#i doubt you’re keeping fostering a newborn in that place

[rowanthestrange]

It feels notable that the Doctor didn’t come back and fix the window.

We make a point that it’s going to be a problem, but nothing.

[janeykath318]

Happy BIRTHday! (Shieldshock)

“I should have known your kid would insist on being born on our birthday,” Darcy groaned, clutching her husband for dear life during a contraction.

She’d gone into labor late in the evening of July third, and strongly suspected baby America wouldn’t arrive until the date showed July fourth.

“We’ve still got a few hours yet,” Steve noted, eying her with concern and excitement. She knew he was totally stoked for fatherhood, given how happy he’d been ever since they’d found out she was pregnant.

“I highly doubt he’s just gonna pop out in two hours,” Darcy observed skeptically, slumping against Steve to catch her breath as the contraction eased. “Much as I wish that would be the case. Jane’s kid was definitely the exception, not the rule.”

Jane and Bucky’s daughter had arrived with astonishing speed, and Darcy was deeply envious.

“Alright,” she sighed. “I think I’m good. Let’s get to the hospital.”

Picking up her bag, Steve helped her out to the car, mentally reviewing all the advice he’d received on supporting one’s partner through childbirth.

Meanwhile, Jane was relaxing in bed, half heartedly perusing a science journal while her husband attempted to distract her with kisses. Hearing a buzz from her phone, she reluctantly pulled back to check it.

“Darcy’s in labor.” She informed Bucky. “They’re headed to the hospital now.”

Bucky beamed.

“Another Fourth of July baby? How very Rogers of him,” he murmured. “Do they need anything?”

“Darcy says no and has ordered me to stay put and not pace around all night,” Jane reported, rolling her eyes at Darcy’s typical bossiness. . “She says Steve will keep us updated. I sure hope it goes okay. It’s impossible not to worry when childbirth is happening.”

“As I recall all too well,” Bucky agreed, remembering how scared he’d been watching her go through it a few months ago. “You were such a trooper, doll.”

“I’ll never forget the look on the doctor’s face when he told me I could start pushing and we had barely even got settled at the hospital,” she reminisced quietly, a smile lighting up her face.

Little Rebecca had been in a tearing hurry to enter the world, and Jane had been grateful for that. She’d heard horror stories of how long labor could be and was bracing for the worst, only for her daughter to arrive after only three and a half hours.

“She was impatient to be out and start sciencing,” Bucky said with a shrug.

Jane giggled and poked his shoulder playfully.

“You goof,” she said lovingly, leaning in to kiss him again.

Sharon and Sam received a similar text as they arrived home after a long mission.

“Looks like you’re gonna owe me, Wilson,” Sharon commented. “He’s gonna be a Fourth of July baby.”

“I’ll happily pay up,” Sam admitted. “I should have known Steve’s kid would do that. Is Darcy doing alright?”

“Yeah. But there’s a long way to go yet. First babies take a while, unless you’re Jane Foster,” Sharon sighed. “I’m dead tired, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep while we’re waiting for news.”

She kicked off her shoes and shed her jacket, wincing as her bruises were aggravated. It had been a tough fight, and she was expecting to be sore for a while afterwards, but they’d caught the weapons smugglers, and she was relieved to count it a success.

“Hmmm. Maybe a nice hot bath would help?”

Sam suggested, holding up her favorite bubble bath solution.

Sharon cracked a tired smile.

“Maybe. Will you join me?” She asked hopefully.

“Happily.” Sam assured her with a grin.

It was nearly seven the next morning when James Samuel Rogers finally made his appearance, screaming his lungs out.

Darcy winced a little at the volume.

“I guess he got an enhanced set of lungs,” she gasped out as he was placed on her chest.

Steve chuckled, even as his eyes filled up with tears.

“He’s beautiful,” he whispered. “Our son.”

“Oh, he’s definitely our kid,” she agreed. “He’s got my hair and your stubborn chin. Hey there, James, it’s all right. Mommy and Daddy are right here,” she said soothingly, running her hand along the baby’s tiny back.

Late that afternoon, baby James’s two sets of godparents arrived, eager to meet him. Steve and Darcy hadn’t told anyone the name yet, and greatly enjoyed the stunned expressions on Sam’s and Bucky’s faces when Darcy introduced baby James for the first time.

“Wow, Steve…..I don’t know what to say,” Bucky managed, giving his friend a big hug. “He’s pretty adorable.”

“We’re honored, man,” Sam added, in his turn. “Congrats!”

“Oh, he’s so cute!” Jane agreed, rushing over to Darcy’s side to admire the newborn. “He obviously inherited the Lewis hair.”

Darcy chuckled. Baby James had a thick head of dark hair just like her.

“Yup. But look at his little chin and ears,” she cooed. “Totally Steve.”

“I’ve seen that look before,” Sharon commented, shooting a sly glance at Steve. “He’s got that stubborn Rogers jaw.”

“I call it the jawline of Freedom.” Darcy said, winking at Steve. “He’s also got his dad’s beefiness. Nine pounds, six ounces.”

Sam whistled, Bucky smiled, and Jane winced in sympathy.

“Holy crap, Darcy. You deserve a medal. You better treat her extra special, Steve,” she declared, pointing her finger at the new father, who nodded seriously.

“I will. She’s my hero,” he stated, looking at his wife and son with a very besotted expression that Darcy referred to as “heart eyes.”

“Do they know if the serum affected little James?” Sharon asked curiously. That had been one source of concern for both Steve and Bucky during the pregnancies. So far, Rebecca had not shown to have inherited any super abilities.

“We don’t think so,” Steve said. “But I just wanted him to be healthy. I can tell you from personal experience, It’s no fun spending half your childhood in the hospital.”

He shared a rueful glance with Bucky, who nodded knowingly.

Darcy passed Baby James to an eager Jane to hold and tugged Steve close to her.

“Steve was great. He let me crush his hand and swear at him without breaking a sweat,” she said fondly. “And he told me funny stories about you two to take my mind off the pain.”

She grinned at Sam and Bucky, who only sighed.

“We’re glad we could be of use,” Sam said with a snarky grin. “What stories did he tell?”

“Oh, the one where Spidey webbed you two up,” Darcy revealed with a sly smile. “You got your butts beat by a teenager.”

“A teenager who can lift an elephant!” Bucky defended mildly, making cute faces at baby James, whose dark blue eyes were now open and looking around.

“Hey there, little guy,” Bucky said to him. “I’m your cool uncle Bucky, this is your awesome aunt Jane and your awesome aunt Sharon. Over there is your much less cool Uncle Sam.”

“Quit feeding the kid lies, Barnes,” Sam retorted. “We all know I’m the cool uncle. You’re the embarrassing caveman uncle who scratches his back with random knives and grunts a lot.”

Darcy, Jane and Steve burst out laughing. The ridiculous banter between Sam and Bucky was ongoing and provided a great source of amusement for their friends.

Next, it was Sharon’s turn to hold little James and she too, quickly fell under his spell.

“He’s just perfect,” she admired, gently touching one tiny fist. “Talk about a birthday present, huh?”

“You can say that again,” Darcy said emphatically. “The best,” Steve agreed, a tender smile on his face.

That night, after an exhausted Darcy had fallen asleep, Steve held his tiny son until the baby also succumbed to slumber. “Happiest Birthday Ever”. He thought, kissing James’s tiny head as he laid him in his bassinet.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he whispered to the sleeping Darcy.

[doc-pickles]

won’t let no one break your heart (part six)

we needed SOMETHING after the S17 premiere...

The plane ride to Philadelphia was torturous, to say the least. Jo’s goodbye to Alex at the airport had been harder than she’d anticipated, but she’d steeled her emotions and boarded the plane nonetheless. Her nerves were shot as she anxiously sat through the six hour plane ride, the baby in her stomach flipping and kicking her as if to remind her that she wasn’t alone. 

