#Cypress Hall Story Time

[xaz-fr]

WBW and I bring you a collection of stars from the Deeprealm.

In the Deeprealm dreams are real and time doesn't make sense. It is every hour of every day at the same time, forever, the stars and the sun and the moons occupy the sky all at once. It is both dusk and dawn at the same time. Time and space are the same thing and to move forward in space you do so in time and to see the future or the past all you have to do is get there.

But it can be a dangerous place. Especially for baby stars that are the favorite easy meal of Deeprealm Hunters.

Which is where Altair (Imperial) and Malik (WC) come in. They're both adult stars. They run a nebula nursery of sorts. When a star is born they pluck it out of the sky and raise them into proper adult stars. While in the nursery they get to play with other baby stars and stretch their powers without fear of a Hunter coming to gobble them up!

While stars wear the guise of dragons, especially around visitors, they are not dragons. They're stars. They're made of gas and light and stardust. But when dragons of Sorienth visit it's polite to wear the guise of a dragon and not a towering being of light and fire and smoke.

[rustbeltjessie]

What r some books that r close to uu

Ohhhh this is so difficult. There are so many. So I’m gonna go with whatever pops into my head.

Books I first read a long time ago that are close to me: On the Road by Jack Kerouac, The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry, Girl Goddess #9 by Francesca Lia Block, the Dangerous Angels series by Francesca Lia Block, Sassafras Cypress and Indigo by Ntozake Shange, The Early Diaries of Anaïs Nin, Angel Maker by Sara Maitland, Tales of a Punk Rock Nothing by Jamie Schweser & Abram Shalom Himmelstein, Foxfire by Joyce Carol Oates, Look Homeward Angel by Thomas Wolfe, Fatal Interview by Edna St. Vincent Millay, Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery, Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh, A Girl’s Guide to Taking Over the World: Writings from the Girl Zine Revolution, Memoirs of a Beatnik by Diane Di Prima, Written On the Body by Jeanette Winterson, Pussy King of the Pirates by Kathy Acker, A Coney Island of the Mind by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Howl and Other Poems by Allen Ginsberg, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Michael Chabon, The Night Country by Stewart O’Nan, Why Things Burn by Daphne Gottlieb, Geek Love by Katherine Dunn, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, etc. etc., etc.

Books I’ve read more recently that already feel close to me: The Girl in the Green Silk Gown by Seanan McGuire, The Wendys by Allison Benis White, frank: sonnets by Diane Seuss, Saint 1001 by Daphne Gottlieb, The Collected Poems of Lynda Hull, Juno Loves Legs by Karl Geary, I Love You So Much It’s Killing Us Both by Mariah Stovall, Some Strange Music Draws Me In by Griffin Hansbury, First Love by Lilly Dancyger, Romantic Comedy by James Allen Hall, Fifty Beasts to Break Your Heart and Other Stories by GennaRose Nethercott. Etc.

[meesherbeans]

Baxter MC Week: Day 1 (First Meeting)

"In that case, who was your first crush?"

Yukino delighted in Baxter’s thoughtful expression, watching as he scratched his cheek and really dug into his memory for an answer to her admittedly cheeky question. It was so nice to have a conversation like this with someone who didn’t mind really talking without reservation.

Baxter’s answer was somehow vague and yet very specific. He chuckled softly. "A very interesting question. It can be hard to put an exact date and time to emotions, but I would say that I was a bit of a late bloomer. I didn’t develop a soft spot for anyone until I was… around, hmm, twelve. While some people I knew had their first crush years before that. There was another kid who attended the same dance hall that I did. Though, we practiced totally different disciplines. I was – naturally – there for ballroom while they were a ballet dancer."

His brown eyes fixated on her, and she felt her cheeks warm slightly. There was something oddly charming about him.

"But that’s something of the past. In truth, when it comes to attraction, I find discussion on flames that are still alight to be more worthwhile. Now it is your turn, Yukino. I know we spoke about dating earlier, but who did you first feel a connection with?"

She got ready to really remember who her first crush was… but then the image instantly came to her mind. How could it not, though? They were sitting and eating dinner in the very location where it happened! There was only one other time that she felt flushed, nervous, and oddly intrigued, and it was at the Cypress.

Yukino gently cleared her throat. "Well, it’s a cute little story… one with a surprising conclusion."

He leaned back in his chair and lifted his hand to lay a finger along his jaw. The smirk on his lips and the intrigued glint in his eyes conjured butterflies in her stomach.

"There once was a girl, a young lady of 13, who was decidedly overdressed for the little soiree her parents let her attend. Despite loving the event, none of the attendees her age were interested in approaching her to ask for a dance; perhaps it had something to do with being taller than every boy there. Or her ridiculous outfit." Her lips quirked as she tried to hold back laughter as she theatrically painted a picture of herself five years ago.

Baxter lifted an eyebrow and bit the tip of his thumb to join her in the suppression of their laughter.

Yukino cleared her throat. "Anyway! This poor young lady was finally asked for a dance by a gentleman brave enough to approach her. He didn’t seem to care that she was a couple of inches taller than him, nor that her outfit was entirely too ornate for the occasion. In fact, he complimented her on it."

She paused to give Baxter a sly smile. "They only danced for one song, but there was something magical about their time together. It was the first time she’d been swept away, so to speak."

It took a moment before he cleared his throat and sat up straight in his chair again. "You’re telling me that it actually was me all those years ago?"

She nodded once and shrugged. "Yeah! I mean, c’mon. A mysterious stranger who didn’t tell me his name, actually seemed to mean it when he complimented me, and then disappeared after a very nice dance? What girl isn’t gonna have at least a little crush on that?"

"Touche…" Baxter cleared his throat, and Yukino could have sworn she saw his cheeks actually flush. He muttered something vaguely like “In for a penny” before continuing to speak in that confident, flirtatious tone again. "As it happens, the first person to turn my head after the first was somebody I met only once. It caught me completely off guard, to tell you the truth. It was years ago… at this very country club, in fact. I didn’t know anything about this person, and yet such a strong impression was left on me that I’ve never forgotten it since. I wonder who that could have been?"

As his coy description progressed, Yukino could feel her cheeks warming up, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning too widely. It made her so giddy that he wasn’t the only one who got swept away by the magic of their single dance that evening.

The early summer air seemed heavy with promise as they stared at one another, the memory of that dance five years ago swirling through both their minds. Finding one another after so much time felt like fate pulling them back together again, destined for another magical dance.

But would it last beyond their allotted time?

[riversidewings]

"Living Ghosts" #17: "Splitting Rock"

From my reparenting series “Living Ghosts.” In which a trans lesbian combat doll named River, reunited with and reparenting her younger self now named Emi, visits Shiogama Shrine for a picnic under the cherry blossoms, and reflects on how far she and her daughter by choice have come.

(If you've enjoyed these stories, please consider supporting my work by subbing at komaneko.gay)

A story:

East of the City of Immortals, in the city to which it gave its name, its head in forest, its feet in Matsushima Bay, Shiogama Shrine sat amidst a sea of pink-white double-cherry trees in bloom. The flowers, of which shrine and city alike were very proud, had become the shrine's crest, and thus the basis of the crest that River and Emi wore on the crested overcoats that surmounted their kimono.

Twofold blossoms, with a central fan of three blades. Sharpness and softness in balance, with flowers that bloomed late but twice as full.

High above the shrine hall's eaves, corvids wheeled in a dark wave.

River smiled wistfully. When she'd first come here, all those years ago, she'd been a little bit intimidated by them, but now, it felt comforting, every time she heard the cawing and caught the flap of dark wings marked on her heads-up projection. They really were ever-present.

Mother and daughter made their offering of coin together, before the ancient shrine hall. It was not their home shrine, in the riverbend back in the city, but they cherished it all the same for its beauty and for the weight of shared history it carried, as one of the region's oldest and most storied places of worship.

They said silent prayers. The wind in the blooming trees came as if in reply.

Afterward, Emi turned to her mother, then looked out around the shrine grounds, eyes wide in awe.

"It's…so quiet." Her voice was hushed. "It's like, inside my head…"

"…the anxiety doesn't have any room," the older woman murmured, nodding slowly in recognition. "It's like my headspace is calm but flowing, like a…"

"…like a mirror-smooth river reflecting the sky," the girl echoed. "Yeah."

River smiled knowingly, her voice just as hushed. "I call it capital-S Stillness, but it comes in many different names and forms. This is just one of them." Then she gestured over her shoulder. "Walk with me a bit?"

So they walked for awhile, under the trees drifting in the breeze that rose from the sea. They ambled from the main shrine to the adjoining Shiwahiko Shrine and back again before finding a seat in the shadow of one of the cherry trees.

"Underrated," Emi murmured, gesturing broadly. "Everybody's so busy going to the same dozen spots they miss out on shit like this. This really is underrated."

"Severely underrated, but then so much about this corner of the country is." River smoothly shrugged off her messenger bag and retrieved a pair of neatly rubber-banded cypress magewappa bento, handing one to her daughter. "Here you go, honey. Gyutan onigiri, all yours."

