#spring abloom

[quirk-nova]

Can I have a Rose cookie x Raspberry Mousse cookie their costume:D

(Spring Abloom) Rose Cookie x (Lord Darksabre) Raspberry Mousse Cookie aesthetic board for @mymelodyroll

[paganmind]

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE YULETIDE

Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the glen

Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.

A mantle of snow shone brightly that night

As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.

The faeries were nestled all snug in their trees,

Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.

The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,

Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.

When low! The earth moved with a thunderous quake,

Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.

The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feet

Then raced to the river where they usually meet.

“What happened?” they wondered, they questioned, they probed,

As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.

“What caused the earth’s shudder? What caused her to shiver?”

They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.

Then what to their wondering eyes should appear

But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.

It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,

Then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.

Before they could murmur, before they could bustle,

There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,

A stately old crone with her hand on a cane,

Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.

As she passed by them the old crone’s perfume,

Smelling of meadows and flowers abloom,

Made each of the fey folk think of the spring

When the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.

“My name is Gaia,” the old crone proclaimed

in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,

“I’ve come to remind you, for you seem to forget,

that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…”

“I see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,

The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells

Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,

Of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews.”

“There aren’t any children at play in the snow,

Or houses lit up by candles’ glow.

Have you forgotten, my children, the fun

Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?”

She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round,

As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.

Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,

“Come, my children,” she said, “Let’s play.”

They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,

Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.

They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.

They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.

They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,

In colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.

They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,

Then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.

Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,

Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,

The fey folk they gathered ‘round their favorite oak tree

And welcomed the sun ‘neath the tree’s finery.

They were just reaching home when it suddenly came,

The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.

It lit on the tree top where they could see from afar

The golden-like sphere turned into a star.

The old crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,

“Happy Yuletide, my children,” she whispered. “Good night.”

[bambiraptor9blog]

The Crownless Again Shall Be King

What if Keanu Reeves was cast in Lord of the Rings? That, along with the flower crown and Spring theme, was the impetus for this one-shot to start off the @97keanu hosted Spring Fling!

The story is below the cut!

LOTR Keanu Character x Reader

G rated, short and sweet--ha! :)

The Golden Tree was abloom in the Party Field, and you emerged from your Hobbit hole with reluctance. How many times had your aunts and uncles asked when you would be wed? How many times did you go to the party each year in the Spring, only to make flower crowns in the far corner, distant from the raucous drunks, shrieking children, and nuzzling couples, all too eager to hide away?

Word had spread from the Tooks that a Man was to arrive a fortnight ago by way of Bree into Hobbiton. Pippin was especially enthralled—was this the fabled Aragorn? Perhaps a relative of his? The Tooks meddled with Men far too much for your family’s liking—being a Proudfoot was exhausting enough as it was, what with the gardening, pig keeping, sheep shearing and all.

You were already considered queer by your family and friends in Hobbiton—you didn’t farm as they did. In fact, you lived alone in a spacious hole your recently deceased father left in his will, considered an eccentric artist to most. And you preferred things that way, thank you very much! You would rather dream endlessly about adventures than go on one yourself.

You were accompanied some nights by a solitary gray cat, sometimes visited by a shaggy dapple-gray pony as well, with a mysterious origin. Perhaps he was Bill’s offspring, which you deduced from the way he loved the apples you snuck him from Farmer Maggot’s orchard. This immediately made the other Hobbits think you were a magic user, perhaps even—a witch!

True to form, you discovered all kinds of trinkets and fabrics from visitors to Hobbiton, abandoned in the dirt and cobblestone trails—lost buttons, ribbons, torn flags, bits of discarded maps, and if you were lucky, coins from lands very far from home. You collected these bits and bobs in glass jars, as if they were collections of sea glass, setting them in your rounded windows so they sparkled in the mid-day Sun. You burned the Shire sage—Old Toby, really--each night by the door, blessing the trinkets, hoping against hope they would bring you clues to the partner of your dreams. You spent your days painting watercolors of the Shire, sometimes selling the pieces in craft fairs year-round. You spent your nights writing about battles against great Wyrms like the long gone Smaug, terror of the past, rescued in the nick of time by a tall, dark and handsome Man.

And now news of this Man arriving in town on the day of the Party sent your heart aflutter.

