse a god’s request. He sets down his teacup and puts on his coat, and at the door he pauses.

“May I come back tomorrow?” he asks. The god considers, and then nods.

“I would like that,” he says, with a faint hint of a smile.

It’s quite a lovely smile, Jon can’t help noticing.

*

In the village, Jon asks about the god. The god has always been there, he learns. The god has always cared for them, has always ensured their harvests are bountiful and their winters are mild. The people of the valley don’t understand why their god is so unhappy now, but they hope it doesn’t linger too long. They need him to be the joyful, attentive god he has always been; they depend upon it.

The next day, he walks back up to the cottage on the hillside; the door opens to his knock, and the god smiles in greeting. They drink tea by the fire, and Jon asks about the valley—about how it is, when the fog isn’t here. The god talks about the farms and the orchards, the beauty of this place in both summer and winter; he talks about the lives of the people, their joys and their trials, how they rely on him for their wellbeing.

“That sounds like a great responsibility,” says Jon.

“They need me to care for them,” the god says simply. “So that is what I do.”

They talk into the evening, and the god insists Jon stay for supper; a rich stew of root vegetables and herbs. The god smiles shyly when Jon compliments the meal.

“I’m a better cook than a baker,” he says.

It’s coming into night when Jon leaves, and the god gives him an oil lamp to light his way to the village. His fingers brush against Jon’s as he hands him the lamp, and there is a jolt of electric sensation; a reminder that he is still talking to a god.

“Walk safely,” says the god.

“May I come back tomorrow?” Jon asks, and the god smiles, his eyes shining silver-gray.

“I look forward to it.”

*

Jon comes back the next day, and the next day, and the next. Sometimes he and the god talk; sometimes, when the god’s sorrow is too deep for conversation, Jon makes tea and they sit together quietly. Some days they walk in the hills, where the fog coils around the god’s feet like a cat. Jon brings the god the books he’s carried with him from the city, and the god—eventually, shyly—reads Jon a poem that he’s written. Jon is no aficionado, but the soft sincerity of the god’s voice makes something warm curl in his chest.

Their fingers brush over tea cups and the spines of books, each touch sending that little electric thrill through Jon’s nerves, and a warmth that has nothing to do with divinity. He knows it’s foolish—utterly ridiculous—to harbor such feelings for a god. But the god is kind and caring and clever; he sometimes makes terrible jokes, and when they walk, he insists on stopping to greet every shaggy brown cow they see.

The god is also sad, a bone deep, aching sorrow whose roots are unfathomable. He tries to explain it to Jon: he has always felt such sorrow, from time to time, as if all the joys of life were far away, seen from behind glass. But it has never lasted for so long, and it has never before prevented him from fulfilling his duties; he has always been able to push it aside, to do what he must.

That, Jon thinks, is part of the problem; his god is too kind, too devoted, too willing to sacrifice himself for his people.

His god, and when did Jon start to think of him that way? Not in worship, but in growing affection?

*

More than anything, the god loves to hear of Jon’s travels. He has journeyed far and wide in service to the Temple, and the god listens raptly as he describes distant places he has been, sights he’s seen, people he’s met.

“I’ve never traveled anywhere,” the god admits. “It sounds quite wonderful.”

“It can be,” says Jon. “Though it’s best when you have somewhere to return to.”

*

One morning in midsummer, the fog curls denser than ever, and Jon can scarcely find his way to the cottage through the murk. He hurries as fast as he can, worried that something might be astray. He worries more when the god does not open the door to Jon’s knock; Jon wonders for a moment if he might not be home, but they had agreed to walk and visit the cows today. His god would not forget.

He hesitates, then lets himself in.

He finds the god curled by the fire, sitting on the floor with a heavy blanket around his shoulders. His face is drawn and tear streaked, and as Jon approaches another shuddering sob tears itself from his throat, fresh tears flowing from his silver-gray eyes.

“Oh—” Jon drops to his knees on the hearthstone, his hands flying up as if to touch the god’s face, but instead hovering helplessly above his shoulders; they have never touched, but for those accidental brushes. Does he have the right?

“Jon…” the god says, his voice rough and choked. “I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have to see me this way.”