  She wasn’t sure why she’d chosen to do this, to come out here and find out answers about a woman who hadn’t even attempted to contact her once in her 34 years of life. Deep down Jo thinks that maybe it’s because of her son, that there’s some desperate part of her that needs to understand what her mother had thought about before she holds her own child. But she knows, if she’s honest with herself, that this doesn’t have anything to do with the baby in her womb. No this trip, this mental cage that she’d locked herself in, had everything to do with the two little girls who were no longer sleeping down the hallway from her and Alex. 

  Jo had always absently wondered why her mother had left her, but she’d never had the urge to track her down and demand answers. In her head, she’d painted a picture of a young desperate girl with no other options than abandoning her week old daughter at a fire station. She’d been content to leave it at that, to let her story end there. But as she’d stood on her front porch a week ago and watched Sadie and Molly leave, she knew she needed answers. If it physically pained her to let go of the girls who weren’t her own flesh and blood, how had her mother done what she had?

  The plane touches down in Philadelphia bright and early on Saturday morning, giving Jo enough time to go to her hotel for a shower and a change of clothes before tracking her mother down. Her body is aching, she knows she should rest and let herself recover from the long flight but she can’t. She needs to know. So she presses her fingers against her stomach in an attempt to calm the little boy doing somersaults inside of her and punches in the address that Parker had found for her into her GPS. 

  The house is nicer than she’d expected, two newer cars parked in the driveway of the two story home. Jo pushes any fear she still holds aside as she walks up the drive and rings the doorbell. It isn’t long before a young girl, high school aged maybe, answers the door. Jo has to hold her breath for a moment, noticing the similarities between her and the teenager standing before her. The girl, however, is unfazed as she stares quizzically at Jo, “Can I help you?”

  “Umm yes,” Jo snaps out of her daze, eyes meeting the girls. “I’m looking for Vicki Rudin. Is she here? I mean, am I in the right place?” “Lexie, who’s at the door,” a middle aged woman appears behind the teenager, eyes widening as she takes Jo in. “Go upstairs, Alexandra.” Lexie, or Alexandra, seems to not want to argue as she silently leaves the entryway. Vicki steps onto the porch, closing the door behind her as she turns to Jo, “What are you doing here?”

  “So you know who I am then?” “Of course I do, you look just like…,” Vicki looks over Jo, moving her gaze away quickly as she shakes her head. “Why are you here?”

  Jo’s put off by the abrasive tone in Vicki’s voice, if anyone should be mad here it should be her, “I just wanted to talk. Can we do that? Talk?” “Not here,” Vicki’s eyes scan her surroundings, as if someone is watching her every movement. “There’s a diner, a few blocks away. I’ll meet you there if you really want to talk.” “Well I didn’t just fly out here from Seattle for my health, I can think of about a thousand other things to do with my limited free time,” the tone that Jo bites back with is bitter, eyes narrowing at the woman in front of her. “Fine, I’ll meet you there.” She walks back to her car, her worry and fear now replaced with anger and annoyance towards the woman she’d just met. She pulls her phone out, seeing a text from Alex:

10:38 AM

Hope you two are doing okay. I love you.

  Even when she’d pushed her husband away, when she’d shut him out of her thoughts and feelings, he was still checking in on her and caring for her. She sends back a quick reply before pulling off the suburban street and heading to the diner Vicki had mentioned. The retro theming and aging waitresses reminds her of the restaurant downtown that Sadie and Molly loved to go to, where they’d beg Alex for quarters to play old songs on the Jukebox. The thought brings a small smile to Jo’s face as she settles into a table, ordering a hot tea from a waitress who stops by. 

  Vicki walks in fifteen minutes later, eyes immediately falling to Jo and sliding into the seat across from her. She orders a coffee, fixing it with cream and sugar before she dares to speak up, “I'm late for work. Um... I work in the mayor's office. Try to create jobs for under-served communities.” The answer feels like a knife twisting in Jo’s chest as she watches the woman sitting across from her nervously twist her golden wedding bands. The gems on them are large and she wears a few more rings across her hands. Her nails are painted a dark blue, professionally done. These touches along with the suburban dream house and the fancy job all paint a picture Jo had never entertained. 

  “You know, in my head, you worked at a diner half as nice as this. And you didn't graduate high school, or maybe you did but a year or two late because they don't let pregnant girls finish high school,” her hand instinctively falls to her own pregnant belly. Her son kicks at her hand, as if encouraging her to keep going. “And you scraped by somehow on... hard work and the kindness of strangers, but you had no one. You had nothing.”

  “That would make it okay that I left you,” Vicki’s voice sounds hopeful as she stares at Jo. “I wanted you to have a better life than I could give you…”

  “Nothing makes it okay,” Jo snapped. Her eyes light with a fire she didn’t know she was capable of feeling as she looks at the woman she’d pictured her whole life. “You know, I didn't have a better life. I wasn't better off. No one found me adoring parents who were dying for a newborn of their own to love. I lived in foster homes so bad, it was better to live in my car. And when a man finally told me that he loved me, I believed him, even when he beat the crap out of me so bad I couldn't see. So whatever life you had, tell me it wasn't better than mine.”

  Vicki stares at her blankly and for a moment Jo doesn’t think she’s going to speak again, “You look just like me. You look… so much like the vision of myself that I had to look at for nine months and loathe.”

  Jo reads between the lines of Vicki’s statement, fingers curling against her expanding abdomen protectively. Finally a picture begins to form in her head, one that paints a woman who couldn’t love their own child but didn’t have the courage to help them begin their life on the right foot, “Wow. You're just a monster, huh?”

  “You don’t understand, you never would,” Vicki gestures vaguely to the silver bands on Jo’s left hand, her eyes narrowing as she brings them to meet hers again. “You probably have a supportive husband at home who holds your hand when you go to your doctor’s appointments. You don’t have to feel fear or regret or anger everytime you go to see your baby.”

  The anger in Jo builds, it rises up her throat as she and Vicki hold each other’s stares. She couldn’t believe that this woman was talking about her baby, about Jo herself, like this, “It wasn’t enough to abandon me, you just have to rub the pain in huh?”

  “Your father… he was a monster. You weren’t created from some magic moment of love, you’re here because some piece of scum didn’t understand the word ‘no’ as I screamed it over and over again while he forced himself on me,” Vicki takes a deep breath in, her own eyes welling with tears as she focused her gaze on her hands. “I was petrified every single moment of my pregnancy. I was so terrified... imagining that you'd be a boy and that you'd have his face and his voice. And every day, every kick, every movement, it just reminded me where you came from.” Jo’s heart drops so quickly that she feels as if she can’t breathe. Her own little boy kicks about in her womb, the feeling now foreign as she tries to make sense of what Vicki is saying. She’d never imagined, never entertained the thought that she was the product of sexual assault. But here was the reality of it all, slapping her in the face so harshly she almost felt as if her cheek stung. 

  “But, you know, movies and books and... and magazines, they just kept talking about this...love that you feel the minute your baby is born. How instantaneous it is and how your heart just cracks wide open, and... I remember, I kept telling myself that as soon as I had you in my arms that I could do that and that I would do that. Other women did it, so why couldn't I,” Vicki lets a chuckle out then, the sound like nails on a chalkboard as her voice takes on a spiteful tone. “But it never did. No, it did… Everything they said was absolutely right. My heart cracked wide open. It was never just us, no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did. It was just a reminder of him and I resented you… so much for it. I think I still do, looking at you now and seeing him in your eyes, seeing you… like that and reminding me of the worst nine months of my life.”

  The anger that had been on a slow boil in her chest now erupted as Jo spat at the woman across from her, “No you don’t get to say that, to blame whatever fucked up problems you have on me. You don’t get to blame an innocent child for what happened to you.”

  “I did the best I could…”

  “Bullshit, the best you could would've been to find an adoption agency and make sure I had a home and someone to love me, not toss me away like garbage,” Jo eyes Vicki before taking a breath and meeting her eyes. “I spent most of my life doubting everyone I ever met, leaving them before they could leave me. I am a grown woman with a job that I love and friends I love and a husband who loves me so much and a son and still... I was walking around, waiting, wondering if you would ever find me. If you would ever say that you're sorry. I don’t need that though, I can tell you’re not sorry for what you did.”