“Y/N? That one? Hah! Very queer, exceptionally so. Odd how they are obsessed with Men! Men?! Why not that decent Harfoot boy across the way? Oh no, too good for ‘im!” a gossiping cousin shook their head at you one afternoon while shearing a sheep. Another standing by, collecting the wool, laughed openly at you.

You kept walking, nearly dropping your bundle of half-made flower crowns on the dirt path toward the town center.

“What’s it to you?” you fought back, your face ruddy.

“Y/N speaks! Have mercy on us!” the other cousin cackled, and the one who commented before joined in with a nasty, nasally shriek of a giggle fit. “Don’t turn us into anything—unnatural!”

You scowled and shuffled on down the path, delighting in the sunlight on your back and warming the curls on your head. You loved the feeling of your flowing tunic around your torso as you walked, hiding your curvy body. You wore a pair of tight leggings, stopping short at your curly haired feet. Even your dress was unusual, for a Hobbit.

You arrived at the Party Field just as you saw a large black destrier with a blue velvet and silver embroidered blanket across its back. The blanket was adorned with the White Tree of Gondor. The horse was tied off to a wooden post.

You dropped the flower crowns in your shock—you’d never seen a horse that size before, nor one as jet black as the rook’s wing. Your mouth made an “o” and you tilted your head up, craning your neck back as you gawped at the stallion. You could barely reach its knees, much less its withers—you’d have to stand on another Hobbit’s shoulders to mount this magnificent beast!

“I beg your pardon,” came a gentle alto gruff from behind you. “You dropped these?”

And you turned, barely recovered from the first shock in seeing the destrier, and nearly fainted!

For there loomed the most handsome Man you had ever heard tell of, similar in appearance and yet taller in height than Aragorn son of Arathorn, holding your flower crowns in his large hands. His dark hair was shoulder length, straight, starting at a widow’s peak and parted in sharp angles. His eyes were brown, glinting with a mischief rivaling a Brandybuck, crow’s feet at their corners. His angular cheeks were coated in black and gray grizzle, growing in longer patches below his lower lip. He smiled down at you, and your heart thundered in your chest—even his smile is winsome! you thought in an enamored panic. He was wearing a simple pale white tunic, enclosed in a black vest, his black riding pants tucked into leather black riding boots trimmed with sheep’s wool. Over this was draped a dull black coat with a hood, pinned at his neck with a silver Tree of Gondor.

“Berethorn!” admonished a cheekily grinning Peregrin Took. “Don’t go scaring my guests—you alright there?”

“The Peregrin Took?!” you cried aloud, feeling dizzy from the sudden emotions. “Sir?” you added hastily. Pippin rolled his eyes, nudged a gently laughing Berethorn in his hips with an elbow.

“Come on now, Y/N! It’s not the first time I’ve seen ya at the Golden Tree! Hey—aren’t you the one who makes those fantastic paintings of the Shire? I loved your interpretation of the Bywater, most impressive. I think one of my relatives bought it, it’s in one of our halls!”

As Pippin spoke, he helped you take the flower crowns from Berethorn’s extended left hand.

Your fingertips barely grazed the Man’s and it felt like time stopped as you looked up into his eyes.

“Um—uh—yes! Yes,” you struggled to respond. Pippin raised an eyebrow, his grin devious now. “I’m the one that made that painting. I like to mix my own watercolors, sometimes, from the riverbank mud, grasses, and…”

“Well now! You’ll have to share these with me, sometime,” Berethorn stood to his full height. You wondered how the Hobbits who traveled with Men and Dwarves and even Gandalf could stand being so…small…around others, and yet were given the deepest admiration and respect at the end of their journeys there and back again.

“Aragorn couldn’t make it, on account of him taking care of Arwen—she just gave birth yesterday, you know!” Pippin prattled on, noting how you blushed brightly at that. You smiled, wistful.

“Oh congratulations,” you replied. You clasped your hands, bouncing on your feet, the flower crowns nearly being dropped again in your excitement for the couple.

“I will send him your kind words…do tell me your name, Hobbit?” Berethorn watched Pippin’s barely contained snort in amusement, noting how you were so awkward around him. Perhaps they’ve never seen a Man before? he wondered.