"Mm, thanks."

Hanami-- flower-viewing-- was a centuries old custom, as were shrine visits. Sometimes they got very loud and lively, and that had its place and its pluses. But it was this sort of quieter observance with the people who mattered most, that mother and daughter, one soul at two times, loved the most.

"Hey, Emi?"

"Yeah?"

"Gonna be two years soon, since we first bumped into each other." She took another bite of her own meal, a foil-wrapped onigirazu. "And look at how far you've come."

The girl blushed, her gaze momentarily falling. "Thanks. Feels like longer, sometimes. I'm just happy we get to be together, now."

"You're like these Shiogama cherries." Her mother gestured with outstretched synthetic fingertip at one of the cherry tree's broad branches. "It took awhile, but you've split rocks and weathered the cold to finally bloom."

Emi thought it over for a moment. A flash of mischief passed over her expression. "Hey, we've got both sides of Shiogama covered, Mom. I've got the cherry trees and you've got the salt."

River sputtered in her surprise, and laughed. "Ooh, touché, kid, touché. I am pretty salty."

"You taught me," the girl replied, as she finished her last onigiri. "Salt is important. It clears things away and sets things right."

Salt was a purifier in shrine ritual, but here specifically, it was more than that. The story went that once, ages ago, the local gods had taught the humans how to reclaim salt from the ocean in salt kettles-- shiogama, in Japanese. Those kettles were believed to still be the divine vessels of Shiogama Shrine, hidden away in the inner sanctum, in the shrine to which they gave their name, which in turn gave its name to the city.

"Am I really doing that good, honey?" asked the unlikely mother to her daughter by choice.

"You've come a long way too," said the girl. "And you're doing just fine."

The sword looked on in pride at her daughter.

"Thanks."

pictured: the twofold cherries of Shiogama Shrine in full bloom

[dawn-of-worlds]

Thrones Invisible and Tones Unmissable

In which cities are founded:

Serroiovanna of the invisible throne, a center of trade in the glass steppes, probably governed by contemplative philosopher-oligarch False-Fires, though no mortal has ever seen them.

Meridian, in the Occident, ruled by seemingly arbitrary oracular taboos apparently intended to prevent various unspecified future catastrophes.

Ilhu, rich in hymns and mercenaries, a Sun-Diver colony in Tuula.

And a strange hospital is built by the moon-priests in Dheia of the Cypresses.

Corobel starts turn 15 with 10 points: 4 (roll) + 3 (nonhoarding) + 3 (left over)

Command Avatar to Found City (-1): Certain False-Fires, who, according to the typical disposition of their kind, are neither wholly opposed to nor wholly aligned with the purposes of the Sky, form a small contemplative community on a lakeside kopje in the Glass Steppes; the site, advantageous to both trade and farming, accumulates first a rime of human farms and huts, then of villages, temples, plazas, verandas, bridges, markets. The Fires, evidently fancying themselves enlightened philosopher-kings, cloister themselves on their acropolis and hand down tracts and decrees through the eunuch hierodules who form their priesthood. At least, so the story goes. Whoever the rulers are, they live in absolute secrecy, visible only through their commands and the occasional miracle. This is Serroiovanna, of the Invisible Throne. It is famed for its orchards, vineyards, cavalry, vice, ruthless law enforcement, and absolute centrality to regional trade. The nomads of the steppes have tried many times to take it, but all conquests founder before its walls of many-colored, intricately patterned stone.

Very occasionally, some particularly fortunate or fascinating visitor is summoned to an audience in the Hall of Brass (or is it bronze?), a sort of antechamber, where unearthly voices and an uncanny glow reverberate from mirror-polished walls.

Command Avatar to Found City (-1): The designs of the Oracles command the founding of Meridian, from which the world shall be measured. The city, located in the coastal south-east of the Occident, is governed by a million shifting taboos, shifting and combining in regular and irregular patterns, handed down according to the prognostications of the Sybil. On one day, no free citizen may wear blue in public; on the next, faces must be covered below the eyes, or no ox must pass through the market square; draughts is banned on every seventh evening, and kittens born on the new moon must unfailingly be drowned. Each ruling is supposed to prevent, through obscure mechanisms, some far-off catastrophe. Soon, the Sybils have become quite autonomous from the rest of their order, appointing their own successors and only infrequently sending representatives to Azimuth. The cause of this tension remains opaque to outsiders, and, thus, to history.

Command Avatar to Command City (-1): Dheia of the Cypresses, beloved of the moon, builds a great refuge for the sick, the orphaned, and the deformed. Like many temples of the Sky, it is arranged as a series of concentric sanctums; unlike most, it is also segmented like a citrus-fruit. In one section, two-headed animals are cared for; in the next, the insane; in the next, a dozen albino crocodiles. The contents of certain rooms are known only to the attendants. The centre holds a pale zaïmph cut from the original prophetic veil; a meagre scrap when the city began, it has grown as large as a bed-sheet under the nourishing influence of moonlight.

Command Avatar to Found City (-1): The Sun-Diver colony of Ilhu, rich in hymns, grows to prominence in Tuula. It is influenced by the Two Stars: the priests sing ritual chants from the temple-spires at dawn and dusk, sacred roosters greet the day, and its mercenaries (armed and ordered in the Occidental style) find ample employment in the wars of Gavu and Dzadek. [Further details on the Tuula colonies may be hashed out later, since Mynodon is planning a post on the continent’s peoples.]

6 points remain.

[An action covering the fate of the Tiktik will arrive before the end of the turn.]

[hakesbros]

Communities

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“We’re actually in the bullseye of what Houston will look like 10 or 15 years from now. Many of the projections say that Cypress will be the middle of metropolitan Houston within the next 20 years. Residential and business development as well as transportation tasks and new schools are planned in Cy-Fair all through 2023 to accommodate a rising inhabitants.

Johnson last year added greater than 1,600 heaps to the Houston market and recently acquired 1,four hundred acres in Magnolia for a new neighborhood. The yet-to-be-named neighborhood is expected to break ground within the second quarter with preliminary tons delivered to builders within home builders in san antonio the fourth quarter of 2024. New Western gave me a chance to purchase property on Day One and now, because of them, I give up my job and became a profitable, full-time investor. And now I’m able to control my life and work for myself. I constructed a staff around me and a reputation that I stand behind now.

[seabreeze2022]

Danube River Cruise, Part 3. Budapest for 2 days prior to the ship.

We survived the train ride to Budapest. The ride from Wein had a homeless woman latch on to us. She tried to ride the first class car with us, even though she did not have a ticket. They threw her off the car at the next station. Nancy and I had a 6 seat compartment to our selves. At least these seats reclined enough we could sleep for a few hours. Above is Nancy at the Keleti train station in Budapest. We thought the hotel was a 5 minute walk away. Except there are two train stations in Budapest, this was not the close one. Today’s technology gave us a map with walking times on Nancy’s phone. So for 23 Euros we put our lives in the hands of a maniac taxi driver. We at least learned look way, way down the road before crossing as a pedestrian. I believe he may have been a retired Formula One driver.

Took this photo to recognize our street corner on the way back. Downtown Pest is very ornate and rather beautiful. Did you catch the fact that this is “Pest” and not “Budapest.” Turns out “Buda” is the other side of the Danube. They are referred to as one word “Budapest”, but they actually started out as two different cities. It is pronounced, “Buda-Pesh.”

Our hotel is a 5 minute walk to St. Stephen’s Cathedral. Here we hoped on the “Hop-on-hop-off” bus. A great way of riding around the city for an hour and getting acquainted with what is where. We bought the 24 hour pass.

Kunsthalle Hall of Art across from Hero’s Square.

Just a small part of Hero's Square. You just cant get it all in the picture.

This is a beautiful eclectic Castle/Church/Museum called, Vadjahunyad behind Hero’s Square. They purposefully incorporated several different castles from Europe into this one structure. It actually worked out very well.

Here we are crossing a symbolic mote and approaching the main gate. Cypress tree on the right is turning colors with a vendor in front of it selling Hungarian red wine and pretzels. A small charcoal fire was under the pot of red wine.

Jaki Chapel inside the Castle grounds.

Statue of “Anonymvs.” The statue of the hooded figure opposite Vajdahunyad Castle is that of Anonymous, the unknown chronicler at the court of King Béla III (r 1172–96) who wrote a history of the early Magyars. Note the pen with the shiny tip in his hand; writers (both real and aspirant) stroke it for inspiration.

Monument to George Washington. Very strong relations between the two countries for decades.

Desert and Hungarian Coffee at the famous New York Cave Budapest. Voted the most beautiful cafe in the world. Very rich coffee with honey, cream on top and a few raisins sprinkled on top of the cream.

This is inside the cafe. It could be a palace. Always a line outside.

The New York Cafe.

We took the hop-on bus over to Buda on the west bank and explored the Turkish Bath house.

Statue at the far end of the Gellert bath. You can buy slippers and are required to use a bathing cap.

More of the Gellert Bath hall. About 8 different bath houses. One had a two story bath with it opening to the sky on a street corner.