  “I did the best I could,” the words have lost their meaning as they tumble out of Vicki’s mouth again. “I couldn’t look at you, I still can’t, but I tried to give you the best I could.”

  “No you didn’t! I came here because I spent so many nights laying awake wondering how someone could throw their own flesh and blood to the side like you have, wondering how it was possible when…,” Jo swipes at her eyes, her mind bringing up visions of blonde curls and bright green eyes. “It didn’t make sense that you could do that to me when I would give anything for the little girls I have back in Seattle that aren’t even mine. I couldn’t comprehend how you could do that to your own daughter when I would die for two that aren’t even my own.”

  A silence settled over Jo and Vicki, Jo’s mind racing as she thought about Sadie and Molly. They were the reason she’d come out here, to see her mother’s perspective on the beginning of her life in a light that she couldn’t envision herself. Sitting her now though, Jo knew the truth once and for all. She would never be able to understand giving your child up, circumstances be damned. 

  “You didn’t do anything for me. I have gone my whole life thinking that you leaving me was the only thing you could’ve done, that you had no other option but I was... so wrong,” Jo stands then, fed up with Vicki and the bullshit excuses she keeps feeding her. “I am nothing like you, everything I am I built myself. I am a loving wife and a good friend and... and I am a mother. A damn good one, better than you will ever be. And I’m going to fly home and lay in bed next to my husband in the house that I worked so hard for and pray that I never make my children feel the way that you made me feel.”

  Jo walks away, stopping a few feet away and turning back to stand in front of Vicki with her head held high, “Since you never bothered to ask, my name is Josephine. Doctor Josephine Karev and I know now that my life is so much better without you in it.”

  She barely remembers to stop at her hotel and grab her suitcase, her mind a blur as she drives to the airport and rebooks her flight. By the time she lands in Seattle it’s pushing 10 PM, Jo hailing a cab and heading home as soon as she’s collected her baggage. She had been so angry, so upset with the woman who she shared half her DNA with as she fled Philadelphia. Now though, standing on the front porch of her and Alex’s home, she was sad and exhausted and all she wanted was her husband. 

  Unlocking the front door, Jo pushed herself into the living room with the last bit of energy she had, a sigh leaving her as she leaned against the front door. She was shocked to see most of the lights on, assuming Alex was already in bed. 

  “Jo?” Alex moves from his position at the top of the stairs, his feet taking the stairs two at a time as he realizes that Jo is actually standing in front of him. Jo hadn’t realized she’d been crying until Alex was standing in front of her wiping at the tears that had collected on her cheeks. 

  “I am so sorry that I’ve been such a terrible wife,” Jo’s voice cracks as she meets Alex’s eyes, a sad expression on his face. “I should’ve just talked to you instead of freaking out but I thought… I thought going out there would give me closure or answers or… something. But it didn’t, it just showed me that I came from two horrible humans. And I know that I’m nothing like them but… 

  “I just sat across from her and listened to her tell me that what she did was what she thought was best for me and all I could think about was how I could never do that to our son,” Jo takes a deep breath, tears flowing down her face again as she struggles to speak. “And then I thought about doing that to Sadie and Molly and I couldn’t stomach the thought of it, of never seeing them again. And that’s when I realized that I’m a better person because I didn’t know her. It just… took me a long time to realize that.”

  Alex wraps Jo in his arms, letting her finally let out the emotions she’d been trying to conceal since she’d walked out of the diner.

  “I’m sorry things didn’t pan out like you’d wanted them to,” Alex’s lips pressed against her forehead as she reigned in her emotions, wiping at her cheeks to clear her tears. His hand wandered down to her bump, cradling it as he smiled down at her. “For the record, I think you’re already a fantastic mom.”

  “And for the record, you were right about Sadie and Molly,” Jo hesitantly met Alex’s eyes, a smirk already pasted across his face. “They belong here, with us. So we can call Martha and tell her that, because if there’s one thing that the past 24 hours has shown me it’s that I can’t imagine us without them now.” Alex wrapped an arm around Jo, ushering her upstairs, “Well we can call first thing tomorrow morning. For now, you two need to get to bed.” Jo was thrown off by Alex’s nonchalant response for a moment until they stepped into their bedroom. She turned to him with a smirk of her own, “You are a very sneaky man, did you know that?”

“Mama!” “Mommy!”

  “Oh I am so glad to see you two,” Jo settled herself onto the edge of their bed as Sadie and Molly both clambering onto her lap. “I missed you so much.” “Martha dropped them off this morning, they kept asking for us,” Alex rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “I was gonna call but I knew you were busy. But I figured you wouldn’t mind them coming back.” “Does this mean we get to stay forever? Does it,” Sadie’s innocent question brought tears to Jo’s eyes again, this round welcome as she stared down at the little girls sitting on her lap. 

“Do you want that? To stay here forever with us?” Both girls responded with a chorus of yeses, Alex and Jo’s eyes meeting over their heads. They exchanged a look before Jo turned back to the girls with a smile, “I think we can make that work.”

[themusicplayedherlife]

Take A Chance (Part 9)

pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader characters: Reader, Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff word count: 1,409 warnings: cussing, obviously. there’s a lot in this story. a/n: ¯sorry for this filler chapter and that it took so long but my computer has been wonky lately summary: AU! After a one night stand at a friend’s wedding, you gain something that could possibly change your life and views on life for the better or worse

Prev||All Parts||Next

You stare blankly at the television playing some random show in front of you, ignoring the hushed whispers coming from Steve as he speaks to his mother in the kitchen over the phone to tell her that you have decided to give marriage a try.

Wait. Shit. 

Fuckkkkk.

Might as well go all in, right? Too late to overthink things now.

You groan and throw your head back. “Steve,” you whine. When he doesn't answer, you call his name again, only louder.

You hear him say something before answering your call from the kitchen’s doorway. “Yeah? Do you need something from the kitchen?”

“No. I have a question.” You don't wait for him to answer. You twist in your seat, looking at him over the rim of the sofa. “Since we’re getting married, should I move in?” You would offer your place, but there's no way your sister would want Steve moving in with you. Not only would she have to deal with your hormonal ass, she’d have to deal with Steve and the inevitable newborn baby. Vicky wouldn't want that either, or maybe she would--well, not the late night cries and wailing just the whole treating your baby like a ragdoll part.

“Uh… Mom,” his hold on his phone slackens slightly, his voice getting louder as he speaks to his mom, “sorry--yes--okay--I have--I have to go! Bye, mom!” He quickly hangs up his phone after what you said has been processed by his brain. “She says hello.” You're pretty sure that's not the only thing she said. “Now, what did you say? I swear I heard you ask--”

“Should I move in?” He stumbles over his own feet as he makes his way over to the couch, you watching on in amusement.

“Yeah, that's what I thought I heard,” he squeaks nervously, and you can't help but chuckle at that. Seriously. This man is hilarious. He's okay with marriage, but at the mention of living together he starts getting all nervous. He clears his throat, “Do you want to?”

“Does it matter what I want?”

“Of--of course it does!”

“Uh, no, I don't think it does. I'm pretty sure your dad said something about us getting married and living together. Or else he wouldn't accept this.”

His words widen with realization. “Fuck.”

“Yup,” you pop the p, turning away from Steve. “How long do you think he can hold that threat over our heads for, anyway? I have a feeling he's going to be using that to tell us how to raise our child.”

He chuckles, bending ever so slightly to rest his palms on the back of the sofa and lean forward. “Not for long. At least not until Tony and Bucky can get their new invention to work in the next couple of years.”

“Hah, looks like we might never be free of your dad,” you joke, taking out your phone to text Natasha. “So, should I move in? Or should we look for a new place?”

“Why a new place?”

You pause when you open your messaging app on your phone, finger hovering over your chain of text messages with Natasha. You look up at him strangely, only to notice he's mimicking your gaze. “Wasn't this a place for you and Sharon? I'd understand if--”

“I got this place after I moved out of our--her apartment,” he interjects firmly, stopping any thoughts you had about intruding their once-upon-a-time-love nest.