“It’s Y/N,” you respond quickly. Then, shaking, you give him one of your most perfect white flower crowns, delicately sewn together from the stalks of the grasses surrounding the Brandywine River. “And here. A gift for the little one. When they get old enough. The flowers have been preserved in alcoholic spirits, so they won’t die in that time.”

“Hey now! That’s new!” Pippin marveled at the flower crown. “You did that by yourself? Spirit making is a most intensive process. They’re a real artisan, this one!”

You blushed profusely while nodding, looking down at your toes, which you happened to thankfully clean earlier that morning before setting out to the Party Field.

“Thank you,” you finally remembered your manners. Berethorn grinned again, and did something unexpected—he put the flower crown in his hair!

“For safe keeping,” he explained, blushing now too as Pippin laughed raucously at the sight. “Starbringer eats any plant I bring near him.”

“Oh, what a lovely name for a horse like him!” you complimented Berethorn. You shuffled quickly beside him as he moved toward the Golden Tree at the center of the Party Field, Pippin on the other side.

“It’s not too fanciful? I don’t know,” he lamented. “My sisters teased me about that when I was young. But I do like stargazing, and he found me in a field in the dead of night on the outskirts of Rohan, so I suppose it was meant to be.”

“Rohan!” you go on, enraptured by the cadence and gruffness of his voice. “I saw your saddle—and your pin—you’re from Gondor?”

“I am now,” he replied at the same time Pippin said,

“He is now, yes.” Berethorn raised an eyebrow at Pippin, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Berethorn was recruited into Aragorn’s guard a fortnight ago. So the Golden Tree will have even more special meaning in its ceremony this year!”

You handed out some flower crowns to a group of tween Hobbit girls, all flowing pink and green dresses with long twisting ribbons in their curly hair and on their bodices. They giggled up at the long striding Berethorn, whispering to one another as he passed.

“I was a Ranger in my youth. I admired Aragorn greatly.”

You started to wonder if Berethorn had some kind of Elf maiden at home, and your heart sank a little at the thought. Well, suits him right…he’s the tall, dark and handsome type. I’m sure he has someone—I’m sure of it!

“I was wounded in a skirmish with an Orc years ago. Forever ruined my knee. So I am grateful to still be able to stand, and fight, by Elessar’s side,” Berethorn went on. It was then that you noticed the slight hitch in his step, and you looked at him with wide, sad eyes.

“He’s single, too,” Pippin blurted as Merry hopped off an ale barrel, chomping on an apple and smirking, joining in the procession toward the Golden Tree.

“Pippin! Don’t tease them like that! Look at them! The poor thing’s googly eyed as Gollum,” Merry admonished Pip.

“Why utter that foul creature’s name here?” Berethorn looked disgusted at the comparison. He looked down at you with a tenderness that made your heart melt. “Y/N is delightful thus far.”

Oh my…! You think, head spinning as you finally approached the Golden Tree. He…thinks…I’m a delight?

Everyone admired the tree’s leaves twisting in the Spring breeze, and Berethorn looked especially regal in his black coat, the flower crown glittering white in the fading sunlight. He glanced down at you as you managed to set a purple flower crown in your curly strands, but it was tilted at an angle. He smirked.

“Y/N, you never cease to amuse me,” he teased softly, daring to rest his right hand gently against the slope of the back of your head and neck. “And it’s no wonder so many come here to see this. The Tree is a thing of beauty. I daresay it rivals the White Tree, but then, Gondor would be after my head. I’d see it on a pike, probably.”

“How can ya see it if yer dead?” Pippin wanted to know, confused. Berethorn laughed, and your heart skipped a beat.

“It wasn’t meant to be serious, Pip,” Merry explained softly, shaking his head.

“Oh. Right,” Pippin shrugged, biting another apple that Merry offered him.

Pippin and Merry were swept away to make a speech, and you stood beside Berethorn, admiring the Golden Tree while you both watched the Hobbits and bystanders from Bree milling around, enjoying the Party.

Once again, in being around him, it was as if time seemed to stop.

“Y/N?” he asked. Your heart caught in your throat. You knew this was important.

“Yes?” you wondered. He produced a pin, not unlike the one affixed to his coat, and smiled as he gave it to you. On you, it was huge—at least as large as your hand. The pin had a unique sigil—a two headed stallion, with a smiling circle beneath that, wrought in iron. It looked weathered—as if it were recovered in a storm at sea. Berethorn pressed the pin gently into your hands, careful not to poke them in the process. You gasped, looked up at him, warmth in your heart, stars in your eyes.

