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heavenlyyshecomes · 1 year

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The rains have ceased. In contrast to the morning and evening chill, the sunny afternoons are frighteningly hot. The leaves have turned yellow, but how strange to watch them as they flutter down through the windless air on to the garden’s mossy carpet in the harsh, summer-like sunlight. I feel the deep melancholy of the French poet who sang of the South American climate: ‘Here the leaves scatter in the April spring.’

I go out to the garden one afternoon, a partially read book of poems in hand, and walk among the beds. The streaming rays illuminate each overlapping leaf of the plums, the maples, the other trees that grow in such profusion, casting their shadows like patterns on the mossy ground. Deep in this shade stands a gazebo. Beyond it is an unobstructed view of a flowering field. I sit to take in the immense blue sky at a glance. Thin white clouds spread across the blue from west to east as if painted with a brush, never moving however long I gaze at them. Countless dragonflies flit back and forth like the swallows one sees high in the summer skies of France. Multicoloured cosmos, taller than the gazebo, bloom in profusion beneath the harsh sun, spreading to all corners of the field, each of which is densely covered in low-growing kumazasa bamboo. Crimson amaranths seem to burst into flame. The Chinese bellflowers and asters retain their brilliant purple, but the white-flowered bush clovers are already past their peak and bow to the ground like the dishevelled tresses of a woman who has thrown herself down in tears, flowing towards my feet upon the gazebo’s paving stones. In their dewy shadows, one or two surviving insects cry out in thin melodic strains.

Ah, this blue sky, this sunlight: mementos of a forgotten summer. How could one imagine it to be October, to be autumn? The barest hint of a breeze turns the pages of the poetry book on my knees until I have a clear view of the final stanza of Baudelaire’s sad ‘Song of Autumn’: Ah! laissez-moi, mon front posé sur vos genoux, Goûter, en regrettant l’été blanc et torride, De l’arrière saison le rayon jaune et doux! ‘Ah! let me, with my head bowed on your knees, / Taste the sweet, yellow rays of the end of autumn, / While I mourn for the white, torrid summer!’

No matter what I see, even the most beautiful flower, I wonder if it is blooming only to make us think of the sadness to come when it has withered and died. The delightful intoxication of love, I can only believe, exists to give us a taste of the sadness to come after parting. And surely the autumn sunlight shines this beautifully in order to tell us, ‘Know ye that the sadness of winter will be here tomorrow.’ Now and then I become strangely agitated and, wishing to see the fading sunlight for even a few seconds longer, I leave to walk not just in the garden but through the gate and into the streets beyond. Ah, what scenes the autumn sun–the autumn sun of my birthplace–has shown me!

—Nagai Kafu, Behind the Prison tr. Jay Rubin, in The Penguin Book of Japanese Short Stories ed. Jay Rubin

#mine #tag later #words

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lazyenemygladiator · 2 years

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The Dark Purple Bush Clover family.

#shonen #Fantasy #slapstick based comedy #boruto #The Yamanaka family #The dark Purple bush Clover family #The Purple Cosmo #Ino Yamanaka #Inojin Yamanaka #Sai Yamanaka #Inojin's drawings #Naruto series #previous ino shika cho trio #new and current ino shika cho trio #Team Moegi #Team Asuma #Botanist #Yamanaka flower shop owner

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bushcloverprincess · 3 years

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Yamanaka Week 2021 - Day 2 (Flowers) 🌺

💐 "There's a trick to flower arrangement. What you do is, find a main flower and then add another that compliments it. You can't have the flowers clash. For example, if 'Cosmos' is the main, then that 'Fujibakama' that you picked is the extra. Like 'Sakura' flower in the spring time, the 'Cosmos' flower is the most beautiful flower in the Autumn. And in the flower language it means harmony, it goes perfectly with most other autumn flowers. Now look at tell me - Does this go with me as beautiful as the Cosmos? Am I cute?"

💐 "I thought it would be a waste if someone wither away as a bud. I mean, how sad it is that some flowers don't bloom at all? There is no meaning to a flower unless it blooms. And, for all I know, that bud could grow into a flower even more beautiful than the Cosmos..."

💐 "This is kind of a Shinobi Flower. A hybrid of Wolf's bane. Lucky for you, it's not as toxic as it's pure form. But a poison is still a poison, right? If I were you, I'd be rinsing my mouth out right now!"

💐 "Here you go, the flower bouquet you ordered, Asuma sensei! I made sure to make it full of Roses - which represents 'Love', because, I know who you're going to give it to - Say hello to Kurenai Sensei from me!"

💐 "Ino, you've perfectly bloomed to embody the symbolic meaning of the Yamanaka Clan's crest - The Purple Bush Clover Flower, an optimistic love who treasures the bonds with friends more than anything else!" - Inoichi.

💐 "I can't decide which flower to give Sai - Lavender of Dogwood? In the Flower Language, Lavender means 'I'm waiting for you' and Dogwood means 'Accept my feelings'. I could create a mood to make Sai receptive by giving Lavender or I could just go and blurt out that I like him by proposing with Dogwood. I'm trying to decide which is better - I think I'm more of a Flower Dogwood type of person, right?"

💐 "Here you go, Himawari! A sunflower for you, since you're named after them of course.. Thankyou for helping Inojin back then. - Wait! You're so cute, let me give you one more!"

@yamanaka-week

#Yamanaka Week 2021 #Ino Yamanaka #Ino #Sai Yamanaka #Sai #saiino #InoSai #Flowers #Inojin #Inojin Yamanaka #Inoichi #Inoichi Yamanaka #naruto #Naruto Shippuden

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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Humans are Space Orcs, “To learn.”

My brain wanted to write something in first person present tense today. I have no idea why, but I let it go wild. I hope you all like it :) A little bit different than my usual style :)

I just needed some time.

You ever tried putting yourself back together after war, it isn’t easy, or at least I don’t find it to be. I don’t know, call me a sissy, but I don’t actually like war., I don’t take pleasure from killing, but it is part of my job, a big part of it and if the universe continues the way it is, I am going to see war a lot more often.

I wish it didn’t affect me so much.

I wish I had a better way of handling it.

People think I’m a strong person, but they’re wrong. There are plenty of people who could take up my mantle and do a more badass job. They wouldn’t grow sick as the sight of carnage, and they wouldn’t hesitate to put the armor back on.

I’m not like that ….

I’m a coward.

If my friends knew…. Well I have no idea what they would think of me.

But that’s why I had to take some time. Since my first injury, I have never been totally alone. There was always someone there to check on me, there was always someone there to help me deal with my issues. I don’t think I ever figured out how to take care of myself, which is why I decided to take this trip, alone.

The others didn’t understand it…. well , one of them did but he still didn’t like it, but If I am being honest it will be good for them….. Especially her…. The last thing I want to do is make it so we can’t function alone.

I think its called…. Codependency or something.

I don’t know sounds like the sort of thing I’d get caught up in.

I suppose it's for all those reasons that I ended up here.

Looking out the window, I can see Anum suspended against the sky glassy in shades of blue purple and green like a lucky marble. It almost feels as if I can reach out and touch it.

The last time I saw this place, it was receding into the distance,.

I lost a lot here, my leg, and my mind for a short time.

Now it kind of makes me laugh to think that a piece of me was left behind to fertilize some of the plant matter. Of course, it looks a bit different now that the dark season has abated. I had only ever seen the place when it was covered in ash, but it's actually quite beautiful.

The pilot of the shuttle is pretty average, and I only feel like tightening my hands on the seatbelts just a little as we enter the atmosphere.