On top of the Citadel with the horse ring in the building behind the statue.

Beautiful statues outside the museum on top of the Citadel.

Entrance to the courtyard of the Museum.

View looking North East across the Danube with the “Chain Bridge” in the foreground and Parliament left of center.

The funicular car climbing the hill. We were crossing a bridge above it halfway to the top.

We took the hop on bus early the next morning while we could get to places we couldn’t easily walk. We jumped off in Buda and explored this 18th century baroque church.

This is the opera house lobby.

This is the front of the opera house where the less worthy people entered. The elite used the side door.

This is Nancy in the underground train station for the Opera house.

[naturecoaster]

Rediscover Chinsegut Hill Historic Site's History and Historic Treasures

There is a magical place in the center of the Nature Coast, high up on a hill with a view that can't be matched and I want to let you know all about it. You can visit the Chinsegut Hill Historical Site every Saturday and Sunday from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. to stroll the grounds, view the views, tour the manor house and relax on the 3/4 wraparound porch rockers. It is free to visit Chinsegut and guided tours of the mansion are $5. If you fall in love with the place like I have, you can rent the cabins, conference room and dining hall to put on a wonderful shindig. Chinsegut (pronounced chin-SEE-gut) is an Alaskan Innuit word meaning, “The spirit of things lost and regained.” This property is a treasure trove of the Nature Coast’s history, having been homesteaded by John and Susan Bishop in the 1800s. Then Colonel Bird T. Pearson of South Carolina acquired 160 acres through the Armed Occupation Act in 1842, onto which he moved his family, enslaved persons, and household goods in 1847. Colonel Pearson had the original home constructed by a ship's carpenter and framed with hand-hewn 12-inch cypress. His enslaved people planted corn and sugar cane in the fields that had been cleared and planted by Native Americans in previous centuries. The Ederingtons Colonel Byrd Pearson sold the property in 1851 to Colonel Ederington who added onto the house and fathered ten children while he lived there with his wife, Precious Ann. Precious Ann Ederington's gravestone by Diane Bedard. Colonel Ederington purchased an adjacent 160 acres and planted citrus there. He continued to add acreage and built a two-story home just southwest of the original building. This was expanded and enhanced to become what we see today as Chinsegut Manor House. At the end of the Civil War, Ederington announced to his enslaved people that they were free and offered them paid positions at the plantation. Most of the workers stayed on. Unfortunately, the Ederingtons died in their forties. Their eldest daughter, Charlotte, then married a South Carolina dentist named Dr. James Russell Snow. The Snows chose to stay in Brooksville and raise her nine younger siblings, as well as have seven children of their own. The natural beauty envelopes visitors as they explore Chinsegut. Panorama by Diane Bedard. Snow Hill Estate Charlotte and James Russell Snow named the place Snow Hill Estate, expanding and enhancing the manor house. Sadly, in 1898, Charlotte died and a tornado struck their home. Dr. Russell and his children left the manor house to disrepair and moved into the City of Brooksville. The Chinsegut Manor house as it was in 1905 when Elizabeth Robins purchased it. At that time the property was called Tiger Tail Hill. Image courtesy of the Friends of Chinsegut Hill. Chinsegut Purchased by Elizabeth Robins, Famous Actress, in 1905 In 1905, a successful actress and author, Elizabeth Robins, and her brother, Colonel Raymond Robins purchased the estate and neighboring land for $5,000 and named it Chinsegut Hill. Soon thereafter, Colonel Robins married Margaret Dreier, an American labor leader and philanthropist from New York. They used the home as a winter estate and continued to farm the land. Eventually, Raymond and Margaret bought Elizabeth’s share. 1923 was the year that the Robins moved to Chinsegut Hill full-time. Raymond got involved in banking and in 1929, the stock market crash took most of their fortunes. Repairing the house after Elizabeth and Raymond Robins purchased it. Image courtesy of the Friends of Chinsegut HIll. There is a LOT more to this story, but you will have to wait for another post to get that, or better yet, visit the Manor House for a tour. We cover all Chinsegut events on our Events Calendar. A Plantation Supervised by an African American in the 1920s! As a boy, Raymond had been mentored by an African American farmer named Fielder Harris. Raymond hired Fielder to run the plantation for him, which was quite a shock to many of the local residents. Raymond Robins planned to create a “dream plantation” that would help educate youth about proper forest, wildlife, and farm management without “thriftlessness and waste”. Raymond Robins’ letters also indicate his desire to preserve, for the “inspiration and education of the next generation,” the last remnants of virgin longleaf pine forest and restore the natural resources to the state that existed in his boyhood. The sale included the provision that Raymond and Margaret would remain living in the house at Chinsegut until their deaths. When Mrs. Robins told the African American workers of the gift, Aunt Lizzie said, “Miss Margaret, when you told all those men Chinsegut now belongs to the United States you done stood in the same corner of the house Mr. Ederington stood when he told us we is free. I done seed two great things happen – you and Mr. Ederington.” Chinsegut Hill is Sold again - for $1 Chinsegut again went up for sale. This time there was no buyer. On April 9, 1932, following a meeting with President Hoover, the Robins deeded their 2,082-acre Chinsegut Hill estate to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Raymond and Margaret Robins accepted only one dollar for the property, then valued at $250,000. Robins designated specific portions of this “Chinsegut Hill Sanctuary” to be for a migratory bird and wildlife refuge, a forest reserve, and an agricultural experiment station. The Depression and the Civilian Conservation Corps Camp The U.S. Government started a Conservation Corps Camp on the property, they used the farmland for a sub-tropical agricultural research station and a large portion became the Chinsegut Wildlife and Environmental Area. Today this area is separate from the Manor House and is owned and run by Florida A & M College. In 1935, Colonel Robins fell from a tree and broke his back. He was paralyzed from the waist down. His wife, Margaret, died in 1945 and Raymond passed in 1954. They lived in the Manor House until their last and are buried under a huge oak tree (the Altar Oak) a few hundred feet from the Chinsegut Hill Manor House itself. There is another huge oak near the Altar Oak that Colonel Robins used to have breakfast in every morning. A wooden stairway gave easy access to the oak's fine platform where he could see for miles. The University of South Florida Builds a Retreat at Chinsegut In 1958, the University of South Florida leased Chinsegut for educational purposes and built a conference center, dining hall, and cabins. USF held many retreats on the Hill but decided they no longer had a use for the place in 2009. That is when the Friends of Chinsegut Hill was formed as a nonprofit group to care for this historic and beautiful plantation. They petitioned the State of Florida for grant monies to repair the manor house, which USF had allowed to fall into serious disrepair, and with the help of local and State representatives were able to secure a grant for stabilization and improvements. USF built seven "cabins" and held retreats and conferences at Chinsegut during the 1970s and 1980s. Image courtesy of Visit Florida. Friends of Chinsegut Hill Step In In 2003, the Chinsegut Manor House was put on the National Register of Historic Places. In 2013, the Friends of Chinsegut Hill were awarded $1.5 million by the State of Florida to renovate the property, which they used to conduct an archaeological dig on the site and restore the Manor House to its former glory. Most of the artifacts had been moved to the University of Florida, some out-of-state Universities, and USF, but the archaeology found more. The Chinsegut Hill property is owned by the Department of Environmental Protection (FDEP) Division of State Lands and leased to Hernando County for a current term of 50 years. The lease was amended on November 28, 2017, and expires May 31, 2063. Image of Gulf Coast Archaeology working during the 2016 excavations. Image by Diane Bedard. The Friends of Chinsegut Hill disbanded in 2019, after several years of managing the property. Weddings, retreats, luncheons, and tours were held. In 2021, the Tampa Bay History Center began managing the Chinsegut Hill Manor House and 115-acre preserve as Chinsegut Hill Historic Site. The site and its artifacts were inventoried and cataloged. A call for volunteers to help run weekend tours was put out, and Ross Lamareaux began guiding a transformation of sorts. Interpretive signs have been strategically placed on the grounds to help visitors learn of the long and varied past that occurred at what is now known as the "Chinsegut Historic Site." Ross says, "The house brings people to the site, but the stories add so much more. This has been a place to see native peoples , agriculture, enslaved peoples, emancipation, depression, rebuilding, and championing of the human spirit in so many forms that the stories we share from those who lived and work here reflect the area's, and perhaps the Nation's, history without embellishment." Visit Chinsegut Today and Relive the History Now you can visit the manor house, walk the trails, and see the historic outbuildings and cemetery. Rent a room, a cabin, conference room and dining hall for your event or a conference. Chinsegut Hill Historic Site is still a beautiful and historic property that enhances the spirit of all who visit.  Click here to check out the options. In 2023, the City of Brooksville Parks and Recreation department began managing the Retreat Center which includes seven cabins with four bedrooms each, a conference center that seats 75 and a dining hall that seats 75. These rentals are a wonderful opportunity for corporate retreats, wedding parties, family reunions and other group travel opportunities. You can find out more information here. Interpretive signs near the Manor House tell the history of Chinsegut Hill Historic Site. Image by Diane Bedard. Take a Tour of Chinsegut Hill Historic Site's Manor House any Saturday or Sunday from 10 am to 4 pm. You can make reservations here and plan some extra time to walk the grounds, climb the stairs into the old oak and pay homage to those who came before us and those who work to preserve their legacy. An Emancipation Day celebration is held each year on the grounds and I highly recommend attending that event. You are actually standing on land where enslaved people were freed! In the winter to spring months, nature walks are planned for select weekend dates and school field trips are planned for February-March, so stay tuned. Friends of Chinsegut Hill. http://friendsofchinseguthill.org/chinsegut-history/chinsegut-history-the-robins-family Read the full article

