#kinnikinnick

[rustandsky]

A frozen sun Will guide you there As shadows hide The deep despair

[entomologize-nonbug]

Wildflowers in Iceland— sea thrift and kinnikinnick

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

At this, Dorian and Beau couldn't help but exchange little glances, both touched and amused by the girlish glee that came over Emily at this question, her delight at recounting such an important moment in her and Randall's courtship, the moment where she made her feelings known, and the two officially became a (private) item.

(Just as well that Emily was so forward in that moment. Something told Beau that Randall-sweet, shy, humble Randall Pace, who in some ways seemed unable to believe his best friend was so unfathomably wealthy and sometimes worried about stepping out of line when spending time with him-would not be so bold, no matter how much he loved her, and Dorian was inclined to agree.)

"Well, I offer you both my deepest congratulations on your engagement," Beau nodded with an earnest smile, before turning a touch melancholy as he looked at the pair, asking, "And, on a more dour note...please, tell him I send my deepest condolences, in regards to the passing of his mother. She was...a lovely woman; hard-working, kind, a good friend...she was an admirable woman, who raised an admirable son."

Though Mrs. June Pace didn't work at Gracey Manor as long as she would've liked (having found the pay worth it if it meant getting to tend to such a beautiful, sprawling garden day in and day out, as well as see her one and only son finally have a friend beyond his teddy bear), she and Beauregard Ghast got along very well in the time she was in the Gracey's employ, her expressing gratitude at Beau looking after her son, treating him no different than Dorian, while he openly admired her resolve, her sense of humor in the face of adversity, and her skill with all things that grew. She was a lovely woman, and Beau would've liked to have gotten to know her better.

[mountrainiernps]

Leafy mitrewort (Mitella Caulescens) is a very easy wildflower to overlook. Small and green, it disappears against the backdrop of other spring plants growing in the low elevation forests of Mount Rainier. However, once you know to look for it, its unique petals, tipped with feathery, antenna-like lobes, are unmistakable. Flowers grow along a short stalk, 6-12 in. tall, and bloom from the top down as the season progresses. It has maple-shaped leaves and is the only mitrewort species with a few leaves along the stem.

In addition to leafy mitrewort, other forest wildflowers are starting to bloom including Cascade Oregon-grape, kinnikinnick, and salmonberry. Subalpine meadows are still covered in snow. What wildflowers are you observing in the park?

For updates on what’s blooming where visit https://go.nps.gov/RainierWildflower

Unfamiliar with Mount Rainier’s wildflower species? Check out the wildflower guide at https://go.nps.gov/RainierWildflowerGuide

NPS Photo of leafy mitrewort blooming along the Trail of the Shadows in Longmire, 5/30/24.

[sockman42]

Let me tell you a joke.

Why does Nelson Eagle Runner drink and smoke?

Cuz his mom n' dad did.

Funny how that happens isn't it?

In the palms of substances and suddenly they have your children,

But not all kids.

No.

Drugs have a type.

And most of the time they are not blond-haired or blue-eyed.

Most of the time they are not middle-class.

And most of the time,

They are not white.

See,

Where I come from,

The tweakers are as red as the sky.

It's an old time tradition, in it's own way.

Passed down from heavy hands to open minds,

By our Mothers & Fathers, Sisters & Brothers, Aunts & Uncles.

We drink n' smoke until we keel over and die,

That is our way.

Now, what do you picture when you think Indian?

Well,

Redskin, Buckskin, Moccasins and of course,

Tobacco.

'What would be a noble savage's way of life without their ever so sacred herb?'

We've used this since time immemorial,

Right?

That's what my Mama's always used.

No, we've never smoked kinnikinnick or red willow or drank oldtime indian tea.

Those are the ways of savages, that's what mama told me!

Tobacco is what my mom's used her whole life,

And mine.

So i figure I'll light,

My own peace pipe,

and send my prayers to the sky.

[the-hearth-and-the-wild]

We are smart people. I promise. But we are also falling in love. Forgive us.

