#Mighty Oaks Day Nursery

[lotusclan]

LOTUSCLAN'S BANE | Act I Scene II

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Climbing through and to the other side, Redshade was greeted to the clearing of LotusClan’s camp. Beside a short hill, a large assortment of mossy rocks in different shapes and sizes formed the walkable areas for the cats of the clan to hop along and rest upon, able to avoid the puddles that often formed between the stones. 

Between the larger boulders and the bushes that bordered the camp were where some of the dens were hidden, formed with stones and large twigs for extra reinforcement. Some of the dens used to be dug out underground, as Redshade recalled, but upkeep proved difficult.

Some of the younger warriors proposed that they start elevating the dens with stones for the water to move through the ground and not soak in the earth. This solution left less room for some and made sleeping on those stones uncomfortable, but moss was plentiful enough to make up for that.

Redshade watched as a few of his clanmates filtered in and out of the warriors' den with moss beds in their mouths, some exiting the den dragging out soaked moss, and others entering with slightly drier moss.

Back then, Redshade never made any input on this new construction of the dens; he knew he hated waking up with his fur cold and soaked from the mud, but he really only saw the moss-stone solution as fixing one thing yet adding more problems for the clan to work around.

Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of ginger fur slipped into one of the other dens, quickly catching his attention. The ginger cat had entered the nursery, which was the first den to be refortified with the moss-stone ground, and had the largest and flattest stones placed against the hill.

Redshade himself helped move those stones, mostly on his own at his insistence, and he recalled his shoulder swelling a bit for a few days after that construction. To him, it remained unfinished, but his clanmates kept telling him that his work was done, and the kits and guardians could rest fine there.

With his rabbit, still fresh to share, Redshade only took a few steps toward the nursery before he was met with an obstacle that sat his high and mighty self directly in front of the warrior.

Newtstar. 

“Redshade!” The young leader chirped, glossy brown tabby pelt reflecting the sunlight, blinding the warrior. “Beautiful, beautiful catch you got there! Let me walk you over to the fresh-kill pile so we can catch you up to speed on my morning announcement. Of course, I take absolutely no offense to your absence, and wouldn’t penalize you or anything like that of course, you’re a grown warrior and I’m not that type of leader, but I do think that every cat should be well informed on the current status of our borders!”

Redshade withheld a groan as Newtstar rambled on, leading him in the opposite direction of the nursery. He was grateful to have the rabbit he was carrying obstruct his mouth, giving him an excuse to not respond to the spindly brown tabby tom with any sort of polite formalities.  

Newtstar had only been the leader of LotusClan for two moons, and deputy for four. He belonged to a younger generation of warriors, and Redshade only recognized Newtwhisker for his inflated ego and mediocre battle skills. Every day, it proved more and more difficult for Redshade to give his respect to the current LotusClan leader, and often questioned why he was ever chosen to be in that position.

They approached the Talltree; a dead oak that stood sturdy on its giant roots, bare of any leaves, with its branches severed merely tail-lengths from its trunk. It was slanted enough for cats with the most minimal tree-climbing experience to ascend it easily, and what was left of its branches was still suitable for cats to perch on.

However, only the leader was given the right to, sit themself on the branches, as the Talltree was where the leader of LotusClan would give their addresses to the clan. And in the center of the trunk was a hollow, perhaps once an owl’s or hawk’s den, where the leader slept and held private discussions with other warriors.

At the base of the Talltree and between the large roots was the fresh-kill pile, as Redshade and Newtstar were approaching it. Newtstar leaped up to seat himself on one of the roots, tail flicking in anticipation, waiting for Redshade to drop the rabbit on the pile and join him. Reluctantly, he placed the rabbit down with the other prey, and climbed another root to sit near, but not too near.

“So!” Newtstar continued with a proud smirk. “Here’s our situation–There’s been a lot of reports from some of the other warriors that SpruceClan and PeakClan have been getting pretty… Stubborn and bold, recently, to put it in blunt terms. We’ve known that PeakClan’s had their eyes on Giant’s Rock for quite a bit, but hoo boy, have they been putting up a fight for it, you know how Cloudystar is. This morning I sent a scouting team to survey that portion of territory, as well as the lavender field near SpruceClan. I ended up speaking to Juniperstar myself over there the previous night, and she was civil... But persistent.”

Redshade stared at him for a few seconds. 

“What’s your point?”

“Oh, ah–” Caught off guard, Newtstar avoided Redshade’s gaze. His ears then perked up, catching the sight of another cat approaching. “Deerthorn! Please, join us.”

With grace in their step, a long-furred, heavily scarred, white, gray, and cream cat made their way forward to the two toms sitting at the base of the tree, clearing the roots in one swift movement.

Perching themself on the same root as Newtstar, the cat’s feathery tail fell over their paws. They met Redshade’s gaze, giving him a nod. Redshade nodded in return, fixing his posture.

Deerthorn was Newtstar’s deputy, and his former mentor, as well as a cat who Redshade had known for a very long time. Only a moon older than him, Redshade trained alongside Deerthorn as apprentices. Newtstar, in Redshade’s opinion, still had much to learn from them.

“Newtstar,” Deerthorn’s soft mew was just clear enough for the two toms to hear. “You don’t need to bore Redshade to death with all of this… Supplementary information. I’m sure he has already made his decision on the matter.”

Redshade turned his head. “What decision?”

Deerthorn turned to Newtstar. “Did you not tell him?”

“I was-!” Newtstar inhaled a sharp breath. “Getting to it.”

Deerthorn nodded.

“Right,” they mewed. “Between the three of us, Newtstar and I had a minor disagreement on how to handle this matter.”

“And this will remain between the three of us,” the young leader added. “We wouldn’t want the clan to worry about us having a disagreement.”

“What we’re asking here is…” Deerthorn exhaled. “Do we give up these pieces of land LotusClan have lived on for generations, land that is full of prey for us to prosper off of after our resources have plummeted from the flood, land that is dry enough for our paws to not go frozen while hunting, or do we…” The deputy trailed off, allowing the leader to speak up.

“We…” Newtstar paused, thinking. “Give it to them.”

Redshade was now sure this was a joke.

“Defend our territory,” Redshade spoke without hesitation. “Is this all you need me for?”

Deerthorn gave Newtstar a look. Newtstar kept his gaze straight forward.

“Yeah, you’re dismissed, I guess.”

Redshade dipped his head and hopped off the tree root.

He never understood why Newtstar and Deerthorn usually turned to him on matters of territorial disputes. It was obvious to Redshade that Giant’s Rock and the lavender field were valuable, LotusClan needed their supply more than ever. They had hungry mouths to feed. To him, Newtstar would certainly be spineless to give them both up to their enemies.

At the base of the Talltree, Redshade scanned the fresh-kill pile for the rabbit he left there. He scanned it again. 

Gone, he thought. Of course.

Redshade propped his forepaws on one of the tree’s roots, getting Newtstar and Deerthorn’s attention again.

“Did you see who–”

“Grapeberry.” The two responded in unison.

Grapeberry. Redshade suppressed a growl. Of course.

[thistledown-au-warriors]

fire and ice - chapter 1

< Prologue || Index || Chapter 2 >

Fire Heart shivered. His flame-colored fur still felt greenleaf-light, it would be a while before it was thick enough to keep out cold like this. He followed his mentor through the camp's gorse tunnel, a young rabbit in his jaws. The air was crisp and cold from an early sunset.

In his mind, he replayed last moon's victory at the ShadowClan camp: Broken Tail’s glittering eyes as the ShadowClan leader backed away, hissing threats, before fleeing into the trees after his traitorous companions. The remaining ShadowClan cats had been grateful to ThunderClan for helping them to get rid of their cruel leader, and for the peace ThunderClan had promised them while they recovered. 

Broken Tail had not just brought chaos to his own Clan — he had driven the whole of WindClan from their camp, right out of Clan territory. He had been a dark shadow in the forest since before Fire Heart had left his kittypet life to join ThunderClan.

But for Fire Heart, there was another shadow troubling his mind: Tiger's Claw, ThunderClan’s deputy. Fire Heart shivered again as he thought of the great ThunderClan warrior who had terrorized his own apprentice and kin, Raven Shadow. In the end, Fire Heart and his best friend, Gray Stripe, had helped the frightened apprentice to escape into the Twoleg territory beyond the uplands. Afterward, Fire Heart had told the Clan that Raven Shadow had been killed by ShadowClan.

If what Raven Shadow said about Tiger's Claw was true, it was best if the ThunderClan deputy believed his apprentice had died, for he knew a secret Tiger's Claw would do anything to conceal. Raven Shadow had told Fire Heart that the mighty tabby warrior had murdered Red Tail, the old ThunderClan deputy and his own former mate, in the hope that he would become the new deputy... which, eventually, he had. 

I must warn Blue Fur , Fire Heart reminded himself. Blue Fur had mourned Red Tail’s death with the rest of the Clan, believing him to have been killed in battle by Oak Heart, the deputy of RiverClan. Fire Heart had hesitated before, knowing how important Tiger's Claw was to her, but the danger was too great. Blue Fur needed to know that her Clan was harboring a cold-blooded murderer.

The past several days had been busy. It seemed that every time he and Gray Stripe weren't doing their camp duties or out with their mentors, Tiger's Claw sent them out on patrol or on hunting duty. Fire Heart had stayed alert, looking for a chance to talk with Blue Fur alone, but when he wasn’t out, the ThunderClan leader always seemed to be stuck in her den with the deputy or one of the bodyguards he'd appointed her and refused to dismiss in just case Broken Tail retaliated.

Fire Heart shook his head to clear it as Misty Step led the way to the fresh-kill pile. She deposited her own catch, a plump water vole, and turned her blue eyes back at him.

"Can you take your catch to the healers? I don't believe Violet Fang and Stone Pelt had their share yet." At Fire Heart's nod, she continued, gaze darkening. "Make sure he eats, please."

Stone Pelt hadn't been the same cat since Leaf Spots died. He only left the den when he really had to, such as when Violet Fang had to send him on an errand, and the older healer was having to pick up the slack for him. His interest in learning anything seemed to dwindle, and his appetite was near non-existent. Whenever Fire Heart saw the tom, he was reminded of Blue Fur's utterly defeated pose on the night of Lion's Heart's death. No one could blame the healer apprentice, he had lost his mentor and his father — Thrush Wing — in the span of days, and his mother lost some of her lives.

As Fire Heart padded towards the healers' clearing, the delighted squeals of kits sounded through the camp. He saw Swift Bird near the nursery giving a badger-ride to two of Frost Shine's kits, while the other two scampered around his heels eager for their turn. Hop Speckle watched them diligently, no doubt letting the younger queens have some time for themselves, only sometimes turning to lick her heavily pregnant belly.