“I want you to have this. It is a family sigil of sorts, my own personal heirloom. I will never have children of my own, yet meeting you today? You remind me of a kindred spirit. I know this makes no sense—I am a Man, you are a Halfling—but I wish to give this to you, all the same. I know you will cherish it, I can tell the care you put into the little things you create, and I am honored to have met you today.”

You stand there, thrilled, and you feel the tears well up in your eyes. You nodded, and he tilted his head down in a gesture reminiscent of greeting royalty. He then was called to the podium, and he turned to you. Before he went up to speak, he knelt down, his hooded cape billowing around you both. He pressed his lips into your cheek hastily before turning with the grace Men had, waving to Pippin, the flower crown nestled in his hair.

You felt your own flower crown fall to the ground, and you shook with joy as Berethorn accepted the praise of your people, rowdy and raucous as ever, cast in the orange glow of sunset. “From the darkness, there is light!” he said, and everyone cheered, raising their mugs of ale and wine. “I thank you all, my most excellent friends, for honoring me tonight…!”

You watched him mount Starbringer later that evening, nearly vanishing into the darkness in the process. You saw the horse run into the night, and you sighed. You had no more flower crowns, but you held the pin he gave you to your chest, your heart full, happiness evident as you skipped down the path to your Hobbit hole. Even though your adventure that evening wasn’t one with dragons, foul beasts, or dangerous roads to traverse, you felt special to a Man, and that was worth waiting for.

[askwhatsforlunch]

Wintering The Garden

As the days are getting colder and colder, and it is frequently freezing at night, Wintering The Garden becomes essential, if you want to see it beautifully abloom come Spring. Now is the ideal time to feed and enrich your soil, too; next year's harvest will reward your efforts!

Leaf Mould 

Lasagna Garden (Update One) (Update Two) (Update Three) (Update Four)

Wintering Camellias 

Mulching 

Wintering Geraniums 

Pruning Fruit Trees 

Pruning Hydrangeas 

Wintering Peonies 

[canadachronicles]

The front garden is all abloom with daffodils, narcissi, anemones, hycinths and muscari, and the camellia is flowering gorgeously. And until today, the skies had stubbornly remained cloudless and blue! I thus could not remain in a bleak mood, especially when Spring comes with the sound of Oscar Peterson playing I Got Rhythm!

[appalachiancowboy99]

I would really like to know your answers for questions 5, 15 and 20 💛 Please 😊

Hi, my lovely Cassie!! 🤗 Thank you for sending in your ask!! 💕

5.) What made you start your blog? Actually, this blog wasn't originally geared toward Red Dead content. Gasp! I know, it's shocking! LMAO. I created this little profile in my 4th year at college in the Fine Arts program I was in! We were tasked to post and talk about our artwork. Eventually, the blog went dead and I switched over my content once I really got into the Red Dead fandom. I didn't realize how many kind souls were on here 💕 Made me fall in love with the platform all over again!

15.) What do you think of when you hear the word "Home"? That's such an interesting question! Home is the mountains turning green with the first vestiges of spring. Little flowers abloom along the ditch-lines carved out along the back roads leading to someplace peaceful. Home is the feeling the clover beneath your bare feet as you catch your first junebug of the season. Drinking a cold glass of water as you shuck green beans with your Mamaw. The smell of burning jeans as your Papaw smokes out the beehives to gather the sweetest wild honey you'd ever taste. Home is getting together on Fridays to eat good food, talk with good company, and listening to bluegrass. Getting soaked in the creak catching crawdaddies with your cousins and getting that first sip of moonshine cough syrup that nearly knocks you on your ass when you get sick from being out in that water too long! But I think most of all, home is where the promise of peace is whispered through the trees and tasted in the labors of love from your family. 💕

20.) Favorite thing about the night? I love that time right after the sunrise sets, casting a faint hue of blue over the land before the moon rises and darkness settles in. Where I live, we have very little light pollution, so the stars are so bright and beautiful when it ain't cloudy. But I think my most favorite aspect of the night is hearing the swell of crickets chirping in a melodic symphony with the hoot-owls up in the trees.