Brian Laidlaw, “Kinnikinnick Kink”, in Orion Magazine, Winter 2023

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Chief Al-che-say. White Mountain Apache. ca. 1904. Photo by Carl Moon. Source - New York Public Library

* * * *

“Now as you know, as I have told you, I am sometimes blessed with the talent to touch the sick and heal their individual problems without even knowing what they are. I have some powers which, now that I think of it, was likely come down from Old Man Pillager. And then there is the newfound fact of insight I inherited from Lulu, as well as the familiar teachings of Grandma Kashpaw on visioning what comes to pass within a lump of tinfoil. It was all these connecting threads of power, you see, that gave me the flash of vision when I was knocked in the skull by Ira’s favorite brand. No concrete shitbarn prison’s built that can hold a Chippewa, I thought. And I realized instantly that was a direct, locally known quote of my father, Gerry Nanapush, famous politicking hero, dangerous armed criminal, judo expert, escape artist, charismatic member of the American Indian Movement, and smoke of many pipes of kinnikinnick in the most radical groups. That was…Dad. According to my vision, he would make a break for freedom soon.” —Louise Erdrich "Crossing the Water"

[via “Alive On All Channels”]

[gentlemanlymermaid]

breakfast:

* hot buttermilk & brown sugar scones with clotted cream.

* maple syrup & fireweed honey glazed ham.

* fresh winter island seasonal fruit, summer (honeyberry, kinnikinnick, bakeapple).

lunch:

* creamy fennel sausage soup with kale & bacon.

* roasted garlic & caramelized shallot ciabatta with mozzarella.

dinner:

* pan-fried chili lamb dumplings.

* roast duck soup noodles with mustard greens.

* sautéed gai lan in sweet oyster sauce.

dessert:

* vanilla bean cœur à la crème in scorched blonde chocolate sauce.

* roasted pistachio macarons with salted caramel buttercream.

[audible-smiles]

early spring report: my in-ground mock orange and kinnikinnick plantings have survived the winter, to my great relief. I'll have certainly lost some other, less thoughtfully placed natives, but I don't have a full inventory done yet as many things are still emerging from dormancy.

successfully started 2 different variety of peas (bred flor flowers vs edible pods), a miniature sunflower variety, and some yarrow (to give away or trade. I have moved those guys into their own little nursery pots to give them more space. I am still waiting to see if a number of other seeds will sprout.

got carried away with the nice weather and direct sowed nasturtium seeds, in two pots this time because I like them so very much. hopefully we are past our last frost.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

A heavy and long-lasting rain in early spring is a perfect chance to take a look outside and see what’s coming up!

Allium stellatum (pink/starry onion) and Carex plantagenia (plantainleaf sedge) just hanging out like winter never happened.

Allium canadense (Canada/meadow garlic), Allium schoenoprasum (wild chives), Aquilegia canadensis (Canada/red/wild columbine), Astragalus canadensis (Canadian milk vetch), and Campanula rotundifolia (harebell) coming up happily.

Several plants with red leaves beginning to turn green again. Lots of buds preparing to open. The evergreens are, well, green. And I swear my Mahonia repens (creeping Oregon grape holly) and my Arabis alpina (Alpine rockcress) actually grew over the winter. Not terribly surprising as I recall seeing the thick rhizome of my baby dying sunflower the winter after I planted it, showing in an exposed area and very much alive (certainly not dying now lmao).

I am, of course, always a bit nervous for the new plants I put in last spring and summer. The winter always leaves a couple of casualties, but invariably I find that the vast majority make it just fine. I already know my Allegheny blackberry, lingonberry, prickly currant, spiny wood fern, kinnikinnick/bearberry, toothed wood-fern, blanketflower, witch-hazel, wild hydrangea, northern bayberry, and rock polypody made it. It’s rare for those plants which have established themselves for over a year not to make it, so I’m pretty confident in those that made it the winter before and into summer.

For the rest, we’ll just have to wait and see. It is quite early after all.

[justawfulxmenart]

This is a "sneak peek" to my upcoming fic. In it, Scully's pregnancy symptoms make Mulder afraid that her cancer has come out of remission. I hope you enjoy…

Kinnikinnick Lake, Oregon, April 1, 2000

Hey, Scully! Supper's ready!" Mulder calls.