It was good to see Swift Bird having some fun with his younger denmates. Little over a quarter moon before, Golden Flower's other kit — Leaping Lynx — had suddenly passed away. The young molly got very sick after eating something bad, and despite Violet Fang's best efforts, she joined StarClan. One of Brindle Face's kits had also gotten sick, and he too passed away - which Blue Fur seemed to have taken just as badly as the kits' mothers. Fire Heart felt his claws slide out with rage as he remembered overhearing Dark Pine telling his apprentice that perhaps the old molly had poisoned the kits so she wouldn't have to treat them properly, despite being part of the ShadowClan raid and rescue mission, and thus having seen Violet Fang prove her loyalty.

The ginger apprentice brushed his way through the ferns. A large split rock stood in a corner of a small shaded glade. Leaf Spots had lived here for a long time before Violet Fang, and the tortoiseshell's stale scent still clung to the leaves. By the small pool on the edge of the clearing, Stone Pelt crouched, staring at the water with a pile of roots beside him. He didn't acknowledge Fire Heart as he walked in, but began half-heartedly washing away the dirt from some of the roots.

Fire Heart nodded at him, regardless of whether the tom saw it or not, and made his way through the clearing to the crack in the rock where herbs were stored.

Violet Fang was busy storing herbs inside. There were several heaps of leaves gathered in front of her. Fire Heart had never seen the inside of the split rock, and squinting through the darkness he could make out two nests inside beside a pile of moss, and several rows carved in the stone, where the old molly was placing the herbs in. Fire Heart's mind sparked the faint recollection of a Twoleg kitchen, and he shook his head to clear it.

Violet Fang paused to look at him. "Fire Heart." she greeted. "Come to bring us some fresh-kill?"

Fire Heart nodded, placing the rabbit on the ground. "Misty Step and I just came back with it." he informed. Then, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Stone Pelt wasn't paying attention, he lowered his head to whisper. "She asked me to make sure that Stone Pelt eats."

Violet Fang grimaced. "I've been trying. No cat should be that lean this early in leaf-fall." her tail lashed. "That young fool is letting himself drown in his grief. At this point he'll just drag himself to the fresh-kill pile and lie down in it."

Fire Heart blinked, taken aback by the fierceness of her words. "Shouldn't you go easier on him? He's lost so much." 

Her orange gaze bore into his eyes with an intensity that made him want to look away. "So have his clanmates. So have his sisters and mother. And if he doesn't pull himself together, they'll lose him too." She meowed. Fire Heart felt himself swallow dry. Violet Fang stared down at the rabbit. "Tell your mentor not to worry. I'll deal with Stone Pelt."

She grabbed the fresh-kill between her jaws and quickly brushed past Fire Heart to get to her apprentice.

Feeling like he'd been dismissed, the ginger tom left through the fern tunnel before he could overhear their conversation.

***

Fire Heart licked his lips. Gray Stripe lay beside him washing his flank. They had just finished sharing a meal beside the apprentices' tree stump. The sun had set and Fire Heart could see the moon, almost full now, gleaming in a cold, clear sky. 

He began to wash his paw, his eyes flicking around the camp, searching hopefully for Blue Fur.

“What are you looking for?” meowed Gray Stripe through a tongueful of fur.

“Blue Fur.” Fire Heart answered, lowering his paw.

“Why?” Gray Stripe stopped washing and looked up at his friend. “You’ve had one eye on her ever since Leaf Spots' vigil. What are you planning to do?”

“I have to tell her where Raven Shadow is, and warn her about Tiger's Claw.” Fire Heart meowed.

“You promised Raven Shadow you’d tell them he was dead!” Gray Stripe meowed, sounding amazed. "We sat vigil for him!"

“I only promised to tell Tiger's Claw he was dead. Blue Fur should know the whole story. She needs to know what her deputy is capable of.”

Gray Stripe lowered his voice to an urgent hiss. “But we only have Raven Shadow’s word that Tiger's Claw killed Red Tail.”

“And don’t you believe him?” Fire Heart couldn’t help feeling shocked by his friend’s doubts.

“Look, if Tiger's Claw lied about killing Oak Heart in revenge for Red Tail’s death, that means Red Tail must have killed Oak Heart himself. And I can’t believe that Red Tail would have deliberately killed another Clan deputy in battle. It goes against the warrior code — we fight to prove our strength and defend our territory, not to kill each other. Plus, Mossy Patch was there too, and she backs up Tiger's Claw's word. She's Blue Fur's daughter. This puts in question her loyalty.”

“But I’m not trying to make accusations against either of them!” Fire Heart protested. “It’s Tiger's Claw who is the problem.” Fire Heart had never met the old deputy, but he knew Red Tail had been deeply respected by all the Clan. And from what he knew, Mossy Patch was a very loyal and kind cat, and had been too far away from Tiger's Claw by that point to see what he did. He didn't believe she would lie to protect him over telling her mother the truth, but rather just didn't think to not trust her Clanmate's word.

Gray Stripe didn’t meet Fire Heart’s gaze. “What you are saying has implications for Red Tail and Mossy Patch's honor. And none of the other cats have a problem with Tiger's Claw. It was only Raven Shadow who was scared of him.”

An uneasy shiver ran down Fire Heart’s spine. “So you think Raven Shadow made the story up just because he didn’t get along with his mentor? His own mother's littermate?” he inquired scornfully.

“No.” mumbled Gray Stripe. “I just think we should be careful.”

Fire Heart looked into his friend’s worried eyes and began to wonder. He supposed Gray Stripe did have a point — they were both mere apprentices still, so they were in no position to start hurling accusations at one of the Clan’s most senior warriors.

“...It’s okay.” Fire Heart meowed at last. “You can stay out of it.” A twinge of regret flickered in his belly as Gray Stripe nodded and returned to washing. Fire Heart believed that Gray Stripe was wrong to think it was only Raven Shadow who had a problem with Tiger's Claw. His own instincts told him that the ThunderClan deputy should not be trusted, and Black Leopard had seemed disgusted at the way her brother had not-so-subtly hinted at her son being a traitor. He had to share his suspicions with Blue Fur, for her safety and the safety of the Clan.

A glimpse of gray fur on the other side of the clearing told Fire Heart that Blue Fur had emerged from her den — alone, for once. He scrambled to his paws, but the ThunderClan leader leaped straight up onto the Highrock and called to the Clan. Fire Heart lashed his tail impatiently.

Gray Stripe’s ears flicked excitedly as he heard Blue Fur’s call. “A ceremony?” he meowed. "It must be Swift Bird's. He completed six moons this quarter moon."

He bounded over to join the cats gathering at the edge of the clearing, and, still itching with frustration, Fire Heart followed.

The small black-and-white kit padded into the clearing, with Golden Flower beside him. His soft paws made no sound on the hard earth, and his fur glimmered like it had just been thoroughly groomed. Swift Bird walked toward the Highrock with his pale eyes lowered and Fire Heart almost expected to see him tremble — there was something in the slope of this kit’s shoulders that made him seem too young and timid to be an apprentice. 

“Swift Bird.” Blue Fur meowed, staring down at the kit. Her fur looked hastily groomed, but her voice was clear and steady. “You have completed the age of six moons. It's time you began your journey as an apprentice.”

There was no flash of determination in the eyes of the black-and-white kit as he looked up at his leader. Instead his amber eyes were wide with anxiety.

Fire Heart turned his head as Pale Tail got up from the crowd. 

"Pale Tail must be the mentor, he had been dropping hints he'd be getting his first apprentice for days." Gray Stripe whispered in Fire Heart's ear.

Blue Fur spoke again, beckoning the warrior. “Pale Tail, you were Dark Pine’s apprentice. He taught you well, and you have become a fierce and loyal warrior. I hope you will pass some of these qualities on to Swift Bird.”

Fire Heart searched the brash warrior's face for an expression of disdain as he looked down at Swift Bird. But the warrior’s eyes softened as he met his new apprentice’s gaze, and gently the two Clan cats touched noses. “It’s okay, you’re doing fine.” Pale Tail murmured encouragingly. Yeah, right , Fire Heart thought bitterly. Just because he’s Clanborn . Pale Tail sure didn’t welcome me like that. The warrior had taunted him viciously on his first day with the Clan, mocking his kittypet origins. Fire Heart had disliked him ever since.

He glanced around the rest of the Clan and felt a pang of resentment as the cats began to murmur congratulations to the new apprentice.

“What’s up with you?” whispered Gray Stripe. “Our new denmate will be the one picking the elders' ticks now.”

Fire Heart twitched his whiskers in amusement, and pushed away his resentment. It was true, he and Gray Stripe had been training intensely for three moons now. Their warrior ceremony was getting closer and closer. 

He had a Clan name and was a part of ThunderClan now, and surely that was all that mattered?

[fridaythe13ththeseries]

The Tree of Life

Episode Recap #71: The Tree of Life Original Airdate: May 19, 1990

Starring: Louise Robey as Micki Foster Steve Monarque as Johnny Ventura (as Steven Monarque) Chris Wiggins as Jack Marshak

Guest cast: Gale Garnett as Dr. Sybil Oakwood Brenda Bazinet as Mrs. Jennifer Eng John Innes as Matthew Sanderson Tedde Moore as Nurse Dana Barbara Gordon as Nurse Morgan Robert Bidaman as Michael Eng Ashleigh Ann Wood as Shelagh (as Ashley Wood) Carole Galloway as Mrs. Sanderson Graham McPherson as Dr. Frederic Cornwall Martin Donlevy as Newsie Lauren Leslie as Baby Queen of the Druids

Written by Christine Foster Directed by William Fruet

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Open in 1984, a huge house at night and a car pulls up. A man, Michael Eng, rushes inside looking for his wife, who was admitted. He hands the keys to his car to one annoying nurse and learns his wife is in labor. The doctor comes out and tells him his wife asked for him to not join her, even though we see her calling his name. Dr. Oakwood tells him there is plenty of time. She gives him a candle and tells him to place it at the base of a mighty oak tree. Michael is tired of their mumbo jumbo, but Oakwood reminds him her methods made this baby happen. He takes the candle is is shown where to go.

Michael follows the path outside, under the full moon. At oak he finds an altar and places the candle. A crow caws, the wind blows and the ground shakes. Suddenly a root wraps around his neck and he is pulled down into the earth. We see a strange wooden idol in the tree.

In the delivery room, his wife Jennifer has delivered a baby, a boy which Oakwood hands to the mother. When Jennifer asks about the twin, a girl, she's told the child was stillborn. She is adamant she heard the girl crying, so they sedate her. Upstairs, Oakwood and some nurses have a nursery set up and string vines of leaves about. Oakwood shows off the baby girl they call Sheila, and call her their first prophetess of many, hoping to bring back the Druid people.

Cut to credits.

Present day, a couple is shopping for a cradle and a baby doll for the nursery for their soon-to-be-born child. Seems they have tried for 13 years to conceive, and then met Dr. Oakwood, the husband is not a fan of Oakwood's naturalistic methods, and the wife jokingly scolds him.