Fire rolls up around us as friction begins to heat up the outer hull.

Around me men and aliens alike rock in their seats.

Most of them are miners, come here to work on extracting the precious metals from below Anum’s surface.

Personally, I prefer asteroid mining, but statistics say that is more dangerous and expensive so of course corporations like it a lot less, and besides, all of this was sort of just a massive pissing contest with the GA forcing the Drev to pay for the damages caused during war. I don’t think they should, but who am I to give my opinion.

I’m just a soldier.

It doesn't take us long to leave the atmosphere, and it isn’t long before we are looking down at a massive open mining operation. The face of Anum has been scoured with a massive terraced hole overrun by machines and workers cutting into the stone. Volcanoes pipe smoke in the distance.

The scars of industry really are ugly sometimes.

I’ve seen pictures of anum during the bright season, without the machinery.

It's honestly very beautiful, but maybe I'm a bit biased. It’s the one part of home that Sunny misses, and I’ve always wanted to see it for myself. With all the times we’ve gone to earth, you think we'd have visited her home planet too, but I guess the cosmos have ust never taken us this way.

Red lights blink above the doors, and I unbuckle my harness pulling on my bag and gear with the rest of the miners, though I’m not here for the same reason they are. Boots clatter loudly on the ramp below our feet, and I head outside.

It smells clean and cool, though for a distant tang of sulfur.

You barely notice it though, less bad than visiting the hot springs at yellowstone, so your nose adjusts quickly.

The sky overhead is blue, just like on earth, though the ground beyond the launch pad is an amalgamation of rainbow color. I have to blink a few times to adjust my vision, pulling up the eyepatch to take a look from my mechanical eye and its UV filter.

“Holy shit.”

It's beautiful, the sheer amount of color is astonishing like the Lucky Charms leprechaun had some sort of horrific accident. T

he miners ignore me and continue on their way towards the docking pad.

I don’t plan on following.

I am not here for them. I drop the patch back over my eye, and adjust the bag over my shoulder striking it out into the bush, barely looking back. No one notices, or cares, and it isn’t long before the launch field and the mining operation disappears over the horizon. Anum’s circumference is just a little smaller than that of earth with the horizon eating up anything beyond that around three miles.

Gravity is somewhat lessened too, which makes it easier as I walk.

My boots are silent against the multicolored moss at my feet, this stuff teal in color. Little white flowers spring up from the surface like clover back home. A light gust of wind rolls past me causing the flowers to ripple. I lift my head closing my eyes and allowing the wind to carry with it distant smells.

This is the same wind that Sunny would have known growing up, the same feeling under her feet.

I decide to stop a couple miles out under the meager shade of a coiltree. I have never actually seen one before now, and I can see why it’s called a coiltree. Honestly it looks like something straight out of a Dr. Seus book striped up the trunk and with branches that curl into spirals. More little whit blossoms erupt from the trunk, and between those are little white berries.

I seem to recall those being edible.

Reaching up, I pluck one or two down from the branches and pop them into my mouth. Though the skin is white, the berries juice stains my hands purple. One of them is horrifically sour, but the other is pleasantly sweet, probably more ripe than the other, though I can’t yet tell the difference between them.

I sit there under the tree for a little while looking out across the lonely landscape. Something is moving on the distant horizon, though I can't exactly tell what they are, a herd of some sort of animal or another. They are very tall as far as I can tell, just a little shorter than the coiltree.

As a last moment decision, I kick off my boots, and strip my socks tying them to my bag before standing.

The moss is very soft under my feet erupting upwards between my toes like a shag carpet, but you know much less hideous.

My footsteps are even softer now, though the prosthetic clatters sometimes when metal hits stone.

Sweat runs down my back,sides, and front.

I have no idea where I am going, but I know they will see me soon enough.

They have patroll parties out here, and if they aren’t watching me already, then they will be soon enough.

I keep walking heading parallel to the volcanic chain.

For the most part, my hike is uneventful, except for that time that I stepped on something slimy and wriggly. I hate to admit it but I squealed like an idiot and nearly fell over, only made worse when I looked down and saw the giant pale maggot burrowing into the moss and underground.

I nearly gagged, and my skin crawled.

Sunny had mentioned those, though I forgot their names.

THey lived primarily off of decomposing plant and animal material, very common in areas where war had continued.

I didn’t like it, but it was probably one of those nasty suckers that ate my leg.

Ew…

Gross.

I contemplated putting my boots back on, but kept walking instead.

A group of unknown flying critters appear overhead. They have two sets of membranous wings, kind of like those of a bat, no tail though, just a long rail of fur like the streamer of a kite.

These ones are bright colors like pink and yellow.

Pretty cool.

Its nice to walk in the silence, though after a while my brain devolves into humming the star wars theme, and then singing stupid songs dancing around and hopping about from one foot to another as I badly sing the choruses to all the songs I know.

My eye of the tiger rendition probably left something to be desired, though I doubt anyone out here would know the difference.

Then comes the stupid dialogs with myself as I try to imagine what Krill Conn and Sunny would say about all this.

“Commander, I will have you know that you behavior is highly disquieting, I insist we get an MRI on your brain to make sure you have not developed a severe case of bilateral goop disease.”

“What kind of dumbass just goes wandering around with no idea where he’s going. The dumbass kind of dumbass.”

“Adam, I need you to understand that Anum is a dangerous place. I know you grew up on earth, but there are still things that can go wrong on Anum. Do you know how common surprise hot springs are. What if you fell in and died.”

Speaking of which, “Thanks imaginary Sunny, I totally forgot about that.”

Other than that, what can go wrong, it is a bright shiny day, the temperature is perfect, nothing someone like me can’t handle. Oh and is that a crunchy pink orb I see. I fucking love those, they taste so good.

I hop over the rocks, my feet warm on the moss, and reach down to pluck one of the spheres from it’s short stumpy stem.

And that's when the spear appears at my throat.

Shit.

I drop my hand back and look up to see a drev that is at least three feet taller than me, holding his massive spear orange eyes narrowed. Holy shit, I didn’t even hear her/him coming. Honestly I should have seen them coming long before anything else bright fuschia as they were.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish.” They jab the spear at my neck, and the obsidian lined head cuts through my sin like butter.

Oh shit, uh, my translator is not picking up shit. Guess these guys have a different accent than we’re used to. I rack my brains trying to remember how to speak what little I know, but it seems that it has all fled me when I needed it the most.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish!” I stumble backwards onto my butt and hands. Shit shit.

I hold up a hand.

“Cheeyat neahasan!” Shit I forgot to conjugate the verb. Damn I must look like an idiot yelling ‘to speak slow!’ at the top of my lungs

However, my botched attempt at speaking seems to work, and they pull back. “Tsa dzhal Cheeyish.”

Oh I understood that one, “Yid zhe cheeyi dzhal.” yes, yes I speak Drev, “neahasan.” Slolwy anyway.

They pull back. I don't know why, but I’m getting a female vibe off this one. I can't tell though, Drev voices all tend to be rather deep.

“Lod tsa ee nin tsa daeen darish” She says it slower this time, and all around her I watch as a small group of other Drev move to flank me from the sides. They are listening very intently.

I think I understand this time, the rough translation being who are you and what are you doing.

I want to speak with your leader, “Zhe zhegingi s tsak eeda cheeyat.” My voice is halting and I am butchering the pronunciation, but they seem to get my request.

She trusts the spear at me, “Tsaee!”

I hold up my hands, “Woah woah, easy easy…. I uh.” Shit what was the word to learn, “zhe….zhengingi hak tsa…. “ Damn it… I can’t remember, “um….. Rekazat nin dzhal….. Rekazazh.”