Scully heaves the ax to her shoulder. Perspiration stands out on her forehead. She feels that peculiar catch in her chest. She's been feeling it off and on for the past two weeks alongside sudden bouts of dizziness. 

Anemia, was her knee-jerk prognosis. But the cause of it? Along with the nosebleed that woke her up three nights ago? It causes a pit of dread in her stomach.

But the petite redhead turns to put on a smile for her fiance. Mulder is waving to her from the door of their tiny cabin deep in the Oregon back-country. The blue Cascades are beautiful on this fresh Spring day. The air seems tangy and sharp with the first hint of the balmy weather to come. The aspens in the grove circling the cabin whisper intimately to one another with their new coats of silvery-green leaves. 

Scully hefts the ax and brings it down on the chopping block. Mulder returns her smile. He teases her about her insistence on doing the wood-chopping chores. And she teases him right back, saying she can't grow too soft, letting him do all the manual labor around their new home. Their banter is in good fun, but Scully notices, with a pleased glow, how her biceps ripple under the sleeves of her t-shirt.

Mulder disappears inside the low door over which are, spanning almost six feet, the impressive antlers of a bull elk, a sort of "housewarming gift" to them from their adult daughter. As Scully passes the mudroom, pulling off her brogans, and enters the kitchen, she smells Abbey's latest kill roasting in the oven of the wood burning stove. Scully inhales deeply: pheasant… 

Abbey has a family of her own now, but she never forgets her mom and dad. She's shown her aptitude as a huntress almost since she was a baby and her parents have never been short on fresh meat. 

Scully feels a twinge of guilt. She doesn't want to take food from the many hungry mouths in Abbey's pack, but telling the girl to stop dragging game back to her mom and dad is like telling the sky not to rain. Secretly, Scully loves it. Especially now that she has an inexplicable craving for pheasant, something she only had a passing liking for before.

The woman's mouth waters at the tantalizing scent of the roasted bird. Mulder is a self-taught chef. It's a skill born and honed from necessity as a stay-at-home home dad with a demanding toddler with a voracious appetite. Cooking is something Mulder both loves doing and takes great pride in. And, although both of them are competitive with each other, Scully has never felt any rancor over her man being the better chef.

"I saw Old Eli at the hardware store," he says.

His back is turned to her as he stoops down to pull the bird from the oven. Mulder always seems to be stooping here - ducking to walk through the low doorways, struggling to accommodate his tall lanky frame to these rather cramped quarters. The cabin is exactly three rooms, with a privy and a cache out back. It has electricity run from a generator and a hand pump in the kitchen, but no flush toilet or central heating. But it was hard for Scully and Mulder to find a better place in this area on such short notice. Besides, during the past three years they've lived at far more inconvenient places. 

"Yeah?" she replies. She's breathing heavily now and struggling not to let it show. 

"Old coot said we're 'in for some weather,'" Mulder continues, still facing the oven. 

Scully notices appreciatively how his shoulders bunch powerfully beneath his t-shirt, made damp from the heat of the woodstove. She isn't the only one being kept in shape by living rough. 

"What does that even mean? Weather happens all the time!" he says. "Weather is happening now; look out the window!"

He turns to her. Mulder's hair is so long now Scully often teases him about his clean-cut style during their days in the FBI. His Grizzly Adams beard is now well past his clavicle. But his greyish-green eyes still spark with the same mischief she fell in love with all those years ago. Fox Mulder's charm is still intact - and his sarcasm too.

Then his grin vanishes as he sees her pale appearance. Shit, Scully curses herself as another fit of lightheadedness takes her. She can't hide it from her lover. She tries to grip the corner of the kitchen table for support, but the room sways and she stumbles sideways.

Her ears buzz loudly and black spots dance in front of her eyes. She, however, falls against Mulder's chest. She takes deep steadying breaths, drinking in the scents of woodsmoke and her partner's own distinctive smell clinging to his sweater. She takes comfort from it.

