#maidenhair-tree

[creativecommonsplants]

Ginkgo by Harlaching on Wikimedia Commons.

This work is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0. 

[introroheline]

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Gingko Biloba

originally eaten by: Supersaurus, Lambeosaurus

[b-blushes]

wire vine flowers are so strange and such a joy to see each year, it's as if they're jellies :o

[ms2253]

GINKGO BILOBA (MAIDENHAIR TREE) — Rowan McOnegal

[crudlynaturephotos]

[faguscarolinensis]

Ginkgo biloba / Ginkgo at the Sarah P. Duke Gardens at Duke University in Durham, NC

[myrachidh]

Ginkgo leaf.. it is a Fern Maidenhair Tree ~ Ginkgo biloba ~ Arbre aux quarante écus ~ San Francisco, California #Maidenhair #Tree #Fern #Ginkgo #Ginkgobiloba #Arbreauxquaranteécus #SanFrancisco #SF #SanFran #SFO #CA #California #Ginkgophyta #Fanshapedtreeleaves #Dioecious #macrophotography #MedicinalPlants #macros ~ https://www.flickr.com/photos/rachidh/albums (at San Francisco, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ch5bmM3Pius/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[swagging-back-to]

i remember when i was a plant mom and how i was so pissed all the cool plants came from the equator or south asian countries and i discovered a maidenhair fern in my backyard for the first time, thriving.

[cellophaine]

Chapter I: SERVE

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Word Count: 2377.

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: The first chapter is here!! I'm so excited to finally release this as this idea formed in my head a while ago and it's been itching to take shape. I hope you will enjoy this chapter and stay for the messiness of it all!

GIF Source: @harcive

2021. San Francisco.

Your bedroom, 2 AM. Outside, the storm raged. The whistling notes of winds pried their way inside through the seams of the window. You lay on your side, watching the maidenhair tree as its leaves and branches were torn in different directions, but the thick trunk barely wavered. The constant pattering of rain running along the window soothed your troubling mind.

Another sleepless night.

It was also raining like this on the day that you met him. Perhaps it was nostalgia, maybe it was your indulgence of self-loathe, either way, you often recalled that day over the years, long after it was over, thinking about how cruel fate was even though you didn’t believe in it. You often thought about how had you listened to the weather forecast on that portent day, there wouldn’t be so many sleepless nights.

2006. Stanford University.

The angry and ruthless storm swept over the campus’ ground, painting a murky varnish over the courtyard. You didn’t bring an umbrella. The cafeteria was almost empty with the exception of some other unfortunate souls like yours. Your messenger bag wouldn’t survive in this rain with its metal clasps broken and glued together, its nylon strap peeling off along the edge, and its canvas surface thinning.

You chose a seat by the big bay window overlooking the courtyard. The rain railed on the glass panels, loud and blurred together in a clashing harmony. The perfect background for your wandering thoughts while you stared out the window. You had a shift at the coffee shop on Friday, then the weekend to yourself. The library’s copy of Mrs. Dalloway was due the following Friday, but you didn’t need that much time. You could finish it this weekend. You should return your mom’s missed call and your dad’s message. Probably more of what you didn’t want to hear, but you should respond nonetheless.

Out of the peripheral of your vision, a moving silhouette headed in your direction. You ignored it until they stopped at your table, far enough that you couldn’t touch them if you reached out, but close enough to make your head turn. Your eyes caught onto the white shirt before skipping along the length of the torso before reaching the face. You were taken aback by his appearance, and most of all, his piercing eyes on you.

“Hi. May I sit here?”

He had a half smile that softened the outer corners of his eyes. Blond locks swept all over, framing his face in tousled waves. A sharp jaw that your eyes couldn’t help but trace along. He was cute. There was an easy air about him that almost disarmed the guard you placed when it came to strangers. Almost.

Your eyes quickly flitted around the nearly empty cafeteria involuntarily as if to signal that there were other seats he could take. But you nodded regardless with a thinly veiled hesitance and watched as he took his seat across the table. You wondered what he wanted from you.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a while.”

You bobbed your head in agreement.