[hisviciousvixen]

Door Thirteen: The Caretaker

“Evil is a point of view.” - Anne Rice

~ December 30, 1884 - Austin, Texas ~ [It was late into the night when he walked along the shadowed street, just west of Shoal Creek. Not a single human being walked those streets, but the demons in his head were loud. The whispers started to increase in volume and he knew the moment his feet stopped in front of 901 West Pecan street, he had found what he was looking for. The single story building was easy enough to enter without too much noise and as he walked along the hall, he stopped to open one door and then another. The voices in his head silenced the second he opened hers and saw her asleep in her bed. She had been the only one home that evening. Mollie Smith, early twenties, mother of two Widowed.. She looked entirely too peaceful when he considered what she had done. He made his way over to her bed and lifted his right hand high above his head. The ax came down, he cut through the air and landed the edge in a wet thud, her shoulder gouged. Her eyes popped open, he could see the light hues even in the dimly lit room. She didn’t even manage a scream before the ax was up, and came back down and connected with the center of her chest. The walls were covered in a thick, dark red spray by the time he had finished And those voices were silenced at last. He reached down, grabbed Mollie by her wrist, dragged her out of her bed, down the hall and out into the backyard. He positioned her just the way he wanted her before he wiped his ax clean and left through the small wooden gate in the back of the house.]

~ May 7, 1885 - Austin, Texas ~ [On another one of his late night strolls, he walked along the central railroad track that led into the southern part of the city. He came up along San Jacinto and Cypress streets, those voices told him to turn his head. A small cottage sat right up along the track. He turned and walked through the yard and entered through an unlocked door in the back. He passed by all three of the children that were fast asleep, but he stopped once more in front of the final door. It was to be Eliza Shelley’s turn. Every swing of his ax took another chunk of flesh out of Eliza’s twitching body and he hadn’t stopped until the edge of his blade tore through the mattress beneath her. He spent several moments alone with Eliza before he positioned her, turned and left the house as quietly as he had entered it. Eliza hadn’t screamed nearly as much as the two servant women he had brutalized the month before. Clara Strand and Christine Martenson, both in their twenties, stabbed multiple times, but he left them alive.]

~ May 23, 1885 - August 30, 188 - Austin, Texas ~ [He had visited several women during the span of the last few months. Irene Cross, mother to John, stabbed repeatedly, dead. Rebecca Ramy, mother of Mary, murdered by ax. He was torn between his beloved ax and the closeness the knife guaranteed him. He enjoyed both even though he knew he couldn’t take his ax every time. His midnight strolls had begun to draw attention and that would surely get him caught.]

~ September 28, 1885. Austin, Texas ~ [He had waited and agonized for four long months. He couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care if the law would catch him. The voices had become desperate and although he was a strong man, he couldn’t fight them off any longer. Orange Washington, twenty-five, met his demise at the end of twelve blows from his ax. Gracie Vance, twenty, Orange’s girlfriend and mother to their two year old son, died from a single blow from his ax to her skull. Lucinda Boddy and Patsy Gibson, guardians of four children. Multiple stab wounds to the head and body. When he retired to his home that evening, he felt as though he had been able to breathe for the first time in a long time. All of those horrid people were gone. The world was a better place.]

~ December 28, 1885 - Austin, Texas ~ [Susan Hancock, forty-one, wife of Moses Hancock, mother of Lena fifteen and Ida ten, struck with an ax while she slept, dragged into the backyard, posed and left. He knew that he needed to end their lives or terrible things would happen.]

~ December 24, 1885. - Austin, Texas ~ [Eula Phillips, mother of Thomas, wife of James Phillips Jr. Struck with an ax while she slept, carried into the backyard, posed and left. Once he had returned home, he had cleaned himself up and had laid in his bed as he enjoyed the silence in his mind. He wondered how long he had bought himself this time. But then he heard a laugh coming from the corner of his room. He lifted his head, the woman sat there and stared a hole through him. She was pale and had the lightest blonde hair he had ever seen. It hadn’t been pulled up like most of the women he had known. It was wiry. And her eyes were the palest shade of blue. They looked like ice. She had said that he was special. That he could see things others couldn’t. She told him that she had a job for him, but if he agreed, he would feel pain and agony, but it would make him stronger, it would teach him loyalty and love. She said she had a place for him. The decision seemed like an easy one. And so he accepted her offer.]

~ Present Day - Hell ~ [She walked along the scorched hall, keeping to the center. The walls were covered in a wet black sludge that she wanted no part of. She hadn’t always cared about things like that, but she had intended on seeing her Knight after she was done and she didn’t want to be dirty. She much rather his hands cause those marks. She walked past twelve doors. Each had precious hidden gems, but tonight the one she was looking for was lucky number thirteen. Was he the worst she had in her collection? Absolutely not. But he was devoted and loyal. A set of old keys appeared in her hand and once she turned it in the lock, she heard the clanking give in and the seal on the door broke and started to open. It might have looked like a dungeon on the outside, but the inside was just what he wanted.] Hello, Cecil. [She grinned as he stood up and started to walk toward the center of the room. She met him halfway. “Do you have any use for me, ma’am.?” She smiled and nodded.] Yes, my friend. I certainly do. And we’re going to be leaving your ax behind. [She grinned. “Ma’am?” She nodded.] Indeed. You did so well protecting those children back in Austin, Cecil. And I need you to look after mine. They must be protected at all costs, do you understand? [She smiled. “I did what I had to. Those mothers were horrible. They didn’t care for their children. They didn’t give them the love and attention they needed. It wasn’t fair!” She brought her hand up and shushed him softly.] I know. I know all about what you did. You were just the protector those babies needed. And now, I need you to go to my school and watch my babies, Cecil. I need you to make sure they’re loved and cared for. I need you to make sure no harm will ever come to them. You must be willing to die for each and every one of them. [He nodded. That devotion in his eyes was so welcoming. “Yes, ma’am. No one’s gonna hurt them. I promise. Whatever you need, it’s done. Whatever they need, they’ll have. I’m willing and ready to give my life for them.” She smiled.] That’s what I wanted to hear. [She lifted her hand and touched his temple. The location of the school appeared in his mind and he bowed his head and vanished. She smiled.] Caretaker done. I will have my dream team.

[She smirked, vanished from the hall, the door left open, the room now vacant and waiting to be filled. But not tonight. She wouldn’t be late to see her Knight.]

#TDATD #Diabolica

[lionellistuff]

AJune 15th, Kyoto National museum and Kyoto Imperial Palace

Today we visited two places, the Kyoto National Art Museum, and the Imperial Palace. The day started off as usual, I had breakfast, and then went to get a coffee at 7/11, and the we discussed the readings.

First we went to the museum. This museum was full of treasures from Japan’s ancient past. The statues reminded me of ancient Greek and Roman art, and many of the statues still had precious stones in their eyes which brought them to life.

I particularly liked the statuette of King Enma, the ruler of the Buddhist underworld, who judges the dead and provides ghastly punishment to sinners. The museum did not let me take pictures, but I thought that this statue was particularly vibrant and evocative.

Academic reflection

The design of Kyoto, the Imperial City, was based off of Chang’An in China. Thus, the city today exists as a grid, while most other Japanese cities do not. The Palace faces south, the auspicious direction.

The palace was made from the most abundant material in Japan, wood. Being highly combustible, the palace has burnt down dozens of times, and the one we visited today was constructed in the 19th century.

One thing that sets this palace apart is the simplicity of the interior (from what I could see, they didn’t let us inside). The main hall of the palace is just two thrones and tatami mats. The emperor’s office was just a particularly thick and large tatami mat. Not nearly as ornate as the Palace of the Doge in Venice, for example. Almost all of the palace buildings are only one story tall, too.

Our tour guide could only offer the most basic information, too. I would have liked to learn about any cool events that happened at this gigantic palace in the middle of the city, but he talked about cypress roofing. I was also a little bothered that the imperial regalia were not only not available for public viewing, but nobody from the general public has ever seen them. I think they could let up on the secrecy a little bit. The imperial family doesn’t even live in Kyoto anymore.

[azzandra]

One of the stories I scrapped and started rewriting recently is about a woman who discovers an imp in her late mother's home, and ends up keeping it for reasons even she doesn't understand.

It's going well so far!

Two months since Petramaria inherited the house on Cypress Row, and it still felt like a boulder she carried around her neck.