"...Need to quit that day-drinking, Scully," Mulder says as the buzzing in her ears subsides. 

His joking, however, (Scully allows herself one glass of red wine per week) belies the worry shining in his eyes. His forehead furrows into lines as he tucks her sleek auburn head under his chin. 

Scully finds herself up in his arms. It half-annoys her how easily he can lift her. Now, though there are few things she can stand less than Mulder fussing over her, she feels so drained she hardly cares. 

She's been feeling this way more and more - fatigued, long before her day is through, her eyelids fighting sleep, her limbs almost as useless as sticks, her feet struggling to put one in front of the other. At six o'clock in the evening, all she wants to do is sleep. Sleep until her alarm clock goes off at five-thirty. And then she's practically propping her eyes open to stay awake.

Scully feels herself sinking down onto a soft nest of cushions by the fireplace. 

"Tell me what's going on," Mulder murmurs as he gently lays her down. 

Mulder picks stray locks of fiery hair out of her face. His eyes, as wide, gentle and dark as a collie's, search her face. They are trusting eyes. For all his bluster as a young cocky FBI agent, Scully almost immediately discerned his true gentle nature when she, a headstrong young doctor herself, walked into his basement office seven years ago.

The woman sees plainly the undercurrent of fear in his soft gaze. 

"I'm fine," she says. 

She hates how raspy, weak and unconvincing her voice sounds. The sounds around her still seem muffled and muted. 

"I'm just tired," she adds and gives him one of her quick reassuring smiles. 

He nods slowly, but his eyes never leave her face. Scully has known this man in many ways - as a partner, as a friend, as a lover. Three years ago, he agreed to co-parent a child with her, no questions asked. And when she got down on her knees a month ago and asked him to be her husband, his agreement was swift and enthusiastic.

Scully knows there is no fooling him.

A wave of utter exhaustion overtakes her, so great she can barely focus her eyes on his face. Mulder covers her with a heavy quilt. Then he curls his big warm body around her. Her small ass fits as perfectly against the curve of his crotch as a little spoon fits into a larger one. His great sinewy arms wrap around her tiny form. They'd been made strong by the demanding exercise during his years in the FBI. Now their rusticated lifestyle kept them fit and toned. 

Perhaps on the surface Scully loathes his fussing, but when she's this exhausted, it's wonderful to feel his body against hers. She turns her head to press it against his chest. His big loving heart beats steadily and strong against her skull. Her last sensation is the warm dry brush of his lips against her cheek…

***

She's trying to hide it from him. But Mulder hears her coughing fits during the wee hours of the morning; he sees the specks of blood on her pillowcase when he goes to change the bedding. And now there's Scully's sudden faintness, her spells of fatigue that take her so suddenly. 

She says she's tired … but Scully never gets tired.

She seems to have an inexhaustible amount of energy. In their years as FBI agents, during the three chaotic years of raising their daughter, in times of privation and hardship while they were on the run, Scully served as a protector, a provider, a beacon of strength Mulder rallied around. 

Mulder watches her sleep curled in his arms like a cat. Her mussed hair is longer now than it's ever been since he's known her. He secretly loves the kinky curliness of it, the way it spreads across his chest like a red blanket. Scully's mouth hangs slightly open the way it always does when she's fast asleep. With a smile, he sees that she's drooling a little.

She's such a strong, powerful woman. With her alabaster skin, proud curving nose and wide flashing blue eyes, Mulder thinks she has an almost otherworldly goddess-like quality of beauty. 

She's always been fighting, fighting for the victims she's advocated for, fighting against the injustice of evil men, fighting for survival itself - survival for her man, her daughter and herself. 

It's in moments like these, however, when he realizes just how light she feels in his arms, how delicate and birdlike her bones are. He knows in these quietly terrifying moments how fragile her life truly is. How she could be taken from him in a flash, in just a moment.

Since that horrible fall of 1997, that fear of losing her forever has haunted Mulder. And he hasn't since then, not even for a second, taken his beautiful woman for granted. 

