#what in vermiculation

[opera25]

The worm of truth or whatever... Silly animation practice I did in 2 hours because I'm sick of being sick (the lip sync got messed up in rendering oops)

Audio by @ Ricesaysthings !!!!!!!

context! in case you don't know what vermiculated is LMAO

[911-incorrect-quotes-dispatch]

Eddie: How am I even gonna use that in a sentence?

Buck: What are you doing, babe?

Eddie: Oh, May sent me today's word of the day.

Buck: Just like how you used FOMO when you rescued me from the building collapse?

Eddie: Well, yes but this one is wild. Vermiculation. The process of being turn into a worm.

Buck: How about, would you still love me if I get vermiculated?

Eddie: I like that. And yes, I would still love you. I would buy you the biggest enclosure I could find and give you the best kind of apple cores and lettuce trimmings.

[embersgiantmember]

asking my best friend weird questions and seeing what he will put up with before he stops loving me lmfao

so far he will sill love me if :

• i turn into a worm (said he would build me the fanciest tank with the best dirt and put a ring camera in it so he could watch me even when he's at work)

• i turn into a claymation bear (he would wrap my body in bubble wrap and put me in his pocket)

• and finally it i was vermiculated - worm eaten (yes but he would never look at me again😭)

I'll reblog this with more unhinged 'would you still love me?'s

[sxbaist]

@fasciinating whispered, " the dust never settles when you are around. "

What dust to know?

It aggravates her neuro-peripherally, sinking inside like a tapeworm that she can feel-- wriggling in between her teeth. Making sweet homes in the pores. His vermiculation doesn't fill her entirely; she's still so ravenous. Lungs like ice filter down, down, downward and leave her gut roiling.

Vega's bodily betrayal hardly suits her.

"You were growing stagnant."

Her Sa-te'kru should know: in destruction erects a paradise. In bloodletting meliorates evolution.

"It all was."

[floortile34]

Vermiculates you

no idea what tht means but imfeeling bad rn and need hugs. and tomoko needs to be made feel even worse she thinks

[machaera]

                                        ❛      𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ?      ❜           what he almost said :      i stopped caring what you expect of me.      the bitterness staled,      tasted juvenile           &           improper on his tongue.      in spite of everything he harbored no wish to spite his father, not anymore,      but the matter was simple           &           true.      𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚢,      𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚢 —      with cicatrix riven into his bosom rendered a phantom ache for there was nowhere it could go.      dracula had killed his son,      had buried adrian tepes with his own calloused hands the night he lay in gresit,           &           again in his childhood room.

                                        alucard almost felt . . .      pity.      too human of an emotion,      the toiling dread in his stomach of looking upon one's parent           &           besieged by how age derelicts them.      his hair motleyed with gray.      his caved           &           wasted face.      𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝.      it was no truer than with my father.      he pulled away,      ground himself again.

                                        how long has it been since you left home ?           ❛      long enough,      ❜           he echoed.      poplar moths circled the candelabra,      incandesced,      vermiculate patterns with lambent pulse.      maps           &           mazes.      of a thing which could not be put back.      he looked ancient,      transcendental.      like an element of nature calcified by centuries.      like he had been there in the silence before the ponderous spectacle of the world coming to be if not for a single thought that reduces him.      he pulled his hand from the bannister with a sharp breath,      ruminated the malady flourishing with cynical fecundity in his chest           &            concluded that he should not ask.           &           yet.      ❛      did she come back,      too ?      ❜

❛ not anymore . ❜ perhaps , not just yet . not when life has been given back before it’s been taken away by death’s grasp by the order of time herself . the very need has simmered , loosen it’s grasp upon one’s darken core as time has been spent with dearest of lupu once more up until her natural death . yet it still calls for the lord of all , siren calls upon a broken core once more . they still deserve their death , deserve the end of one’s lineages & much , much more . & yet , cannot heed upon the call . perhaps , one’s truly tired to their core . yes , one’s tired of it all . but one knows it won’t last .