“Yeah. I should’ve brought an umbrella.”

“Me too. It doesn’t rain very often so I thought today would be one of those days, you know? Should’ve listened to the forecast.”

You hummed noncommittally and turned your head towards the window again. He moved a little in his seat as if he was trying to pull at your attention physically.

“I saw you sitting alone from over there, and uh … I thought you might want some company.”

Your eyes squinted at that and watched as he reached over the table.

“My name’s Art. Art Donaldson.”

You shook his hand and told him your name. His name stirred at a memory in the back of your mind.

“I know you. I mean, I’ve heard of you.”

His face lit up ever so slightly at that.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Your name is mentioned pretty often, especially whenever tennis comes up. Some people in my class seem to be fans of yours.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and light.

“What about you? Are you a fan of me?”

You pretended to think about it and shook your head.

“Ouch.”

You held up a hand in defence.

“Hey. I’m just not a sports person.”

“That’s fair. We’re pretty annoying anyway.”

You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. You could see the way his smile dropped, the way his body went still, and guilt trickled in rapidly until it was a big, sweeping wave.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“So you were thinking it?”

“Yes, I mean, no, but kinda?"

Art only stared at you. You straightened in your seat.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? It just came out, I honestly don’t mean anything by it. My roommates said that I’m very sarcastic and if you don’t know me you might think I’m very mean but honestly I really don’t mean it I’m so so sorry …”

You trailed off as Art’s smile grew until his body shook with the sound of his chuckle. It was you that stared now. Your heart was pounding, nerves pulled tight across all directions, unsure of where they were heading.

"Uh …"

Your voice wavered, and you cleared your throat. Art waved a hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it. No offence taken.”

The joy he seemed to get from your momentary despair cast his face in an endearing light. You found yourself staring at the way his eyes crinkled, the way his lips quirked up, one side higher than the other.

“Still. It was rude of me.”

Art looked at your rueful expression, and you could almost tell the moment his light bulb went on.

“You’ll have to make it up to me.”

“What?”

He leaned forward. He was now halfway over the small table.

“To fix my broken ego. You’ve just destroyed it, after all.”

You fixed your eyes on his and met him in the middle, turning the distance into proximity.

“You know what they say about having a fragile ego?”

"What do they say?"

"Hm, I thought you knew already."

Art held your gaze for a long moment, searching for your tell. You couldn't hold the grin back, and he mirrored you, understanding your sarcastic nature a little more now. You broke away first and stood up, eyes roaming around the cafeteria and eventually landed on the food counter. You turned to look at Art, jerking your chin towards the other side of the room.

“Alright, let’s go. Whatever you want, on me.”

Art chose funnel cake fries with vanilla ice cream. You could feel his eyes on you as you smoothed out the slightly crumbled bills, counted the change and gave it to the woman behind the counter. His gaze made you feel a little insecure. You kept your eyes on the woman as you thanked her.

“Anything on it?”

She held up the paper box. Art turned to you and asked if you wanted anything. You said caramel sauce absent-mindedly as you put your wallet back in your pocket. After a generous drizzle, she passed the box to Art, along with two spoons.

“Wait, it’s your treat. Why did you ask me what I wanted on it?”

He shrugged as if the answer was obvious.

“I thought we could share.”

You returned to the table. The rain had calmed down, reduced to a light shower. It took some convincing from Art as you refused to have some as it was your treat for him, but eventually, you shared the first few bites in silence. You tried not to pay too much attention to his lips every time he licked the spoon when Art broke the voiceless air and asked about your major. English, you said, as your parents dismissed and scorned. Despite their disapproval and incessant attempts to convince you otherwise, you still wanted to be a published author, dreaming of seeing your name on the shelves one day.

“The scholarship helped a lot. If it wasn’t for it, my parents would have forced me to stay home and attend the community college there.”

“I'm guessing you didn't want that?”

“Not at all. And don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with the college back home, but …"

You considered our next words properly. A cold feeling crept up your spine, but you found the words that you'd never had the courage to say out loud before tumbling out.