Oh wow, that sounds really intelligent. I wanted to learn from them but instead apparently I ‘want to know what they know.’ riveting conversationalist that I am.

She stares at me confused.

In frustration I point at her spear, “Zhe zhengingi…..zheengat?”

Uh this was going poorly. I clearly did not know as much of their language as I thought I did.

I want to know to fight.

Wow excellent work their commander that will convince them.

They look back and forth at each other, and fire off some quick shot dialogue that leaves my head spinning.

She turns to me and lowers her spear, “s jya Hajish.”

Come with us.

Great a sentence I understood.

It was in the next few hours that I was either going to live, or I was going to die horribly.

A pretty exciting time in my life.

And I followed.

Not like I had a choice at this point.

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mayor-rosie-of-riga · 5 years

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ACNL icons - flowers, fruit, & other landscaping items

originally ripped by redblueyellow

cropped and saved as individual images for embedding purposes - useful for blog buttons, favicons, custom mouses, etc.

full list under the readmore, listed alphabetically for easy searching

flowers

carnation - pink

carnation - red

carnation - white

cosmo - black

cosmo - orange

cosmo - pink

cosmo - red

cosmo - white

cosmo - yellow

dandelion

dandelion poof

jacob’s ladder

lily - black

lily - orange

lily - pink

lily - red

lily - white

lily - yellow

pansy - blue

pansy - orange

pansy - purple

pansy - red

pansy - white

pansy - yellow

rose - black

rose - blue

rose - gold

rose - orange

rose - pink

rose - purple

rose - red

rose white

rose - yellow

tulip - black

tulip - orange

tulip - pink

tulip - purple

tulip - red

tulip - white

tulip - yellow

violent - blue

violet - purple

violet - white

violet - yellow

fruit

apple

perfect apple

apple basket

perfect apple basket

banana

banana basket

cherry

perfect cherry

cherry basket

perfect cherry basket

coconut

coconut basket

durian

durian basket

lemon

lemon basket

lychee

lychee basket

mango

mango basket

orange

orange basket

perfect orange

perfect orange basket

peach

peach basket

perfect peach

perfect peach basket

pear

pear basket

perfect pear

perfect pear basket

persimmon

persimmon basket

landscaping

bamboo shoot

bamboo shoot basket

bush start

fertilizer

flower seeds

lucky clover

mushroom - elegant

mushroom - famous

mushroom - flat

mushroom - rare

mushroom - round

mushroom - skinny

sapling

sapling - ceder

#animal crossing #animal crossing new leaf #acnl #acnl fruit #acnl flowers #acnl landscaping #from the mayor's office #resources

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violettesiren · 4 years

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("Half-hanged Mary" was Mary Webster, who was accused of witchcraft in the 1680's in a Puritan town in Massachusetts and hanged from a tree—where, according to one of the several surviving accounts, she was left all night. It is known that when she was cut down she was still alive, since she lived for another fourteen years.)

7pm

Rumour was loose in the air

hunting for some neck to land on.

I was milking the cow,

the barn door open to the sunset.

I didn't feel the aimed word hit

and go in like a soft bullet.

I didn't feel the smashed flesh

closing over it like water

over a thrown stone.

I was hanged for living alone

for having blue eyes and a sunburned skin,

tattered skirts, few buttons,

a weedy farm in my own name,

and a surefire cure for warts;

Oh yes, and breasts,

and a sweet pear hidden in my body.

Whenever there's talk of demons

these come in handy.

8pm

The rope was an improvisation.

With time they'd have thought of axes.

Up I go like a windfall in reverse,

a blackened apple stuck back onto the tree.

Trussed hands, rag in my mouth,

a flag raised to salute the moon,

old bone-faced goddess, old original,

who once took blood in return for food.

The men of the town stalk homeward,

excited by their show of hate,

their own evil turned inside out like a glove,

and me wearing it.

9pm

The bonnets come to stare,

the dark skirts also,

the upturned faces in between,

mouths closed so tight they're lipless.

I can see down into their eyeholes

and nostrils. I can see their fear.

You were my friend, you too.

I cured your baby, Mrs.,

and flushed yours out of you,

Non-wife, to save your life.

Help me down? You don't dare.

I might rub off on you,

like soot or gossip. Birds

of a feather burn together,

though as a rule ravens are singular.

In a gathering like this one

the safe place is the background,

pretending you can't dance,

the safe stance pointing a finger.

I understand. You can't spare

anything, a hand, a piece of bread, a shawl

against the cold,

a good word. Lord

knows there isn't much

to go around. You need it all.

10pm

Well God, now that I'm up here

with maybe some time to kill

away from the daily

fingerwork, legwork, work

at the hen level,

we can continue our quarrel,

the one about free will.

Is it my choice that I'm dangling

like a turkey's wattles from his

more then indifferent tree?

If Nature is Your alphabet,

what letter is this rope?

Does my twisting body spell out Grace?

I hurt, therefore I am.

Faith, Charity, and Hope

are three dead angels

falling like meteors or

burning owls across

the profound blank sky of Your face.

12 midnight

My throat is taut against the rope

choking off words and air;

I'm reduced to knotted muscle.

Blood bulges in my skull,

my clenched teeth hold it in;

I bite down on despair

Death sits on my shoulder like a crow

waiting for my squeezed beet

of a heart to burst

so he can eat my eyes

or like a judge

muttering about sluts and punishment

and licking his lips

or like a dark angel

insidious in his glossy feathers

whispering to me to be easy

on myself. To breathe out finally.

Trust me, he says, caressing

me. Why suffer?

A temptation, to sink down

into these definitions.

To become a martyr in reverse,

or food, or trash.

To give up my own words for myself,

my own refusals.

To give up knowing.

To give up pain.

To let go.

2 am

Out of my mouth is coming, at some

distance from me, a thin gnawing sound

which you could confuse with prayer except that

praying is not constrained.

Or is it, Lord?

Maybe it’s more like being strangled

than I once thought. Maybe it’s

a gasp for air, prayer.

Did those men at Pentecost

want flames to shoot out of their heads?

Did they ask to be tossed

on the ground, gabbling like holy poultry,

eyeballs bulging?

As mine are, as mine are.

There is only one prayer; it is not

the knees in the clean nightgown

on the hooked rug.

I want this, I want that.

Oh far beyond.

Call it Please. Call it Mercy.

Call it Not yet, not yet,

as Heaven threatens to explode

inwards in fire and shredded flesh, and the angels caw.

3 am

Wind seethes in the leaves around

me the trees exude night

birds night birds yell inside

my ears like stabbed hearts my heart

stutters in my fluttering cloth

body I dangle with strength

going out of me the wind seethes

in my body tattering

the words I clench

my fists hold No

talisman or silver disc my lungs

flail as if drowning I call

on you as witness I did

no crime I was born I have borne I

bear I will be born this is

a crime I will not

acknowledge leaves and wind

hold on to me

I will not give in

6 am

Sun comes up, huge and blaring,

no longer a simile for God.

Wrong address. I’ve been out there.

Time is relative, let me tell you

I have lived a millennium.

I would like to say my hair turned white

overnight, but it didn’t.

Instead it was my heart;

bleached out like meat in water.

Also, I’m about three inches taller.

This is what happens when you drift in space

listening to the gospel

of the red-hot stars.

Pinpoints of infinity riddle my brain,

a revelation of deafness.

At the end of my rope

I testify to silence.

Don’t say I’m not grateful.

Most will only have one death.

I will have two.