❛ such a shame . i expected so much more . ❜ expected one to act like the golden child that he is for one’s only begotten father , expected the rage & grief to consume one’s core similar to that of his father before . oh , how time has passed between the two children of the night — he’s no son no more . he’s grown to almost ones past age , features aging to match as well . he looks just like his father , letting something curl deep inside one’s core at such a thought . his dearest boy , he was killing his dearest boy .

❛ long enough . ❜ letting looks to match as well , hair graying upon strands & strands forevermore with sunken features to match once more . the sins of one’s past has caught up to him , suffering the consequences of one’s previous actions from his renewed lifetime . it’s what he deserves , after all . maintains one gaze with his golden son , tilting one’s chin up to conceal one’s tone from traitorous tones that dares to arise from one’s undead throat . ❛ how long has it been since you left home ? ❜ how long has it been since you left to rot within her core ?

[sea-changed]

vermiculated replied to your post: mysharkwillgoon replied to your post

"unfortunately that list was what none of us were looking for" I feel like a high schooler who snuck into the cool grad student bar! this is great. poor ff, one day there will be enough of it that we won't have to be nice about its very existence and can make principled distinctions like 'do I care about these characters at all' and 'are the hook-ups extremely hot' -- I am not confident, not even with two whole new books this spring ahhh

The very fact that we consider two whole new books (!!) a boon perhaps elucidates the problem best: there just isn’t enough! As you say. It’s either stick to principles of emotional connection and hotness (and readable writing, frankly) or. . .actually have something to read. alas, alas.

[inclineto]

vermiculated replied to your post “Books, October - December 2018”

oh what WOULD you be writing? what MIGHT that be?

At the time I tagged this, restrained Regencies.

Now? Frigid Victorians.

[dk-thrive]

older than man and they hummed of mystery

Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.

—  Cormac McCarthy, The Road (Vintage, March 20, 2007) (via Wait-What?)

[1800duckhotline]

i almost forgot to share my playlists oops. here is a very sloppy informal list of my current oc playlists and playlists in general

pure vibes you dont need to know these bitches to like the music. enjoy the ridess if you so wish to listen

SEWER_PARTY_RAMPAGE_199X (1h13m) - Rina playlist. Just Silly Crazy Girl Tunes. Some breakcore some weird stuffs but it is hard to describe I go for here... it's really a lot of things that spell out "Silly Woman Ahead" like that's it. if you listen you'll get it

The Haunted Building In Your House (1h33m) - General weird place playlist (vaguely counts as a Lucia/Haven Inc playlist)

Della Morte e Dell'Amore (2h23m) - Salice playlist and you can really tell I went crazy on this one - it needs to be fixed but mostly post punk, new wave, rocking tunes, songs about the devil and death, and Danse Macabre!

Contained (1h45m) - Eureka playlist... this one is fun... what if I was a silly girl with a demon inside of me and liked to kill and eat people etc... Needs some updates. Majorly on the heavy side with metal, rock, again with the post-punk industrial electronic stuff, #feminism

Vermiculous (1h2m) - Jenica playlist. This one is sweet and sad and fucked up at the same time. There's a little bit of everything (counts also as a general story playlist and isnt entirely Jenica-centered)

Monsters In Love (56m) - Karmina & Eden playlist... it's complicated but in a very pop and melancholic and horny way and so forth. Immortals having their rendezvous. Mostly pop music about love and whatnot. Lady Gaga and Britney Spears are there too obviously

Living Dead Man (1h26m) - Tisha playlist. THIS ONE IS A DOOZY I reccomend it if you like SAD songs about SAD MEN and Goth rock and some post punk and sleazy vibes here and there. It's a work in progress but it's one of my favorites so far (delusional). Bauhaus in this one was a must but there's also other goodies

