#harvestbasket

[poisonappleprintshop]

TODAY I’ll be all set up at the @salemnightfaire from 5pm-10pm! 🎃 I’ll also let you in on a secret— While creating all of my limited edition prints this year, I set aside a few of each run specifically so I could bring them with me to this market! This means I have a few artist proofs of Death’s Dawns Not on Hearts Aflame and a few Siren artist proofs. However, the star of my booth will be The Crone’s Cottage full-color screenprint! I love the idea of debuting this print in person before anywhere else, so those of you attending the Faire are in for a treat! I’ll have only twelve available from the limited edition. Lastly, I will have a small selection of altar cloths featuring the Harvest Basket design and two Vitriol tapestry blankets! 🎃 I’ll be vending tonight and tomorrow from 5-10pm as well. More info at @salemnightfaire. See you there! 🎃 #poisonappleprintshop #harvestbasket #witchgift #salemnightfaire2022 #salemnightfaire #supporthandmade https://www.instagram.com/p/Cj-0ByuL5Dc/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[talesfromthegraavim]

OF K-RATS AND LEMONS

This story begins, as most here do,  with a man. This man had left behind a great many things, not the least of which was his Name in the Beforetimes, but what he had chosen to bring with him into the present was a large military-issue rucksack filled with scavenged K-rations. And when this man stumbled upon our PigHeart that was the name he gave to our Revved Gra, She Who Knows, Called Grace. 

“Who are you, child?” She said in her high sandy voice, extending the Hand Of Friendship to Him The First Uffornate.

“I’m not nobody. Just a K-Rat Hound.”

From that day he was called K-Rat, The First Uffornate, and he was tasked to tend the lemon trees at the base of our mountains. This job was no small one, for the lemon trees needed protection and careful tending, and reaching The Home if there was a ‘Vasion or a Breech was difficult. But he did his tending well, coaxing those stubborn trees into growing, multiplying, strong and fruitful, guarding them from the Ruddy-Damn Goats and mischievous children. For years it was only K-Rat living in a small cave-hut in view of his Orchie, he only visited The Home at Storytime and after Harvest twice a year.

K-Rat was a young man, tending delicate saplings until one day he looked around to realize that his saplings were tall, strong trees heavy with fruit and leaves, having many grand-saplings of their own. When he looked into the warbling water of the irrigation canal he saw himself, greying and grizzled and bearded and a part of him wished to cry. In this same rippling reflection he saw a shadow in the tree overhead, and he rose to shout his customary grump. 

His grump startled the small girl so badly that she fell arse-over-bucket and K-Rat had to catch her in his arms, lest she broke her neck. The girl was thin and knobbled at the joints, with lemon-yellow hair and brown eyes, and she chirped at him that she’d only wanted to see her namesake. This deeply confused K-Rat, because as far as he had been aware nobody in The Home even knew his name, much less cared enough to name a child after him. 

“And who is your namesake, you knob-kneed dollop?”

The little girl looked like she wanted to cry, so frightened was she by his fierce scowl and rough appearance, “M’name’s Lemontree, but Ma and Oppa call me Lem. Or sometimes Lemtart when I’m bein trouble.”

K-Rat couldn’t help but chuckle at her wide eyes and the gooberyness of her name. Lemontree? Of all things, her sandmad Ma called her Lemontree. “How many times have you heard your Story, little sapling?”

She chirped at him, trepidatious, that she was First Grease and had heard her Story five times. Her ma, she said, had named her Lemontree because Ma had been poked with a lemon tree branch to bring her into this world, and because she’d been born with yellow hair and brown eyes. “Just like a Lemon Tree for true.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From that moment on K-Rat saw Little Lem near-constantly, the young girl was raptured by her namesake and the Grizzly Man who kept them. He grew, stubbornly, to adore her, and was glad to hear her chirping song in the Orchie.  One day, years later, around Harvest Time his Lemling - for he refused to call her by her fullname or Lem, she was his Lemon Sapling, his Lemling- skipped her way into the Orchie and tugged K-Rat by the sleeve, begging and wheedling for him to come Home and stay for Storytime this year. It was, after all, her Twelfth Story and now she was on the road to Becoming Second Undercolyte.  K-Rat was hezzy about it, he hadn’t for true stayed for The Story in many years, but he grudgely hobbled up the Stair Road after her, his customary Harvestbasket heavy at his back. 

Grace welcomed him as she had every year, offered Hand Of Friendship as she had every year, and a place at the fire. Grace had prepared the usual Rationpack for him, the provisions which would see him through the next Storytime, and expected the Grizzly Man to refuse, as was his custom, but she grinned loony to see him be tugged down beside the excitable girl. Grace watched over them the whole night through, smirking when K-Rat shared his precious Mokee with her- the rare treat of rice dough and bean paste sweetened with beet sugar being a well-known favorite of his. It was plain for all to see that K-Rat loved that girl as much as his Trees, and no one was prouder of his love than Lem herself.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Further years downline, when Lem was a woman-grown and about to be Johanna-ed to a nice enough Uffornate Boy that had joined the Searchers as soon as he was off his medbed- she skipped down to the Orchie and K-Rat stumbled hard when he rose to greet her. 