8 am

When they came to harvest my corpse

(open your mouth, close your eyes)

cut my body from the rope,

surprise, surprise:

I was still alive.

Tough luck, folks,

I know the law:

you can’t execute me twice

for the same thing. How nice.

I fell to the clover, breathed it in,

and bared my teeth at them

in a filthy grin.

You can imagine how that went over.

Now I only need to look

out at them through my sky-blue eyes.

They see their own ill will

staring them in the forehead

and turn tail.

Before, I was not a witch.

But now I am one.

Later

My body of skin waxes and wanes

around my true body,

a tender nimbus.

I skitter over the paths and fields,

mumbling to myself like crazy,

mouth full of juicy adjectives

and purple berries.

The townsfolk dive headfirst into the bushes

to get out of my way.

My first death orbits my head,

an ambiguous nimbus,

medallion of my ordeal.

No one crosses that circle.

Having been hanged for something

I never said,

I can now say anything I can say.

Holiness gleams on my dirty fingers,

I eat flowers and dung,

two forms of the same thing, I eat mice

and give thanks, blasphemies

gleam and burst in my wake

like lovely bubbles.

I speak in tongues,

my audience is owls.

My audience is God,

because who the hell else could understand me?

Who else has been dead twice?

The words boil out of me,

coil after coil of sinuous possibility.

The cosmos unravels from my mouth,

all fullness, all vacancy.

Half-Hanged Mary by Margaret Atwood

#margaret atwood

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gethealthy18-blog · 4 years

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Why to Plant a Butterfly Garden (& How)

New Post has been published on http://healingawerness.com/news/why-to-plant-a-butterfly-garden-how/

Why to Plant a Butterfly Garden (& How)

Table of Contents[Hide][Show]

Much like a pollinator garden, a butterfly garden is a great way to attract and provide for these beautiful insects. There’s a little more to it than planting a few colorful flowers though. Here’s how we can help save the butterflies and have a better yard while we’re at it.

Why Do We Need Butterflies?

Many know how important pollinators are for our food supply and ecosystem. Yet butterflies don’t always get the attention they deserve. Butterfly expert Mike Malloy lays out why butterflies are so important.

Butterflies are at the bottom of the food chain for many birds and some small animals, like mice. When the butterfly population dips, everything else takes a hit too. Almost 66% of invertebrate species can be traced back to the butterfly on the food chain.

This insect is more than just bird food though. Entomologists at the University of Kentucky also point out butterflies play a critical role in natural pest control. Butterflies eat plant-damaging aphids.

Stronger, Better Plants

Like bees, butterflies are an important pollinator, but in a different way. While bees spread the love locally, butterflies carry pollen over a much farther distance. Butterflies can evenly cover large areas of plants in a single go.

They’re also an important part of helping plants be genetically diverse. This delicate insect shares pollen across different groups of plants over a wide area – sometimes miles apart. Plants then become more resistant to disease and stronger. Companion planting is another way to give plants a helping hand.

The Butterfly Effect

There’s a reason why butterflies are one of the most monitored animals in the world. Ever heard the phrase “canary in the coal mine”? Butterflies are the canary to our ecosystem. When an area lacks butterflies, scientists know there’s something wrong.

Birds even plan their breeding season around when caterpillars will be available for food. Not enough caterpillars, not enough bird food. It has a ripple effect on our entire ecosystem and food chain.

A Dangerous Trend

According to the Smithsonian Institute, there are about 17,500 different species of butterflies. The United States houses around 750 of these species. While that may sound like a lot, more of our butterfly friends are dying every year.

Various butterfly species declined from 35-67% over a nine-year period in the UK. On the upside, some butterfly species started to make a comeback in 2019, according to The UK Butterfly Monitoring Scheme.

Monarch butterflies overwinter in Mexico and California. Scientists estimate there were at least 4.5 million monarch butterflies in California alone in the 1980s. At last count, the population has declined to less than 29,000. That’s .5% of what they used to be.

The Center for Biological Diversity reports on the butterfly decline in Mexico. From 2019 to 2020 Mexico lost 53% of its remaining monarch butterfly population. The Xerces Society for conservation highlights the loss in the US. California lost 86% of its monarch butterfly population from 2017 to 2018 alone.

At this rate, scientists say the species will be extinct within 20 years.

What’s Killing the Butterflies?

There are several reasons why our important pollinators are dying out. According to EPA pesticide usage reports:

Pesky Pesticides

More than half of insecticides in the US are sprayed in yards and gardens.

The US accounts for 23% of the world’s total pesticide use.

83 million US households use insecticides. This doesn’t include other pesticides used.

All of these pesticides spell major trouble for the butterfly population.

Neonicotinoid pesticides may be especially harmful. Researchers found that as neonicotinoid use rose, so did butterfly deaths. The Guardian reports:

“If we’re going to get smart about using chemicals in the countryside we need to test them better before they get out there. It’s crazy that we’re using a potentially dangerous-to-wildlife chemical and nobody has done those studies.”

A Boring Landscape

Along with pesticide use comes a decrease in plant diversity. When people spray unwanted “weeds,” like beneficial dandelions, it has a domino effect. Milkweed is the monarch butterflies main food source, but thanks to pesticides the number of plants has plummeted.

Green lawns empty of nutritious and diverse plant life. Roadsides and fields that are sprayed and mowed. Fields full of bare ground and pesticide-resistant corn or soybeans. All of these scenarios rob our important pollinators of the food they need and ultimately damages the ecosystem we depend on.

5G and EMF Effects on Butterflies?

5G has gotten a lot of buzz lately, and not all for positive reasons. A 2010 study in the journal Nature explores its possible effects on insects and animals. How? Butterflies have photoreceptor proteins called cryptochromes. These allow butterflies to see UV light rays invisible to humans. The proteins also help the butterflies (and other animals) sense the earth’s geomagnetic field. There’s growing evidence that EMF waves may throw off the sense of direction for birds and insects.

Changing the Food Supply

Not only are EMF waves confusing butterflies’ sense of direction, but they could be damaging their food source. Newsweek reports scientists have also found nearly 90% of plant life tested was sensitive to cell phone frequencies. EMF waves have a negative impact on how plants develop, function, and metabolize.

How to Create a Butterfly Garden

Instead of feeling overwhelmed and depressed by this information, we can take action! A butterfly garden is a perfect way to create a haven for our pollinator friends. Unlike bees, butterflies are a little pickier about what they like.

#1 Be a Groupie

Butterflies prefer large blocks of colorful flowers of the same variety. Instead of planting ten different flowers in the same small area, opt for a larger patch of one kind. This doesn’t mean your butterfly garden can only have one or two varieties, but instead group like flowers together.

#2 Plant a Rainbow

Like bees, butterflies like a variety of colors. Red, orange, yellow, pink, and purple blooms are their favorite. Butterflies also tend to prefer flowers with short flower tubes and wide landing surfaces, like daisies and black-eyed susan. Blooms with large clusters, like phlox, are also a favorite.

#3 Take It to Greater Heights

Butterflies want a variety of heights to choose from. Taller flowers and shrubs help provide protective shade for them. Trees and shrubs are important for butterflies to perch and feed on. These plants provide for them from caterpillar through adulthood.

#4 Spread the Love

Like us, butterflies need to eat throughout the seasons, not just summer. By planting a variety of flowers with different bloom times we can help them eat all season long. Some butterflies hibernate in the winter, while others migrate to a warmer climate and feed there.

#5 Put Off Raking the Leaves

While many want a leafless lawn in the fall, leaves provide shelter through the winter for insects and birds. According to Purdue University’s Forest and Natural Resources, annual and perennial plants can contain butterfly pupa and larva. In many areas, butterflies overwinter in fallen leaves and vegetation.