Maybe that was a bit unfair. It was a nice house, in a nice neighborhood. Petramaria's mother Laurine had received the house as a gift from past employers, who'd found her work as governess to be exceptional.

And Laurine Delille had spent her retirement in that house, crocheting doilies even while her vision failed, playing the same two records on her old phonograph, and tutoring neighborhood children in initiate thaumaturgics during summer. The former facts were things she inferred about her mother's pastimes on her infrequent visits to the house, but the latter detail was what she learned when the neighborhood children saw her leaving one day and decided to block her path at the gate and interrogate her. They asked her if she was 'the awful daughter who never visited'.

Petramaria would have loved to have given them some snappy retort, but she just shooed them away with an angry gesture. As they dispersed, she considered heading back inside to argue with Laurine about what she was telling the neighbors, but she was tired just thinking about it. Bad enough that when she turned her gaze back towards the house, she saw a curtain fluttering as through someone had just pulled back from pressing their nose against the window.

The windows were dark and the curtains were still now. They'd been so since the funeral, which had been organized by the couple next door, who'd invited Petramaria to her own mother's funeral with a reluctance that she was finding increasingly insulting the more she thought about it.

Now those same neighbors had called her over some disturbance at the house.

"It's your responsibility," one of them told her over the line. He was holding the receiver so close to his mouth, that Petramaria could hear his breath wheezing much too loud. And the receiver was good enough that she could also hear his husband in the background muttering:

"Not that she's taking very good care of it. What would her mother think?"

"Did someone break in or something?" Petramaria asked, plugging one ear so she could focus on the neighbor's voice over the din of the office around her.

"Not from the outside, no, but there's definitely something roaming on the inside," the neighbor informed her dourly. "We hear it scratching at the door in the evenings. You need to come take care of it."

Petramaria sighed, right into the receiver so they could hear her.

"You need to call city hall and ask for the Department of Unsanctioned Summons," she said. "They'll send a couple of fiendnabbers to clear the place."

The neighbor was dubious. "I don't think it's a summons, though."

"We would have seen anyone sneaking in to hold a summoning," his husband agreed in the background. "It's a haunting to be sure."

"It doesn't matter if it's not a summons, the fiendnabbers can clear out hauntings too," Petramaria explained slowly.

"That sounds like you want us to lie."

"It's not a-- people call the Department of Unsanctioned Summons all the time for hauntings!"

"Shouldn't you be capable of taking care of some piddly haunting?" the neighbor changed tack. "Laurine was always going on about you having enough potential to sit the mage exam if you wanted." He somehow manage to include that same accusatory subtext as her mother did about this fact: that she was squandering her potential by not sitting the exam.

"You realize I'm an office worker," Petramaria replied flatly.

"And my husband's a gardener, but he clobbered a basilisk just last week all by his own self without calling anyone at city hall."

In the background, muffled but proud: "Crushed its skull with my spade, I did. So fast, it didn't even have time to wilt my come-hithers."

Petramaria already had a comical mental image of chasing some verminous demon around that house with a broom, but she supposed they were technically correct that she could handle a haunting. It seemed they were not going to call UnSum on their own, and she knew if she had to do it, she'd need to meet the fiendnabbers there anyway, and prove residency.

Somewhere at home, in the pile of papers she hadn't sorted through completely, was a house deed, a copy of a last will and testament, a death certificate. The entirety of the Delille family fortune on paper: the house and all its furnishings.

"I'll come when I can," she said brusquely.

"Well, see that you--"

"Goodbye."

Then she hung the receiver on its hook, and blew on her fingertips to disperse the last static cling of magic.

Around her, the thunderous clack of typewriters and moderate-volume conversation had not once paused to give her some silence during the call. But now that Petramaria was finished, there was a sudden lull in typing from the two desks adjacent to hers as curious eyes turned towards her.

"Emergency?" the petite, sweet-faced woman from the desk on the right asked.

"No," Petramaria replied.

"I have connections in UnSum, if you're interested," came the slow drawl from the desk on the left. The young man slicked his hair back and smoothed his eyebrows as he looked at his reflection in the metal case of a cigarette tin.

"Oh yeah? Through someone you dated?"

"How'd you know?"

"I figured there must have been at least one girl who needed to call the fiendnabbers to get rid of you."

He gave an unamused glare over his cigarette tin. "Hey," was the only thing he said, tone warning.

"Oh, is it a summons, or a haunting?" the woman asked, fluttering her eyelashes in feigned innocence.

Petramaria didn't know if this meant she'd caught less by eavesdropping than her colleague straight across or had in fact overheard more, but under the sweet veneer was a ruthless gossip, so Petramaria didn't even deign to answer.

She gathered up the stack of transcriptions she'd finished instead, testing their weight. In older times, it would have taken a scribe a full year minimum to transcribe this number of glyphs, and he'd probably have ended half-blind and with a permanent tremor in his hands if he even tried to do it in one go. But nowadays, with the wonders of technology, any sufficiently literate thaumaturgist could just copy spells on a typewriter, and not suffer the consequence of touching the glyphs directly.

Maybe one day they were going to crack printing glyphs as well, and her job would be obsolete. After a full day of typing, with the afterimages of the glyphs burnt against her eyes, Petramaria was almost looking forward to it, though she wasn't sure what she'd do if that happened. Probably sit the mage exam like her mother always wanted.

"Anyway," the man interjected again, "you do know you're not supposed to be using the line to make outside calls."

"I didn't call them, they called me," Petramaria replied--hating that she sounded defensive.

"Didn't think anyone other than your mother had your cant." Then he raised an eyebrow, almost mockingly. "Old gal has complaints about her destination already?"

Petramaria didn't deign that with a response either, because she knew her mother had always been much too content about her situation whatever that ended up being, so instead she picked up her stack of papers and went to drop it off at the overseer's desk.

[kyogre-blue]

The lingering spirits quest line on Tsurumi is pretty interesting. 

Basically, there are several ghosts on the island who need you to settle their remaining attachments, so that they can depart with the “Boatman” to the land beyond. 

He also mentions that “she,” the lady of the golden hall, will be angry because some “children” have not yet boarded this boat. 

Any time I see “silver ship” of any sort, I immediately think spaceship. The talk of moon mansion and moon halls is also sounding very likely to be connected to the Lunar Palace and the whole business with “there used to be three moons,” especially since the Tsurumi murals specifically discuss moon worship. 

Here, a ghost mentions this silver ship too. Several of them do, it’s a story passed down from their ancestors (the moon worshippers). 

But the boatman and the palace they are going to are gold. 

The Boatman also has a line about silver cypresses, silver wormwood, and silver stones. But after everyone is gathered, it changes to golden oak, golden wormwood, and golden stones. (On opposite sides of the river, I think.) 

And then, once everyone is gathered... 

They vanish one by one. 

Aside from that, this granny has an interesting bit: 

She gives us Sakura Blooms. 

I really wonder about this Sumari clan, since the fox clan connected to the thunder sakura is Hakushin. 

[gardenofkore]

Florence Trevelyan Cacciola (née Florence Trevelyan Trevelyan) was born in Newcastle upon Tyne, Northumblerand, on February 7th 1852. She was the daughter and only surviving child (her older sister Edith had died in 1850 at just one year old) of Edward Spencer Trevelyan of Hallington Hall (cadet son of Sir John Trevelyan, 5th Baronet Trevelyan of Nettlecombe, Somerset, and of Wallington Hall, Northumberland), and of Catherine Ann Forster.

She was baptised in St. Andrew Church in Hartburn, Northumberland, with her family name serving also as a middle name, so that she would have been able to keep it even after married.

On August 23rd 1854 Edward Spencer Trevelyan committed suicide, leaving his wife and his two years old daughter living alone in Hallington Hall.

Over the years, Florence and her mother developed a great interest in gardening and in establishing "pleasure gardens", such as gardens open to the public. Perhaps the fact that Florence's uncle, Sir Walter Carverley Trevelyan, 6th Baronet, was a renowned naturalist and geologist, might have provided some sort of influence.

In 1877 Catherine Forster died and her daughter inherited Hallington Hall. The year after the childless Sir Walter died too. Following the wishes of the late baronet, his inheritance was surprisingly split: his title was inherited by his nephew Alfred Wilson Trevelyan (son of Alfred Wilson Trevelyan senior), while Wallington Hall was left to his cousin Charles Edward Trevelyan. Despite being senior to her cousin Alfred (Florence's father was older than Alfred's one), and a closer relative than Charles Trevelyan, Florence, as a female, was passed over in the succession of the family titles and estates. In 1879, Miss Trevelyan, already mistress of herself, set off for a two years tour across Europe and North Africa, accompanied by her cousin, Louisa Harriet Spencer (daughter of Beatrice Trevelyan and Ernest Augustus, youngest child of Spencer Perceval, the only British prime minister to have been murdered). During a stop in Alassio, the two girls visited Parco Fuor del Vento and the villa Molino di Sopra as guests of General William Montagu Scott McMurdo, owner and designer of the park. Florence could thus admire the terraced hill, planted with olive, orange and palm trees and cypresses, and adorned with four pagoda style buildings. From there she could also see Gallinara island, shelter for herring gulls and protected plant species.

