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breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Plants! Glorrrious plants! I am all aflutter. I picked up a honeysuckle today while I was out buying ink and paper--five bucks, well established, attracts hummingbirds and butterflies, who could ask for more? My honeysuckle didn't do well in AZ--I think it might've been too hot and dry for it--but they're supposed to do better here.

And my seeds are coming up! I don't know what seeds--I think they're alyssum, but god only knows, my labelling skills are abysmal--plus another nasturium seems to have finally decided to grace us with its presence. I love nasturium. Good thing the dollar store sells cheap-ass pots.

Squirrels got another bird bar, but they're avoiding the "hot meats" sunflower seed mix like the plague. I had been getting a feeder drained every two days, but fill it with the hot stuff, and they won't touch it, so it's prey only to the much gentler depradations of the carolina chickadees and the dark-eyed juncos.

Having read up on how to attract migratory birds, I put out a shallow ceramic basin of water. Not sure if any of 'em will spot it, but we'll see. The undeveloped greenbelt-ish thingy does most of the bird attracting, and I can only container garden on the deck, (our landlady will let me plant anything I want around the house, but the soil is piss-poor and would require a diamond-edged trowel to break up.)

The woods behind the house have gone from french-gray and russet to a rather darker french-gray and brilliant chartreuse, that giddy, irresponsible color that I hate in a colored pencil and love passionately on the tips of twigs. Spring is like a berserker fit. I want to charge madly into the woods brandishing potting soil and attack something until I drop from exhaustion and my Viking hordes (it's my fantasy, so I can have Viking hordes if I want to) drag me home on my shield, sap-stained but unbowed.

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Plants! Glorrrious plants! I am all aflutter. I picked up a honeysuckle today while I was out buying ink and paper–five bucks, well established, attracts hummingbirds and butterflies, who could ask for more? My honeysuckle didn’t do well in AZ–I think it might’ve been too hot and dry for it–but they’re supposed to do better here.

And my seeds are coming up! I don’t know what seeds–I think they’re alyssum, but god only knows, my labelling skills are abysmal–plus another nasturium seems to have finally decided to grace us with its presence. I love nasturium. Good thing the dollar store sells cheap-ass pots.

Squirrels got another bird bar, but they’re avoiding the “hot meats” sunflower seed mix like the plague. I had been getting a feeder drained every two days, but fill it with the hot stuff, and they won’t touch it, so it’s prey only to the much gentler depradations of the carolina chickadees and the dark-eyed juncos.

Having read up on how to attract migratory birds, I put out a shallow ceramic basin of water. Not sure if any of ‘em will spot it, but we’ll see. The undeveloped greenbelt-ish thingy does most of the bird attracting, and I can only container garden on the deck, (our landlady will let me plant anything I want around the house, but the soil is piss-poor and would require a diamond-edged trowel to break up.)

The woods behind the house have gone from french-gray and russet to a rather darker french-gray and brilliant chartreuse, that giddy, irresponsible color that I hate in a colored pencil and love passionately on the tips of twigs. Spring is like a berserker fit. I want to charge madly into the woods brandishing potting soil and attack something until I drop from exhaustion and my Viking hordes (it’s my fantasy, so I can have Viking hordes if I want to) drag me home on my shield, sap-stained but unbowed.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Hey, if you were a bidder on my print set Dutch auction, please email me so we can set up the details!

Last night, I was laying in bed waiting for the jitter-flop, jitter-flop of an overactive brain to settle, and my mind wandered, for no particular reason, to a book I had as a kid. And because it was bizarre, I'm going to inflict it on you.

It was old. Old, old, old, with yellow pages and a cloth binding, the kind where the pages are set irregularly so that it forms an almost corrugated surface. If it had been a copy of the Necronomicon or Origin of Species or the Bhagavad Gita, my life would probably have taken a very different turn, for good or ill, and instead of keeping a Livejournal, I might be residing in the vast eldritch non-Euclidean bowels of an Elder God or studying lichen in the Galapagos or feeding temple rats in some un-air conditioned area of India.