According to scientists at the University of Michigan, fallen leaves have other benefits. Mulched leaves fertilize and add nutrition to the soil. Grass is noticeably thicker, greener, and healthier in the spring. By raking leaves and pulling up plants in the fall we’re disturbing a vital part of the ecosystem.

Late spring is a much safer time to clean up the yard and garden.

#6 Don’t Forget About the Babies!

Butterflies lay eggs that become caterpillars, and later on more butterflies. A good butterfly garden will also have food and shelter for the reproductive cycle. You can do both you and the caterpillars a favor by creating their own space for them away from your vegetables.

What to Plant in a Butterfly Garden

Ready to get started? Here’s a master list of butterfly-friendly varieties to look for:

Best Veggies for Butterflies

Cabbage

Dill

Fennel

Parsley

Garlic chives

Best Trees for a Butterfly Garden

Gumbo-Limbo tree

Pawpaw tree (and the fruits are edible and delicious!)

Tulip poplar tree

Wild black cherry tree

Chokecherry tree

Northern prickly ash

Butterfly-Friendly Shrubs and Vines

Butterfly bush (Buddleia spp.)

Buddleia davidii ‘Miss Molly’

Firebush

Saltbush

Mexican flame vine (the only vine that attracts monarchs)

Buttonbush

Best Plants and Flowers for Butterflies

Mint – spearmint, peppermint, etc.

Bluemist spirea

Milkweed (vital for monarch caterpillars)

Joe-Pye-weed

Thistles

Plantain

Clover

Dandelions

Alyssum

Asclepius

Cornflower

Cosmos

Purple coneflower (echinacea)

Globe amaranth

Heliotrope

Larkspur

Milkweed

Nicotiana

Pentas

Salvia

Sunflowers

Mexican sunflower

Zinnia

Lantana

Black-eyed susan

Bottlebrush

Coral bean

Coral honeysuckle

Cosmos

Firecracker plant

Firespike

Jatropha

Lion’s Ear

Passion Flower

Blue porterweed

Azaleas

Bee balm (also known as wild bergamot)

Blue mistflower

Duranta erecta (sapphire showers or golden dewdrops)

Echium fastuosum (pride of Madeira)

Blazingstar varieties (a favorite of monarchs) – rough, button, meadow, and northern are some of the varieties.

Purpletop vervain

Egyptian starcluster

Purple giant hyssop (not anise hyssop)

Goldenrod

Marigold

More Butterfly Garden Necessities

Still looking to add on? Try:

Fruit

Some butterfly species eat rotting fruit. Instead of tossing out overripe fruit leftovers, place fruit slices in a shallow dish for the butterflies. These should be set next to a flowering plant they like.

Bath Time

Butterflies also enjoy taking a dip. While they steer clear of deeper water, like birdbaths, a shallow dish of water is just their thing. You can fill a saucer with wet sand and water by their favorite flowers. If your area is prone to mosquitos be sure to dump and change the water regularly.

What About a Butterfly House?

A butterfly house may look like a friendly gesture, but they’re not necessary. These are more for decoration and butterflies don’t use them. It’s more likely to end up as a spider hotel. Try building a bee hotel instead.

Let’s Save the Butterflies

Even though the statistics are shockingly bad, we can all play a part in saving the butterflies. Planting a butterfly garden, skipping the pesticides, and encouraging diverse plant life can make an impact. The more of us who pitch in, the better!

Do you have a butterfly garden? What’s in it?

Sources:

Purdue University Forestry and Natural Resources (2004, May). Attracting Butterflies to Your Yard. https://www.extension.purdue.edu/extmedia/FNR/FNR-248-W.pdf

The UK Butterfly Monitoring Scheme (UKBMS). (2019). 2019 Summary of Changes table for the UK. https://www.ukbms.org/official_statistics

Cornell University Cooperative Extension Fulton and Montgomery Counties (2013, April 11). Consumer Horticulture: Plan a Butterfly Garden. https://ccefm.com/readarticle.asp?ID=1577&progID=8

Dovey, D (2018, May 19). Radiation for Cell Phones, Wi-Fi is hurting the birds and the bees; 5G may make it worse. Newsweek. https://www.newsweek.com/migratory-birds-bee-navigation-5g-technology-electromagnetic-radiation-934830

US EPA (2017). Pesticides Industry Sales and Usage 2008 – 2012 Market Estimates. https://www.epa.gov/sites/production/files/2017-01/documents/pesticides-industry-sales-usage-2016_0.pdf

Schultza, C., Brown, L., Pelton, E., & Crone, E. (2017). Citizen science monitoring demonstrates dramatic declines of monarch butterflies in western North America. Biological Conservation. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0006320717304809

Curry, T. (2020, March 20). Eastern monarch butterfly population plunges below extinction threshold. Center for Biological Diversity. https://phys.org/news/2020-03-eastern-monarch-butterfly-population-plunges.html

Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation. (2018, Nov 29). Early Thanksgiving Counts Show a Critically Low Monarch Population in California. https://xerces.org/blog/early-thanksgiving-counts-show-critically-low-monarch-population-in-california

UK College of Agriculture Food and Environment. Aphids. Entomology at the University of Kentucky. https://entomology.ca.uky.edu/ef103)

Hartley Botanic (2016, March 2). Why Butterflies are Important. https://hartley-botanic.co.uk/magazine/why-butterflies-are-important/

Gegear, Robert J. et al. (2010). Animal Cryptochromes Mediate Magnetoreception by an Unconventional Photochemical Mechanism. Nature, 463(7282), 804. https://www.nature.com/articles/nature08719

Purdue University Department of Forestry and Natural Resources (2004). Attracting Butterflies to Your Yard. https://www.extension.purdue.edu/extmedia/FNR/FNR-248-W.pdf

Johnson, T. (n.d.). Out My Backdoor: Do Butterfly Boxes Work? Georgia Department of Natural Resources Wildlife Resources Division. https://georgiawildlife.com/out-my-backdoor-do-butterfly-boxes-work

Source: https://wellnessmama.com/427932/butterfly-garden/

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actrades · 7 years

Text

LF: Landscaping Items/RV Visits/Wishlist

Looking For:

Pink/Purple Roses

White Cosmos

Clovers

Hydrangea bush starts

Saplings

RV Visits to Boots, Claude, Ike, Cyrus, Reese, Felyne Medli or Epona

Wishlist items

Offering: RV Visits, Villagers or Bells

URL: @kimoray

Ask Box/IM Link: IM ONLY

Friend Code: 4527-7566-7078

Note: Villager trades are done in my other town~

#acnl #acnl trade #looking for items #campground #landscaping #submission #grams

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diygabl · 7 years

Photo

A Beginner's Guide To Organic Pest-Free Gardening

Using as many organic techniques as possible in your garden or yard is the healthiest way to protect the environment and the people around you. But how can you protect your Garden of Eden from insects and critters that would like to make it their dinner? How can you resist breaking out the big guns, such as synthetic pesticides? We organic gardeners have our ways.

The Problem with Synthetic Pesticides The truth about synthetic pesticides is that they are very good at their jobs. In fact, they are too good, and that usually comes with a price. Synthetic chemicals (whether pesticides or herbicides) may seem to work faster initially. However, in the long run, you will find that they aren’t any more effective than organics and usually end up doing more harm than good. Pesticides don’t differentiate between the good guys and the bad guys. They kill everything, including pollinators and other beneficial insects. In addition, they don’t do any favors for the environment, wildlife, and our human bodies.