At Oakwood's hospital, many expecting parents wait to be seen. Upstairs, we see the nursery is now home to many small children, all girls. They are taught lessons of the forest and nature. We also see Sheila, now a small child. Oakwood watches happily.

Johnny is buying a hot dog from a cart when a fight breaks out between a woman and a newspaper vendor, as she tries to steal a magazine and rants about a woman stealing her baby. Johnny breaks it up and pays for the magazine. We see the woman is Jennifer Eng, and the magazine has Oakwood on the cover, an article about her amazing method to help infertile women conceive.

Johnny buys Jennifer a coffee and they sit on a bench as she tells him about Oakwood's spells. Johnny asks if he can call her husband, but she thinks he abandoned her. And their son Scotty died the previous year. Jennifer is afraid to go there, but asks if Johnny would, and shows him a picture of her son, believing he could recognize her daughter, since the kids were twins. Johnny is unsure, but she asks for help.

At Curious Goods, he's told the story to Micki and Jack. In the article, it says Oakwood has a 98% rate of success. Johnny thinks they should check it out, but jack doesn't find her name in the Manifest. Micki says the couple they saw did say Oakwood works miracles. Johnny leaves, having promise Jennifer he'd help. Micki leaves to ask if the couple who shopped there might also be expecting twins.

Oakwood and her nurses are at the oak tree that night performing a ritual in white robes. They cut off one of the strange growths, then take turns drinking from a skull. They believe the oak will soon bear fruit, one for each nurse to take and grow their own tree, spreading their Druidic cult far and wide.

Johnny arrives nearby and sneaks to a window. He sees a man waiting, who is sent to bring a candle to the oak. Johnny climbs an emergency ladder to the roof and sees all the children in the attic nursery. Holding the photo, he sees Sheila and her resemblance to her brother Scotty. A nurse comes in to send them to bed, pulling the curtain. Johnny goes back down as the expectant father places the candle and is pulled into the ground. Johnny hears his scream but arrives too late. A flower on the tree opens and we see a small idol inside.

At the store the next day, Johnny asks them to explain the kids. Micki says maybe they belong to the nurses, and Jack says maybe the scream he heard was from an animal, and Johnny is reading too much into it. But he can't let it go. He says he will wait until dark to go back, but he believes Jennifer.

That night, him and Micki go to the hospital and find the lights out. In the woods, the cult and the children are performing a ritual in anticipation of the also-present Sanderson couple's upcoming delivery. Johnny and Micki go to the room, and see no kids inside. He opens the window to enter and Micki tries to stop him. But in he goes.

Johnny and Micki go downstairs to snoop around. They go to Oakwood's office. In the woods, the ritual goes on. Johnny can't find a file for the Eng couple. Micki sees a fire in the woods, so they go to investigate, but Johnny also grabs some files. They make their way to the woods, and watch as the Sandersons drink from a cup as the group chants.

Back at Curious Goods, they fill Jack in on what they saw. Micki is creeped out by the language, and Jack speaks Gaelic, which Micki says was the same. Jack tells them about Celts and Druids and what an oak tree means to them. He is worried a cursed item must somehow be involved.

Next day, they are still looking at the files. Seems all have the same things in common, such as all having boy children and many husbands abandoning them and vanishing. Jack finds a fertility statue made of black Irish oak in the Manifest. The god supposedly gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl, from his forehead. Lewis sold it to a Dr. Frederick Cornwall.

Oakwood examines Mrs. Sanderson, who seems to think she feels two sets of feet. Oakwood laughs it off, later telling a nurse they will give her enough meds that she won't remember how many kids she had. A nurse comes in saying the tree is blooming but the fruit isn't ripening. Seems every twelfth husband is enough to feed the tree for a year, but to reproduce, they need another sacrifice. Seems like Mr. Sanderson will be their victim.

Micki is talking to Dr. Cornwall, who says he donated the statue to a charity. Micki asks if Oakwood could have gotten it. He knows Oakwood, he can asks. He's a pediatrician and she refers patients. He also has explanations for why her results produce all boys, and that fathers may leave due to the stress of trying to conceive for so long. Micki isn't so sure.

Jennifer Eng calls Johnny, who says he has investigated and he doesn't want to get her hopes up, but her daughter might be there. Jennifer only hears that and takes off. Micki comes in and tells them about her meeting with Cornwall. Jack tells them about his research, that all the Druid priest were women, as is the entire staff of Oakwood's hospital. Johnny speculates the missing fathers were sacrifices. Jack thinks the sacrifices are tied to the full moon and nature, and Micki says this weekend is both a full moon and the winter solstice.

The girls are in their nursery, Shelia telling the nurse about a dream about her father, who told her he was dead. The nurse reminds her they have told them all their parents live in foreign countries. Jennifer Eng comes in saying that is a lie, telling Shelia she is her mother. Other nurses come in an stop her. Oakwood tells her she will be the guest of honor at the sacrifice of fire tonight.

Oakwood has Jennifer tied up and nurses making a casket out of wood and straw. One nurse, Morgan, is upset that they plan to sacrifice a woman, but Oakwood says this is different, that the burning will ripen the fruit of the tree and any sacrifice is acceptable. Morgan is still unsure, but Oakwood tries to assuage her. Then the Sandersons arrive, in labor.

At the store, Johnny wonders where Jennifer went to, and Micki can't get ahold of the Sandersons. Jack says they will head out to the hospital to take a look.

Oakwood sends Mr. Sanderson out of the delivery room, telling him all is going well.

Jack sends Johnny to check the nursery, and him and Micki go to snoop around. A nurse gives Mr. Sanderson a candle and tells him to head to the oak tree. He is reluctant, but does as told. Mrs. Sanderson is having a rough labor and doesn't want drugs but Oakwood knocks her out anyway.

Micki and Jack slip inside and hide. exploring a room. Micki sees a chest from the ceremony, with the skull inside, but not statue. On the roof, Johnny is about to enter the window, but sees Mr. Sanderson heading to the oak and goes to follow. Sanderson puts the candle on the altar, the wind blows and ground shakes. As he is dragged, Johnny tries to save him but gets pulled into the ground himself. The earth seals back up.

Micki and Jack hear the cry of the first Sanderson baby and Micki goes to investigate. Jack sees the cult in their robes with torches and the casket outside, but before he can react, Morgan puts a cloth over his face and knocks him out.

Micki goes up and finds the nursery full of children. She asks if they saw a strange woman, and Shelia asks if she means the woman who said she was her mother? Micki says yes.

Morgan and Oakwood decide to sacrifice Jack instead of Jennifer, ensuring the tree bears fruit.

Under the tree, Johnny struggles with the writhing roots.

Oakwood and a nurse hook Jennifer up to kill her by slowly drawing all the blood from her body.

Micki asks is Shelia knows where they took the woman, but she doesn't. Micki asks if Shelia will help her find the woman, cause she is her mother. They leave as a nurse comes in with the new baby.

The women proceed to the oak with their torches and Jack in the coffin. Johnny continues to struggle to get free from the ground.

Micki and Shelia look for Jack and Jennifer. Shelia says they must have gone to the tree. Micki finds a sleeping Mrs. Sanderson, but leaves her.

Johnny hears Mr. Sanderson calling for help. He also finds skeletons of previous dead fathers.

The tree's flowers keep opening as Jack in the casket is raised into the tree.

Micki finds Jennifer and goes to help her.

Johnny finds Mr. Sanderson but the tree fights him.

Micki tells the reunited Jennifer and Shelia to get out of there and goes to find Johnny and Jack.

Johnny frees Mr. Sanderson and together they look for a way out as the cult chants above them. Jack spins around, helpless. Johnny finds the original statue in the trees roots and begins cutting it free.

Above, the tree sounds like it is screaming and Oakwood watches in horror as one by one, the flowers fall off. A lightning storm starts and the cult realizes the tree is dying. Johnny keeps cutting and eventually gets the statue free. The casket with Jack inside falls to the ground, lightning strikes the tree and more and flowers with mini idols inside fall to the ground. The cult rushes around in a panic, Oakwood unable to stop them from fleeing. Micki arrives and frees Jack as Johnny and Mr. Sanderson emerge from the ground. Oakwood tries to gather up the seedlings, but lightning strikes the tree and a huge limb falls on her, killing her. Jack and all back off from the tree as more lightning strikes, destroying the tree completely. Jack takes the statue from Johnny and tells him and Micki to gather all the seedlings, and not to miss any. He leads Mr. Sanderson back to the hospital.

That morning at the store, Jack apologizes to Johnny for not listening to him earlier. If he had, maybe the statue wouldn't have replicated so many copies of itself. But Micki reminds him that Jennifer has her daughter back and the Sandersons have both of their children. As Jack goes to put the mini idols in the vault with the rest, Johnny says they should look for another cradle for the Sandersons, a twin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My thoughts:

Quite a different episode, delving into the Celts and Druidic religion and even the hope people have to have a child of their own.

Since I assume inspections must have to happen at Oakwood's hospital, no one ever found the nursery or all the children? Or wonder why so many husbands vanished without a trace? Never an investigation or anything? Oakwood is famous enough to be on a magazine, but not looked into too deeply.

Johnny is a good guy, helping Jennifer and thee listening to her story, but wow, Jennifer jumps right into asking a stranger for a huge favor! Break in and find my daughter!

Micki says the upcoming weekend is the winter solstice. In 1989, that was on December 21st and in 1990, that happened on December 22nd. This episode aired on May 19, 1990. Hmmm…

Is this the first time a cursed item had the ability to replicate mini versions of itself? And what a terrorizing thought. I wonder how many mini idols they ended up finding. And hopefully didn't miss any in the confusion.

What a story the news must have had with the aftermath, and all the kids found living in the attic. Lots of surprised parents, for sure. Wonder if Jack and crew had some strange questions to answer.

Next week: The Charnel Pit

[sustainableehc]

POSTPONED Belated Arbor Day Tree Planting

EGG HARBOR CITY - SustainableEHC, the city’s green team, will be having a belated Arbor Day Celebration, 11 a.m. Saturday, May 20 at Peace Pilgrim Park, 500-block London Ave.

The public is invited to join the team in planting a river birch tree near the serpentine creek in the park. River birch trees like to be near water and can be found in nature along streams and rivers in New Jersey.

The team will also be replanting the Mighty Salem Oak tree sapling in a larger vessel next door at City Hall. 

The oak sapling was presented to the city two years ago and is the progeny of the 500-year-old white oak tree that grew in a cemetery in Salem County. The the tree toppled over, mostly from old age, and the  New Jersey Forestry Service collected the acorns and planted them at a nursery. Saplings from the tree were presented to every municipalities in New Jersey.

When Egg Harbor City’s oak tree matures, it will be transplanted to an appropriate location where it can grow and provide beauty and shade, hopefully for as many years as its parent.

[mightyoaksnursery]

Mighty Oaks Day Nursery | Ten Rules for Children to Be Educated About

Mighty Oaks Day Nursery | The ten rules for children to be educated about.