"I just don’t want to be stuck there, you know? In the same place that I grew up in for years and years on end with my parents, and it's …”

You met Art's eyes to find that he was staring at you. All of a sudden, the cold became unbearable, and you felt so uneasy that you felt an instinctual urge to physically press your lips together to prevent anything else from slipping out. The baggage was too much for someone you met not even an hour ago. You cleared your throat.

“Anyway, what about you? Are you going to be a pro tennis player?”

Art's brows slightly furrowed, and he took a moment before responding. He seemed to sense your discomfort, but he let it go. You felt the weight eased off your stomach, feeling grateful that Art chose not to pursue the topic further.

"Yeah, I hope so."

"Is it something you've always wanted to do?"

He thought about it for a brief moment.

"I … think so. It's something I've known for a long time, and very well."

You nodded, taking another spoonful of ice cream.

"Okay, maybe not as well as my friend Patrick."

"Tell me about him."

The funnel fry stopped just before it reached Art's mouth.

"Why? Are you interested in him?"

“Sure am. I’m the kind of girl that needs more information on a guy before expressing my interest. So tell me."

A small frown formed on his lips. His hand made a slow descent to the table, the fry forgotten. He looked like a kicked puppy, and you felt bad for your harmless joke. You reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Art. I'm joking."

He took your words in, and an amused smile slowly spread across his lips. With the other unoccupied hand, he rubbed on his ear, which drew your attention to it as it turned into a faint shade of pink. He cleared his throat, and you pulled your hand away.

"Uh– okay! So … Patrick."

You nodded, encouraging him to continue. He told you about the Mark Rebellato Academy, how Patrick was his roommate and became his best friend, how they played tennis together and made …

"Fire and Ice?"

Art nodded.

"Who's who?"

"He's Fire, and I'm Ice."

"So when you're together, what do you make? Warm water?"

"Okay, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound very exciting. But we're good, I promise."

You put the spoon down, decided that you were done with the dessert and let Art finish the rest.

"When can I see you guys play together?"

Art thought about it for a moment.

"I don't think it'll happen soon. He's trying to pro, and he's busy with a tour right now."

"I see."

The rain had ceased to light mist, which made Art's silence became palpable.

"Do you miss him?"

"I– I'm happy for him, I am. He's doing exactly what he has always wanted to do, which is becoming a pro and not having to concern himself with a degree, but …"

"You wish he was here, playing tennis with you. Like how you used to."

Art nodded. You felt the air become heavier, so you switched it up.

"What about your family? They must come to your game to support you?"

Art smiled, but his voice was tinged with a sadness that made you regret even asking.

"My grandma asks me about every game I've ever played. And, uh … my parents enrolled me in Mark Rebellato, but they don't really come to my games. They don't … ask me about them, either."

The silence thickened like honey, but it wasn't confining. A tangible thread of mutual understanding wrapped around you, binding you together across the small table. You couldn't bring yourself to say something, anything, but when your eyes locked, the kindness in his eyes assured you that you didn't have to.

You blinked and allowed the quiet moment to slip through your fingers.

"I have a question for you."

He gestured for you to go ahead.

“Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

You arched a brow.

“You know what I'm talking about. There are other girls in there. Why did you choose me?”

“Just wanted to introduce myself to the prettiest girl here.”

You rolled your eyes at his smirk. He picked up the last funnel fry and popped it into his mouth.

“Do you really use that line on every girl you've met? Has it ever worked?”

“No, not every girl. And, you tell me.”

You shook your head, trying to fend off the inevitable smile that tugged on a corner of your lips.

“It’s not working.”

You said before standing up. Outside, the rain had cleared for the sun to poke through. Taking the empty box and cutlery, you put everything in the trash bin nearby while Art was still sitting.

“I guess I’ll have to get your phone number.”

You returned to the table, where Art looked up at you with that playful look.

"Why?"

"So I can prove myself to you."

“There’s no need. I’m sure I’ll see you again around the campus anyway.”

You picked up your bag, signifying the end of your talk. Art sprung off the seat as if it was on fire.

"But–"

You placed a hand on his shoulder and applied the tiniest bit of pressure.

“This has been enjoyable, really. I’ll see you around, Art.”