In 1881 Miss Trevelyan visited Taormina for the first time. The Sicilian city at that time was still recovering from the turmoil that had followed the Unification of Italy in 1861. Economical backwardness had also forced many to emigrate and so depopulate the territory. Taormina impressed very much Florence, because it reminded her of Alassio. In particular, she thought the islet of Santo Stefano (donated in 1806 by King Ferdinando I to the city) resembled a lot to Gallinara. Together with her cousin, she stayed in Taormina from January 28th to February 14th 1881. On August of the same year, the two girls were back in Northumberland. It's during this time that Florence became somehow close to Queen Victoria, to the point of being invited to Balmoral Castle (fun fact, in Taormina Florence is still popularly regarded a Queen Victoria's niece. Perhaps everything started after people saw a photo of Florence with her mother, Catherine Ann Trevelyan. Certainly the majority of people didn't actually know the actual appearance of Queen Victoria, so Mrs Trevelyan was easily mistaken with her illustrious sovereign, after all they were only 4 years apart) . In fact, despite the fact that the Trevelyan were mere landed aristocracy (and Florence, as the daughter of a cadet son, wasn't even entitled to be called lady), they were well-connected with the higher society. It was rumoured that at some point Florence had attracted the attention of the womanizer Prince of Wales, future Edward VII. Also, according to this version of the story, once Queen Victoria was made aware of this dalliance, she wasn't amused in the least. To ensure the end of it, she supposedly kindly offered Miss Trevelyan a generous annuity to keep her away from her son. Handsomely rewarded for her renunciation, Florence left Great Britain to never come back again. The main supporter of this rumour is Dino Papale, lawyer and journalist, distantly related to Florence's future husband. In his book Taormina Segreta - La Belle Epoque 1876-1914, published in 1995, he claimed Florence had been basically exiled from the court and high society because of a supposed fling with Prince Albert Edward. 

Whatever the real reason was, Florence left once again the country with her cousin Louisa. In 1885, they were back in Taormina, lodging at Timeo Inn, adjacent the Greek Theatre and owned by La Floresta family. The two women had brought with them their five dogs, and to avoid inconveniencing the other guests with the animals' yapping, in 1889 Florence funded at her own expenses the building of an upper level. When one of her dogs, Sole, fell ill, Florence was desperate since she couldn't find in all Taormina a veterinarian to tend to the animal. Desperate and in tears, she asked her neighbour Salvatore Cacciola for help. Mr. Cacciola, who lived in a mansion also adjacent to the Greek Theatre (the then Palazzo Cacciola, now Palazzo Acrosso Papale), had been Professor of Anatomy and Histology at Padua University. He tended to the dog and managed to heal it, earning the woman's appreciation. Florence and Salvatore soon got closer, especially since Cacciola had studied in Malta and was thus fluent in English. He came from a wealthy family, in the future he would even be Taormina’s mayor for almost a decade, and being a Freemason leader (he would found the Rinascimento lodge), he shared with Florence an interest in esotericism. The two quickly fell in love and married on July 5th 1890.

Once settled in Palazzo Cacciola, Florence decided to expand the already vast garden by buying one plot of land after another, until the whole slopy countryside that linked the villa to the sea was annexed to the Cacciola's property. Apparently, this decision earned her in 1894 a reproach from English archaeologist Arthur Evans. While completing the 4th and last volume of The History of Sicily from the Earliest Times, which he had written together with his (by then deceased) father-in-law, Edward Augustus Freeman, Evans criticised Mrs Cacciola's mass purchasing as it would have prevented future archaeological digs in a place so near to the Greek Theatre, and with sure archaeological and historical relevancy. ("This, with others of the most interesting and beautiful sites of Taormina, has passed into the possession of an English proprietress, who has barred the access and warned off the civilized portion of mankind in four languages", p. 110-111) Previously, on June 1890, Florence had bought the former islet of Santo Stefano (which German baron and photographer Wilhelm von Gloeden baptized as Isola Bella, beautiful island, as it is globally known). There she had a house built, and rare and expensive exotic flora planted. These plants soon merged with the islet's local vegetation creating a unique natural environment, enriched by the presence of many (and sometimes rare) species of migratory birds, insects and reptiles, like the red-bellied lizard (Podarci Sicula Medemi) which only lives there.

In 1891, Florence gave birth to a stillborn son. She decided to leave her husband and moved away from Villa Cacciola, going on to live alone even further in the countryside, in a small cottage on mt. Venere. Nearby the house, she had a mausoleum built, and a roadside that connected mt. Venere to Taormina. She became particularly involved in the charity works, like establishing a fund that would have provided the daughters of fishermen with a dowry. Furthermore, she immersed herself in the creation of an English-style garden (or landscape garden) which she will name the Hallington Siculo, after her English childhood home. Like she had done with Isola Bella, Florence mixed exotic with native plants to create a peculiar habitat. In order to make the place even more special, she had the garden scattered with many small follies (Mrs Cacciola called them "beehives"). These picturesque buildings were made of local materials: bricks, wood, and various types of stones, and even capitals and other from the Greek-Roman period and XV-XVIth century decorative elements. The hives served as a bird observatory and places where she could relax while reading or having tea alone or with friends. Taking inspiration from her esoteric interests, she added a small megalithic construction (a cromlech) made of limestone, with the ulterior intention to re-use the advanced materials. As an animal lover, she also had some cages installed to house peacocks, parrots, canaries and pigeons. These renovations plus the amazing panorama seen from the garden (ranges from mt. Etna, the Ionian sea and the surrounding countryside), makes the Hallington Siculo a true heaven on earth.

Florence and her husband had become incredibly well-known in Sicily and abroad. In 1896 (and again in 1904 and 1906) they were visited by Kaiser Wilhelm II of Prussia during his stays in Taormina, while in 1906 it was the time of King Edward VII of the United Kingdom (Florence's supposed former flirt) and his wife Queen Alexandra. Other personalities included Gabriele D’Annunzio, Edmondo De Amicis, Oscar Wilde (she would finance after he got released following the charges of omosexuality), Otto Geleng, D.H. Lawrence, Ignazio and Franca Florio, Joseph and Tina Withaker.

Following her son's death, she had developed diabetes. To cure her, her brother-in-law Carlo, the only pharmacist in Taormina, injected her with strychnine (at that time considered a cure for many illnesses). In September 1907 her conditions worsened, so that she had to go back to Villa Cacciola. There she died a couple of days later, on October 4th. Respecting her wishes, she was buried in the mausoleum on mt. Venere.

Dying childless, she had named as her heirs two of her father's cousins, Robert Calverley Trevelyan (her long-time penfriend and confidante) and his brother George Macaulay Trevelyan. Her husband obtained only the usufruct of Isola Bella, the Hallington Siculo, and the plots on mt. Venere, which after his death, would have gone to his wife's English relations. Florence's heirs had to follow strict rules, all devoted to the preservation of the flora and fauna which inhabited those places. And so, the peacocks, goats, doves, canaries, and so on, which had been a great company for her in those past years, had to live in health and comfort, tended with cure and love. As for the vegetation, nobody was allowed to work the land, cut any tree, or build houses. Salvatore soon remarried with his maid Ida Mosca, and adopted his young nephew Cesare Acrosso, who will later become a lawyer and the last fascist mayor of Taormina. Taking care of his first wife's properties soon became for Mr Cacciola a real hassle. In order to get free from this, in 1923 he asked for his nephew's aid and got in touch with his political enemy Giovanni Colonna, Duke of Cesarò (Acrosso was his secretary). In exchange for his political retirement, Cacciola obtained that the Hallington Siculo was expropriated for "public interest". The garden became then property of the town of Taormina, was dismembered, reduced to a quarter of its original size, and renamed "Parco Giovanni Colonna Duca di Cesarò". On February 19th 2019, thanks to a municipal decision, it changed again its name, becoming "Parco Florence Trevelyan", finally giving her original owner and curator the proper recognition.

As for Isola Bella, at Salvatore Cacciola's death in 1927, it was inherited by Cesare Acrosso (alongside with Cacciola's palace), who will sell it in 1954 to Leone and Emilio Bosurgi. The two businessmen brothers, disregarding Florence Trevelyan's will and wishes, built 12 individual homes, plus a small pool perfectly camouflaged between rocks and vegetation, to accommodate and entertain friends and clients. When their firm went bankrupt in the 80s, they were forced to auction off the islet. In 1990 Isola Bella was finally bought by the Sicilian Region, which transformed it into a wildlife reserve, reverting back to what Florence had intended. 

Every year, on October 4th, a small ceremonial is held before a bust portraying Mrs Trevelyan in her dedicated park. It's a commemoration open to all of those wishes to remember and thank a woman who did so much for Taormina in her time, and left a lot to the future generations.

[battle-of-alberta]

CHARACTER BIO: MEDICINE HAT

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Some Brief Definitions

(I realize that some terms aren’t familiar to people outside of Canada/North America so I will elaborate on them here. Many definitions are particular to First Nations cultures and should thus be treated respectfully!)