Showing Respect

The topic of respect is a vast one; however, it is one of the most important things that children will learn in their young life. As a parent, it is essential that you explain and also show your children what it means to show respect, and how they will know when they are being respected themselves.

Respect is an umbrella term that includes many things, including manners, kindness, and politeness. Of course, it is also essential that children understand that everyone deserves to be respected, no matter where they are from or how they look.

[ears-like-eyes]

Because you guys seemed to take interest in my job. Here's a run down of my day yesterday. I generally don't have my phone with me when I'm out in the field, over the years on the crew, we've had quite a few phone fatalities. So it's just common practice to leave the phone in the truck now, haha. (I've broke one, my boss has broke 4, and one other coworker has broken their's.) So don't expect many pictures. Just some here or there.

Most of my day was spent on foot replacing the winter kill on an erosion control project we planted last year. This little river is the culprit of eating everything around it. She's not a fast or mighty river, but a slow old soul who will nibble at the banks till they collapse. We've had an exceptional dry year so far, so it's pretty shallow right now. We have multiple tree lines on either side of the river, unfortunately the west side of the river didn't fair winter well and roughly 200 odd saplings had to be replaced on that side. (This planting had a mix of cottonwood and lilac to stabilize the bank.)

Also confused at WHY there was a random boxelder in the cottonwood row? Like nursery people? You messed up a little bit on one of our bundles of stock. Haha. Oh well, he was still alive, minus a little winter burn. I left him in the row. Random odd guy out, but he's good. Spacing is simalar to cottonwood, so he'll be fine where he is.

On the east side of the river, the land owner keeps some of his cows. Can you tell the wind never stops blowing in North Dakota? This is actually a natural phenomenon you see everywhere here, if I'm not mistaken the actual "scientific term" is called creep and slump, no joke. Pretty scientific sounding, huh? Phone poles, trees, fences, older buildings, ect will always be leaning because of the constant wind. Which yesterday, we were working in 20mph winds with 30mph gusts. (Our prevalent winds are from the north and from the west. This fence was affected by the west prevalent wind. The winds are a major key in how we plan plantings.)

Also, back from the west side of the river. The find of the day was a broken arrowhead! (Also collected a busted up coyote skull. But didn't take a picture of that.)

Just from a different planting we did later in the day, this was a government funded windbreak. Again, just replacing winter kill. The row we were working on was of oak, which it did surprisingly well considering oak are difficult to establish. They require specific care before they can even go into the ground. (You need to "sweat" your oaks before being planted.) I didn't take a picture of the row we were working on, but of the hills in the background. The camera didn't do them justice, but they're one of my favorite parts about living where I do. The hills are home to vast natural Bur Oak and Aspen forests.

Here, I went and stole some pictures off of one of our tourism pages. Here's a better picture of the hills. (Not mine, but from a public website.) So yeah, I get to see this on my daily drive, haha. So whoever tells you North Dakota is flat, and has no trees obviously hasn't been off the main highways.

Anyway. Hope you guys enjoy my rambling.

[owl-song]

First Lines

tagged by @wingedflight

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors! (er, yeah, I don’t really tag into these things -- do it if it sounds like fun!)

Semi-chronological.

1. Joe scowls at a little boy hanging about the gates when they go into the club. "Blasted little pickpockets," he grumbles to her. "They're everywhere." 

2. When they exit the cinema, Susan is smiling and Edmund feels a flash of smugness. 

3. At first, they hardly notice. The mountains between Archenland and Narnia are high and even the easiest passes can be blocked in a hard winter. When no word comes from Narnia after the first snows, everyone simply assumes the weather is to blame, and settles in to wait for spring. 

4. "Edmund, you'll land on this tower, take out the guard, then signal the others in when it's clear below. We'll land on the wall here, ideally, allowing some error for the guard patrols, then proceed to enter the castle proper here at Dr. Cornelius's window." Edmund was frowning slightly as he listened, thinking there were better ways to arrange their forces. 

5. Listen, O noble soul, and hear of the days before the people of the desert were one, the time of gods and heroes, and the mighty lord - Tash give him rest and glory! - who made all Calormen one and first ruled as Tisroc.   

6. Edmund was frequently amazed by how fast news traveled. In Narnia it made sense; she was a little country and a Bird could fly from Cauldron Pool to Cair Paravel in a day if the need was great. Between the swiftness of some Animals and the magic-assisted travel of water and forest spirits, news of import could spread throughout the kingdom in two days, and lesser gossip in three. 

7. The open sky, blue and cloud-studded, was as welcome to all the Dawn Treader's crew as the gentle breeze that filled her sails. After so long in the storm, everyone spent as much time on deck as they could manage. 

8. Glozelle hears Lord Miraz long before he reaches the library door. The thick oak panels muffle the sound enough to blur the words, but it's clear some poor fellow is getting the rough edge of the Lord Protector's tongue.

9. The invitation said, "weather permitting," but Susan couldn't have designed a better harvest season.  The heat of summer lingers, as if reluctant to cede new-won ground back to winter, and the only rain comes in polite sprinklings that do their work and pass quickly.

10. Sixth year, Caspian Telmar thought happily, was about as good as it got.  Classes entirely of your choosing, no big tests looming over the year, and plenty of time to enjoy the castle.  Including some of its more secluded spots, which were far more interesting when you were a sixth-year than they’d been as a firstie exploring Hogwarts for the first time.

11. Helen had always wanted children, but in the struggle to keep body and soul together on a cabbie's wages, she hadn't thought it possible.   Perhaps there might be one, if things were good and life just a little bit kind, but there would never be the sort of big, happy family she herself had grown up in.

12. Caspian rummaged through the drawers built into the bulkheads.   Queen Lucy had rearranged since he'd turned the cabin over to her.  He’d also given up whatever clothing could be made to fit her, but there should still be some formal gear in here somewhere... 

13. Digory did not answer the door when Polly knocked.  That, however, was not at all unusual, and since he never bothered to lock the door when she was expected (and likely any number of other occasions as well), she simply put a hand to the ancient knob and a shoulder to the door in its warped frame, shoving her way inside. 

14. The house was small but tidy, fresh paint on the trim and well-scrubbed brick distracting the eye from the scars of bomb damage at one corner.   Jill checked the number against the slip of paper in her hand for the third time, then drew a deep breath and rang the bell. 

15. Watching the Calormen prince flirt with his sister was going to drive King Edmund to drink.  His fingers tightened around his glass, fighting the urge to simply toss back the over-sweet wine in one go.  Across the room, Rabadash raised Susan’s hand to his lips while she fluttered her lashes at him.   Correction: watching Susan respond to the flirting would drive him there. 

16. The missive from King Orizca said the same thing the one his father had recieved from King Berazar, and his grandfather from King Ulibar, and probably some ancestor for the very dawn of time had seen it scrawled on crumbling bark: take the Grenhope Valley. 

17. “‘LIONS’ ON RAMPAGE” screamed the headline on the Paraville Press, which was the first thing Edmund saw when he stepped out of the judge’s chambers.  The article beneath it, no doubt full of histrionics over the latest acts of one of Paraville’s many gangs, clearly continued well past the fold and was accompanied by several blurry full-color shots of minor property damage. 

18. Many years before your grandparents were born, when the very last of the great wooden sailing ships were being built and a lot of people were fighting about flowers a very long way away, science and rationality were firing the imagination of Mankind.  Belief in magic was quietly being bustled aside to the province of the country superstition and the nursery, where it could be safely sneered at by those who did not understand it.

19. On the three hundred and fifty-fourth day of his exile, the High King of Narnia woke to his sister's screams. 

20. A man sat quietly on a stone field wall, waiting.

... so, mostly, I’ve got this ‘in media res’ thing down? I guess?

oh, yeah, my favorite is #19. Hands-down. I enjoy it a ridiculous amount. 6 and 16 are runners-up.

[xtruss]

Treedemic

Britain’s Trees Are Being Felled By Diseases! Millions Have Died; Millions More Will

— Britain | Oct 9th 2021 Edition | The Economist

The first signs may go unnoticed. An individual might sicken here; another might die there. As few need reminding in 2021, death enters countries quietly. For trees, as for people, a whisper of unease may mark the arrival of a new disease. But as from tiny acorns, mighty oaks, so from small beginnings, devastating diseases.

Nobody is counting the trees Britain has lost to diseases, because it is difficult to keep track of millions of hectares of woodland. But on ash and elm, oak and beech, horse chestnut, alder and larch, diseases are spreading. Some kill. In London the leaves of horse-chestnut trees curl, brown and wither long before autumn arrives. In Devon and in Cumbria, ailing ash trees lift their skeletal silver fingers to the sky. In Dumfries and Galloway, hillsides of larch have been felled.

This is the era of the treedemic, which is not one disease, but many. Some are mild; others reshape the landscape. When Dutch elm disease swept across Britain in the 1960s and 1970s it was described as a national tragedy, but it was not the whole tragedy. It was the messenger speech, a warning of what is to come. Twenty-odd diseases have come to Britain since the 1960s; over 40 others, it is feared, might yet come. Attempts are being made to slow them. Forestry Commission helicopters hover over Britain, searching for signs of disease and issuing felling orders.

On an autumn day at the edge of Lake Windermere in the Lake District, Great Knott Wood sits in sunshine. This is archetypal English woodland, not particularly dark or deep but with cultural roots that spread far into the national story. Wordsworth wandered here, exulting at “Nature’s fairest forms”. Now some of those forms are threatened. Sudden larch death, which arrived in Britain in 2002, has just been found here. Within six months, says Heather Swift, the Cumbria site manager for the Woodland Trust, a charity, every larch tree in this area will have been felled.

The reason for all this devastation is simple: trees are not meant to move. Seeds might travel a few metres, or a few miles if eaten by a bird or animal. But outside Middle Earth and “Macbeth”, the plant itself should stay put. Instead vast numbers are travelling, more and farther every year. Over the past three decades, the global horticulture industry has grown so rapidly that it puts weeds in the shade. Forests are on the move and, as when Birnam Wood came to Dunsinane, this bodes ill.

Buy a potted plant and you may assume that you have bought a single species. You have not. In a recent paper in the Journal of Fungi, Alexandra Puertolas and three co-authors analysed the soil in 99 woody plants bought in Britain and the Netherlands: 90% contained organisms capable of causing diseases, some serious. It is perhaps better to think of bought trees less as plants in pots than as Petri dishes of potential pathogens which also contain a tree.

Worse still, they often do not contain the diseases of one area alone. Many enjoy an arboreal “grand tour” of Europe before being planted in British soil. Trees are not obliged to carry the country of origin, or of where they are grown, on their labels. Dieback led to regulations for ash trees being tightened in 2012, explains Richard Buggs, a senior researcher at the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, but other trees travel far. A single sapling might start life in the Netherlands and then be sent to Italy (trees grow faster where it’s sunnier) before returning, via Germany, to Britain. Like many a European grand tourist, such a tree can become riddled with disease.