You offered him a smile before letting your hand drop. You didn’t look back once when you walked away despite the urge to have a final good look of him. Art gathered his bag, his hand reached inside and grasped the umbrella lying amongst the notebooks, his eyes followed you until you disappeared.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[kaijuno]

A 1400 year old Ginkgo Biloba tree shows every November an autumn display, shedding his golden leaves, that attracts thousands of people from all over the country. The ancient tree grows behind a Buddhist Temple next to Gu Guanyin in the Zhongnan Mountain Region of China.

This large Ginkgo tree known as the Maidenhair Tree; is refered to as a living fossil.

The species is believed to have appeared several hundred million years ago (fossilized remains have been found) and thought to be extinct, until a specimen was discovered by a German naturalist in the late 1600s.

[smittenskitten]

Ginkgo (/ˈɡɪŋkoʊ, ˈɡɪŋkɡoʊ/ GINK-oh, -⁠goh) Maidenhair Tree MY JOURNEY TO YOU 云之羽 (2023)

[samwisethewitch]

15 Days of Freyja Devotion

Day 3: Symbols and Attributes

Some of Freyja's Symbols are:

Cats. She is said to ride in a chariot pulled by cats, but these wouldn't have been domesticated housecats. To Freyja's earliest worshipers, cats were wild animals and fierce predators that could pose a serious threat. However, many modern worshipers associate Freyja with housecats as well -- myself included.

Boar. Both Freyja and her brother Freyr are associated with boar. Freyja rides a boar named Hildisvini ("battle swine"). Freyja may be associated with pigs more generally, since one of her names is Syr, "sow."

Falcons. Freyja has a cloak made of falcon feathers that gives the one wearing it the ability to change shape and fly. I personally associate Freyja with falcons and hawks.

Gold. "Gold" is used to describe the Aesir and the things associated with them in the Poetic Edda, but Freyja especially is associated with gold. Gold is sometimes called "Freyja's tears" as a kenning.

Amber is also associated with Freyja, possibly because of a shared connection to the ocean (amber sometimes washes up on the shore in Scandinavia).

The distaff and other spinning tools are associated with Freyja and with the goddess Frigg. Spinning was a very important part of Norse womanhood, and on one level, the distaff probably just shows that Freyja is a goddess of women. On the other hand, there seems to be some sort of connection between spinning and magic in Norse culture, so this may also represent Freyja as a goddess of magic.

The seidr staff is also associated with Freyja. Seidr staves weren't literally distaves, but they did look similar and some scholars argue that seidr staves were intentionally made to resemble spinning staves. Whatever the case, both types of staff are associated with Freyja.

Apples are associated with Freyja, and in Swedish folk practices people left some ripe apples in the trees as an offering to her.

Maidenhair, Adiantum capillus-veneris, was called "Freyja's Hair" in Iceland.

Common milkwort, Polygala vulgaris, was originally also called "Freyja's Hair" in Scandinavia but was renamed after the Virgin Mary during the Conversion period.

Orchids were also associated with Freyja before the conversion. While this was specifically a Northern European species of orchid, I personally associate all orchid flowers with her.

Rye is connected to Freyja in Sweden, where Freyja is said to oversee the ripening of rye.

Sheet lightning is said to be a symbol of Freyja's rage in Sweden.

The constellation we call Orion's Belt was called "Freyja's Distaff" or "Frigg's Distaff" in Sweden.

[plant-taxonomy-showdown]

Phylum Round 1

One Specific Tree vs One Type of Green Algae

Ginkgophyta: once a proud phylum in the time of the dinosaurs, with many species that were shaped like ferns but reproduced like conifers, now reduced to a single living member, Ginkgo biloba, also known as the maidenhair tree. Individual trees can live for over a thousand years. Official tree of Tokyo.

Charophyta: The type of green algae that all land plants emerged out of. They mostly live in freshwater environments. Stoneworts are charophytes.

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

SUMMARY: The year was 2014. With the marriage of Satoru Gojo and Hannah Thames made official, the first of its kind, a bridge had finally been established. Relations between the Jujutsu and Western factions practically improved overnight, bringing hope that Ryomen Sukuna would be exorcized at last, but things are never that simple.