“Ah--so…”

“So… you want to move in?”

“Again. It doesn't matter what I want--”

“That’s not what--I'm asking you to move in, (Y/N).” He pauses, thinking about something before nodding resolutely, “Will you move in with me?”

“So,” Natasha drawls as you take a sip of your lemonade, having to opt out of having your regular mimosa on Brunch Sundays, “you're actually getting married?”

Their shocked reactions are definitely not helping you cope with this whole situation. You’re still very much upset that you have to marry Steve just to secure a future for your growing fetus (you really need to come up with a nickname for it soon). Your mother and sister aren’t helping either. They’ve both already jumped on wedding planning duty with Sarah, constantly calling you to get your opinion on a color or decoration, or sometimes shoving images into your face while you’re trying to edit from home. Steve’s father, on the other, is probably the only one letting you adjust to the situation. How? By not getting involved for once.

It also helped that neither of you mentioned Sharon to him because you’re sure that if he found out Sharon wanted to work things out with Steve again, he’d make things a lot more difficult than they already are.

“And you're moving in together?”

You hum in agreement. “Soon.”

“Wow,” Wanda breathes out.

“Why are you both so surprised? The two of you were practically pushing the idea of marrying him.”

“No,” Natasha bobs her head once, raising a finger as if to tell you to wait, “I advised you to talk to Steve, figure things out before making a hasty decision, not to marry the man.” Did she?

Wanda frowns, mulling over what was said that day. “Maybe I did. But I don't know. I don't think it's all that bad you're marrying him. I think, if there's one person you should marry, it's him. I mean, you both did say he turned down his ex right in front of you right?” You nod warily, not too sure if you want her to continue. “See? And who in the right mind does that if they weren't all in for this pregnancy? And can we talk about how he defended you to his dad? His dad!? I say that's pretty important. Even your mom was impressed.”

“I don't doubt his sincerity, Wands. I can see he's devoted to raising this baby, but it doesn't mean things won't change later on. He could start resenting me and our baby for being the wall between him and the love of his life, for all I know”

“Oorrrr,” Wanda says, pointing her fork in your direction, “he might, oh, I don't know, fall in love with you?” Oh great, now she’s starting to sound like Steve.

“With me?” you snort. “You do know me, right?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Natasha raises an eyebrow in your direction.

“I am heavily opinionated and can be somewhat of an ass. You want to know what the first thing I noticed was when I walked into his office? How horrendous it was. Then when I saw what he was wearing? How plain he was. That's not someone he needs.” 

Steve needs someone more laid back, maybe someone like Sharon, if she was like that. You're not someone who will easily give into his wills. In fact, the moment you and Steve started talking living arrangements, you began envisioning how to decorate the living room and make it less bland. Steve wasn’t happy when you mentioned it but he didn’t really fight back after you said, “Hey, I’m going to live here too. I think I’m entitled to decorating.”

“And how do you know what he needs? Did he tell you?”

“Well, no--”

“Exactly, you don't know. Don't make assumptions about what he wants or doesn't want. Or what he needs and doesn't need.”

You feel like a child being scolded by their parent for pouring the content of their juice box all over the icky boy they’re always fighting with.

“Yeah, wow, thanks for the wisdom, mom.” Wanda rolls her eyes at your sarcasm.

“She's right, you know.”

“God, dad, I know you and mom haven't been getting any action lately but don't gang up on me hoping you'll get some tonight.”

Now it's Natasha’s turn to roll her eyes in exasperation. “Listen, you can act like a wise ass all you want. But you might be good for Steve and he might be good for you. He's demure and, like you said, you're heavily opinionated. You both need someone like one another to bring out the best--”

“Or worst,” you interrupt her.

“BEST,” she repeats again, “in you.”

“Besides,” Wanda starts, winking coyly, “ you never know what can happen between a man and woman living under the same roof.”

You pretend to gag. “We’re just going to be roommates! Roommates!”

Natasha takes a sip of her mimosa, looking at you over the rim of her glass. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

@anyakinamidala @etherealxslytherin @incarcenatedangel @nobodys-baby-now @pacifikaproudaotearoa @lady-thor-foster @on-your-left-marvel @shelvesandwhelves @wildestdreamsrps @bicevans @caitsymichelle13 @alyssaj23 @debzybrazy @jonsnowisnotdeadthough @meatballevans @allyp1023 @hollycornish @bands-and-shietz @sebastianst-n @hillrich @trustmeimthehiddlestoner @renner-hawkeyeloves @4eyedbandit @jesslovesfandom @tragicalchemist @themanwiththemetalarm @ailynalonso15

[sage-nebula]

alan vs liam...? my money's on alan. He's got that purpose and drive in his life now-hell, even with everything weighing down on him in canon he still had it in him to push forward even while he was letting go and finally enjoying his battles with satoshi and thats what let him win. b/c he has that drive to protect and those precious people in his heart. does liam even have that other than shou? does he ever get the chance to learn that vital lesson? it seems like an uphill battle for him.

Hmm, well …

See, what I think you’re describing is Alan’s unflinching, unyielding determination. He is a Determinator. He does not quit. The one time we see him break, it’s extremely temporary, and under the most grievous of circumstances. I don’t think anyone can blame him for having that complete breakdown atop Prism Tower, and even then, it’s not like we see him say he’s going to stop fighting, or that he’s going to give up and go home. He shuts down for a time, yes (and again, who could blame him), but he’s still there, and Ash is able to snap him out of it. Ash is able to help him temporarily shelve his trauma long enough so that his natural Determinator instinct can kick in and he can keep fighting, because that is what he does. Regardless of the odds stacked against him, no matter how insurmountable they may seem, he goes out and fights because that’s just who he is. Even when Primal Legendaries were threatening the world—even when it was outright stated that the apocalypse was nigh—Alan, without hesitating, said that he was going to go to where they were fighting so that he could do something about it. Of course, he was doing this because he felt that it was Right, and doing what is Right is his primary motivation, but one still can’t deny the sheer determination he has, the fact that he just doesn’t give up unless you physically incapacitate him. He has to be buried under rubble or unconscious (nearly dead) before he stops fighting. Again, the only exception is when he has his emotional breakdown on Prism Tower, but even that was temporary, and is more than understandable. He’s not a machine, even he has limits—but even then, with some words of encouragement, he pushes past those limits anyway and stays determined, because that’s who he is.

That soul, I think, that inner strength—it all comes down to where you stand on nature vs. nurture, but personally I feel that human beings are a mixture of both. Our experiences certainly shape us in huge ways, but I think that there are some parts of us that are core, that we’re not entirely blank slates when we’re born, that there are some parts of us that simply are. (Hence why, for instance, some babies are fussier than others, even when newborn, before their experiences have a chance to shape them.) If that’s the case, if that’s true, then Liam has that same Determinator spirit that Alan does. They’d both be Determinators, they’d both set their sights on something and then go after it with everything they have. Liam shows his determination when he ignores what his family says and chooses to run away to go become a trainer regardless of what they want or think. Everything is set against him doing this—there are so many obstacles in his path—but he doesn’t let any of it stop him. His parents and grandparents disapproving doesn’t stop him, the fact that he has no pokémon to help him safely get to Lumiose City doesn’t stop him, the fact that he’s never traveled alone before doesn’t stop him, the fact that he doesn’t have a License doesn’t stop him, and so on and so forth. The challenges are great and many, but they aren’t enough to get him to back down. He keeps going, keeps fighting, because this is important to him, he feels he has to do it. So in that sense, he does have the same determination that Alan does, the same refusal to give up.

So that’s something they share, even if not for the same reasons, because you’re right: Liam doesn’t have the same number of precious people in his life that Alan does. Liam has Shou, and other pokémon he could potentially train, and at present, that’s about it. (Though he still could form a relationship with Sycamore, it would just be quite different.) I think that their moral compasses could still be about the same, at least on a broad scale. I think that, if faced with the end of the world, Liam—like Alan—would choose to fight because it’s the Right thing to do, and again, he does have the determination to go after it. But no, he doesn’t have specific people to protect, he lacks that as a motivation. So he doesn’t have that in his corner the way that Alan does.