Poppy Fields Where Lost Girls Go (1h51m) - Kuobakhaya playlist which is mostly very sad and about being high (which is definitely what she is most of the time, both of those). Laura Palmer's theme song is there which should tell you a lot about the character itself if you know the story behind that piece of music... anyway this one is a little sad. But I like it (the lenght backs this up)

i have even more than these but theyre works in progress enough that i dont wanna share em to the public Just Yet or they need to be updated/they're old/etc. One of the things I wanna do when im done being busy with school is do what my parents used to do which is actually make physical CD burns of my playlists with custom graphics etc... I'm not a musician but i like listening to music and like the idea of making graphics for compilations i like :-)

Let me know what u think of these if you listen to any, I am always curious to hear what ppl might say

[mimaveil]

I Know Your Dad and He Wouldn't Mind

@getlouder: 50 new messages what new depravities have you dunked your little men like Oreos into (milk glass emoji)

@vermiculated: mimaveil's getting into romantasy and she's going to make a million dollars, get a movie deal, take OD to the premiere, and he's still not going to know how to stand

Governing Concept: can't an up-and-coming actor send nudes to his onscreen dad, torrid, get dumped, and not learn his lesson post-pandemic? gosh. normie pocket dimension of ask for a key, or the comedy-of-marriage-minded sequel to sex, or a bag of rocks (i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii)

or: it's not a felony anymore, just improper

or: blue valentine with more anal

cw: future nsfw, 1k of pretentious set-up

“Do you have anything that smells like old dick?” Logan asks, loudly. “Um, mildly expired. Lost its warranty.” 

Owen shrivels into his sweatshirt. This is a nice snuff room — fish-oil lighting, scallop-pink walls, tidy shelves, imitation-Tabriz rugs on the spotty cypress. Besides him and Logan, maybe eight other pilgrims waiting for bottle service on a Monday. He digs the toecap of his sneaker into a pleasantly warped medallion of garnet, ivory, coral. 

The sales associate sighs. Slides clear-frame glasses down her nose. Probably five years older than them, although hard to tell with the bangs. Apothecary-sleaze drips, peach syrup, from the surround sound. 

“Linear or non-linear?” Briny regard, her décolletage throbs with Dancheong ink; she must have a killer sun-prevention regimen. 

Palms on the milk-vein table top, Logan makes his face genuflect. Choreographer’s trick. Grinning sidelong at Owen, “You like complicated.” Actually bowing to the sales associate, puffy-paint letters bulging against his back: “Go wild, bombastic, high-morph. It’s for a business date.”

Owen’s throat unclogs. “Proposal, a research proposal,” he says hastily. “Conceptual is fine.” 

After a few more questions, Owen squirming around his waxed satchel, the sales associate lopes off to a back room, fall of velvet on a chain. Across the table, Logan squares his shoulders and breathes heavily into his fists. Bottles everywhere, the noonish play of sound on the perfume caps: zamac, aluminum, enamel, marbled, beveled, cubist, sinuous, glossy, surly-cherubic…

“Bro, you could be doing great work in this community,” Logan says, plying a candlewick. A hexagonal serving-glass on the table mirrors his under-jaw. “Divorced pilates moms with zero-to-negative emotional needs, absolutely fiend for sad, artsy boys like you. You’re the elephant they never got to ride at the zoo.”

Scratching his lip, reedy, “I don’t think you’re supposed to ride elephants. Or, have sex with them?” A woman squeezes past, crema leggings; he catches a gulp of tangerine. 

“You know what I mean!” Cracks knuckles, blanched in good humor. They’re doing a tour of Logan’s haunts, because Logan is a low-judgment friend with a durable memory. “Yet, you’re signing up to do a full teardown reno on some guy’s personality?” 

Owen’s phone writhes in the zip pocket. Yesterday, he got an AP News alert on the topic of micro-cheating, with somber examples (“getting excited to dress up for a co-worker.” “Liking somebody’s social media posts to distraction”). Wasn’t that just a crush? 