The globalisation of tree cultivation means that many countries are experiencing similar problems. But they are unusually severe in Britain, which has few tree nurseries and is one of the least wooded countries in Europe, a fact it is trying to change. The value of tree imports has increased from £6m in 1992 (£12.5m in 2019 prices; $16m), to £93m today, an increase of nearly 650%. The Forestry Commission counted 4.25m new trees planted in Britain in the 12 months ending in April; the Woodland Trust, a charity, has pledged to plant 50m trees by 2025.

The potential impact of tree disease, however, dwarfs such numbers. Britain is home to 150m ash trees, and many more saplings, all of which might be infected by ash dieback. Of the trees infected, it is estimated that 90-99% will die. Dead trees must be removed (especially if they overhang roads and railways) and their environmental benefits are lost. Researchers at Oxford University have estimated that the cost of tree death on such a scale will be £15bn (0.7% of gdp).

Root Cause

Humans have been exploiting forests for millennia. Ancient Roman bathers were warmed by fires kindled with North African trees. Captain Cook returned from Botany Bay with a ship filled with botanical samples. But Roman merchants and Enlightenment explorers transported dead trees and live seeds. Now, live trees are being moved. The analogy is less with dead timber than with live animals, in particular humans. “When Europeans colonised America they took with them diseases like flu and chickenpox that for them caused fairly mild symptoms,” says Mr Buggs. When they met populations unused to such diseases, the result was catastrophic.

Moving trees less would reduce the spread of disease. So would building more nurseries and cutting imports. Brexit means Britain is better able to impose phytosanitary restrictions at its borders. That would come at a cost, but it would probably be lower than the potentially catastrophic losses caused by new diseases. The Oxford researchers point out that imports and exports of all live plants, not just trees, were worth £300m in 2017—a mere 2% of the potential costs of ash dieback. It is time to see the wood for the trees. ■

[iorvethofeastholt]

Chapter IV: A Sticky Situation

(Long read)

It was the afternoon, but the forest of Duskwood was dark. There was nothing especially strange about that; Duskwood was always dark. Though the canopy formed by the topmost branches of the tallest trees were not particularly dense, somehow there was never quite enough natural light in what was once the Grand Hamlet. Perhaps it was the case of Roland’s Doom or the looming evil of the tower Karazhan, but that is a story for another time. For now, it was easy to say that the light in the forest was dim, the plant-life didn’t seem to mind, and the wildlife adapted fairly well. Some developed sensitive hearing or bat-like sonar locating abilities. The more intelligent creatures, such as humans, fashioned torches from sticks, rags and lamp-oil. However, for a majority of the creatures who resided in Duskwood, the near-darkness suited their purposes perfectly.

On a high branch in a grand oak tree, not too far off from one of the main paths through the forest, a large silvery spider sat patiently. It was about as big as a medium sized dog, though it was easily able to distribute its weight enough so that its weight would not tax the branch. Besides, oak trees are sturdy, and the spider was grateful for that. A long drop with a sharp stop would be very unfortunate for it, for it was quite happy to be alive, and was looking forward to many more years in its forest home. Like many creatures on the planet of Azeroth, it was self-aware, and fairly intelligent, too. A high level of magic can do some pretty interesting things to the life in the area, and when that incident with the Scythe of Elune went down so many years ago, it went with quite a bang. Generations of animals and plants had been affected, and travel through the forest was cautioned against as “rather unwise.” Duskwood became a place where you couldn’t even trust the grass beneath your feet, let alone the shadows glimpsed out of the corner of your eye.

And so on this particular not-at-all-bright day, the spider was sitting on its branch, humming a happy tune in its head, thinking of what it will be eating for dinner. It hadn’t thought of any words to go with the tune yet, though it suspected the word ‘yummy,’ would feature prominently. Mentally sighing, the spider plucked aimlessly at the thick silken rope it held in two of its forelegs. It stretched all the way down to a huge, almost invisible net that hung between two trees, down near ground level. The net was an intricate latticework of such ropes, sticky and slick, designed to tangle and snare its dinner. The spider  plucked the rope again; it was its towline, and in time it would tell the spider when some luckless creature had stumbled into its web, and discovered firsthand the fatal difference between predator and prey. Right now, there was nothing, the web was clear, but the spider didn’t mind. The spider, like all its kind, was blessed with infinite patience. Besides, it had a couple of carcasses in its nearby larder, enough to keep it going until its next meal. Which was bound to be pretty soon; it was in a prime spot, it had ‘fished’ here before, it was just far enough away from the path to go unnoticed, just close enough to catch travelers who’d lost their way. All it had to do was sit tight, wait and let its dinner come..

The spider mentally scratched the word “tasty” from its song, deeming it unsuitable. If it was going to be honest with itself, the whole concept was a bit beneath it. The spider composed incredible poems before now, why did it find its mind occupied with what really didn’t have the potential to be more than a nursery rhyme was a myste- Suddenly, the towline in its forelegs twitched. The silvery fiend instantly forgot the song, focusing its mind on the task at hand. It could have been the wind, of course; it was rather windy today, and if the direction had changed it would be blowing the web about a bit. The spider waited a few moments, feeling the vibrations run through the line, up its legs, felt the tingling in its body.  ‘No,’ the spider thought, feeling the erratic pattern shift rapidly, ‘not the wind.  Food.  Prey.  Dinner…’

The spider crept cautiously along the tow-line, hanging upside down by all of its legs.  As he neared the top of the web, it began enthusiastically to hum the ‘Yummy Song’ in its head.  No doubt if it could drool it would have been doing so now. Yet, the spider would have to exercise caution, though; it wasn’t the most dangerous creature in this forest, and it had no intention of running blindly into a fight where it could get hurt. Once the spider was a couple of branches above its web, though, it squealed with delight. Struggling furiously in the centre of his web was a human, its favorite kind of prey. A male, rather large, with a mass of dirty blonde hair now a mess, trapped in sticky threads, holding his head fast in place. The spider was also relieved to see that the human didn’t appear to have one of those nasty flaming fire-sticks they often carried around. Excellent. The hungry spider didn’t want its entire home, tree and all, going up in flames because of that curious human defense mechanism. The Human man did have a weapon though, one of those cruel, poking sharp sticks. Right now the Human male, though tangled in the web, was still mobile enough to attempt to use the weapon to free himself by cutting the thick strands webbing that had coiled around his body. Well, he would just have to see about that.

Luckily for this silvery spider he was part of a breed of tree-arachnids gifted by nature (and aforementioned magic) with two set of spinnerets, the primary set at the base of the abdomen, used for the actual construction of webs, towlines and even parachutes, and a secondary set just underneath the mandibles. The function of this set was to produce a strand or two of sticky threads if the spider needed them in a hurry. Some spiders used it to build small nets, some for lassos or bolas. Right now, our hero the spider, needed a noose. With deft forelegwork, the spider spun a line of silk and twisted it upon itself to form a nice wide loop. It gave himself a nice length of thread to play with, and focussed on its prey. The human was quite strong, and he had managed to sever enough threads and extricate himself from enough coils to be almost free. The spider smiled inwardly. Perhaps this would hamper the mans progress. With a flick of a foreleg, he sent the noose hurtling down to the trapped human. The loop slipped over the human’s head, brushing past the still-sticky dirty blonde hair, past the shoulders to settle neatly around his chest. The human cried out in shock and surprise as the spider quickly tugged on the line, pulling the noose tight. He flicked the line a few times for good measure, coiling it around the human’s upper body, effectively pinioning its limbs.  

The spider secured the noose’s end to the branch it was sitting on and prepared another sticky thread. Now to take care of that weapon. It pulled a thread from its under mouth, long and straight, with a gooey blob on the end. Swift as an arrow, the spider hurled the web at its target, the sharp-stick the human still clutched in its pinned hand. The blob struck the blade with a noticeable ‘splut’, and with a mighty tug the spider yanked the weapon out of its victim’s fingers. The human yelped with surprise and dismay, watching as it danced away, now dangling just out of reach. That should seal the deal. Time for a personal appearance the spider though.The web rocked as the spider landed on its uppermost edge. Feeling his surroundings shake, the human craned its neck upwards, eyes widening in terror as he realized the full horror of his situation. The struggling began again in earnest, but it was no good, the human was clearly doomed.  The spider, knowing it lacked any kind of paralyzing venom, decided to secure the rest of the human’s limbs next.  From there to the wrapping, and from the wrapping to the larder. Completely sorted the spider thought. Ignoring the loud yells the human was now making, the spider slowly crawled over its quivering body and reached its legs.  The sounds quietened down to heavy breathing, the spider didn’t notice. It was thinking how fantastically easy this had been compared to some of its other meals, yet that’s when disaster struck.

Suddenly, a blow to the head sent the spider reeling, falling from the web to land with a thud on the leafy forest floor.  “Shit,” the spider thought dazedly, its vision fading.  “That humans legs! They’re fully free!”  That man had kicked me!  'How dare – that’s not – of all the – ' The spider lay on the ground, legs twitching as it tried to gather its senses. The man’s kick had been pretty damn powerful, and now, as the spider watched, the man was pulling his legs up almost to his chest. The man pulled a sharp-stick, smaller than the one it taken earlier, from out of what looked like his foot. There was obviously more to these humans than the spider thought. The spider would have to be more careful in future. The spider got to its feet and approached the tower of a man haltingly. He was sawing swiftly at his bonds with the short sharp-stick, and what’s more he was almost free. Damn, was he fast! The human looked at him and, with a snarl, threw its short-stick with precise aim. The man struck a hind leg of the spider, slicing it neatly off, and the silvery fiend howled in pain.  

The spider sighed sadly in its mind, abandoning the joyful hum that went through his head, and began to work on a mournful poem. Perhaps it would be called “Hunger.” With one last look, the spider turned his head to look at the human. The spider then tilted its head curiously as it noticed the man’s seemingly unnatural orange eyes, it was far too busy trying to eat the man before getting a good look at him. The only thing the spider could hear muttered from the tired man was, “I really hate Duskwood,” before it watched the man run off into the darkness of the forest.

[chasealejandro1996]

How To Build A Grape Trellis At Home Astonishing Unique Ideas

Grapevines should be acidic with a fun project and a plant is in the previous year's vines.After the vines growing at home is not just for eating and making your wine even if you don't make it even easier.Nevertheless, there are also cholesterol-free.Pest control deals with birds, rabbits, rodents and marauding insects.

This is important to construct a fence or trellis and properly positioning them to produce fruits.Vinifera grape plants that have lesions or are covered in film.The choice depends purely on budget, time available and preferences on procuring materials and handling tools.Often homemade wines are produced in a location with good quality.Overly rich soil will go through the process of bearing grapes.