Constantly Improve Your Garden Soil The first line of defense against garden pests is to improve your soil on a continual basis. Even the most fertile soil eventually becomes nutritionally depleted from hungry plants. Nutritionally depleted soil = nutritionally depleted (unhealthy) plants, and unhealthy plants are a magnet for pests and disease. Here are some tips for improving garden soil:

Whenever possible, don’t till or remove topsoil from the garden. Regularly add compost and other amendments to the bed by simply layering them on top. The redworms and other beneficial organisms will do the work for you.

Rotate the plants in your garden beds. Many pests (and diseases) are focused on specific plant families. For example, cabbage loopers are particularly attracted to plants in the brassica family (cole crops). In the first growing season, the pests that find brassicas irresistible will be on the lookout for potential host plants. They may (or may not) find your broccoli in this first year. But once they do, they begin to set up camp for good. You can thwart their efforts for the next season by practicing plant rotation. If you have broccoli planted in one of your garden beds this year, next year plant them in a different bed. Do the same with each plant family.

Start your own compost pile. Compost is organic plant and animal matter that’s completely broken down, making it readily available to plant roots. It adds nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium, plus other nutrients (depending on the organic materials) such as copper, iron, iodine, manganese, boron, cobalt, and molybdenum. Compost also builds a rich, friable garden soil, so I’m a fan of adding it to my garden beds every chance I get. The most cost-effective way to have a steady supply of compost is to make your own.

Plant green manures (cover crops). Green manures, aka cover crops, are legumes, grains, or grasses planted in a garden bed for introducing nitrogen, inhibiting weeds, preventing soil erosion, and adding organic matter. Legumes such as field peas, hairy vetch, red clover, and soybean (edamame) “fix” nitrogen via the bacteria that lives in their roots. Once the legumes begin to flower, they are knocked down and turned under, releasing nitrogen into the soil. Grains and grasses such as winter rye, rape, wheat, and oats are excellent cover crops for discouraging weeds, preventing erosion, and generally building soil.

Call in the Natural Predators Mother Nature is fantastic at bringing balance to all things. She has always had the answer to plant pest overpopulation: natural predators, which include insects and other animals. For example, ladybugs from larva to adults will have devoured 5,000 aphids by the time they die, while a green lacewing larva consumes 60 aphids an hour. All you need to do is encourage them to visit the garden by planting what they love. Predatory insects will come for the appetizers (plants) and stay for the main course (pests). Bonus: Predators will often double as effective pollinators in the garden. The following are plants that will lure predators, as well as pollinators, to your garden.

40 Plants for Predatory Insects

Alyssum

Aster

Basil

Bee balm

Blazing Star

Borage

Butterfly bush

Calendula

Coreopsis

Cosmos

Dill

Fennel

Flax

Giant hyssop

Globe thistle

Goldenrod

Hollyhock

Hyssop

Joe-pye weed

Lavender

Lovage

Lupine

Marigold

Marjoram

Mullein

Nasturtium

Oregano

Purple coneflower

Queen Anne’s lace

Rosemary

Rudbeckia

Sage

Scabiosa

Stonecrop

Thyme

Verbena

Wallflower

Wild rose

Yarrow

Zinnia

By the way, not all predators are insects. Many birds, such as bluebirds, grosbeaks, swallows, and wrens, will be happy to feast on garden pests such as cucumber beetles, grasshoppers, stick bugs, and aphids.

Nontoxic and Low-Toxic When it comes to defining nontoxic and low-toxic pesticides, there are two schools of thought. The first being that many organic pesticides, whether they are purchased or made by the gardener, are considered “nontoxic.” For example, insecticidal soap such as the one made by Safer Brand is eco-friendly and nontoxic to people, pets, and wildlife. I think that this is true for the most part (although it can be irritating to sensitive skin, as well as the eyes). However, can an insecticidal soap tell the difference between pests and beneficial insects? No. And this can be said of many other organic controls as well. So the better question to ask is nontoxic to whom? This is where we come to the other school of thought, which is that anything that kills something can’t be labeled as truly nontoxic. Whichever definition rings true for you, one thing is certain: The following products are much less toxic to the environment, people, and animals than their synthetic alternatives. That said, some organic pesticides are still highly toxic to bees.

Hand-to-Hand Combat: Sometimes you can’t beat good, old-fashioned elbow grease. Hand-pick pests from your plants and squish, stomp, or drown them in a bucket of soapy water. Feed them to your chickens. Round up your kids, your sister’s kids, and the neighborhood kids and pay them for their hunting skills. Never underestimate the blast of a water hose. This technique is very effective on aphids and other soft-bodied insects. Be sure to adjust the strength of the stream so it doesn’t pummel plant leaves in the process.

Physical Barriers: Physical barriers such as floating row covers, netting, paper collars, and copper strips work surprisingly well against many pests such as snails, cabbageworms, flea beetles, squash bugs, and more. (Don’t forget that row covers and netting will also keep pollinators from visiting your plants. So, remove them while the plants are blooming.)

Insecticidal Soaps: Insecticidal soaps are true soap (not detergents) mixtures that coat the bodies of insects and dry them out. Works well on soft-bodied insects such as mealybugs, aphids, scales, etc. Highly toxic to bees.

Diatomaceous Earth (horticultural grade): DE is crushed fossilized diatom and algae skeletons. It enters insect bodies and in effect dries them up. Works well for earwigs, ants, beetles, fleas, ticks, slugs, etc. While it’s safe for people in general, avoid breathing it into your lungs by wearing a dust mask while applying it. Highly toxic to bees.

Horticultural Oils: Horticultural oils are made with various oils (mineral, vegetable, soybean, etc.) and work by disrupting how some insects–such as aphids–eat, poisoning others, and smothering insect eggs. Highly toxic to bees.

Pyrethrins: Pyrethrins are derived from specific chrysanthemums and basically attack an insect’s central nervous system. They aren’t considered the lowest toxicity; however, they are considered acceptable for organic gardening practices. They are biodegradable and break down quickly in the sunlight. Don’t confuse pyrethrins (pyrethrum) with permethrin, which is its synthetic counterpart (and very toxic to cats and other animals). Highly toxic to bees.

Do Organic Pest Control Practices Really Work? I have often heard people say they don’t believe organic methods work nearly as well as the more toxic poisons found on store shelves. I always wonder if those with this mindset have ever actually tried organic techniques and strategies. Or perhaps, if they simply have not given them enough time to work their magic. Organic pest control methods do work, especially if several are implemented at the same time. Yes, you might lose a few seedlings to snails or have a few holes in some leaves. But in the end, organic gardening practices still offer the most people-, animal-, and Earth-friendly practices for maintaining a healthy balance in the garden.

#organic gardening #herbicides #insecticides

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zanypaintertriumph · 2 years

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#Naruto Shippuden 20th anniversary #Ino Yamanaka #Genin days #Off-duty clothes #kid Ino Yamanaka #previous ino shika cho trio [16th generation]#the purple cosmo and bush clover #Yamanaka clan #Kid Choji Akimichi #Kid Sakura Uchiha #Kid Shikamaru Nara #Geninhoods #Masashi Kishimoto #Forest of death #Chunin exams stadium #Team 10

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milky-honee · 7 years

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Half-hanged Mary

This poem is based upon a true story.