“Don’t say that,” says Jon, distraught. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” says the god, even as another sob shakes his shoulders. “I’m—there’s nothing wrong, not really. I’m just being...selfish. Absorbed in my own foolish melancholy when my people—“

“Forget your people!” Jon snaps, more sharply than he intends, and he sees his god flinch. “Just for a moment, think of yourself. I beg you.”

“My people—this place—they are me,” says the god. “If not for them, what would I even be?”

“You would be dear to me,” Jon says, hoarsely, and the god’s fog-colored eyes go wide, startled. The truth, then, and this time Jon does press a hand to his god’s soft cheek. The touch sends that familiar, tingling thrill through his palm, the feeling that Jon has learned to love.

“Oh,” the god whispers, and his hand comes up to cover Jon’s on his cheek. He leans into Jon’s touch, smiling even as the tears continue to flow.

*

There comes a day, in autumn, that dawns with sunshine and blue skies.

Jon wakes with his god curled beside him in the warm nest of their bed, and watches the light shining in through the window with wonder. It isn’t precisely a surprise: the fog has been lessening these past few weeks, the clouds growing less gray, but still he had not dared to hope that the sun might return—to the sky, and to his god’s heart.

After a time, the god wakes as well—slowly, as he always does—and his tousled head turns towards Jon. His eyes blink open, and their color is the clear blue of summer skies.

“G’morning,” he says sleepily, and Jon’s heart swells with love for him.

“Good morning,” he says. “The sun is out.”

*

The people of the valley rejoice with the return of the sun. This year’s harvest is lost, but they can begin to plan for next spring’s planting. The leaders of the village go to the shrine to give thanks to their god, but the strange scholar from the city answers the door and refuses to let them inside.

“He’s busy,” the scholar says, and shoos them away.

*

“You know that the fog may return, in time?” The god’s fingers twine gently with Jon’s. “I love you more than breath, but love cannot guard against such inborn sorrow. It comes when it wills, regardless of life’s joys.”

“Let it come,” says Jon. “I have loved you in the fog, and I will again. You own my heart, however heavy yours might be.”

He lifts his god’s hand and kisses his fingertips, feeling the buzz of bright sensation against his lips.

“My dear,” his god murmurs. “My heart.”

*

It isn’t long before Jon receives the letter that he knew would come; the fog has lifted and there’s no more to be learned, he is to return to the Temple at once.

He reads the letter once, then burns it.

*

“We should go somewhere,” Jon says, one evening. His god smiles, fingers stroking through Jon’s hair, leaving little trails of electric sensation behind.

“That’s a pleasant fancy,” he says. “I would love to travel with you, see those wonderful places you’ve told me about.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Jon urges. “Just for a time?”

“I-I couldn’t,” the god stutters. “My people—“

“Your people would carry on without you,” says Jon. “You have given everything that you are to this place and its people for so long; you’ve suffered through pain and sorrow in silence, until you could conceal it no more. You have thought of nothing for yourself, love, and so I must think of it for you.”

His god is staring at him now, his blue eyes wide and wet with tears. Jon grasps both of his hands, feeling the little sparks of divinity dancing across his skin.

“Come away with me,” he pleads. “Be selfish, for a little while.”

“Jon…” His god breathes his name like a prayer, and Jon wonders at the fortune that brought him here. His god smiles, bright and glorious.

“Yes,” he says.

*

They lock up the cottage before they leave, an empty shrine, but only for a time. The spring sun is shining, and in the valley below they can see people working in the fields, planting for their next harvest. The god gives a worried sigh, and Jon takes his hand.

“Your people are well,” he says, gently. “And we won’t be too long away.”

“I know,” says his god, and squeezes his hand. Then he smiles, wry and mischievous. “I had a thought; since we’ll be out in the world, I should choose a name. I expect most people won’t take kindly to calling me god.”

“That may be wise,” Jon agrees, laughing. “Have you thought of the name you might want?”

“Well…” his god says. “I was fond of the protagonist in that novel of yours—The Life and Adventures of Martin Blackwood?”

“Martin Blackwood, eh?” Jon says, considering. His god—Martin now, perhaps—tilts his head quizzically, his blue eyes shining.

“What do you think?” he asks, and Jon smiles.

“I think it suits you.”