That awful time, during the better part of 1997, she acted in the same way she does now: inexplicable coughing, nosebleeds, sudden crushing exhaustion. He'd even awoken in the inky darkness of 2 a.m. this morning to hear her retching as quietly as she could. 

Mulder had feigned sleep as she vomited. As he lay there in their bed, the blackness pressing against his eyeballs, Mulder instinctively felt as Scully did … It was as if he and her relied on the same superstition. If they didn't draw attention to her abrupt change in behavior, then they could deny the crippling fear in both their hearts.

This was how it was when Scully was diagnosed with brain cancer four years ago. And Fox Mulder is terrified that his very greatest fear is coming true … that her cancer has come out of remission.

[adz]

Which leaves should be tasted and which leaves should be left alone.

Taste this leaf: Thyme leaf Bayberry leaf Baobab leaf Bearberry leaf Neem leaf Ashoka leaf Saw palmetto leaf Patchouli leaf Annatto leaf Oregano leaf Coconut palm leaf Kaffir lime leaf Plum leaf Anise leaf Soursop leaf Cranberry leaf Damiana leaf Indigo leaf Wild lettuce leaf Turmeric leaf Comfrey leaf Bamboo palm leaf Indian gooseberry leaf Cilantro coriander leaf Black walnut leaf Black currant leaf Holy basil leaf Curry tree leaf Sassafras leaf Green tea leaf Lime leaf Gardenia leaf Cotton leaf Licorice leaf Watercress leaf Horsetail leaf Raspberry leaf Fern leaf Stevia leaf Lavender leaf Tamarind leaf Elephant ear leaf Chamomile leaf Aloe vera leaf Coriander leaf Carob leaf Kigelia leaf Pomegranate leaf Burdock leaf Lemon balm leaf Coral tree leaf Eyebright leaf Nettle leaf Papaya leaf Five-finger leaf Eucalyptus globulus leaf Eucalyptus citriodora leaf Banana leaf Avocado leaf Indian long pepper leaf Catnip leaf Cilantro leaf Cherry leaf Watermelon leaf Epazote leaf Ground ivy leaf Papyrus leaf Bougainvillea leaf Henna leaf Hemp leaf Grape leaf Uva Ursi leaf Cubeb pepper leaf Bell pepper leaf Zucchini leaf Daylily leaf Galangal leaf Almond leaf Bee balm leaf Mustard leaf Bergamot leaf Coleus leaf Camellia leaf Ivy leaf Graviola leaf Rose leaf Clove leaf Gotu kola leaf Kalmegh leaf Kiwi leaf Corn leaf Kudzu leaf Blackberry leaf Sugarcane leaf Wheatgrass leaf Kratom leaf Khat leaf Bay leaf Yarrow leaf Butterfly pea leaf Bael leaf Sycamore leaf Jasmine sambac leaf Lemon thyme leaf Cacao leaf Fenugreek leaf Rice paper plant leaf Astragalus leaf Yellow dock leaf Chia leaf Chive leaf Bitter melon leaf Plantain leaf Yerba mate leaf Mulberry leaf Fennel leaf Honeysuckle leaf Palm leaf Elderberry leaf Bloodroot leaf Horseradish leaf Jackfruit leaf Pineapple sage leaf Devil's claw leaf Pomegranate tree leaf Hops leaf Durian leaf Passionflower leaf Cumin leaf Italian parsley leaf Dill leaf False indigo leaf Lemon myrtle leaf Valerian leaf Jasmine tea leaf Cowslip leaf Cinnamon basil leaf Chickweed leaf Lemongrass leaf Ginseng leaf Hyssop leaf Teak leaf Bishop's weed leaf White sage leaf Tulsi leaf Pothos leaf Betel leaf Tomato leaf Coltsfoot leaf Vetiver leaf Clary sage leaf Curry patta leaf Prickly pear leaf Moringa leaf Pandan leaf Allspice leaf Gymnema leaf Cassava leaf Ajwain leaf Breadfruit leaf Calendula officinalis leaf Dragonfruit leaf Ylang-ylang leaf Dong quai leaf Cascara sagrada leaf Sage leaf Feverfew leaf Cardamom leaf Black cohosh leaf Angelica leaf Basil leaf Calabash leaf Guava leaf Goldenrod leaf Acacia leaf Amaryllis leaf Cinnamon fern leaf Indian bay leaf Lingonberry leaf Ginkgo leaf Lemon verbena leaf Buchu leaf Barbados nut leaf Rue leaf Japanese knotweed leaf Cinnamon leaf Borage leaf Cleavers leaf Carom leaf Yucca leaf Arugula leaf Mango leaf African violet leaf Agave leaf Coffee leaf Persimmon leaf Cat's whiskers leaf Hawthorn leaf Rosemary leaf Fo-ti leaf Red clover leaf Hibiscus leaf Blueberry leaf Jamaican dogwood leaf Guarana leaf Kinnikinnick leaf Kelp leaf Cress leaf Spinach leaf Rubber tree leaf Chrysanthemum leaf Fig leaf Kava leaf Balloon flower leaf Spearmint leaf Elderflower leaf Citronella leaf Strawberry leaf Peppermint leaf Ashwagandha leaf Olive leaf