Again, thank you so much for sending in your ask! 🤗 It's always good hearing from you! I hope you're doing well! - Sending you all kinds of love! 💕

[deathsweetblossoms]

And then, almost before Anne realized it, spring had come again to Green Gables and all the world was abloom once more.

[avatar-saiki]

Do Demons Have Allergies?

Mammon/reader, ~500 words

Summary: Was simping for Mammon with my bestie and how he could sneeze and I’d still swoon and it inspired this little fic 💛

Experiencing the changes in season in the Devildom had made you realize just how much you'd taken for granted in the human realm. Demons still referred to a concept of day and night, but it was more an "active" and "resting" period that happened to coincide with a similar cycle you'd experienced at home. They'd seemed to even borrow the terms "day" and "night" to refer to these cycles in much the same way, even if it was always "night".

Even the wilds, both creatures and fauna, found some sort of rhythm, some sort of pattern that your human eyes and body couldn't naturally detect. It was one of your first favorite things to learn about when studying Devildom science, its inner ecosystems blending with mana in a way you never could've imagined. It was just one of the many things you'd come to love about a realm you'd only heard of through the murmurings and whispers of myth and legend.

Just with some unseen day and night, they also had changes in the season ungoverned by a sun or rotation, instead influenced by the fluctuations in mana expressed from the ground. Demons were unable to store excess energy within their body, and anything that couldn't be burned through their spells or functions was returned to their environment, feeding the fauna that fed the creatures who roamed free.

It was all so fascinating, an entire world evolved from demons who siphoned energy from others, only to have their energy taken to feed their home.

And even more fascinating?

"Achoo!"

You chuckled under your breath, carefully placing a vase filled with freshly bloomed flowers on your nightstand. Spring had seemingly sprung, the forest and gardens all abloom with so many flowers, some of which could be beneficial to you, and many that were not.

And some that were...

"Ah-Ahchoo! Fuck!"

You laughed again, enjoying their soft subtle fragrance.

"Hey, human are you- achoo dammit I- achoo! Fuck- achoo- Me - achoo - AGH!"

"I'm in here, Mammon!" you called.

Your first demon walked into your room, the tip of his nose red and runny, eyes a little puffy. "Ugh, you brought more of 'em inside?" he pouted with a sniff, "Why?"

"Well, they're pretty don't you think?"

"Pretty a- ah-" He held up one finger and closed his eyes, about to sneeze again.

You waited, but nothing happened. "Mammon, are you-"

"Awf-choo!" he sneezed again. "Dammit!"

You giggled and stood up, "Aw, are you allergic? I didn't know demons could have allergies."

"I ain't allergic it's just the smell that makes me-- makes me ah- ah-" He screwed up his face, trying to hold it back.

You sighed and picked up the vase, "Okay, okay I'll go put them back outside."

"Thank- chu! Fuck me!"

"Maybe later," you teased, making his face turn an extra shade of red as you passed him into the hall. It was such a shame, their fragrance really was so sweet. Maybe just one more little sniff... Or maybe that was a bit too much. The pollen made your nose tingle and you reached up to cup your hand over your mouth, letting out one small little sneeze.

"What?! That's it?!"

You laughed and winked at him. "Hey, what can I say? I sneeze cuter than you."

[floridaboiler]

Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the glen

Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.

A mantle of snow shone brightly that night

As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.

The faeries were nestled all snug in their trees,

Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.

The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,

Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.

When low! The earth moved with a thunderous quake,

Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.

The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feet

Then raced to the river where they usually meet.

"What happened?" they wondered, they questioned, they probed,

As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.

"What caused the earth's shudder? What caused her to shiver?"

They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.

Then what to their wondering eyes should appear

But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.

It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,

Then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.

Before they could murmur, before they could bustle,

There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,

A stately old crone with her hand on a cane,

Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.

As she passed by them the old crone's perfume,

Smelling of meadows and flowers abloom,

Made each of the fey folk think of the spring

When the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.

"My name is Gaia," the old crone proclaimed

in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,

"I've come to remind you, for you seem to forget,

that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…"

"I see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,

The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells

Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,

Of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews."

"There aren’t any children at play in the snow,

Or houses lit up by candles'glow.