But the reason why my money is still on Alan winning in a battle between them isn’t down to motivation (particularly if it was just a fun battle), but rather instead comes down to the fact that I just feel like Alan would be the superior trainer, for a few reasons:

Alan’s knowledge, both in terms of general pokémon care and battling techniques, far suprasses Liam’s. Liam’s tutoring regimens were extremely strict; he’s very smart and knows a great many things, to be sure. But most of his subjects didn’t cover pokémon, and those that did didn’t exactly touch upon pokémon care or battling techniques. By the time he leaves on his journey, he’s had any love of academia or studying completely crushed out of him due to how strict his tutors / grandparents were (and his parents refusing to step in / not fostering a love of learning / saying he should pursue his lessons despite hating them didnt’ help), and so he doesn’t want to take the time to study and learn later on, either. So while he is very smart, he never actually studied anything that would benefit him when it comes to being a trainer, and so anything he learns, he learns on the go, on the field. This can be fine, but it also means that he’s going to start way behind Alan …… who has been studying pokémon (both in terms of general care and battling techniques) since he was five. Not only was Alan raised by Sycamore at his lab, but he also helped Sycamore out as an assistant, meaning that he learned all about the different pokémon they had there at the lab, as well as all kinds of different other species through various lessons on zoology and the like. Alan had his natural curiosity and intelligence nurtured, and Sycamore fostered a love for learning and academia in him, so that Alan often sought out various subjects and lessons on his own (or asked Sycamore to teach him various different things), which included so many different lessons about pokémon. On top of that, Sycamore’s father (Alan’s adoptive grandfather) decided from the get-go that Alan was a Champ-in-Making, and so he often got him various books and guides about training techniques and battling, which Sycamore sometimes sighed in exasperation at, but Alan loved reading. So even when he was just a little kid, undecided if he’d even train someday, he still read books about various strategies and different pokémon for fun. So when the time came that he applied for his License when he turned ten, although he did study in preparation for the exam, it was really unnecessary; he passed with a perfect score. Even as a trainer, he still studies in addition to practical training for fun, because that’s just how he is.So while Liam learns on the fly, and is still very smart and does do a good job, Alan knows far more about this than Liam does. He may have left on his journey two years later than Liam, but the two years he spent at the lab were not spent slacking, they were spent learning. I mean, this is a guy who uses the Agiligross strategy in canon. He knows what he’s doing; he’s not making it up as he goes along.

As absolutely godawful as being in Lysandre’s service was … it can’t be denied that it really taught Alan how to fight, and since there’s a high probability that Liam would never be pulled into Lysandre’s service like that, he simply wouldn’t have that experience.Like, again, being in Lysandre’s service was horrid, absolutely awful. Lysandre emotionally abused Alan for years. But Lysandre himself straight up says, “I have no use for weaklings.” While this is more emotional abuse, it also points to the training that Lysandre no doubt put Alan through after recruiting him. Alan knew to go to Lysandre to request further training (which was given to him in the form of the mega evolution gauntlet) in TSME 4; we can only assume, then, that he probably had similar training in the past, quite possibly after first being recruited. Like, I don’t think it was a gauntlet before—I think Lysandre set up that rather harsh gauntlet in order to punish what he perceived to be impatience from Alan, because he dislikes impatience—but I do think that when Lysandre first recruited Alan (by having his pyroar curbstomp Lizardon) he no doubt gave him some form of training to toughen both him and Lizardon up so that they would be more useful. And even setting aside training that Lysandre made available to them, they traveled for two years in his service, going god knows where to get Mega Stones, battling other trainers who utilized mega evolution along the way once Lizardon evolved into charizard. Alan not only no doubt underwent training as Lysandre’s agent, but he also learned how to fight out of necessity as someone working the field (learning on the job, as it were), potentially going to very dangerous places and getting into dangerous situations that he then had to get himself (and Lizardon) out of. And again, Liam just doesn’t have that, more than likely. He would have never had any training set up by Lysandre, and he wouldn’t have lived the experiences that Alan did that taught him and Lizardon how to fight. I’m not talking about fighting as in determination, but I’m talking about fighting as in combat strength and skill. Liam and Shou are strong, no doubt—again, they’re not stupid, they’re not weak—but Alan and Lizardon went through a special set of circumstances that, as godawful and harmful as those circumstances were to their mental health (and hell, even physically—both of them nearly died in TSME 3), still gave them strength and survival skills that they might not have had otherwise.  

So because of those two factors, my money would definitely be on Alan. Liam is good, no doubt, but I think that Alan would still be the superior trainer, and Lizardon would be the stronger charizard. No shade on Liam or Shou; I just don’t think they’re in the position (or timeline) to be able to keep up.

[wendyimmiller]

Lingering Springs, Bittersweet Memories and The Evolution of a Gardener

The latest in the on-going correspondence between Marianne Willburn & Scott Beuerlein.

__________________________________

May 14, 2020

Lovettsville, VA

Dear Scott,

My heart aches for you and your family coping with the loss of your mother.  In a normal year it would be emotionally draining, but right now, with the ability to have less than ten people at the funeral?  I am deeply sorry you have had to cope and grieve while normal life is upside down – I cannot imagine.  It was this time last year that we lost my father, and that was hard enough.

The arrival of spring has brought back a lot of that tension and sadness.   Memory adheres gently to seasons. For years I could not see pumpkins on porches and smell cinnamon in stores without experiencing waves of psychosomatic morning sickness brought on by having not one, but two, romantic Septembers. And now, Dad is messing with spring.

I have had words with him about it.  Proper out-loud words to the sky when I’m in the vegetable garden, which is one of the reasons we needed to live somewhere without visible neighbors. That and the outdoor restroom facilities.

I have wondered many times over the last year what Dad would think about my garden now. It is very young, but the last time he saw it, it was a newborn, and for the most part not to be seen. Dad never went in for ornamentals in the same way that he loved his vegetables and the natural world around him.  My guess is that he would have nodded gently, raised his eyebrows over some of my kaleidoscope combinations, and then pulled up a chair in the vegetable garden and asked for a beer.

Dad and I in the garden that fed our family during “the college years” in Iowa.

My very earliest memories of a purely ornamental garden and the high ambitions of its creator – a good family friend – are equally strong memories of the bemusement my father felt for such frivolous things.  I can still see the marble statues…hear the plans for an amphitheater being discussed with animated hands as mosquitos danced around us in the dusk…and I can still see my father shaking his head.

I must have been ten or eleven and no doubt more focused on one of the wonderful treats Mr. Willson had prepared for us indoors to care what an amphitheater was.  Now I routinely stand with gardeners in their Edens and discuss overreaching plans that are based in fantasy and a glass of red wine  –  including my own.

The only shot I have of Mr. Willson proudly standing in his California foothills garden.

He is gone now too, but I so wish I had had more time to see his garden and his marvelous plans with wiser eyes. I have an aloe pup (of a pup of a pup) he gave me that sits on my desk next to this picture.

Speaking of wiser eyes – or at least, eyes that are now wise enough to recognize how thoroughly un-wise they are – what a brilliant column on the evolution of gardeners in Horticulture this month!  No rebuttal from this quarter – you nailed that one.  Judging from my young adult children, and my own memories of being supple, invincible and insufferable, it is not only gardeners who go through this “I-know-everything-I’m-a-rock-star” phase.

The fermenters for one.  If I am lectured one more time at a party on the merits of lactobacillus by a bearded, gym-ripped Adonis with a koi tattoo on his calf, I may lose my carefully curated reputation as a well-behaved guest.  Or as you might say, ‘my shit.’

I get it dude.  You can pickle cabbage.  So can I. So can three-quarters of the population of Poland.  May I assume you’re also fostering a rare sourdough starter you brought back from a hostel in Bratislava last summer?

Whew.  That’s obviously been building up.