“K, are you ‘thritic or something? What’s wrong?”

He smiled at her, soothing, and opened his arms to hug her, “Maybe so, my Lemling. It’s not many men that’ve heard all the Stories as me.”

Lem sniffed and pressed her head into his shoulder, knowing as well as him that he’d heard almost forty Stories when she’d first fallen out of his tree, and that was fifteen of her Stories ago. “You’re coming Home for my Johanna tomorrow, right K?”

K-Rat chuckled, rubbing her yellow hair, “With your Ma gone he’ll have to pry you out of my arms hisself, Lemling. May have to start the Stair Road tonight for my old bones to make it, but I wouldn’t miss it for all the fruit in the Orchie.”

“Keep telling you to come Upstairs and take space in mine. Leave the Orchie to me’n Fobber, you stubborn goat.”

He took a step back and braced her elbows with his hands, shaking his head at the familiar argument, “An’ I keep telling you, Lemling, that I’ll leave the Orchiecare to you and that boy when they find me crashed at the roots. Then three days and six pokes to make sure.”

They spoke under the shade of the lemon grove until nearly dusk when K-Rat walked her to the base of  the Stair Road to begin the pampering for her Johanna the next evening, promising that he’d just pack himself a bag and be following her shortly. “Gwan now, girl, ‘fore they send your Searcher for you. S’bad luck for him to see you before you’re Jo'ed. I’ll be right along.”

The next evening it was K-Rat’s job to put up a good struggle for Fobber, who crept in from the shadows to “steal” Lemling from him. He’d never admit it, but the struggle the old man put up was for more than just the Show, he only released his Lemling when she tapped the back of his hand with the rhythm that he’d taught her for knocking at his door. Forever ago, that had been. But K-Rat did finally let her go, his eyes joyfully heartbroken and wasting water. Like his trees she had grown tall and strong without his notice, and soon - Pinkbread Blessings Upon Her- she too might bear fruit. And here he was, an old grizzled man who had stolen years from Gods Themselves to watch her grow, seemingly destined to be alone but for his Orchie. 

He’d never managed to Steal Johanna himself, none had caught his eye enough to willfully separate from the peace and quiet of the Orchie. He regretted that a bit now, taking in the bliss on Fobber and Lem’s faces, maybe he should have tried. Given his Lemontree a playmate, maybe then this wouldn’t hurt so much.  If he had someone to stumble back to the Orchie with he wouldn’t feel so… so damned hollow. But hollow he was, and hollow were his smiles at Lemontree and Fobber as he watched them dance and feast before “sneaking” away, swapping bites of Pinkbread. 

K-Rat decided then that his job was fair-done, his Lemontree was happy, off to start a new life, and he pulled Grace aside in the shadows of the firelight.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a year after her Johanna that his Lemling skipped down the Stair Road into the Orchie, heartful with good news, and calling for him. 

Lemling peered around the Orchie, singing for K-Rat, and hopping from behind trees at suspicious shadows to startle him playfully, feeling like a Mite all over again so happy was her news. She didn’t have any cause to worry, not in her mind, after all Lemling and K-Rat had been playing Hide Games since she had heard five Stories. Lemling sang and called out, voice arching slowly to a panicked holler. For one abrupt moment it stopped, the Searchers and The Half that were stationed on Patrol near the Orchie huffed in relief, and then Lemontree, K-Rat’s Lemling, began to scream. A horrid, animal-grief scream that never seemed to end, not even when they raced down the Stair Road and pulled her away from him. Lemontree, four Stories gone with her third pregnancy, had hauled him out of the Irrig Stream and desperately pounded on his cold, wet chest, shrieking at him to come back.

But K-Rat, He Who Was The First Uffornate, Keeper of The Orchie, was long gone. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lemontree raged at the Revved Gra and the Council when they took K-Rat away to be burned, fought them every step they took toward fulfilling his wishes. They couldn’t skin him, she refused to allow it, but they produced the bit of paper that bore his last words to her and the absolute dictation of his Last Rites. 

She frightened Fobber with her ferocity, he reached for her stomach and pleaded with her to remember the Ones Before It, to calm herself if only for the baby she carried. Lemontree, with featherlight fingertips on her swelling belly, took a deep breath and went utterly silent. Her tears stopped on a grain, and no word or sound would pass her lips again for the next five Stories. When the time came for the child to be born Lemontree gathered herself and a blank Cordbook, fleeing silently to the Orchie in the dead of night, seeking her Home Of Homes instinctually. She gripped tightly to the Cordbook, her only companion through the pains, and uttered not a sound as she labored against a lemon tree. It was nearly noon when, with a deep guttural roar, her daughter was born. Lemontree, K-Rat’s Lemling, heaved great breaths through her nose and wiped the viscera from her child with one hand, the other scrabbling for the handle of K-Rat’s knife.