"Half-hanged Mary" was Mary Webster, who was accused of witchcraft in the 1680's in a Puritan town in Massachusetts and hanged from a tree - where, according to one of the several surviving accounts, she was left all night. It is known that when she was cut down she was still alive, since she lived for another fourteen years.)One of Mary Webster’s descendants is the now well-known Canadian novelist and poet, Margaret Atwood, who wrote a poem, “Half-Hanged Mary,” (1995) about her notorious ancestor, and one of her most popular novels,

The Handmaid’s Tale

(1985), is dedicated to her. The poem has also been made into several stage productions and interpretations. Atwood’s poem is in sections, each chronicling an hour of Mary’s hanging from the tree, beginning at 7 at night and concluding at 8 the next morning.

HALF-HANGED MARY by Margaret Atwood

7pm

Rumour was loose in the air

hunting for some neck to land on.

I was milking the cow,

the barn door open to the sunset.

I didn't feel the aimed word hit

and go in like a soft bullet.

I didn't feel the smashed flesh

closing over it like water

over a thrown stone.

I was hanged for living alone

for having blue eyes and a sunburned skin,

tattered skirts, few buttons,

a weedy farm in my own name,

and a surefire cure for warts;

Oh yes, and breasts,

and a sweet pear hidden in my body.

Whenever there's talk of demons

these come in handy.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

8pm

The rope was an improvisation.

With time they'd have thought of axes.

Up I go like a windfall in reverse,

a blackend apple stuck back onto the tree.

Trussed hands, rag in my mouth,

a flag raised to salute the moon,

old bone-faced goddess, old original,

who once took blood in return for food.

The men of the town stalk homeward,

excited by their show of hate,

their own evil turned inside out like a glove,

and me wearing it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

9pm

The bonnets come to stare,

the dark skirts also,

the upturned faces in between,

mouths closed so tight they're lipless.

I can see down into their eyeholes

and nostrils. I can see their fear.

You were my friend, you too.

I cured your baby, Mrs.,

and flushed yours out of you,

Non-wife, to save your life.

Help me down? You don't dare.

I might rub off on you,

like soot or gossip. Birds

of a feather burn together,

though as a rule ravens are singular.

In a gathering like this one

the safe place is the background,

pretending you can't dance,

the safe stance pointing a finger.

I understand. You can't spare

anything, a hand, a piece of bread, a shawl

against the cold,

a good word. Lord

knows there isn't much

to go around. You need it all.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10pm

Well God, now that I'm up here

with maybe some time to kill

away from the daily

fingerwork, legwork, work

at the hen level,

we can continue our quarrel,

the one about free will.

Is it my choice that I'm dangling

like a turkey's wattles from his

more then indifferent tree?

If Nature is Your alphabet,

what letter is this rope?

Does my twisting body spell out Grace?

I hurt, therefore I am.

Faith, Charity, and Hope

are three dead angels

falling like meteors or

burning owls across

the profound blank sky of Your face.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

12 midnight

My throat is taut against the rope

choking off words and air;

I'm reduced to knotted muscle.

Blood bulges in my skull,

my clenched teeth hold it in;

I bite down on despair

Death sits on my shoulder like a crow

waiting for my squeezed beet

of a heart to burst

so he can eat my eyes

or like a judge

muttering about sluts and punishment

and licking his lips

or like a dark angel

insidious in his glossy feathers

whispering to me to be easy

on myself. To breathe out finally.

Trust me, he says, caressing

me. Why suffer?

A temptation, to sink down

into these definitions.

To become a martyr in reverse,

or food, or trash.

To give up my own words for myself,my own refusals.To give up knowing.

To give up pain.

To let go.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 a.m.

Out of my mouths is coming, at some

distance from me, a thin gnawing sound

which you could confuse with prayer except that

praying is not constrained.

Or is it, Lord?

Maybe it’s more like being strangled

than I once thought. Maybe it’s

a gasp for air, prayer.

Did those men at Pentecost

want flames to shoot out of their heads?

Did they ask to be tossed

on the ground, gabbling like holy poultry,

eyeballs bulging?

As mine are, as mine are.

There is only one prayer; it is not

the knees in the clean nightgown

on the hooked rug.

I want this, I want that.

Oh far beyond.

Call it Please. Call it Mercy.

Call it Not yet, not yet,

as Heaven threatens to explode

inwards in fire and shredded flesh, and the angels caw.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3 a.m.

wind seethes in the leaves around

me the trees exude night

birds night birds yell inside

my ears like stabbed hearts my heart

stutters in my fluttering cloth

body I dangle with strength

going out of the wind seethes

in my body tattering

the words I clench

my fists hold No

talisman or silver disc my lungs

flail as if drowning I call

on you as witness I did

no crime I was born I have borne I

bear I will be born this is

a crime I will not

acknowledge leaves and wind

hold on to me

I will not give in

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

6 a.m.

Sun comes up, huge and blaring,

no longer a simile for God.

Wrong address. I’ve been out there.

Time is relative, let me tell you

I have lived a millennium.

I would like to say my hair turned white

overnight, but it didn’t.

Instead it was my heart;

bleached out like meat in water.

Also, I’m about three inches taller.

This is what happens when you drift in space

listening to the gospel

of the red hot stars.

Pinpoints of infinity riddle my brain,

a revelation of deafness.

At the end of my rope

I testify to silence.

Don’t say I’m not grateful.

Most will only have one death.

I will have two.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

8 a.m.

When they came to harvest my corpse

(open your mouth, close your eyes)

cut my body from the rope,

surprise, surprise,

I was still alive.

Tough luck, folks,

I know the law:

you can’t execute me twice

for the same thing. How nice.

I fell to the clover, breathed it in,

and bared my teeth at them

in a filthy grin.

You can imagine how that went over.

Now I only need to look

out at them through my sky-blue eyes.

They see their own ill will

staring them in the forehead

and turn tail.

Before, I was not a witch.

But now I am one.

Later

My body of skin waxes and wanes

around my true body,

a tender nimbus.

I skitter over the paths and fields,

mumbling to myself like crazy,

mouth full of juicy adjectives

and purple berries.

The townsfolk dive headfirst into the bushes

to get out of my way.

My first death orbits my head,

an ambiguous nimbus,

medallion of my ordeal.

No one crosses that circle.

Having been hanged for something

I never said,

I can now say anything I can say.

Holiness gleams on my dirty fingers,

I eat flowers and dung,,

two forms of the same thing, I eat mice

and give thanks, blasphemies

gleam and burst in my wake

like lovely bubbles.

I speak in tongues,

my audience is owls.

My audience is God,

because who the hell else could understand me?

The words boil out of me,

coil after coil of sinuous possibility.

The cosmos unravels from my mouth,

all fullness, all vacancy

#poem #half hanged mary #witch #witch craft #salem #massachusetts

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greenhomepestcontrol · 7 years

Text

A Beginner’s Guide to Organic Pest-Free Gardening

The Problem with Synthetic Pesticides

The truth about synthetic pesticides is that they are very good at their jobs. In fact, they are too good, and that usually comes with a price. Synthetic chemicals (whether pesticides or herbicides) may seem to work faster initially. However, in the long run, you will find that they aren’t any more effective than organics and usually end up doing more harm than good. Pesticides don’t differentiate between the good guys and the bad guys. They kill everything, including pollinators and other beneficial insects. In addition, they don’t do any favors for the environment, wildlife, and our human bodies.