Have you forgotten, my children, the fun

Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?"

She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round,

As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.

Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,

"Come, my children,"she said, "Let’s play."

They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,

Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.

They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.

They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.

They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,

In colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.

They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,

Then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.

Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,

Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,

The fey folk they gathered ‘round their favorite oak tree

And welcomed the sun ‘neath the tree's finery.

They were just reaching home when it suddenly came,

The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.

It lit on the tree top where they could see from afar

The golden-like sphere turned into a star.

The old crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,

"Happy Yuletide, my children," she whispered. "Good night."

𝗣𝗼𝗲𝗺 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 C.C. Williford

Source: https://pettywitter.blogspot.com/.../yuletide-blessings.html

[harrison-abbott]

the heat

The heat rose up to the upper house throughout the day and it was

Still hot at night when the sun was long dead and it muddied the

Air of oxygen.

The heat made people speak louder out in the street, kids and

Adults alike all sparked up with their heartbeats accelerated and

The sweat running down temples. Their dogs, too, puffing and

Lolling their tongues as they raced after footballs on the amazed

Greenery of the park.

The heat was straight out of global heating and it would never

Be this hot in April in this country when you were wee, but,

Things have changed now and you have to deal with modern

Affairs.

Moths bashed against the walls at night through the open window

After being attracted to the electric lamplight and they flirted

With the little bulb.

A motorbike growled and shrieked its tyres out in the street

At 00:07 as if there was no respect for post midnight quiet

At all.

In the park the bins smelled so rank it was hard to go near

Them and you pitied the men who came around in trucks

Every week to take the bin bags away.

Flies came in to the kitchen looking for calories and they

Splurged on the butter or the dog’s food bowl with their oily

Purple and green bodies.

To look at the trees you wouldn’t have thought they were the

Same characters from last month when they were still bracing

The harsh winds and their buds weren’t abloom.

Around the neighbourhood you sensed alcohol and marijuana

And there was that ugly funk of charcoal from fires that were

Supermarket bought and in the gardens of strangers that

You passed they shouted as if watching some sports match

And there was something about these factors that made you

Walk quicker.

The heat brought up the summer flowers as opposed to Spring.

Even though it technically wasn’t summer yet.

When you were a boy a lot of these flowers wouldn’t be

In adolescence yet. Does this make you old or is heat too

Beyond your control to be understandable?

The heat made you dream weird and you woke up with a wet

Forehead and you blinked into the gluey room with frustration

Because you’d been hoping to sleep a bit longer and you knew

That you weren’t going to be able to sleep any further and so

You got up and when you went downstairs it was cooler there

But not by much and when you went out into the night it

Was actually warmer, and when you looked up at the sky

There was a schism moon and these drowsy stars that all

Looked tired and lullabied by days’ worth of heat.

[aspiringwaterbender]

Spring Awakening

The forsythia in my yard is abloom, the daffodils nodding, the crabapple tree in the backyard about to burst. Across the street my neighbor’s magnolia is just giddily gorgeous. For a long time I thought magnolias didn’t grow in the north but they’re all over the place around here, oddly. Thank God for magnolias. Thank God for spring. After twenty-five years (this time) in New England, I have…

[moonlitfirefly]

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE YULETIDE

Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the glen

Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.

A mantle of snow shone brightly that night

As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.

The faeries were nestled all snug in their trees,

Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.

The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,

Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.

When low! The earth moved with a thunderous quake,

Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.

The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feet

Then raced to the river where they usually meet.

“What happened?” they wondered, they questioned, they probed,

As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.

“What caused the earth’s shudder? What caused her to shiver?”

They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.

Then what to their wondering eyes should appear

But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.

It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,

Then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.

Before they could murmur, before they could bustle,

There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,

A stately old crone with her hand on a cane,

Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.

As she passed by them the old crone’s perfume,

Smelling of meadows and flowers abloom,

Made each of the fey folk think of the spring

When the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.

“My name is Gaia,” the old crone proclaimed

in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,

“I’ve come to remind you, for you seem to forget,

that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…”

“I see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,

The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells

Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,

Of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews.”

“There aren’t any children at play in the snow,

Or houses lit up by candles’ glow.

Have you forgotten, my children, the fun

Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?”

She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round,

As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.

Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,

“Come, my children,” she said, “Let’s play.”