But as you say (much more wisely, gently, and 100x less arrogantly than I seem to be able to express), it’s payback. I cringe to think of the party-goers I have annoyed with my new gardening discoveries that read to them as ancient history.

And the ones I’m currently annoying for that matter. It’s all relative.  Until we leave this Earth with cherubims and seraphims at our heels, there is always someone older and wiser that wants to punch us in the mouth.

Perhaps all this confidence is as it should be. If in those earliest days of discovery, we were to come up against the enormity of all that we know right now that we don’t know, and not experience any wins that made us feel special…made us feel like we alone knew the answer…I think we’d most likely run scared, and turn our talents to ditch digging or politics.  I have never felt less able to call myself an expert on growing things than I do now, more than twenty-five years into growing things.

And I feel almost panicked over how little time there is to absorb all that I’m hungry to learn. I’m at it 24/7 and there still isn’t enough time. Life gets so complicated so quickly that dropping everything and offering my unpaid services to Keith Wiley or Fergus Garrett or Panayoti Kelaidis for a year in exchange for knowledge unbound requires that I fake my own death.

One view (amongst hundreds) of Keith Wiley’s garden at Wildside in Devon. Yes, I know we’re back to England and it’s a sore point with you, but when I see a garden like this I realize the enormity of what I have left to learn.

Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.  Why can’t we have two decades in our twenties?  One to try everything and one for keeps. Or is that what our thirties are supposed to be?

But enough of philosophy and supple young joints.

We too have had one of the most glorious springs in memory.  Long and lingering, it has allowed so many early bloomers such as epimedium, dicentra (I know, lamprocapnos, &$%@! taxonomists), claytonia, brunnera, trillium, mertensia, narcissus, leucojum, kerria etc. to hold those blooms for weeks – right up until the freezes we had that you sent from the Midwest.

Self-seeded and superb – Brunnera macrophylla

Even the sanguinaria held on longer than two days. After the freezes, the temps stayed cool and revived almost everything.  My newish ‘Rose Marie’ magnolia took a huge hit – both blossoms and leaves – as did ‘Jane’, but as Michael said, now they can boast of a tough childhood.

Sanguinaria canadensis ‘Multiplex’

One of the most surprising semi-casualties was a Rodgersia podophylla ‘Rotlaub’ I have grown for five years since I brought it back from Dancing Oaks Nursery in Oregon. It has weathered much in the way of crazy springs, flagged a little, but never been hit so hard by a cold snap.  As I thought of it as an early emerger, I was gobsmacked that it couldn’t pull itself together for a night. But when I went back to my records, I realized that the warm winter had gently made me think that we were later than we were, and with all the days blending together right now, who the hell knows what day of the week it is, much less where the rodgersia should be.

Still, lesson learned, filed away under ‘fail,’ and thankfully the plant has begun to re-sprout. I understand from a friend in Colorado that this is a normal state of affairs in a region that giveth and taketh away every May, but it’s hard to see such a gorgeous plant on its knees.   Again, this is where you cannot beat hard experience – and many years of it.

The Lord giveth….

And the Lord taketh away.

Meanwhile, in more resilient quarters, each spring I come back to epimedium and brunnera as two genera that are woefully underplanted by the general public.  It’s not their fault. For whatever reason neither is commonly sold.  It probably has much to do with how they present in 6” pots – not as much come hither as a greenhouse begonia. But so much ease, and so much to offer shade gardeners tired of staring at hosta. Unaffected by the freezes, and by most things really Except for Southern blight on the brunnera in the summer months – yep, that scourge is in my soil in places.

A little ‘Jack Frost’ brunnera in the midst of some blushing E. x versicolor ‘Sulphureum’

I share your enjoyment of ostrich ferns and try very hard not overuse them in my quest to conquer Japanese stilt grass.  They are overusing themselves I fear. Plant one, you have a hundred; and as you say, late freezes halt them only for seconds.  They have already shoved out a robust stand of Arisaema triphyllum and are heading for the A. ringens and A. consanguineum if I don’t pull out the shovel. And move the arisaema. Such beautiful Jurassic monsters.

Do you grow vegetables somewhere on that plot of yours?  The asparagus are coming in well this year and the kale is putting a little green in my juice every day.

Wait, that’s every week.  I’m forgetting.  It’s the wine I drink every day.  The wine.

Especially at the moment.

I have put off mentioning COVID-19 and the unbearable state of things until the end of this letter, and quite frankly, I am tempted to sign off and leave it there, the entire business is so upsetting. But in response to your question – should we build gardens for nursing homes and tend gardens for first responders during this pandemic – the answer is of course yes; but then, we should build gardens and help our struggling neighbors where we have the ability at every opportunity.

Though it seems like this will never end, it will.  The true question is, will we do these things when it is all over? Will the new Victory Gardeners keep gardening without a pandemic to worry them?  Will people still remember to bring a bouquet of tulips to a nurse’s door, or plant up a windowsill garden for an elderly friend when there are stores to be shopped and weekend recreating to be done.  Will I?

I hope so.  We are not judged so much I think by what we do when the emergency is obvious and push comes to shove, but what we do when the world stops shoving and we can quietly return to familiar routines. Your thoughts are laudable and wonderful however. Do not let my cynicism blight them.

As for your promise of you both joining me in the UK next year on a garden tour, you might want to ask yourself if you are truly safe in a country whose beloved horticultural institutions you’ve publicly disparaged.  I’m not saying I would rat out your identity, but then again, I’m not saying I wouldn’t. Of course I wouldn’t let them hurt Michele – she’s one of us.

Make sure Michele brings this picture tucked into her passport.  They may require proof.

As for me – do I want an Olympic level smart ass sitting in the back of the [exceptionally comfortable] coach, sipping red wine and throwing out occasional witticisms to the raucous laughter of all present? I sat through that once already remember.

What the hell.  But I’m telling you right now, I’ll have the microphone this time and I know how to use it.

My best to you both,

Marianne

P.S. We got a new puppy.  An Irish Wolfhound named Nessa. Mungo is currently seeking legal representation.

P.P.S.  Love your mossy walks.  LOVE them.

Lingering Springs, Bittersweet Memories and The Evolution of a Gardener originally appeared on GardenRant on May 14, 2020.

The post Lingering Springs, Bittersweet Memories and The Evolution of a Gardener appeared first on GardenRant.

from Gardening https://www.gardenrant.com/2020/05/lingering-springs-bittersweet-memories-and-the-evolution-of-a-gardener.html via http://www.rssmix.com/

[turfandlawncare]

Lingering Springs, Bittersweet Memories and The Evolution of a Gardener

The latest in the on-going correspondence between Marianne Willburn & Scott Beuerlein.

__________________________________

May 14, 2020

Lovettsville, VA

Dear Scott,

My heart aches for you and your family coping with the loss of your mother.  In a normal year it would be emotionally draining, but right now, with the ability to have less than ten people at the funeral?  I am deeply sorry you have had to cope and grieve while normal life is upside down – I cannot imagine.  It was this time last year that we lost my father, and that was hard enough.

The arrival of spring has brought back a lot of that tension and sadness.   Memory adheres gently to seasons. For years I could not see pumpkins on porches and smell cinnamon in stores without experiencing waves of psychosomatic morning sickness brought on by having not one, but two, romantic Septembers. And now, Dad is messing with spring.

I have had words with him about it.  Proper out-loud words to the sky when I’m in the vegetable garden, which is one of the reasons we needed to live somewhere without visible neighbors. That and the outdoor restroom facilities.

I have wondered many times over the last year what Dad would think about my garden now. It is very young, but the last time he saw it, it was a newborn, and for the most part not to be seen. Dad never went in for ornamentals in the same way that he loved his vegetables and the natural world around him.  My guess is that he would have nodded gently, raised his eyebrows over some of my kaleidoscope combinations, and then pulled up a chair in the vegetable garden and asked for a beer.

Dad and I in the garden that fed our family during “the college years” in Iowa.