Never taste this leaf: Curly parsley

[tidaldruid]

9/16/2024

Still trying to get used to this new routine of spending time outside and not making myself feel bad about missing some days.

It felt like fall for the first time this morning. It was cold in the house but by the time I went out the sun had started to warm things up. Still it smelled cold, like the wind held the memory of ice on the mountains. Maybe it was just the ocean.

The sun has finally angled south enough to hit the front windows in the morning, which is good for the chestnut in the corner and the plants I've moved to the front window in anticipation. I may have to report my coffee plant and move it there as well. I'm a bit worried that the larger elderberry in the yard will not get enough sun in the winter but I guess we'll see.

My attempts to help the stonecrop spread seem to be working, however, and the bigger kinnikinnick is also reaching its little arms along the ground, hopefully making the yard a little less hospitable to dandelions and broom. It gives me hope that some of my gardening will not have gone to waste.

It's even colder in the evening. The sun is already half down at 7:30 and the wind is almost louder than the traffic. I worry that the wind will dry up the water before it does the plants any good.

But everything seems to be doing well, or at least not worse than it was. The one elderberry has several new leaves at the base, so I'm hopeful. The crabapple is still green and the nasturtiums are growing. The front yard chestnut, miraculous survivor of being left in its shipping box for two weeks, is still growing but its leaves are a bit yellow on the edges. I might try to fertilize it a bit, maybe just add some garden soil and more mulch.

After reading up on lemongrass it seems like I may be able to overwinter it in the yard. So I plan to divide it and plant most of in the front between the stonecrop, but I'll bring at least one inside just in case.

As I walked to the chestnut tree in the back, which feels a bit like keeping vigil for the dead, I heard a cricket or frog chirp in the grass very close to my foot, the only animal life I heard so close to sunset. Except for my cat, who hates when I go into the backyard; she spent the entire time sitting in the bathroom window screaming. I'm not sure if she's mad she's not allowed out or is genuinely concerned for my safety.

Although I enjoy falling, the turn toward winter is always a little sad for me. Though i would prefer to be nocturnal, the true is that the lack of sun gets to me, and though it doesn't get very cold here, it does make me even less likely to venture out. Part of the goal of this journal is just to remind me of how much I love nature and to get me more in time with seasonal rhythms. If only my job allowed me to hibernate.

[archierealestate]

Family home in great area of Sechelt

[hound-dog-development]

Kinnikinnick - Kinnitoos Mint Mgc Sn Cream - Case Of 6-8 Oz

Kinnikinnick – Kinnitoos Mint Mgc Sn Cream – Case Of 6-8 Oz

[the-hearth-and-the-wild]

This is how I want to know Annie: her names, nicknames, her space, her spells. I want to know her backward and forward, how to mix her and stir her up, how to devour her, how to honor her practices, how she can fill me up and heal me. I want to know under what conditions she thrives, and to foster those conditions around her. This is everyday intimacy, the unbearable hotness of knowing.

Brian Laidlaw, “Kinnikinnick Kink”, in Orion Magazine, Winter 2023