They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,

Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.

They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.

They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.

They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,

In colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.

They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,

Then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.

Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,

Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,

The fey folk they gathered ‘round their favorite oak tree

And welcomed the sun ‘neath the tree’s finery.

They were just reaching home when it suddenly came,

The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.

It lit on the tree top where they could see from afar

The golden-like sphere turned into a star.

The old crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,

“Happy Yuletide, my children,” she whispered. “Good night.”

Poem author C.C. Williford

Art by HolgaJen

[skrytch]

Twas the night before Yuletide

BY: C.C. Williford

Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the glen. Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.

A mantle of snow shone brightly that night

As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.

The faeries were nestled all snug in their trees, unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.

The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows, sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.

When low! The earth moved with a thunderous quake, causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.

The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feet

Then raced to the river where they usually meet.

“What happened?” they wondered, they questioned, they probed, as they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.

“What caused the earth’s shudder? What caused her to shiver?” They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.

Then what to their wondering eyes should appear but a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.

It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,

then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.

Before they could murmur, before they could bustle, there emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle, a stately old crone with her hand on a cane, resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.

As she passed by them the old crone’s perfume, smelling of meadows and flowers abloom, made each of the fey folk think of the spring when the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.

“My name is Gaia,” the old crone proclaimed

in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed, “I’ve come to remind you, for you seem to forget, that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…”

“I see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,

The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells

of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,

of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews.”

“There aren’t any children at play in the snow,

or houses lit up by candles’ glow. Have you forgotten, my children, the fun of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?”

She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round, as they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground. Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day, “Come, my children,” she said, “Let’s play.”

They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly, threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.

They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang. They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.

They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry, in colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry. They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats, then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.

Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,

Before they went homeward to seek out their rest, the fey folk they gathered ‘round their favorite oak tree and welcomed the sun ‘neath the tree’s finery.

They were just reaching home when it suddenly came, the gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame. It lit on the tree top where they could see from afar

The golden-like sphere turned into a star.

The old crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,

“Happy Yuletide, my children,” she whispered. “Good night.”

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Patagonian Shelf Waters Abloom

n austral spring 2024, a phytoplankton bloom off the coast of Argentina painted the waters blue and green. Blooms are common in the region this time of year, but clouds often block the view from above. However, clouds stayed hundreds of kilometers offshore on November 30, 2024, allowing the OCI (Ocean Color Instrument) on NASA’s PACE (Plankton, Aerosol, Cloud, ocean Ecosystem) satellite to capture this image of the colorful bloom in the South Atlantic Ocean.

Phytoplankton are among the smallest organisms in the ocean. But when their populations explode, the blooms can span thousands of square kilometers, making them visible from space. In this scene, the bloom stretches east to west over the Patagonian Shelf and extends over 1,000 kilometers (600 miles) north from the Falkland Islands (Islas Malvinas).

Blooms in this region are stimulated by the ocean’s complex circulation patterns. For example, rising water along the Patagonian Shelf-break front carries nutrients to the surface, where phytoplankton thrive in spring and summer sunlight. Currents and eddies also stir the water horizontally, creating surface patterns that become even more visible in chlorophyll observations. Other nutrients can come from river sediment and windblown dust from Patagonia.

Without a physical sample, it’s not yet possible to identify the types of phytoplankton present in this image. Studies show that diatoms and dinoflagellates tend to be present here in the austral spring. Diatoms, a microscopic form of algae, have silica shells and plenty of chlorophyll that can make the water appear green. Coccolithophores, which have chalky calcium carbonate plates (coccoliths) that reflect light and make the water appear bright blue, tend to show up in summer.

Phytoplankton are the primary food source for zooplankton, shellfish, fish, and larger marine creatures. With its intense phytoplankton blooms, the area around the Patagonian Shelf-break supports rich aquatic diversity and vast fisheries.

NASA Earth Observatory image by Wanmei Liang, using PACE data from NASA EOSDIS LANCE and GIBS/Worldview. Story by Kathryn Hansen.