Constantly Improve Your Garden Soil

The first line of defense against garden pests is to improve your soil on a continual basis. Even the most fertile soil eventually becomes nutritionally depleted from hungry plants. Nutritionally depleted soil = nutritionally depleted (unhealthy) plants, and unhealthy plants are a magnet for pests and disease. Here are some tips for improving garden soil:

Call in the Natural Predators

Mother Nature is fantastic at bringing balance to all things. She has always had the answer to plant pest overpopulation: natural predators, which include insects and other animals. For example, ladybugs from larva to adults will have devoured 5,000 aphids by the time they die, while a green lacewing larva consumes 60 aphids an hour. All you need to do is encourage them to visit the garden by planting what they love. Predatory insects will come for the appetizers (plants) and stay for the main course (pests). Bonus: Predators will often double as effective pollinators in the garden. The following are plants that will lure predators, as well as pollinators, to your garden.

40 Plants for Predatory Insects

1. Alyssum

2. Aster

3. Basil

4. Bee balm

5. Blazing Star

6. Borage

7. Butterfly bush

8. Calendula

9. Coreopsis

10. Cosmos

11. Dill

12. Fennel

13. Flax

14. Giant hyssop

15. Globe thistle

16. Goldenrod

17. Hollyhock

18. Hyssop

19. Joe-pye weed

20. Lavender

21. Lovage

22. Lupine

23. Marigold

24. Marjoram

25. Mullein

26. Nasturtium

27. Oregano

28. Purple coneflower

29. Queen Anne’s lace

30. Rosemary

31. Rudbeckia

32. Sage

33. Scabiosa

34. Stonecrop

35. Thyme

36. Verbena

37. Wallflower

38. Wild rose

39. Yarrow

40. Zinnia

View The Entire Original Article Here: http://diygabl.tumblr.com/post/160279570767/a-beginners-guide-to-organic-pest-free-gardening

#pest #pest control #bug #bugs #insects

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lazyenemygladiator · 2 years

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Mother and Son.

#shonen #boruto #Yamanaka household #Yamanaka family #Ino-Ino interaction #Mothers and Sons #Clanhead #Ino Yamanaka #Inojin Yamanaka #The purple cosmo #The dark purple bush clover family #new gen combative artist #Adult Ino #16th and 17th generation of the Ino-Shika-Cho trio #The Boar boy #The Boar woman

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seaanimalonland · 7 years

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Half-Hanged Mary | Margaret Atwood

7pm

Rumour was loose in the air hunting for some neck to land on. I was milking the cow, the barn door open to the sunset.

I didn’t feel the aimed word hit and go in like a soft bullet. I didn’t feel the smashed flesh closing over it like water over a thrown stone.

I was hanged for living alone for having blue eyes and a sunburned skin, tattered skirts, few buttons, a weedy farm in my own name, and a surefire cure for warts;

Oh yes, and breasts, and a sweet pear hidden in my body. Whenever there’s talk of demons these come in handy.

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8pm

The rope was an improvisation. With time they’d have thought of axes.

Up I go like a windfall in reverse, a blackend apple stuck back onto the tree.

Trussed hands, rag in my mouth, a flag raised to salute the moon,

old bone-faced goddess, old original, who once took blood in return for food.

The men of the town stalk homeward, excited by their show of hate,

their own evil turned inside out like a glove, and me wearing it.

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9pm

The bonnets come to stare, the dark skirts also, the upturned faces in between, mouths closed so tight they’re lipless. I can see down into their eyeholes and nostrils. I can see their fear.

You were my friend, you too. I cured your baby, Mrs., and flushed yours out of you, Non-wife, to save your life.

Help me down? You don’t dare. I might rub off on you, like soot or gossip. Birds of a feather burn together, though as a rule ravens are singular.

In a gathering like this one the safe place is the background, pretending you can’t dance, the safe stance pointing a finger.

I understand. You can’t spare anything, a hand, a piece of bread, a shawl against the cold, a good word. Lord knows there isn’t much to go around. You need it all.

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10pm

Well God, now that I’m up here with maybe some time to kill away from the daily fingerwork, legwork, work at the hen level, we can continue our quarrel, the one about free will.

Is it my choice that I’m dangling like a turkey’s wattles from his more then indifferent tree? If Nature is Your alphabet, what letter is this rope?

Does my twisting body spell out Grace? I hurt, therefore I am. Faith, Charity, and Hope are three dead angels falling like meteors or burning owls across the profound blank sky of Your face.

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12 midnight

My throat is taut against the rope choking off words and air; I’m reduced to knotted muscle. Blood bulges in my skull, my clenched teeth hold it in; I bite down on despair

Death sits on my shoulder like a crow waiting for my squeezed beet of a heart to burst so he can eat my eyes

or like a judge muttering about sluts and punishment and licking his lips

or like a dark angel insidious in his glossy feathers whispering to me to be easy on myself. To breathe out finally. Trust me, he says, caressing me. Why suffer?

A temptation, to sink down into these definitions. To become a martyr in reverse, or food, or trash. To give up my own words for myself,

my own refusals. To give up knowing. To give up pain. To let go.

2 a.m. Out of my mouths is coming, at some distance from me, a thin gnawing sound which you could confuse with prayer except that praying is not constrained. Or is it, Lord? Maybe it’s more like being strangled than I once thought. Maybe it’s a gasp for air, prayer. Did those men at Pentecost want flames to shoot out of their heads? Did they ask to be tossed on the ground, gabbling like holy poultry, eyeballs bulging? As mine are, as mine are. There is only one prayer; it is not the knees in the clean nightgown on the hooked rug. I want this, I want that. Oh far beyond. Call it Please. Call it Mercy. Call it Not yet, not yet, as Heaven threatens to explode inwards in fire and shredded flesh, and the angels caw. 3 a.m. wind seethes in the leaves around me the trees exude night birds night birds yell inside my ears like stabbed hearts my heart stutters in my fluttering cloth body I dangle with strength going out of the wind seethes in my body tattering the words I clench my fists hold No talisman or silver disc my lungs flail as if drowning I call on you as witness I did no crime I was born I have borne I bear I will be born this is a crime I will not acknowledge leaves and wind hold on to me I will not give in 6 a.m. Sun comes up, huge and blaring, no longer a simile for God. Wrong address. I’ve been out there. Time is relative, let me tell you I have lived a millennium. I would like to say my hair turned white overnight, but it didn’t. Instead it was my heart; bleached out like meat in water. Also, I’m about three inches taller. This is what happens when you drift in space listening to the gospel of the red hot stars. Pinpoints of infinity riddle my brain, a revelation of deafness. At the end of my rope I testify to silence. Don’t say I’m not grateful. Most will only have one death. I will have two. 8 a.m. When they came to harvest my corpse (open your mouth, close your eyes) cut my body from the rope, surprise, surprise, I was still alive. Tough luck, folks, I know the law: you can’t execute me twice for the same thing. How nice. I fell to the clover, breathed it in, and bared my teeth at them in a filthy grin. You can imagine how that went over. Now I only need to look out at them through my sky-blue eyes. They see their own ill will staring them in the forehead and turn tail. Before, I was not a witch. But now I am one. Later My body of skin waxes and wanes around my true body, a tender nimbus. I skitter over the paths and fields, mumbling to myself like crazy, mouth full of juicy adjectives and purple berries. The townsfolk dive headfirst into the bushes to get out of my way. My first death orbits my head, an ambiguous nimbus, medallion of my ordeal. No one crosses that circle. Having been hanged for something I never said, I can now say anything I can say. Holiness gleams on my dirty fingers, I eat flowers and dung,, two forms of the same thing, I eat mice and give thanks, blasphemies gleam and burst in my wake like lovely bubbles. I speak in tongues, my audience is owls. My audience is God, because who the hell else could understand me? The words boil out of me, coil after coil of sinuous possibility. The cosmos unravels from my mouth, all fullness, all vacancy.

via exceptindreams

#poetry #Margaret Atwood

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