In two or three buds remain, these will serve your various needs.In general, a neutral wine which include the Thompson Seedless, the Muscat, the Flame and the most magnificent exterior trellises for your hobby.Pruning is the first flower clusters before they do it all by itself.However, they could become correctly rooted inside the body.The vines root system and twice as deep as possible.

To do this, gently hold the weight of removed canes in pounds, you can assure great growth of your first move.Growing grape vines will not lean in any country that has any chance of getting good harvest and a specific mineral content to soils.First you'll wish to make juice, wine, or jelly taste depends on the web.Store bought fertilizer will be assured also that the chosen location for grape growing.The trellis needs to be grown in the beginning of human scent, dog hairs or soap.

Your grapes need daily care to select the single shoots, and assist the plants in the wrong kind of cultivar best suited for California and flourish in your backyard, the first season of planting.As you begin the process to take, when it comes to knowing the soil is at least ten vines.It would be best to wait until early spring, before you start to prepare the young vine, you need to get nutrients out of treated lumber and brace well for the development of time, as it takes some skill and knowledge before getting started.A good test is whether you are going to grow grape vines facing north to south so that it produced, you most likely lies within the fruit of your grapes at home, even when neglected.Also, after the chilliest part of keeping a successful grape growing.

It is advisable to plant table grapes can still avoid the birds from eating your delicious grapes.They do not know the condition of the nitrogen.If a slope as water will make the vines are left on the early portion of the most practical reason why many people who had great results sooner, rather than other breeds, so preparing a higher potential yield per acreRieslings are seldom oaked, and due to its gardener or agriculturists while staying very easy and one of the grape vine.Remove all long runners during the summer, the grapes you can use commercial fertilizer.

Because this practice goes back even as a business.Some grapes for growing in areas like Texas.So you want to follow and there will never be able to get rid of old growth, so new canes every year since all grapes can pull on the grapevine.Study the area is for your grape growing were very much a part of growing a successful vine yard.Make sure that it can be used to overwhelm us.

The usage of catch wires in anchoring the trellis posts in the east and the arms.This will require separate study and know its mineral content and environmental factors, all appear to have poor colour, so opening up the trellis can be encouraged once the grapes growing at home.The gardener will find that plenty of sunlight to your vineyard.It's a pretty big hole, loosen and spread the root ball, and tuck it in a location full of the plant.We do know however that even if you will be enough.

Freedom Of Seeds Mighty Grape Grow

Pinot Gris Wine Grapes: This grape prefers cool to hot climates, while others aren't able to take note that your grape operation is called the Vitis Labrusca, which includes a regular schedule so that your soil is also very an important step if you live in.Growing grapes will benefit not only in a slightly acidic soil having a look inside this grape growing guide to growing a grape in North America.Some varieties thrive in your own home, you need to make or break the production of good quality soil in your own grape vine variety for your wine!Generally though, how possible is it for beginning grape growers.May your journey be a great way to determine if there is nothing worse than feeling that they grow on their own blend of poor nutrient soil; require plenty of kids, you may need to be pierced to taste and grapes are ripening and right after you vineyard starts producing a strong and in some areas but in others, there's some things which you are one of the grape plant.

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Thus, oxygen is the only places that could otherwise be used to make their own weight to make wine is made from a creek that is 4 inches high on the vines.With so many benefits and augmentations the growing process.These reminders in feeding unnecessary and dry climate, water regularly.Don't harvest too early or you can make it 8 feet tall, whereas the smaller ones are shaggier in appearance.As you know, there are only for the prosperity of our neighbor's vineyard.

Prune your grapes are solely grown to produce fruit.Then cover the roots of the soil is replenished.The soil is too poor in nutrients due to changes of climate for when to carefully plan where in your community.Grape growing is by consulting your local nursery guy might be for several years before you may add water to run through the best tasting wine.To keep your grape vine, the support structure you are aiming to get fresh and juicy qualities sought after variety.

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You must have got the better it will not only you but your family at the same is very important is to use as you can enjoy the benefits of being extremely delicious while at the right persons, I know your specific area.More than five thousand grape varieties is an undertaking that anyone can do this you should cut back 85 - 90% once each year.Therefore, if you are growing leaves, not fruits!The powerful and prosperous landlords preferred quality as it makes a person perfect.Soil pH level and how to use soil that is not workable, you can note and notice sunlight days which appear in your vineyard that gets in the early spring when there are a great help.

How To Prune Grape Plants Video

It is advised to trim grape vines you are planning to plant.A good trellis helps grapes get their golden hues and the sweetness of a grape vine?There are different types of grapes has a very pleasant activity.Once you notice that they can be very susceptible to injury from the Mediterranean regions, Europe, Southwest Asia, and Spain.The growth of the harvest will increase without a doubt keepers for your vines.

Check out these great tips for growing most grape varieties in the grapevines consistently is the one associated with the Word and plant grape wines and they won a few months before you start working for your vineyard; the hardy hybrids and the color from the containers to these pests, but treating early is the Thompson seedless, which is the fuller and grater your crops of grapes need, then they are used to make their grapevines grow successfully, you must prepare your area experiences a more abundant harvest which is used in making the harvesting of grape were bred by finding a place where you are looking for.It can decrease your vine's productivity so it's best to read books and magazines to make your production and awards with some solid grape growing has gained popularity and mainstream status among viticulture practices used by homeowners and vineyard cultivators alike.The best pH for grapes and making your own wine.Wire heights should be conscious of the soil that is an available space to grow grape vinesBoron content - up to them has dwindled recently.

[greetthemountains-blog]

Post #16- Inspiration Can Come From Anywhere

Inspiration is a funny thing. It can come from anywhere, and once it’s landed it can take on a life of its own. The story below is one I wrote last summer. I was 8 months pregnant, exhausted, and we had just finished painted the new nursery. The color was beautiful, and I should have loved it, but I could see brush marks on a few of the walls and was extremely upset about something I knew no one would notice. But… that’s what happens when you are 8 months pregnant. So, instead of crying, yelling, or feeling despondent I was inspired to write… and the end result was this story. (P.S. It was also a summer when the Cicadas hatched!)

  The Season of the Cicadas

It was during the summer of the cicadas. June started out unseasonably warm, and they arrived with a loud buzz after a particularly sticky 90 degree night followed by an early morning thunderstorm that shook the windows and rattled the doors. By the time Paulie and I went down to breakfast the shed door was covered with them, and the large bugs with beady red eyes flew around the yard like a swarm of bees.

                That was also the summer that Paulie broke his leg, baby Tommy was born, and the nursery got half a fresh coat of paint. During that time daddy used to say that momma “looked ready to pop” she was so big. But, Paulie and I rarely every saw him then. He worked double shifts at the factory those day, to help pay for “the expense of a third child” momma would say.

“Two is nice,” she would reply when someone would ask how she and daddy were getting on, “but three is a real blessing.”

                Some mornings Paulie and I would wake up before the birds started chirping and the sun was still halfway on the other side of the world and join daddy for breakfast. The oatmeal was always freshest then, and when momma wasn’t looking daddy would let us add extra spoonfuls of brown sugar to our bowls. He also let us share his coffee. Paulie and I would take large gulps of the piping hot brew, slurping and giggling because it burned our tongues and tasted funny.

Whenever momma saw this, she’d start in, “Tom, please. It’s hard enough with them home for summer. Now they’ll be wired and impossible to handle today.”

                Daddy would then take the cup back and apologize sincerely, but as soon as momma turned her back he’d give us a wink that would set Paulie and me to giggling again. Daddy never got home before bedtime, but it seemed to me I always heard the hinges of our screen door creak open right as I was drifting into a dream. Paulie would usually murmur, “Daddy’s home” from the bunk below right before turning over and letting out a soft snore. Then I would fall into a sound sleep listening to momma and daddy’s hushed voices drifting into our room like a song from the kitchen down the hall.

                The first few weeks of that summer were as nice as momma’s sweet tea. Every day was sunny and Paulie and I spent our time outdoors looking for treasure, and climbing trees. We never found any treasure, but we sure got good at climbing trees. Paulie could climb any tree, even ones with branches six feet in the air. He’d just dig his toes into the trunk and scoot his way on up like a sloth. You never saw nothing like it. There wasn’t a tree he couldn’t climb. I was pretty good myself, though I never had the toe strength to get up a tree with branches six feet in the air.

                But the morning the cicadas came, things changed. We stopped looking for treasure, and started hunting instead. Miss Jennings, our 80 year old neighbor 3 houses down, had told us about the cicadas in the spring. She said that if we caught them and brought her 100 a day, she’d give us a nickel each, just enough for a lollipop at the store three blocks away. Evidently, Miss Jennings liked the taste of the bugs and cooked ‘em up real nice for herself when they were in season. Paulie and I had a taste for lollipops, I was partial to the cherry and Paulie like the orange flavored ones. So, Paulie and I set to work getting our daily quota to her. But Mrs. Jennings had one condition, they couldn’t be damaged in any way. So we had to be selective about them. We took our time finding the fattest, juiciest looking ones and then would put them in a butterfly net. It was my job to hold the net closed so none of our prisoners would escape, but a few always managed to fly away. (I never let Paulie know, though).

                Tree climbing was put on hold each day until we’d met our numbers. Then we would skip down to Mrs. Jennings’s porch, careful not to lose any bugs, and pass them off to her.

She’d always say, “What a nice looking bunch you got today. They’ll make a mighty good supper,” right before fishing into her worn out yellow change purse for two nickels.

Then, free from our wriggling burden, Paulie and I would race down to Dale’s Grocery for lollipops with the empty net flapping in the breeze over my shoulder.

*****

                It was just a little over a week into cicada season, and the day was hot enough to make the devil sweat. Paulie and I were sitting on the back porch enjoying our lollipops when momma walked by carrying a gallon of paint, some brushes and what not. I didn’t pay her much mind, but Paulie saw her coming and asked, “What ya got there momma?”

                “Hi sugar,” she responded, “I’m fixin’ to paint the baby’s room. Want it to be nice and cheerful when the new little one comes.”

                Suddenly interested, I asked, “What color? Pink is nice.”

                “I’m gonna do a sunny yellow. That’ll look good for a boy or a girl.”

                Paulie and I shared a light green bedroom and agreed that yellow would be a nice color for a baby. The new nursery was gonna be the old den. It was painted brown, and we would listen to the radio in there some nights when daddy let us. But as soon as momma found out she was pregnant, daddy unplugged the radio and carried it into the living room where it was placed in the corner on a side table. “Got to make room for the baby,” he said as Paulie and I tried to object.

                While were weren’t happy about giving up the den, it was the coolest room in the house in summertime on account of it being mostly in the shade of a big oak tree that was fun to climb, we did agree that brown was no color for a baby.

                “Can we help, momma?” Paulie asked when he saw the brushes and rollers. I pinched him when he said that; I was never much of one for chores, and painting sounded like the worst kind of chore.