[rvtravellife]

Adventure through Crater Lake National Park Oregon

by Paige Guscott Embark on a thrilling adventure through the breathtaking Crater Lake National Park in Oregon. Discover stunning landscapes, azure waters, and captivating wildlife. Experience the ultimate outdoor escape today!.... History of Crater Lake National Park Oregon, USA Crater Lake National Park was established on May 22, 1902, by President Theodore Roosevelt. It was the fifth park in the United States to be brought under the stewardship of the National Park Service. The establishment was a result of efforts by individuals like William Gladstone Steel, who advocated for the protection of the area. Prior to its designation, the region around Crater Lake had been recognized for its geological value and unique landscape, formed around 7,700 years ago when the then-towering Mount Mazama erupted. This massive volcanic event expelled so much material that the mountain could no longer support itself, leading to its collapse and the formation of a vast caldera. Over time, rain and snowfall filled the basin, giving birth to Crater Lake National Park Oregon. The Indigenous Klamath Tribe has long revered the lake as a sacred site. They witnessed the collapse of Mount Mazama and have passed down oral histories that speak to the event's profound spiritual impact. This history adds a rich cultural background to the park's geological marvels. Though not the deepest lake in the world, at 1,943 feet deep, it is the deepest lake in the United States and one of the clearest in the world. The clarity is due to the water being primarily sourced from snow and rain, lacking the sediment that rivers or streams might carry into the lake. The Circle of Discovery Crater Lake National Park Oregon USA is a part of the 'Circle of Discovery', a collection of 5 national parks and national recreation areas in Oregon and California. The Circle includes Crater Lake National Park Oregon, Lava Beds and Tule Lake National Monuments, Lassen Volcanic National Park, Whiskeytown National Recreation Area, Redwood National and State Parks. These areas are carefully managed to ensure that visitors can fully experience nature while also preserving the natural beauty of the land. These areas offer a wide range of activities such as hiking, camping, fishing, and wildlife viewing. They are the perfect places for families, friends, and individuals to connect with the outdoors. Plants and Animals of Crater Lake Within the borders of Crater Lake National Park Oregon lies a vibrant tapestry of ecological diversity, ranging from ancient forests to meadows abloom with wildflowers. Ecological Diversity in the Park Within Crater Lake National Park Oregon you can find a forest of trees that have stood tall for centuries. That's the old-growth forest of the park, a sanctuary for towering pines and firs that have weathered storms and seasons for hundreds of years. These forests are not only remarkable to look at, but also serve as a crucial habitat for a number of species. The understory of these woods is a maze of thimbleberries, huckleberries, and ferns, creating a lush green contrast to the deep blue of the lake. The park's diverse habitats extend beyond the reach of its trees. Alpine meadows dotted with wildflowers provide a kaleidoscope of colors in the warmer months, while marshes and springs offer a water source to the wildlife. Each of these unique ecosystems plays a role in supporting the park's complex web of life. Wildlife Residents of Crater Lake National Park Oregon From the tiny pikas that dart among rock piles to the stately Roosevelt elk roaming the meadows, the park is alive with creatures great and small. Birds of prey like bald eagles and ospreys can be seen soaring above, scanning the waters for fish, while Clark's nutcrackers fill the air with their distinctive calls. At dusk, you might spot a black bear ambling through the underbrush or hear the howl of a coyote in the distance. It's not just the land dwellers that captivate the park's visitors. Crater Lake National Park Oregon itself is home to two species of fish: the Kokanee salmon and the rainbow trout. These fish were introduced to the lake over a century ago and continue to thrive in the clear, cold waters. Anglers might find a quiet spot along the lake area to cast a line, but it's important to remember that fishing regulations are in place to maintain the delicate balance of this ecosystem. PlayCrater Lake National Park Crater Lake: Why It Captivates Visitors Imagine standing at the rim of a vast, impossibly blue lake, enclosed by sheer cliffs and silent forests. This is Crater Lake National Park, a place of awe-inspiring beauty and profound natural splendor. Visual Splendor: Crystal-Clear Waters and Panoramic Views Photo by mlle_farfalle on Pixabay The first glimpse of Crater Lake is often one that stays with visitors forever. Its waters, some of the clearest on earth, reflect a vivid blue that seems almost surreal. This clarity is due to the lake being primarily fed by snow and rain, with little to no impurities entering the water..... Read More... Read the full article

[sofiagabrielle]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: ❌SOLD ❌Ted Baker Women's White Soft Blossom Bow.