My very earliest memories of a purely ornamental garden and the high ambitions of its creator – a good family friend – are equally strong memories of the bemusement my father felt for such frivolous things.  I can still see the marble statues…hear the plans for an amphitheater being discussed with animated hands as mosquitos danced around us in the dusk…and I can still see my father shaking his head.

I must have been ten or eleven and no doubt more focused on one of the wonderful treats Mr. Willson had prepared for us indoors to care what an amphitheater was.  Now I routinely stand with gardeners in their Edens and discuss overreaching plans that are based in fantasy and a glass of red wine  –  including my own.

The only shot I have of Mr. Willson proudly standing in his California foothills garden.

He is gone now too, but I so wish I had had more time to see his garden and his marvelous plans with wiser eyes. I have an aloe pup (of a pup of a pup) he gave me that sits on my desk next to this picture.

Speaking of wiser eyes – or at least, eyes that are now wise enough to recognize how thoroughly un-wise they are – what a brilliant column on the evolution of gardeners in Horticulture this month!  No rebuttal from this quarter – you nailed that one.  Judging from my young adult children, and my own memories of being supple, invincible and insufferable, it is not only gardeners who go through this “I-know-everything-I’m-a-rock-star” phase.

The fermenters for one.  If I am lectured one more time at a party on the merits of lactobacillus by a bearded, gym-ripped Adonis with a koi tattoo on his calf, I may lose my carefully curated reputation as a well-behaved guest.  Or as you might say, ‘my shit.’

I get it dude.  You can pickle cabbage.  So can I. So can three-quarters of the population of Poland.  May I assume you’re also fostering a rare sourdough starter you brought back from a hostel in Bratislava last summer?

Whew.  That’s obviously been building up.

But as you say (much more wisely, gently, and 100x less arrogantly than I seem to be able to express), it’s payback. I cringe to think of the party-goers I have annoyed with my new gardening discoveries that read to them as ancient history.

And the ones I’m currently annoying for that matter. It’s all relative.  Until we leave this Earth with cherubims and seraphims at our heels, there is always someone older and wiser that wants to punch us in the mouth.

Perhaps all this confidence is as it should be. If in those earliest days of discovery, we were to come up against the enormity of all that we know right now that we don’t know, and not experience any wins that made us feel special…made us feel like we alone knew the answer…I think we’d most likely run scared, and turn our talents to ditch digging or politics.  I have never felt less able to call myself an expert on growing things than I do now, more than twenty-five years into growing things.

And I feel almost panicked over how little time there is to absorb all that I’m hungry to learn. I’m at it 24/7 and there still isn’t enough time. Life gets so complicated so quickly that dropping everything and offering my unpaid services to Keith Wiley or Fergus Garrett or Panayoti Kelaidis for a year in exchange for knowledge unbound requires that I fake my own death.

One view (amongst hundreds) of Keith Wiley’s garden at Wildside in Devon. Yes, I know we’re back to England and it’s a sore point with you, but when I see a garden like this I realize the enormity of what I have left to learn.

Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.  Why can’t we have two decades in our twenties?  One to try everything and one for keeps. Or is that what our thirties are supposed to be?

But enough of philosophy and supple young joints.

We too have had one of the most glorious springs in memory.  Long and lingering, it has allowed so many early bloomers such as epimedium, dicentra (I know, lamprocapnos, &$%@! taxonomists), claytonia, brunnera, trillium, mertensia, narcissus, leucojum, kerria etc. to hold those blooms for weeks – right up until the freezes we had that you sent from the Midwest.

Self-seeded and superb – Brunnera macrophylla

Even the sanguinaria held on longer than two days. After the freezes, the temps stayed cool and revived almost everything.  My newish ‘Rose Marie’ magnolia took a huge hit – both blossoms and leaves – as did ‘Jane’, but as Michael said, now they can boast of a tough childhood.

Sanguinaria canadensis ‘Multiplex’

One of the most surprising semi-casualties was a Rodgersia podophylla ‘Rotlaub’ I have grown for five years since I brought it back from Dancing Oaks Nursery in Oregon. It has weathered much in the way of crazy springs, flagged a little, but never been hit so hard by a cold snap.  As I thought of it as an early emerger, I was gobsmacked that it couldn’t pull itself together for a night. But when I went back to my records, I realized that the warm winter had gently made me think that we were later than we were, and with all the days blending together right now, who the hell knows what day of the week it is, much less where the rodgersia should be.

Still, lesson learned, filed away under ‘fail,’ and thankfully the plant has begun to re-sprout. I understand from a friend in Colorado that this is a normal state of affairs in a region that giveth and taketh away every May, but it’s hard to see such a gorgeous plant on its knees.   Again, this is where you cannot beat hard experience – and many years of it.

The Lord giveth….

And the Lord taketh away.

Meanwhile, in more resilient quarters, each spring I come back to epimedium and brunnera as two genera that are woefully underplanted by the general public.  It’s not their fault. For whatever reason neither is commonly sold.  It probably has much to do with how they present in 6” pots – not as much come hither as a greenhouse begonia. But so much ease, and so much to offer shade gardeners tired of staring at hosta. Unaffected by the freezes, and by most things really Except for Southern blight on the brunnera in the summer months – yep, that scourge is in my soil in places.

A little ‘Jack Frost’ brunnera in the midst of some blushing E. x versicolor ‘Sulphureum’

I share your enjoyment of ostrich ferns and try very hard not overuse them in my quest to conquer Japanese stilt grass.  They are overusing themselves I fear. Plant one, you have a hundred; and as you say, late freezes halt them only for seconds.  They have already shoved out a robust stand of Arisaema triphyllum and are heading for the A. ringens and A. consanguineum if I don’t pull out the shovel. And move the arisaema. Such beautiful Jurassic monsters.

Do you grow vegetables somewhere on that plot of yours?  The asparagus are coming in well this year and the kale is putting a little green in my juice every day.

Wait, that’s every week.  I’m forgetting.  It’s the wine I drink every day.  The wine.

Especially at the moment.

I have put off mentioning COVID-19 and the unbearable state of things until the end of this letter, and quite frankly, I am tempted to sign off and leave it there, the entire business is so upsetting. But in response to your question – should we build gardens for nursing homes and tend gardens for first responders during this pandemic – the answer is of course yes; but then, we should build gardens and help our struggling neighbors where we have the ability at every opportunity.

Though it seems like this will never end, it will.  The true question is, will we do these things when it is all over? Will the new Victory Gardeners keep gardening without a pandemic to worry them?  Will people still remember to bring a bouquet of tulips to a nurse’s door, or plant up a windowsill garden for an elderly friend when there are stores to be shopped and weekend recreating to be done.  Will I?

I hope so.  We are not judged so much I think by what we do when the emergency is obvious and push comes to shove, but what we do when the world stops shoving and we can quietly return to familiar routines. Your thoughts are laudable and wonderful however. Do not let my cynicism blight them.

As for your promise of you both joining me in the UK next year on a garden tour, you might want to ask yourself if you are truly safe in a country whose beloved horticultural institutions you’ve publicly disparaged.  I’m not saying I would rat out your identity, but then again, I’m not saying I wouldn’t. Of course I wouldn’t let them hurt Michele – she’s one of us.

Make sure Michele brings this picture tucked into her passport.  They may require proof.

As for me – do I want an Olympic level smart ass sitting in the back of the [exceptionally comfortable] coach, sipping red wine and throwing out occasional witticisms to the raucous laughter of all present? I sat through that once already remember.

What the hell.  But I’m telling you right now, I’ll have the microphone this time and I know how to use it.

My best to you both,

Marianne

P.S. We got a new puppy.  An Irish Wolfhound named Nessa. Mungo is currently seeking legal representation.

P.P.S.  Love your mossy walks.  LOVE them.

Lingering Springs, Bittersweet Memories and The Evolution of a Gardener originally appeared on GardenRant on May 14, 2020.