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “It’s personal-professional.” That’s what the text had said. Come stay with me. Personal-profesh. Get you the wife experience.

Eternally “yes-and,” Logan shrugs. Scarce wonder they’ve kept in touch, even after drifting cross-industry. Owen’s not sure if Logan’s acting anymore. 

“We get you geared up, you spray this on the collar of a super-basic tee. Like, an anime tee. No, scratch: old dudes leak for a band t-shirt. Women like non-representational art, so they can Photoshop you into something else. Show up in a button-down— not plaid, we’re not in middle school — undone, airplane pants, utility sandal in, uh, lilac. They’ll be heaving into your hand.” 

The sales associate returns with a flight of testers on a raw-edge serving tray, red cedar. There’s a jaunty tin of coffee beans, as a huff cleanser. “Your aura is a lot of sparkling herbals,” she diagnoses. “Dark mosses and pepper.” Her falsies scrape her eyeglass lens. 

As Owen starts to read the description cards by each of the five bottles, Logan smacks him on the arm. Almost like they’re back on set, clowning around. 

“Remember the rules, bro,” fast-twitch smile. “Let the intensity in. Feed the metaphor. Crush on the creator. Pretend you’re a buyer — okay, that’s boring, we are buying — build another register of enjoyment. Dig for the flaw.”

First draught is a staticky wheeze; it’s supposed to mimic the dust on a lamp, spine curved around a pillow, hand under pyjamas, blocking a bedtime story. He’s not getting the immortelle. 

Second draught slopes into a mushroom hunt, loamy-medicinal, birch, balsam fir needle. The ginseng — and he likes sharp, he likes outdoors, but. Anxiety spiders his back.  

Owen’s not a frag-head like Logan, but he knows scent and memory. People have bits of their brains just hanging out their nose-holes all the time. Smells jump the counter, bypass the receptionist. 

He accidentally reads the name of the third bottle: Sydney Rock Pool. Skips it. 

Fourth is a bullying devotional, heavy on the saffron, tar, incense, tobacco. It fights him all the way, from grip to alveoli. “Myrrh and benzoin makes this, like, sexy mummified,” Logan chews into his cuticle. “Maybe a little too heavy for you.”

They break to sniff the coffee beans from the tin. Logan’s relaxed; he knows that he’s getting the d’Annam Strawberry Mochi (chewy rice, Azuki bean paste, brown sugar) for his girlfriend, who is picking them up in 20 minutes, so they can all wait in line for chocolate sourdough. 

Fifth’s a metallic strine, rust on grapefruit. The scent bleeds right off. They get a second flight with a decent rock-climbing accord of sweat, basalt, seaweed, gasoline. The friction, the ardor, and the drop. 

He gets samples in a baggie, from Logan’s actual purchase, and buys an 8-oz soy candle for his mom, maybe for her annual Christmas party. The box is lilac; it’s called “Snow on Fire.”

—

After the intensive smelling, the coffee-bean reset, actual coldbrew tastes flaccid. 

At deferred lunch, back to the casement window, Anjali talks about her rotation, Logan clearly adoring, refilling her rose tea. As hosts, outnumbering him, they’ve let themselves be rear-lit, chambray sky. Atop PharmD school, she’s a bridesmaid for three weddings this summer; “the color story is a nightmare,” she says, painting her labneh on two poached eggs. 

“Owen gets rings,” Logan affirms/outs through a shatter of Kouign Amann. Their table teeters under the full bread service. 

The knife startles, buckwheat C-section: “It’s not that dramatic.” Crepe-warm, the crushed plum-raspberry-peach hits the high note in his mouth, leaves gummy tracks. “My ex proposed to me, I said no. And my ex before that.”

Anjali smooths her hair over her ears, mindful of the teacup. “That’s so chic.” She swings her heels. “I wish my friends were pickier.” 