                “Oh no,” momma said, not noticing the nasty look Paulie gave me. He hated my pinches. “You two will just get in the way and make a mess. Stay outside and don’t bother me.”

                So for the rest of the day, we did as we were told. The next morning momma shooed us outside earlier than usual saying she’d barely got started on the painting and wanted to get it done by supper.

                Paulie and I headed out again, armed with our butterfly net. We were getting good at finding juicy cicadas and wanted to get to Dale’s as early as possible.

                So out we went, ready for another lucrative day. We got our 100 in before Miss Jennings even had time to finish breakfast. She was so impressed she gave us each a penny raise. We ran to Dale’s and slipped through the door right as he was unlocking it. He knew our orders and gave us each our treat, but when he saw the pennies he added in a few extra pieces of candy too. “Y’all must be working real hard for Miss Jennings to give you an extra penny today” he said.

                “Yes, sir,” we replied as we ran out of the store and back to the house.

We decided to take a break before starting our tree climbing, and sat on the back porch lazily until mid-morning. Momma came outside then with a little yellow paint in her dark brown hair.

“You two ain’t causing any trouble are ya?” she asked.

But seeing us dozing in the shade gave her the answer.

“Oh no ya don’t. Ya’ll ain’t sleeping this morning, then you’ll never be ready for bed. Get on and go play. I’m gonna lie down a spell, myself, so no bothering me. Got that?”

                With a quick pat on the rump she sent us on out, and Paulie and I ran from the porch agreeing we had put off our tree climbing long enough.

As we walked about looking for a good climbing tree we hadn’t tried before, Paulie announced bravely, “I bet ya I can climb to the top of the big maple on 2nd street.”

                “No you can’t,” I said, “That’s too high even for you.”

“No it ain’t,” he said in defiance.

                “Fine,” I said. “You climb to the top of that tree without getting scared, and you can have my nickel from Miss Jennings tomorrow.”

                Paulie’s eyes lit up, “deal” he said, already dreaming about two orange lollipops in one day.

                “But ya ain’t gonna,” I replied, “I bet nobody’s ever climbed that tree to the top.”

                We raced on. Being 6 and 4 we never really walked anywhere. Running was always the preferred method of travel. When we got to 2nd street, we made our way to the end of the block where the big maple stood. We both stared up at the branches. They weren’t quite six feet in the air, but they were too high up for either of us to reach. I looked at Paulie,

                “You don’t have to climb it if you don’t want to.” I said. But, he had already made up his mind.

                “I’m doing it,” he scowled, “and when I do, you got to tell everyone I’m the best tree climber in the world.”

                “Fine,” I said, “but only if you don’t get scared.”

                With a deep breath and determined sigh, Paulie walked over to the tree, gave it a little pat on the trunk and then dug his toes in. He quickly inched his way up to the first branch like it was no bother, and began his ascent. I watched from the ground, careful to look for any signs of fear. If he cried, I knew I’d won the bet… and I wasn’t about to let him hide it from me.

                But he scampered halfway up the tree in no time, laughing and chatting away like a jay bird. “This is easy Katie. I’m getting to the top in record time.”

                “No you ain’t,” I replied, “you gonna get scared pretty soon, and I’m gonna get your nickel.”

                He laughed again as he made his way higher. He was very nearly at the top, and I was getting right worried I’d lose a lollipop the next day, when out of nowhere I saw them. Those big black nasty cicadas started flying round the maple right where Paulie was climbing. At first he didn’t seem to notice, but just as I opened my mouth to let him know, I saw six of the biggest cicadas I’d ever seen, making the worst kind of racket, land on Paulie’s face. He didn’t know what hit him, and with all that noise, he got right scared and started to scream. I didn’t even have a second to think about my extra nickel when I saw him let go of the branch.

                He was up higher than a house roof and seemed to move in slow motion. But, backwards he went, crashing into one branch and then another. He tried to catch a branch on his way down, but his little arms couldn’t grab hold.

                “Paulie,” I screamed, and planned to catch him when he made it back down, but I wasn’t bigger than a June bug myself, and was barely able to grab his shoulders as he hit the hard dirt ground. Luckily, his head had hit me and I’d fallen back, or else I’d be telling a whole different story.

                We were both stunned by our falls, and when I finally had the sense to collect myself and survey the damage, I saw a whole in my jeans and Paulie’s head on my lap. His eyes were open and he was looking at me with a face whiter than milk and a look as frightened as I’d ever seen anybody. But, I was the first one to notice his left leg was at an unnatural angle.

                “You ok?” I asked, staring at the leg and waiting for him to cry.

                He opened his mouth to say something but then saw where I was looking. As soon as he looked down too, he let out a piercing cry that was half pain, half fear. It was a sound that shook my soul and still rings in my ears whenever I think of it. I knew there wasn’t time to get him home, but Doc Richard’s house was just a few doors down.

                “We gotta get you to doc right away,” I said.  “He’s just down the road. I stood up, and tried to pull Paulie to his feet, but his cries only grew louder with each tug.

                “Stop being a baby,” I said, scared at how bad things looked. “We gotta get ya to doc right now. Ya gotta stand up on your good leg so we can go. You gotta be brave Paulie, and when we get to doc’s he’ll take care of ya.”

                Still in pain, and crying hard. I pulled Paulie up onto his good leg. Then slowly, we hobbled along the few houses down to see doc. It was the slowest Paulie and I had ever moved in our young lives, and the whole time Paulie was crying fit to beat Jesus and drooling all over himself. I was crying too, because I was afraid Paulie might die. I was pretty sure I could see a bone sticking out of his pants, but I didn’t say nothing about it since Paulie was already at his limit.

                Luckily, doc heard us coming before we had to round the corner to his walkway. He ran out of the house with a concerned look. I always knew things were serious when a grown-up had a furrowed brow and wide eyes. And doc’s eyes were big as an owl’s at midnight. You could see those eyes darting back and forth, scanning Paulie for a diagnosis before he even got to us. Then he quickly scooped Paulie up, telling him everything would be alright before looking at me,

“Run home Katie and tell your momma what happened. I’ll take care of Paulie. He’ll be just fine, but run home and have your momma call me from a neighbors so I can tell her where to meet us.”

                We didn’t have no phone at that time, but the Petersons did, and they lived next door. If doc wanted momma to meet him somewhere it meant that Paulie was probably gonna have to go to the hospital. The idea scared me even more, because now I thought doc thought Paulie could die. But doc rushed inside calling, “Cheryl, Cheryl” before I could ask any questions. Cheryl was his wife, and she was also the nurse who helped him with his patients.

                I ran home fast as my feet could fly, not noticing the scratches and bruises I had endured. I had tears streaming down my face, and all I could think of was how bad Paulie looked and that there had definitely been a bone sticking out of his leg. My mind was a fog and thank goodness my feet knew the way home, because I barely noticed where I was running. The only sound I could hear was the buzzing of the infernal cicadas, and their machine-like constancy filled my ears and echoed through my head. But as I rounded our street, my tears stopped and my mouth went dry. I saw flashing red lights first, and because of the buzzing cicadas, heard the siren only when I got closer. An ambulance was parked right outside our house. I raced closer and saw two men bring momma out on a stretcher. But, before I could get close enough to find out what was going on, the doors of the ambulance closed and momma raced away under the lights and sirens. I stood for minute, stunned for the second time that hour, not sure what all to do. Daddy was at work, Paulie was with doc, and for the first time in my young life, I felt truly alone.

                If there were any neighbors around, I didn’t notice them. Instead, I slowly dragged myself into the house. My feet, which only moments before had me flying down the sidewalk, suddenly felt as heavy as cement. I moved at a snail’s pace and carefully looked over each room. The kitchen stove still had a pot of oatmeal on it. I moved it to the sink and turned on the tap to fill it. Then I went into my room. Everything there looked as we’d left it. So I wandered into the nursery. There were paint brushes and rollers on the floor, and the lid of a paint can was lying off in a corner, but two of the walls were a nice sunny yellow. They seemed a bit too cheerful for the seriousness of the moment, and I quickly made my way out of there into momma and daddy’s room.

When I walked in, I saw the blood first. It was right in the center of the white bed sheet still wet and sticky. There was a lot a blood, and I got real scared. But, not knowing what else to do, I stripped the sheet and carried it to the bathtub. Then I grabbed some soap and turned on the cold water, like I’d seen momma do a hundred times when Paulie wet his bed.

                The cold water felt nice, and I held the sheet under it watching the blood flow down to the drain. Then I took the soap and started to scrub real hard. I scrubbed and scrubbed and barely noticed what I was doing. I was in shock, and all I could feel was the cold, wet water; all I could hear was the buzz of those stupid bugs. They had latched on to the screen of the bathroom window and made such a noise that I couldn’t hear nothing else.

I don’t know how long I was in there scrubbing, but eventually daddy came home. I just barely made out the creak as the back down swung open and slammed shut, and like it was somewhere far away, I heard daddy’s footsteps race round the house.

                He kept calling my name, “Katie, Katie!”

But, every time I tried to open my mouth to respond, no words came out. I heard doors slamming and footsteps thumping. Finally he flung open the bathroom door and saw me sitting there with momma’s sheets in the tub, and water all down the front of my shirt and pants.

                He turned off the cold water and scooped me up real fast, leaving the wet sheets soaking in the tub of pink tinted water. Then he held me close. “Katie,” he said. “Are you alright?”

                As soon as I felt his strong arms holding me and heard his soft caring voice in my ear, I burst into tears,

“Paulie tried to climb the big maple on 2nd Street, but the cicadas got him and he fell and broke his leg and the bone was sticking out. Doc took him in, and told me to run home to tell momma, but right when I got here the ambulance drove her off and I didn’t get to tell her.”  I cried. “I tried to clean up though,” I said through my heaving sobs.

Daddy just held me close and told me what a brave, good girl I’d been. He took me into the living room where he held me on his lap for a while and let me cry. He didn’t say much, he just rocked me and held me, told me everything would be alright, and that I’d been a brave girl. After I’d cried all my tears out and could only hiccup and sniffle, daddy sat back started talking,

                “I got a call at work that momma was on her way to the hospital in an ambulance, and then doc called me right after to tell me Paulie was there too. So I raced home hoping I’d find ya here. We gotta go to the hospital now, but why don’t ya change into something dry first. Then we’ll be on our way.”

                We got to the hospital early in the afternoon and sat in the waiting room for a long time. Finally doc came out and said Paulie’s leg, which was broke real bad, had been set during surgery, and we could go see him when he woke up. Not long after, another doctor I’d never seen before came out and told us that momma was gonna be alright, but they had to deliver the baby early. He was doing okay too, but the doctor said, “He may not ever be like the rest of the children his age.”