The post Lingering Springs, Bittersweet Memories and The Evolution of a Gardener appeared first on GardenRant.

from GardenRant https://ift.tt/2WTIAZp

[dorothydelgadillo]

How We Build Company Culture as a Remote Team

Skillcrush is a completely distributed company, meaning that we have no central office and are located all over the world, spanning languages, continents, and timezones. With the exception of a few clusters (several of us live in New York City and we have a bustling Florida contingent), most of rarely see each other IRL—if ever. The entirety of the Skillcrush team has never physically been in one place together, leaving us to guess at each other’s heights. Instead, we do everything digitally, from meetings over Google Hangouts to daily chatter on Hipchat.

You might think that working in your house or coworking space—far away from your coworkers—is lonely. In fact, we recently talked about fighting isolation as a remote team on the first episode of our podcast, Hit Refresh. In the episode, our producer Haele commented that most of our institutional solutions for building culture on the team fall to me, our Director of Operations.

I’m embarrassed to admit that the thought had never really occurred to me. At least. . . not really. There are times where I feel like the team mom—the one who makes sure everyone gets a gif party on their birthday—but, honestly, I think that has less to do with my job and more to do with my personality. So the episode got me thinking about culture-building and how it really has to be a team effort instead of a top-down initiative instituted by managers or executives.

I often encounter skepticism from people who assume we couldn’t possibly know each other the way co-located teams do, and that a bland company culture must be the price we pay for flexibility. But we are anything but boring! In fact, in a recent anonymous survey, the five words most used by our team to describe our culture were fun, friendly, empowering, supportive, and welcoming.

On a day-to-day basis, we make a point to talk about (and celebrate!) things other than work, and to let team members take the lead on team-building activities. We chat about our weekends, our kids, and our lives just like any other coworkers. We have real friendships over our computer screens—both in one-on-one chats and in group settings.

Just as critical to our daily interactions are the special events and clubs we make happen to foster our company culture and relationships. Here’s a look at some of the things you might recognize from your own office, just moved online.

Baby Showers

Ain’t no Skillcrush baby shower complete without swag for the little ones! We use iron-ons to make onesies for the newborn and t-shirts for any older siblings.

We’re experiencing a bit of a baby boom here at Skillcrush and could not be more excited about it. A sampling of responses to a recent baby announcement in our team chat include: “OMG WE HAZ BABY!!!,” “he’s so cute i’m DYING,” “STAP IT RIGHT NOW HE IS PERFECT,” and “omg get that baby in a skillcrush onesie omg omg.”

To give us an outlet for our excitement and, you know, support the new parents and all that, we started hosting baby showers to send folks off on parental leave with lots of fanfare.

Here’s how it works: We schedule a video call that works for as many team members as possible, and one team member is designated as the host. The host finds a local bakery to deliver treats to the parent-to-be the day of the shower, sends a few gifts, and plans a simple game for the guests to play. Valerie, our Customer Support Specialist, was a recent host and she had us submit baby pictures that she turned into a funny guessing game.

We watch the parent open their goodies, we chat about the baby, and those of us who are parents share encouraging words. It’s a casual, easy way to support new parents and celebrate as a team, and it’s one of my favorite Skillcrush traditions.

Happy Hours

We can’t take departing team members out for a drink on their last day of work, but we can throw them a remote “happy hour” to wish them well before they go.

These thirty-minute Google Hangouts turn a sad thing—saying goodbye to a teammate—into a celebration, so we throw them for departing team members whenever possible. The whole team is invited and everyone is encouraged to bring “whatever drink or snack makes you happy, given your personal preferences and/or time zone.” There’s no agenda, just casual chit chat about the team member’s next adventure.

I often tell our students, “once a Skillcrusher, always a Skillcrusher,” because we don’t disappear when they’re done with their coursework. Once they’re in our community, they’re in it, and I truly believe this extends to our team, too. Happy Hours are our way of reminding them that leaving doesn’t actually mean saying goodbye and that they’re stuck with us forever.

Book Clubs

We started the first Skillcrush Book Club almost three years ago and, while that one never made it beyond book one, at least three others are alive and well.

Our oldest club is no ordinary book club—it’s “Superhero Instructor Training” for the folks on our Class Management and Curriculum teams, and it started as a way to discuss books we felt would help us better support students. Topics have since ranged from mentorship and online learning to feminist fight clubs.

The Marketing team, on the other hand, uses their book club to read everything from work-related books to young adult romance novels. (I’m told the latter was an accident but who knows with that group.)

And then there’s Reading Death Match, a book club only in the loosest sense of the term. This cross-team group of hellions start new books at random intervals and compete in a “winner take all” challenge to see who can finish first. There is no discussion of the actual book, just a chat room where participants regularly update each other on their progress, taunt, tease, and liberally use exclamation points. 

Despite the chat room topic (which simply reads, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”), we keep it pretty civil . . . most of the time.

Movie Nights

A Skillcrush movie night in which we broke with tradition and watched Spy instead of a musical.

Since movie nights are a larger time commitment, and one of the few events hosted outside of “working hours,” we do them more sparingly—but that makes them all the more special!

If you’re wondering exactly how we manage to watch movies together from thousands of miles away, let me introduce you to a tool called Rabbit. It’s similar to a Google Hangouts, except you can login into a number of streaming services (Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, etc.) and stream a movie in the main window. This allows a group to watch the same movie simultaneously, while still being able to see a film strip of everyone below, and chat with everyone in the call.

We watched Pitch Perfect for our first movie night, after our “ballot box” was illegally stuffed. (Ahem, you know who you are.) It turns out that remote movie nights are extra fun when you can see your coworkers singing and dancing along to the movie. Thankfully, everyone comes with their very own mute button! #sorrynotsorry

Holiday Gifts

One of our company values is lifelong learning and we’re always looking for ways to support team members in this. (We even have an Educational Stipend that allows us to get financial support for learning anything we want!) But before we had that, we had an Instructor who suggested we let team members pick their choice of book as a holiday gift.

Three years later, the Instructor has since moved on to a super awesome job, but the tradition she started lives on. Every December, I make a short Google Form and team members submit a book, mailing address, and their preference for an ebook or physical copy. Then we use Amazon Prime to play Santa!

It usually ends up being an equal split of work-related and totally unrelated books. This year, our Director of Curriculum Chelsea submitted a link to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, along with the comment, “YEAH, YOU READ THAT RIGHT.” (You do you, Chelsea.)

Pick-Me-Ups

Ann: Lead Dev Instructor, long-distance pancake sender, and part-time Lambchop.

As remote workers, we can’t swing by a coworker’s desk with an extra cup of coffee when we see them having a rough day, but we can find other ways to be there for them in good times and in bad.

Recently, a pregnant team member had a rough couple of weeks. The hits just kept on coming and she made a joke in HipChat that she could really use a drink. An amateur mixologist on the team volunteered to surprise her with a homemade mocktail kit! And when I broke my foot and ran out of caffeine, Ann, our Lead Web Development Instructor pulled up GrubHub from her home outside of Montreal and had a local restaurant deliver pancakes and coffee to my Chicago apartment. To this day, it’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.

And while those are more elaborate examples, we’ve found small gestures go a long way too—things like giving another coworker a well-deserved shout out during an all-team meeting, or using your kid’s puppet to brighten a coworker’s day.

The Class Management team celebrating Halloween during their daily check-in.

Of course, remote work isn’t all friendship bracelets and Amazon Prime packages. As our CEO, Adda Birnir, put it on our podcast, “We didn’t find utopia. We found a really good thing, but it’s imperfect.”

There aren’t a lot of established best practices for remote teams, and we can’t always find people with experience solving the problems we’re trying to solve. That means lots of trial and error, and sometimes those errors are rough.

But good company culture isn’t just about giving gifts and throwing parties. It’s about actually being “fun, empowering, friendly, supportive, and welcoming” (all day, every day), and course-correcting when someone points out an action or behavior that isn’t inline with those values.

And those are things we can all do—no matter how much distance there is between me and me coworker’s desk. So when folks express doubt that we can really match an in-person culture, I say: Anything you can do, we can do remotely.

from Web Developers World https://skillcrush.com/2018/03/01/build-work-culture-remote-team/