Over Logan’s instantly apologetic shoulder, through the glass, Owen spots a putty-tone Roblox car parking out front. 

Who was the greater coward, here? His ex-boyfriend, either one of them, smoothly not over it, inventing new reasons to pester him? 

Or Owen himself, staring at the breakwater, malaise sipping at his heels, waiting for someone to fuck a mark of connoisseurship in him? 

Ben had given him the child’s view of infinity, a place where the pool party never ends, with a perfectly warm deck, forever-curving water slide. So much soft-serve, on tap, that the air tastes like ice cream. Great rolling suitcases spitting out water shoes and swimsuits and ziplocks of crushed cereal, grippy socks, notebooks, markers, hats, stickers, grape vitamins, dramamine tablets, sunscreen sticks, tutu dresses, hair clips, waterproof jackets, quick-dry cargo shorts. A place where the bigger kids zip up the younger ones’ hoodies, and the strong readers sound out the signs for their unlettered friends, where every past child is safe and pardoned and loved. 

He excuses himself to the corridor, hip-checking a double stroller (unoccupied). 

In the single-user restroom, by the bulb of a Glade plug-in, he checks his phone. Sets a date. 

[surpriserose]

Ok so I'm a ornithology student here's some owl facts for you: owls eyes are so fuck all huge that if you were to look into their ears you are capable of seeing their eyes, like other birds they are also incapable of turning their eyes inside of their sockets and must turn their entire head to look at things, the dish shaped face many owls sport is an adaptation to funnel sound into the ears and so is the fact that their ears are asymmetrical to each other. Owls as a group of birds are extremely fucking old with the first fossils found just after the cretaceous ended. Owls used to fill the ecological niches filled now by hawks and eagles but were replaced by these animals when then evolved. The barred owl is capable of having a pink tinted hue similar to flamingos due to a diet high in crayfish (diavolo bird). The largest known owl species was nearly 4 feet tall and hunted ground sloths, humans encountered them. Owls fly silently because of their feathers reduce air turbulence and dampen noise. Some cool looking owls include: the crested owl, the spot bellied eagle owl, the vermiculated fishing owl, the red chested owlet, the long whiskered owlet, the black banded owl, the brown wood owl, the stygian owl, the powerful owl, northern boobook and the sooty owl. Hope this helps

Holy shit it worked omg anon thank you so much this is so helpful <3

God having asymmetrical ears sounds so weird birds in general just seem really fucked up if you look under the hood zyssvissjzjjs

I am going to look up all those owls thank you so much again omg i want to be a cool little owl person and now i have vague justification to be pink >:) not that my dm will care but like you know i just really wanted to embrace the owl thing gzusbdjssk

Which is when i was like googling owls being like...stop showing me the same five owls NO i will not be a snowy owlin google pls

So the clearest idea i was getting was like a little burrowing owl owlin so like...i could kind of make them like hobbits you know? Living in little underground houses i thought that would be cute :) but i was like what else is out there that im not finding you know?

And the dnd side wasnt helping theres like no owlin lore omg and so many online sites are like heres the best way to minmax your character like...stop it im trying to roleplay </3

[intransigente]

@hopingforjustice​ said :  “From the looks of it, the afterlife is a lot more fun than this.”