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

Ch 1: The Wedding

Ch 2: Meetings and Mishaps

Ch 3: The King of Curses

Ch 4: Through Many Dangers, Toils, and Snares

Ch 5: The Strongest

Ch 6: The Siren

Ch 7: A Moment of Grace, A Thread of Enlightenment

Ch 8: After the Rain, Earth Hardens

Ch 9: We Are But Flesh and Bone

Ch 10: There Is No Easy Way To Learning

Ch 11: Laborare Est Orare 

Ch 12: Tomoe’s Warning

Ch 13: Fear No Danger To Ensue 

Ch 14: Into The Belly of the Beast

Ch 15: The Only Way Out Is Through (I)

Ch 16: The Only Way Out Is Through (II)

Ch 17: Reconciled

Ch 18: Fighting the Inevitable

Ch 19: Duch and Butch

Ch 20: A Heart to Heart

Ch 21: Life’s Tiny Victories

Ch 22: The Nature of Bees

Ch 23: Great Courage Is Righteous Anger

Ch 24: Kumari’s Appraisal & Armaments

Ch 25: The Road To A Friend’s House Is Never Long

Ch 26: The Harp

Ch 27: Hiding In Plain Sight

Ch 28: A Burden Shared Is A Burden Halved

Ch 29: Resolution

Ch 30: One Flesh (SMUT)

Ch 31: Honeymoon Phase (SMUT)

Ch 32: 夏油 傑

Ch 33: One Trouble Departed, Again Trouble

Ch 34: Sanity(SMUT)

Oneshots

Sticks and Stones

A Girls’ Night Out

津美紀 (Tsumiki)

真希 (Maki)

The Blindfold

Maidenhair Tree (銀杏)

Cheating

[byou-shin]

[BYOU-SHIN] Adoratio (Lot)

An abandoned overgrown Victorian style greenhouse~ At first I was just practicing my building skill but ended up want to share. Sorry in advance for imperfection. (Photos taken on autumn 🍂🍁)

CCs are included, EXCEPT :

Clementina Swan Boat｜Greenhouse Set｜Flowers & Plants Replacement*

Cheats used before placing :

bb.moveobjects｜bb.showliveeditobjects｜bb.showhiddenobjects

Packs I used* :

Cottage Living｜Snowy Escape｜Get Together｜StrangerVille｜Jungle Adventure｜Vampires｜Outdoor Retreat

DOWNLOAD (dropbox)

*Notice !! (Please read) ↓

You don't technically need to download the Flowers & Plants replacement, but if you don't, few of flowers and plants I used will be maxis style. Please read the further informations on the post for knowing other things.

Some plants and objects may dissapear if you don't have the packs. Here are the lists of objects I used from packs I mentioned above with the number of how many I used :

Cottage Living* : Log 01 & 02 [2-3]｜Mushroom Group 01 + 02 [2-3]｜Grass 01 + 02 [3-4]｜Field Flowers 03 [1]

Snowy Escape* : Grass Clump [3-6]

Get Together : Bubbles Crack [1]｜Grass 02* [more than 20]

StrangerVille : Grunged Splatrug / Water Puddles [1-3]

Jungle Adventure : Broken Jar Ruin [1]｜Maidenhair Fern [4-7]

Vampires : Creeping Thorns [1]｜Scraggly Tree [1]

Outdoor Retreat* : Grass 04 [2-3]｜Flower 01 [1]

*Flowers & Plants Replacement

[vandaliatraveler]

Part 1: After the Rain - Life in an Appalachian Temperate Forest.

From top: Dryad’s saddle (Cerioporus squamosus), a magnificent and edible shelf fungus of Appalachia’s spring forests; wild comfrey (Cynoglossum virginianum), a native borage sometimes also referred to as blue hounds tongue; violet wood sorrel (Oxalis violacea); American cancer-root (Conopholis americana), a parasitic plant that attaches to oak tree roots; northern maidenhair fern (Adiantum pedatum); and wild stonecrop (Sedum ternatum), also known as three-leaved stonecrop.