However, one of the formative books of my childhood was, instead "The Wonderful Electric Elephant."

The plot--and I couldn't possibly make this up--involves a guy who's wandering through the Grand Canyon and is charged by an elephant. He shoots it in the head, nothing happens. (I know that when I'm charged by an elephant in the middle of the Grand Canyon, that's usually MY first response...) Suddenly it stops, stairs come out its side, and he climbs into the elephant to discover a little old man, who dies in his arms, and leaves him a diary containing the account of how he built an electric elephant for travelling the world. Our hero says "Cool! I've got an electric elephant!" and sets out to travel the world. He rescues a woman name Ione from Indians shortly afterwards, (this may tell you something about the era we're looking at) and they ride around in this elephant. It appears to be a two bedroom elephant, has a great deal of storage space for food and water, and presumably a bathroom as well, although the author didn't touch on that. They cross the Pacific (evidentally the elephant has amphibious capabilities, and there is--I kid you not--an airlock in the trunk) go to Japan, see volcanos erupting, sail the seas (it can cruise the surface, too) get married, go to China, invade the Forbidden Palace on foot dressed in suits of armor (which were ALSO in the elephant, for all those times you need plate mail with your elephant, leading me to believe that this is perhaps the legendary Elephant of Holding,) go to Siam, dye the elephant pink, (yes, there was pink elephant dye for when you're bored of your grey elephant) get into the palace of the King of Siam, help some of the royal children escape, (there is remarkably no shortage of bedrooms) and the book ends with all of them sitting on top of Mt. Everest and discovering that the elephant has space flight.

And people wonder why I'm weird.

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

Hey, if you were a bidder on my print set Dutch auction, please email me so we can set up the details!

Last night, I was laying in bed waiting for the jitter-flop, jitter-flop of an overactive brain to settle, and my mind wandered, for no particular reason, to a book I had as a kid. And because it was bizarre, I’m going to inflict it on you.

It was old. Old, old, old, with yellow pages and a cloth binding, the kind where the pages are set irregularly so that it forms an almost corrugated surface. If it had been a copy of the Necronomicon or Origin of Species or the Bhagavad Gita, my life would probably have taken a very different turn, for good or ill, and instead of keeping a Livejournal, I might be residing in the vast eldritch non-Euclidean bowels of an Elder God or studying lichen in the Galapagos or feeding temple rats in some un-air conditioned area of India.

However, one of the formative books of my childhood was, instead “The Wonderful Electric Elephant.”

The plot–and I couldn’t possibly make this up–involves a guy who’s wandering through the Grand Canyon and is charged by an elephant. He shoots it in the head, nothing happens. (I know that when I’m charged by an elephant in the middle of the Grand Canyon, that’s usually MY first response…) Suddenly it stops, stairs come out its side, and he climbs into the elephant to discover a little old man, who dies in his arms, and leaves him a diary containing the account of how he built an electric elephant for travelling the world. Our hero says “Cool! I’ve got an electric elephant!” and sets out to travel the world. He rescues a woman name Ione from Indians shortly afterwards, (this may tell you something about the era we’re looking at) and they ride around in this elephant. It appears to be a two bedroom elephant, has a great deal of storage space for food and water, and presumably a bathroom as well, although the author didn’t touch on that. They cross the Pacific (evidentally the elephant has amphibious capabilities, and there is–I kid you not–an airlock in the trunk) go to Japan, see volcanos erupting, sail the seas (it can cruise the surface, too) get married, go to China, invade the Forbidden Palace on foot dressed in suits of armor (which were ALSO in the elephant, for all those times you need plate mail with your elephant, leading me to believe that this is perhaps the legendary Elephant of Holding,) go to Siam, dye the elephant pink, (yes, there was pink elephant dye for when you’re bored of your grey elephant) get into the palace of the King of Siam, help some of the royal children escape, (there is remarkably no shortage of bedrooms) and the book ends with all of them sitting on top of Mt. Everest and discovering that the elephant has space flight.

And people wonder why I’m weird.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.