DEATH  ,    INADEQUACY  ,    NEGLECT  :    these  are  things  too  delicate  for  a  child’s  shoulders  ,    when  their  portly  feet  struggle  to  disentangle  from  their  weight    &&    fistfuls  of  wooden  dolls  grapple  the  lines  of  right  from  wrong  ,    collision  after  collisions  of  knuckles  to  their  own  chin .      in  them  broods  a  taste  mindless  violence  ,    curiosity  in  destruction  ,    for  in  destruction  it  is  possible  to  at  last  see  how  the  world  was  made  :    only  by  popping  each  knot    &&    seam  ,    chocking  through  each  grain  of  sediment  that  vermiculate  blueprint  is  reaped .      his  parents  must  have  known  it  ,    &&    their  parents  too .      but  what  if  he  told  them  that  in  that  sweeping  waste  ,    hydroptic    &&    coldly  secular    /  in  that  silence  ,    the  spectacle  of  things  ceasing  to  be  ,    there  is  no  real  end  ?        ❝      i  didn’t  think  one  existed .      ❞          「  if  i  thought  that  in  death  i  would  meet  the  people  I've  known  in  life  i  don't  know  what  i'd  do .      that  would  be  the  ultimate  horror .      the  ultimate  despair .      &    what  of  heaven    &    hell  ?      kafka  atrox .  」          ❝        if  i  were  to  meet  my  family  again    &&    not  have  death  to  look  forward  to  ?      i  can’t  imagine  anything  worse  than  that .        ❞

[usfwspacific]

Wings, Wings and More Wings

By Melinda Alexa Martinez - Alexa is a Wildlife Biologist at Malheur National Wildlife Refuge outside of Burns, Oregon. She shares with readers her impressions and take-aways from a first time experience at the Wing Collection Survey known as the Wingbee.

Photo: Alexa at the Wingbee

Honestly, I had no clue what I was getting myself into when I signed up to attend Wingbee. You hear all these amazing things about it, but hearing stories does not do this event justice. Being there in person was just incredible! But before I get too carried away, maybe I should explain what the Wingbee is and why it is important.

The Wingbee to me, is a riot of a good time and an incredible learning experience as a rookie. At the core of it though, Wingbee is a data collection survey. Made possible by waterfowl hunters who voluntarily send in wings and parts of birds from that year’s hunting season, Wingbee participants examine and catalogue all those feathers sent in to gather data points such as species, age and sex to answer a very important question: do the real-world results from waterfowl hunters fit with the population models and regulations set forth by the Service at the beginning of hunting season? The results from data collected help close the loop on the year’s hunting season and are vital components in developing next year’s population models. Ok, back to the story…

It all started on a beautiful sunny day at Coleman National Fish Hatchery. I’m not going to lie I was extremely nervous walking in. You would have never guessed it because I am such a loud person when you meet me, but yes - I can get shy!

When I got there, I totally went up to someone I had seen in a webinar once. She probably thought I was a crazy fan girl from the regional office or something. But, it was the start of a beautiful friendship.

As I was walking through the fish hatchery where the Wingbee was located, I saw a large group of people. Some faces were new to me while others were familiar. As people began to gather round, we had an introduction of the logistics of what would be happening throughout the week. Shortly after, we separated into groups and got down to business.

What does “getting down to business” mean, you ask? What are you supposed to do during a Wingbee?

MALLARDS! Yup, of course this would be the first one up. I like to think I have handled plenty of mallards during duck banding with the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife (ODFW), at both Summer Lake and Malheur National Wildlife Refuge, but I never really realized the finer details the mallard may hold. I was super nervous to get the sex and age wrong, so I would check with my ODFW buddies before sending each identification off to the head honcho - the checker, “Dun, dun, duuuuNNN!! I did this with almost every species. Every time the checker would agree with my ID, sex and age, I would do a victory dance in my head, but every now and then, a dance would just pop out. It was like receiving a blessing from the waterfowl gurus! It also didn’t help that I had a checker who has been doing this for the past 54 years! Yeah, no pressure right?!

Most of the week was like this. We saw a whole variety of birds: Pintails, American Wigeon, shovelers, American green winged teal, and so on. Day to day we had maybe two or three species until we hit the very last day where most tables were each processing a different species.

My favorite moment was actually looking at the canvasbacks and red heads side by side. I got pretty good at ID-ing the two and distinguishing their differences. I felt so proud! By the end of that week I just felt this load of confidence, it was amazing.