Blackfoot - The English name for the Niitsitapi or the Siksikaitsitapi, a confederacy made up of linguistically related First Nations. The Kainai (”Blood”) are one of these nations.

Cree - The English name (from the French) for the Néhinaw or the Néhiyaw, one of the largest First Nations groups in North America.  

Tepee - a tent traditionally made of animal skins stretched over poles most typically associated with First Nations of the great plains in North America. Tepees today are usually made with canvas. A sculpture rather than a dwelling, the Saamis Tepee is 215 feet tall and made of 800 tons of steel.

Buffalo Jump - a natural cliff where First Nations people would historically steer bison in order to hunt, kill, harvest, and process them.

Coulee - from the French “couler” “to flow”, refers to several geographical formations. In Southern Alberta, it usually refers to a valley that was carved by glaciers and eroded by water or wind.

Pinto - a description of a horse’s coat, typically white with large spots of another colour.

Transcription below the cut

Although Calgary often claims the title, Medicine Hat is the Sunniest City in Canada and receives an average of 330 days (2544 hours) of sunlight in a year!

Medicine Hat represents ancient boundaries between the Blackfoot and the Cree and has long been the site of a "breathing hole" for water spirits on the South Saskatchewan River, untouched by winter ice. The city's name comes from local indigenous oral history.

One variation of the legend describes a Kainai hunter sent to locate food in time of starvation. A great serpent rises from the river and demands the life of the hunter's wife in exchange for a medicine hat, a saamis, which grants the hunter the power to save his people. This story is depicted in brick at city hall.

Medicine Hat's historic gas lamps still light public streets. Although many gas wells are still operating after over a century, these lamps are now lit with LEDs.

The Saamis Tepee is Medicine Hat's most visible landmark and overlooks Seven Person's coulee, the location of an ancient buffalo jump and rich archaeological site. The tepee was originally made for the Calgary Olympics and was brought to Medicine Hat in 1991.

Medicine Hat is well known for its historic clay district that produced all sorts of pottery and the bricks for many buildings lining the streets of downtown.

Cypress Hills Interprovincial Park spans the border between Alberta and Saskatchewan and is a short trip from Medicine Hat. The Alberta side boasts the most species of orchids on the prairies; 18 different varieties are known.

A Medicine Hat horse is a pinto with a distinct patch of colour over the ears and head, occasionally with a splash of colour across the chest like a shield, and has been a lucky sighting for centuries. A Medicine Hat horse with blue eyes is even more fortuitous!

[dippedanddripped]

A Q&A With Keary Kase On Pioneering Hip Hop In Portland

Trenton, NJ born rapper Keary Kase is now pioneering hip hop from Portland, Oregon. After having been involved in a Nike ad campaign that featured him on Billboards across the US, Keary’s singles began to top the radio charts. He began to work with artists like The Wutang Clan and producers Bosko and Non-Stop Da Hitman. Most recently, he partnered with Adidas designers in Portland to develop ‘Reder’ – an athletic apparel brand with focus on CBD delivery systems for athletes who are recovering from injuries.

We had the chance to sit down with Keary Kase to talk about Portland’s thriving hip hop scene, his Nike campaign, and what fans and followers can expect in 2020.

Tell us a little bit about the hip hop scene in Portland. We’d love to know more!

Portland hip hop has so many facets, I’m not sure where to begin. We do have a solid foundation of originals, like Mic Crenshaw, Cool Nutz, Mellenium (Kenny Mack), Maniac Lok, Bosko, Vursatyl, X-Kid, DJ Wicked, Pete Miser and myself, who are still active.

Having strong artists, who have made careers in Hip Hop, as role models and idols allows the kids to aspire to become musical artists. Without these examples, the endless call to normalcy and job security (which we all now know is B/S) by pretty much EVERYBODY, would lead these young Ore-guns to self doubt and failure.

Mike Capes, Swiggle Mandela, Drae Steve’s, JR Patton and Keith Canvas are a few Portland artists to check out.

Right now, a lot of artists are showing support to the BLM movement using their voices to speak, rather than rap to those participating in protests, rallies and such.

How do you feel being originally from the east coast has affected your musical style?

In my embryonic years, I saw myself as an east coast rapper. I felt like, with the exception of rappers like Ice T, Too Short, NWA and The DOC, west coast rappers were mostly basic compared to east coast rappers. They had KRS, Big Daddy Kane, Slick Rick (my favorite golden era rapper), Special ED, Kool G Rap & Polo, RAKIM!!! Plus WBLS used to play all the hot new shit off the block.

I was enamored by east coast swagger and tone. The slang and accent was natural for me because my entire family spoke with it. My ability to slip in and out of the style made me different in Portland.

In the early 90’s I started spending time in LA. I was slanging FIMO beads to tourists at Venice Beach in the daylight and going to clubs and shows at night. I met this dude named Self Jupiter at this summer festival called The African Marketplace, where I was selling jewelry and celebrating my black youth. Jupiter was a member of a rap group called Freestyle Fellowship. He gave me a tape. After I listened to it, my entire opinion of west coast hip hop was turned upside down. I witnessed west coast rappers like Volume 10, WC, Divine Styler, Cypress Hill and E40 change the game. I became influenced by them and my style was set free. I became open to all influences, no matter if they came from the east, west, northwest, midwest or south.

Tell us more about the Nike ad campaign you were featured in. How did that come about?

One day I was leaving my boy Tommy Hestmark’s studio in downtown Portland. I was walking down the street with my back straight and my chest and chin up, as all men and women should. This guy approached me and said “excuse me, can I talk to you?” I looked at him sideways and he says “no, no. It’s just…. Your face is CRAZY!” I squinted as if to say “do you hear yourself fool?” He pulls out a card and explains that he owned a modeling agency and he thought my look was money. He asked me to call to schedule a test shoot. I called and scheduled the shoot. When I went there, he asked me if I was wearing boxers. I confirmed, then he asked me if I would take some test shots in my boxers. I’m thinking this dude is either going to proposition me for sex or he wants to see if I can be the next face of Calvin Klein. I gambled on Calvin Klein and agreed to take the pics. We walked into a hall and he said “you can get undressed here,” then walked away. So there I stood baring all that my boxers would not cover, with my clothes in a small pile on the floor. I heard footsteps, then an attractive woman appears holding a camera. It was his wife. She told me where to stand , took a couple quick pics and said “Keary, you’re a machine,” then allowed me to get dressed and walked me out.

A few weeks later they called me back and said a photographer knew of me and wanted to do a martial arts shoot. There was no pay, but the photographer was well known and really good. I had no portfolio, and no published work so this was an opportunity to do TFP to add to my comp card.

The photographer, Marcus Swanson, wanted me to do a flying sidekick, which is a classic taekwondo photo kick. When I got there, there was nowhere to get a running start so I improvised and pulled it off. While I was there, a Nike scout was lurking. As I was leaving, Marcus’ assistant, Amber Geiger, mentioned a potential shoot for Nike and asked if they could do a quick polaroid. Snap snap and I was out. A few months passed by before I got a call back from my agent about the shoot. In those few months, I became a black belt, won a gold medal at the the regional national qualification tournament in the black belt dividion, then a silver medal at the US National Championship, and was leaving in a few days to go whoop everybody’s ass at the invitational US Team Trials. It didn’t play out that way but I believe being so active in the few months between the martial arts test shoot and the paid shoot is what influenced their decision to go with me for the ad campaign. We agreed on a date and time, after my return, for the shoot.

When I got back, we did the shoot. I thought it was going to be light work but it was brutal. Modeling is hardcore. I remember seeing myself on a billboard for the first time. It felt like a distant relative to masturbation. I also remember it taking forever to get my money. Agencies can be gangster. I had to make some very firm promises before I got the check. After that, our relationship became square.

You have worked with several platinum artists and producers. Do you have any memorable stories about your experiences that you’d like to share?

Hmm. I don’t like to deride or D-RIDE anyone, but there was an interesting encounter with a Wu-Tang Clan member named Cappadonna. Cappadonna, Killa Priest and a small crew they were touring with were staying at my house when they stopped through Portland. My roommate, MyG,  was helping them do some business in Portland while they killed time before their next tour date. At the time, we had a lil 5 bedroom spread with 2 recording studios in it, so we let their whole crew crash at the spot. The house was already like a revolving door for whoever was on tour in the NW. Artists could come through while in town and collab, get local pub through us and be blessed with some Oregon grown greeneries for the road.

So this was the first time we met (Cappadonna & I). I was taking acting classes at the time so I was gone when they pulled up. When I got home after class, Cappadonna was in the booth. I walked in the room and he started talking wild like “aye yo break that nigga watch!…stab that nigga!” I’m standing in a room full of dudes, with New York energy, that I don’t know, so I assumed he was talking about me. I dip out to my room and get a screwdriver just so I have something in my hand incase things go left. A few minutes pass, then MyG tells Cappadonna to move on to the next part. At this moment I realize he’s in character and not talking about me at all. Killah Priest enters the room. We introduce ourselves and dap up. He asks me what I do and I tell him that I’m in acting school. When Cap comes out, KP says “this is Kase, he’s an actor.” They gave each other a look that, to me , expressed what he spoke as “this is Kase, he’s a fake nigga.”