The tiny girl, with the last cord to her mother severed and her mouth clean, howled lustily. As all newborns do, she wanted nothing more than the warmth and nourishment of her mother, who hushed her and rocked her as she was brought to breast.

Lemling stared down at her daughter, so much in awe and pain that she paid no mind to the yelling of Searchers, The Half and Fobber from the Stair Road above her, “You are born Second Zebra, Full Moon. You are alive, Kayra Orchieborn, daughter of Lemontree and Fobber, named for The Man Who Was My Father.”

[quickchangeartist]

Freshly harvested and ready for sorting, washing, sugaring, and making into rose petal jam. Smells wonderful. . . . . . . . . . . . . . #rosejam #rosepetals #rosepetaljam #harvestbasket https://www.instagram.com/p/B5R-EWmlyTE/?igshid=1qzlkxmatryop

[wilshiregoods]

Teal color half apron for harvest.

[suearmaniac]

I find myself thinking about this hue-mon all of the time. I wonder  if it ever thought about us? Was there room in here for thoughts about beetles? Did it ever wonder how some glow? Or spray liquid fire? Or dance on water? Or drink fog? Maybe someday, if a hue-mon reads this journal, it will help them appreciate all of the amazing little aliens living underfoot. #chasingbugs #bugs #beetles #leafbeetle #beetle #humans #insects #nature #writerspocket #writersofinstagram #earthofficial #harvestbasket #springdays #quoteoftheday #newhobbies #indoorjungle #photosinbetween #photooftheday #shootandshare #visualscollective #redandblack #insectsofig #natureonly #planetdiscovery #nature_wizards #naturelover #nature_seekers #nature_hub #allnatureshots #storyofmyhome https://www.instagram.com/p/CGZUU5hn4_p/?igshid=1t3dxj6p6anep

[plantfoundry]

#Repost @deeplyrootedkitchen ・・・ In love with my new wooden trug basket from @plantfoundry! I can’t wait to see all the harvests it will hold for years to come ❤️ . . #deeplyrootedkitchen #basket #harvestbasket #plantfoundry #plantfoundrynursery #harvest #winter #veggies #greens #eatmoreveggies #cagrown #organic #organicgardening #instagarden #instagardeners #sacfarm2fork #gardentotable https://www.instagram.com/p/B7r7C2ZJAgU/?igshid=noybpmll6g8

[carstenwitt-blog]

This is Europe: Thanksgiving. Go Europe! #letsgoeurope #thanksgiving #thanks #thanksgod #harvest #luggagetrunk #boot #luggagespace #harvestbasket #fruits #apple #pear #prune #red #blue #green #europe #europa https://www.instagram.com/p/Bnf_E5JhU9A/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=m9cvxn0775xx

[noveltya]

Happy Thanksgiving weekend everyone! I hope you all get to spend some time with the people, places, or pets that are important to you. Enjoy your food comas! #smallcatbigworld . . . #blog #thanksgiving #family #together #foodcoma #harvestbasket #fall #holiday

[blacksquirrelonline-blog]

A little time spent in our front garden at the weekend makes a handy backdrop for this vintage picnic basket by Harrods of Knightsbridge circa 1940 #picnicbasket #picnichamper #picnic #summerpicnic #harrods #sandwichbasket #etsyvintage #vintageharrods #fathersday #fathersdayideas #wickerpicnicbasket #whowillbuymysweetredroses #feedthebirdstuppenceabag #feedthebirds #harvestbasket #gatheringbasket #englishvintage (at Blacksquirrelhome)

[harvestbasketin]

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#papaya  #health #healthyfood #food #foodie #fruits #fruitarian #eating  #foodinstagram #vegetables #healthyfood  #harvestbasket #health #papayafruit 

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[anaturaldesign]

You have to love the tiny pumpkins and rainbow corn on the Cobb if you live harvest baskets.🍁 🍁 Happy autumn and Halloween weekend! 🍁 This design was gifted to Russel's Restaurant in #bothellwashington 🍁 #autumndecor #autumnvibes #autumn #harvesttime #harvestbasket #tableflowers #autumnflowers #interiordesign #tabledecor #tabledecoration #florist #flowers #anaturaldesign #bothell #bothellwa #pnw https://instagr.am/p/CVrWX1tFGNS/

[floristfawn]

Tiny harvest baskets are heading to the Philly show, too! They'll be on my Etsy through Monday, Philadelphia Miniaturia next weekend, and any remainders will go back up on Etsy after that. . . . #philadelphiaminiaturia #phillyminishow #miniatureshow #miniatures #miniature #foraging #autumn #harvest #autumnharvest #dollhouse #dollhouseminiatures #tinythings #littlethings #mini #minis #mushrooms #mushroomlovers #mushroom_love #nature_lover #artstagram #artistoninstagram #sculptor #sculpture #harvestbasket #mushroombasket #mushroomlove #miniac #tinymushroom #fungusamongus https://www.instagram.com/p/BpdDX1sAC7-/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=17a8mr8xljsl