I must have been super focused on my species identification, age and sex perfected that I swear I had dreams about tertial feathers EVERY NIGHT! Even when I got back home, that whole weekend I still had dreams about feathers!

One day someone at my table had a brilliant idea of collecting certain feathers from each species and taping them to his ID book. Smart right?! But, for some odd reason he was so picky on the American green wing teal sex feather, it just drove me nuts. I plucked so many sex feathers and none of them was good enough, so I gave up.

That night, I think either I had too much sun or too many feathers or both, but I had a dream about someone getting married at the wing-bee. Honestly, I cannot remember whom, but I do remember their flower bouquet was not made out of flowers. Oh no, it was made out of feathers! Vermiculated, primaries, tertial feathers you name it.

You know, that was the beauty about the wingbee, it was just an amazing time for everyone. To get together with really good company, learn new things you would have never known, and eat the best duck you will ever have in your life. The best part was everyone was welcome to attend. No waterfowl or biological skills required. It was opened to everyone that was willing to learn and help.

Being able to spend time with some really amazing and passionate people reminded me of why I got into this field in the first place. It was a very beautiful reminder.

I would like to thank Migratory Birds and my supervisor for letting me partake in this incredible experience. I hope I have the opportunity available to me again in the future!

[mediazide]

Beautiful words to describe nature

Spring is around the corner which means spending more time outside. Here are some beautiful quotes to help you look forward to the pending season.

Hummed of mystery

“Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.” —Cormac McCarthy

Her secret

“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson

Silence to touch souls

“We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature—trees, flowers, grass—grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence…We need silence to be able to touch souls.” —Mother Teresa

Beauty everywhere

“If you truly love Nature, you will find beauty everywhere.” —Vincent van Gogh

In praise of a walk

“An early morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.” —Henry David Thoreau

Flowers

“Flowers are the sweetest things that God ever made and forgot to put a soul into.” —Henry Ward Beecher (This is what your favorite flower says about you.)

Nature takes its time

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” —Lao Tzu

Nature, the master

“Choose only one master–Nature.” —Rembrandt

Rejoice like a child

“All my life through, the new sights of Nature made me rejoice like a child.” —Marie Curie

A leaf of grass

“I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars.” —Walt Whitman

Mad with joy

“People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.” —Iris Murdoch

Nature’s lush carpet

“To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.” —Helen Keller

Power of a pebble

“The least movement is of importance to all nature. The entire ocean is affected by a pebble.” —Blaise Pascal

Source of inspiration

“The richness I achieve comes from Nature, the source of my inspiration.” —Claude Monet

For plenty more inspirational content, check out www.mediazide.com.

[inclineto]

vermiculated replied to your post “vermiculated: Kimberly J Charles, A Seditious Affair; George...”

the real problem is that I don't know enough about Georgian foodways to write an animal banquet, excepting the silver marrow forks which are described with great care and Dominic leans forward, a hand on Silas' thigh, to take a bite. A decorous bite, a bite all the same. He looks up at Silas through his lashes. Silas wants to knock him back and to kiss him all at once: he tenses his knee and finds Dominic digging his fingers tight.

vermiculated

replied to your post

“vermiculated: Kimberly J Charles, A Seditious Affair; George...”

insofar as the entire Charles oeuvre is "two weirdos fall in love" I do really like these two weirdos and I think that it's a shame they only have ONE romantic feasting scene when they could have several. because the problem with these books is there is not enough sensory phenomena (this is a joke)

I’ll be honest: I’ve lost track of whether anyone in this particular comment is a badger.

But...even if they’re not animals in clothes, I would still read a feasting scene with pleasure, is what I’m saying. Richard has an entire country estate; somebody deserves to be fed on strawberries. (Dominic sucks juices from his fingertips and smiles coquettishly to see Silas pick up the silver bowl of cream.)

AS FOR sensory phenomena - have you noticed, though, that (as far as I recall) none of them are at all musical?