Granted, I’ve been a skater since day 1, so I understand that some black people (especially at the time) associate being a black skater with being less black or more white. With that in mind, I let what he said breeze by.

After we blessed up, we got to the business. Bosko had let me hold a beat that I wrote a sticky verse to; Cappa liked it so I let him put a hook on it. Me and KP did a DOPE song on a track that this dude named Smoke produced. It sounded like some official Wu-affiliate shit. MyG lost the session so none of that material was ever released.

The next day the energy still felt suspect. Like they thought I was a suburban negro, lol. I took them to the block, which is now gentrified, but was still hood at the time. Cappa called my whip a 666. It was the same Denali XL with the same 26” Trump Spinners that was in the video for the song he was promoting at the time, but mine was cleaner. It seemed like he felt a way about it. We went to my mom’s restaurant, where Cappa requested a Psalms verse from my mother. She said “how about a Revelation,” and laced all of us.

I dropped them at the barber shop to get faded and bladed. When they came out, the energy was different. Cappadonna got in and said “you know your hood and your hood knows you. He said you put your moms in that restaurant, didn’t you?” I just looked at him and put my hand out. We dapped up and the respect, which was first being given by me and received by him, suddenly felt mutual.

Cappadonna is a wise dude and a beast MC. I asked him questions related to his lyrics. He explained to me what “God Degree” and “7:30” meant and told me the story of the origin of his name. You might be able to detect that I’m most definitely still a Wu-Tang fan, although I liked his earlier work. KP knows what I mean by that.

Tell us about your involvement with the CBD industry and your views on how it can be a therapeutic tool for people?

CBD is my go-to treatment for a number of conditions. If I am anxious, I use a non-psychoactive tincture. This gives me a general sense of well-being, without making me feel altered or high. I feel like myself on a good day. If I need to restful sleep, I employ a cannabinoid rich CBD blend that allows me to drift off into REM without jumping up 100 times to make sure the garage door is closed (or whatever). Using CBD is like taking premium vitamins.

In 2019, I started a company called Nina Botanica with a material designer who works for Adidas in Portland. I began researching how to use compression technology as a CBD delivery system for athletic injury rehabilitation. There are some products on the market that offer a similar product, but none that fully address the issues of muscle strains, tears and associated pain that can knock an athlete off of their game. What sets us apart is, our CBD compression system has a lifetime guarantee. You can use it until you’re tired of using it.

We also designed a pod based delivery system, called the NINA , with Shenzen based technology company Smoore. The smart hexagonal pod + cartridge system uses inductive charging in place of the industry standard USB to power up.

Due to COVID-19 and our current bout with systemic racism, the techy products will be in preliminary production until mid-late 2021.

Tell us about your latest project “Craze”. Who is involved and what inspired it?

I was a week back on after being off music for years. Just getting my lungs back, not planning on dropping anything yet; just warming up. An artist named Uneek, who had been my mentee for several years, reached out. He was talking about how he blew all of his savings on medical expenses for his seed and how William, Lil Willi and Big Bill were all coming for him at once. He had just got robbed in Atlanta, so he was shy about who he could trust in Portland.

Uneek asked me to help him to rebrand himself and act as a manager, as I did in the beginning of his career. Since he had just found the strength to come out about his sexual identity, he wanted to look to the LBGTQ community for support. Since that was outside of my sphere of influence, I decided to help him generate some traffic in his home studio, offering tracking and mixing as an engineer. I told him we could put out a mixtape to re-introduce him to his followers and the rest of the world. I got 15 tracks from  producers, Sixteen and J Doe. I wanted to see how serious he was about his career so I told him to put hooks on  all 15. He would send me a rough lyric or melody, then I would write or rewrite the lyrics then massage the melody and coach him on how to execute it.  After he did it, I would chop it and arrange it in a Logic, while I was on the road.

Once the mixtape concepts were in the bag, I told him we needed a real record to kick it off. There was a lot of material in his catalog, but nothing that sounded like a hit single to me.

He got a track from this lil dude named 64 and put a hook on it that had us laughing. He was like “yeah this track sound like something Da Baby would get on.” It wasn’t my style, really, but I kept getting drawn into the drums. I let the first line go off the top then it seemed like the rest of the lyrics were just there. We called it “She A Thot.” It dropped on all platforms back in April of this year.

Craze, the follow up single, manifested itself off of the vibe we were on after “She A Thot” dropped. 64 had sent us a 3 pack of beats so it had some of the same feel as the others, however, the “Craze” beat was much more elegant than the other two.It was like the bigger, sexier, more mature and pondering sister of the “She A Thot” beat.

When I started writing, I felt the beat asking me to confess. It was saying “tell your truth, Kase.” The melody in my head was so balanced that I just let it drive through the first verse. I remembered, as a young man, being so caught up in hustling that I lost my compassion for people. I reflected on how I had spent the last decade, since my first daughter was born, re-approaching life with more compassion.

Whatever you have done in your past does not define you. But sometimes it’s good to talk about it. Black  people have traditionally been afraid of counseling or therapy. Mostly because of our trust issues with the people providing those services. I strongly suggest talking to someone about the things that trouble you. My uncle Jeff calls it “dumping.”

Music is my therapy. Dumping is my new craze.

What artists are you listening to right now and why?

I like listening to new music. I’m listening to Lil Durk, Pop Smoke, Amine, Jack Harlow, etc. But that’s like research for me. I like to see and hear what the big dogs are investing in. But right now, I’m developing a K-Pop artist, so I’m listening Big Hit Entertainment’s people. I’m about to go over there and liberate some musical slaves. (*artists)

But I still listen to Sade.

What’s next for you in 2020? What can fans look forward to?

I’m dropping a mixtape later this month. I may be doing a record + video with Compton artist, AD in the next few weeks. We’re still working out the details, but he’s doing real good right now.

Other than that, I’m developing a young K-Pop idol named Kiari. That genre is making big waves. I’m also looking at television as a next play. I have a pocket ace in the Chinese market that I’m keeping tucked. Oh I’m doing business with China.  Sorry Chump…I mean, Sorry Trump. No, wait, I had it right the first time.

[giantcypress]

On Advocacy

This is our town library. It’s a pretty nice one, and my family has spent a lot of time over the years hanging out here. It’s really one of the gems of our town, although I should probably say that my opinion might be colored by the fact that my wife is on the library board of trustees. On the other hand, there isn’t anyone in town that doesn’t love the library. Or I haven’t met anyone who has an alternate viewpoint, at least.

The only problem is that our mayor doesn’t seem to be a big fan of the library. He rarely says anything nice about the library. One time, at a library event, he took the time to mention that libraries aren’t as important as they used to be, because we can all access the internet on our phones. And then there was the time he proposed a 30% cut to the library budget. 

So it came as a bit of a surprise that the mayor announced that the library would be moving to a brand new building. Under normal circumstances, this would be awesome. The library building is over 40 years old, and was built at a time when the population was half of what it is now. It needs renovation and additional space.

The thing was, this move was part of a redevelopment plan, which would mean that the library would move from the center of town, in a residential area, to the very northern corner of town, where it would be in a commercial location on a busy highway. There were other factors as well, but long story short, moving the library would have been a benefit to the redevelopment plan and to the developer of the redevelopment project, but the change in location would not have been good for the library.

My wife and I thought this plan was a very bad idea. So we began to fight it. We spread the word about the plan to move the library. We talked about why this was a bad idea, and proposed alternatives. We met with other people opposed to this idea to map out strategy. But most importantly, we attended meetings where the people who made the decisions about the redevelopment plan would be.

Since January, my wife and I have spent most of our free nights attending meeting after meeting. Library board of trustee meetings. Redevelopment agency meetings. Town council meetings. Redevelopment advisory committee meetings. Local Democratic Party meetings. Redevelopment town hall meetings. And any meeting we could think of where we could talk to people face to face about the library.

And we won. The mayor wound up announcing that the library would not be moving.

I was somewhat pessimistic about the chances of changing this plan, and there were a few nights where my wife and I felt like just giving up. But we did it.

The most important thing that I learned from this experience is that there is no substitute for showing up in person. We certainly leveraged social media and email in this effort. But without talking to people face to face, we would not have been able to save the library. Posting about this on Facebook could have been cathartic, but that effort would not even have been noticed by the people who make the decisions. In fact, if we didn't talk to these people in person, they wouldn’t have even known that people in town thought that moving the library was a bad idea. 

Advocacy works. But you have to put in the legwork. The rewards will be completely worth it.

[On a side note: all of the above pretty much took away my shop time for the past 6 months, which also impacted Giant Cypress. I’m out of the habit of writing, and writing is like any sort of activity: if you don’t do it on a regular basis, you start to lose that skill. Here’s hoping I can get back on the horse, both in the shop and here.]