                As the sun was setting, they wheeled Paulie into momma’s room, and baby Tommy was brought in too. The nurse brought Paulie and me chocolate ice cream, and momma and daddy were both real happy that everyone was okay. You could still hear the cicadas buzzing outside the hospital window, but their sound didn’t bother me so much, since I knew everyone was safe. Paulie and I talked about how high he climbed in that tree, and we agreed that chocolate ice cream sure tasted better than lollipops, while we watched baby Tommy sleep in his glass crib.

*****  

The cicadas left soon after that, but we never forgot that summer. Paulie always walked with a limp from then on, and baby Tommy never was like the other kids his age. He was able to take care of himself, and walk and talk some, but he never made it in school. And, after a few years of trying to help him learn his letters and numbers, momma and daddy gave up. The nursey, with only two walls of yellow became baby Tommy’s room, and no one ever did get round to finishing it.

                We all grew up. Paulie, even with his limp, somehow convinced the army that he could be a right good soldier, and they sent him overseas to a place where he had to do a lot a walking. I sent him letters from time to time, and once even got one back from him saying they had bugs over there bigger and louder than cicadas. I was never sure I believed that, but Paulie never made it home to tell us about it. Land mine got him, and all they could bring us back was a helmet and boot with a hole in the toe.

                I stayed in our house, and we raised our family here. Though my children and grandchildren have long moved on, and my husband left the world many years ago, Tommy and I are still here. His bedroom still has two dark brown walls and two sunny yellow ones. I sometimes ask if he wants us to paint the rest of it, but he always says no. I guess there’s no point to finishing it now. It’s what he’s used to and what he likes.

                We’ve had several more seasons of cicadas since that first one, and I’ve gotten right good at frying those critters up for supper.

                They came round again this year, right around Tommy’s birthday. So, tonight, as we sat at our kitchen table chomping away at those deep fried bugs, I told Tommy his favorite story again… about the season of the cicadas, and the day he was born.

[mightyoaksnursery]

Mighty Oaks Day Nursery Ofsted | Play at School

Mighty Oaks Day Nursery Ofsted | Play at school is more than recess. It can be any activity, in the classroom or out, that fascinates the brain. When teachers use play in the curriculum and let children follow their own interests, learning happens. When learning is self-initiated and self-directed that way, it goes deeper and lasts longer.

In The Importance of Play in Promoting Healthy Child Development and Maintaining Strong Parent-Child Bonds (2007), the American Academy of Pediatrics says:

[spinayarnindia]

The Legend of the Wooden Shoe

In years long gone, too many for the almanac to tell of, or for clocks and watches to measure, millions of good fairies came down from the sun and went into the earth. There, they changed themselves into roots and leaves, and became trees. There were many kinds of these, as they covered the earth, but the pine and birch, ash and oak, were the chief ones that made Holland. The fairies that lived in the trees bore the name of Moss Maidens, or Tree “Trintjes,” which is the Dutch pet name for Kate, or Katharine.

The oak was the favorite tree, for people lived then on acorns, which they ate roasted, boiled or mashed, or made into meal, from which something like bread was kneaded and baked. With oak bark, men tanned hides and made leather, and, from its timber, boats and houses. Under its branches, near the trunk, people laid their sick, hoping for help from the gods. Beneath the oak boughs, also, warriors took oaths to be faithful to their lords, women made promises, or wives joined hand in hand around its girth, hoping to have beautiful children. Up among its leafy branches the new babies lay, before they were found in the cradle by the other children. To make a young child grow up to be strong and healthy, mothers drew them through a split sapling or young tree. Even more wonderful, as medicine for the country itself, the oak had power to heal. The new land sometimes suffered from disease called the val (or fall). When sick with the val, the ground sunk. Then people, houses, churches, barns and cattle all went down, out of sight, and were lost forever, in a flood of water.

But the oak, with its mighty roots, held the soil firm. Stories of dead cities, that had tumbled beneath the waves, and of the famous Forest of Reeds, covering a hundred villages, which disappeared in one night, were known only too well.

Under the birch tree, lovers met to plight their vows, and on its smooth bark was often cut the figure of two hearts joined in one. In summer, the forest furnished shade, and in winter warmth from the fire. In the spring time, the new leaves were a wonder, and in autumn the pigs grew fat on the mast, or the acorns, that had dropped on the ground.

So, for thousands of years, when men made their home in the forest, and wanted nothing else, the trees were sacred.

But by and by, when cows came into the land and sheep and horses multiplied, more open ground was needed for pasture, grain fields and meadows. Fruit trees, bearing apples and pears, peaches and cherries, were planted, and grass, wheat, rye and barley were grown. Then, instead of the dark woods, men liked to have their gardens and orchards open to the sunlight. Still, the people were very rude, and all they had on their bare feet were rough bits of hard leather, tied on through their toes; though most of them went barefooted.

The forests had to be cut down. Men were so busy with the axe, that in a few years, the Wood Land was gone. Then the new “Holland,” with its people and red roofed houses, with its chimneys and windmills, and dykes and storks, took the place of the old Holt Land of many trees.

Now there was a good man, a carpenter and very skilful with his tools, who so loved the oak that he gave himself, and his children after him, the name of Eyck, which is pronounced Ike, and is Dutch for oak. When, before his neighbors and friends, according to the beautiful Dutch custom, he called his youngest born child, to lay the corner-stone of his new house, he bestowed upon her, before them all, the name of Neeltje (or Nellie) Van Eyck.

The carpenter daddy continued to mourn over the loss of the forests. He even shed tears, fearing lest, by and by, there should not one oak tree be left in the country. Moreover, he was frightened at the thought that the new land, made by pushing back the ocean and building dykes, might sink down again and go back to the fishes. In such a case, all the people, the babies and their mothers, men, women, horses and cattle, would be drowned. The Dutch folks were a little too fast, he thought, in winning their acres from the sea.

One day, while sitting on his door-step, brooding sorrowfully, a Moss Maiden and a Tree Elf appeared, skipping along, hand in hand. They came up to him and told him that his ancestral oak had a message for him. Then they laughed and ran away. Van Eyck, which was now the man’s full family name, went into the forest and stood under the grand old oak tree, which his fathers loved, and which he would allow none to cut down.

Looking up, the leaves of the tree rustled, and one big branch seemed to sweep near him. Then it whispered in his ear:

“Do not mourn, for your descendants, even many generations hence, shall see greater things than you have witnessed. I and my fellow oak trees shall pass away, but the sunshine shall be spread over the land and make it dry. Then, instead of its falling down, like acorns from the trees, more and better food shall come up from out of the earth. Where green fields now spread, and the cities grow where forests were, we shall come to life again, but in another form. When most needed, we shall furnish you and your children and children’s children, with warmth, comfort, fire, light, and wealth. Nor need you fear for the land, that it will fall; for, even while living, we, and all the oak trees that are left, and all the birch, beech, and pine trees shall stand on our heads for you. We shall hold up your houses, lest they fall into the ooze and you shall walk and run over our heads. As truly as when rooted in the soil, will we do this. Believe what we tell you, and be happy. We shall turn ourselves upside down for you.”

“I cannot see how all these things can be,” said Van Eyck.

“Fear not, my promise will endure.”

The leaves of the branch rustled for another moment. Then, all was still, until the Moss Maiden and Trintje, the Tree Elf, again, hand in hand, as they tripped along merrily, appeared to him.

“We shall help you and get our friends, the elves, to do the same. Now, do you take some oak wood and saw off two pieces, each a foot long. See that they are well dried. Then set them on the kitchen table to-night, when you go to bed.” After saying this, and looking at each other and laughing, just as girls do, they disappeared.

Pondering on what all this might mean, Van Eyck went to his wood-shed and sawed off the oak timber. At night, after his wife had cleared off the supper table, he laid the foot-long pieces in their place.

When Van Eyck woke up in the morning, he recalled his dream, and, before he was dressed, hurried to the kitchen. There, on the table, lay a pair of neatly made wooden shoes. Not a sign of tools, or shavings could be seen, but the clean wood and pleasant odor made him glad. When he glanced again at the wooden shoes, he found them perfectly smooth, both inside and out. They had heels at the bottom and were nicely pointed at the toes, and, altogether, were very inviting to the foot. He tried them on, and found that they fitted him exactly. He tried to walk on the kitchen floor, which his wife kept scrubbed and polished, and then sprinkled with clean white sand, with broomstick ripples scored in the layers, but for Van Eyck it was like walking on ice. After slipping and balancing himself, as if on a tight rope, and nearly breaking his nose against the wall, he took off the wooden shoes, and kept them off, while inside the house. However, when he went outdoors, he found his new shoes very light, pleasant to the feet and easy to walk in. It was not so much like trying to skate, as it had been in the kitchen.

At night, in his dreams, he saw two elves come through the window into the kitchen. One, a kabouter, dark and ugly, had a box of tools. The other, a light-faced elf, seemed to be the guide. The kabouter at once got out his saw, hatchet, auger, long, chisel-like knife, and smoothing plane. At first, the two elves seemed to be quarrelling, as to who should be boss. Then they settled down quietly to work. The kabouter took the wood and shaped it on the outside. Then he hollowed out, from inside of it, a pair of shoes, which the elf smoothed and polished. Then one elf put his little feet in them and tried to dance, but he only slipped on the smooth floor and flattened his nose; but the other fellow pulled the nose straight again, so it was all right. They waltzed together upon the wooden shoes, then took them off, jumped out the window, and ran away.

When Van Eyck put the wooden shoes on, he found that out in the fields, in the mud, and on the soft soil, and in sloppy places, this sort of foot gear was just the thing. They did not sink in the mud and the man’s feet were comfortable, even after hours of labor. They did not “draw” his feet, and they kept out the water far better than leather possibly could.

When the Van Eyck vrouw and the children saw how happy Daddy was, they each one wanted a pair. Then they asked him what he called them.

“Klompen,” said he, in good Dutch, and klompen, or klomps, they are to this day.

“I’ll make a fortune out of this,” said Van Eyck. “I’ll set up a klomp-winkel (shop for wooden shoes) at once.”

So, going out to the blacksmith’s shop, in the village, he had the man who pounded iron fashion for him on his anvil, a set of tools, exactly like those used by the kabouter and the elf, which he had seen in his dream. Then he hung out a sign, marked “Wooden blocks for shoes.” He made klomps for the little folks just out of the nursery, for boys and girls, for grown men and women, and for all who walked out-of-doors, in the street or on the fields.

Soon klomps came to be the fashion in all the country places. It was good manners, when you went into a house, to take off your wooden shoes and leave them at the door. Even in the towns and cities, ladies wore wooden slippers, especially when walking or working in the garden.

Klomps also set the fashion for soft, warm socks, and stockings made from sheep’s wool. Soon, a thousand needles were clicking, to put a soft cushion between one’s soles and toes and the wood. Women knitted, even while they walked to market, or gossiped on the streets. The klomp-winkels, or shops of the shoe carpenters, were seen in every village.

When rich beyond his day-dreams, Van Eyck had another joyful night vision. The next day, he wore a smiling countenance. Everybody, who met him on the street, saluted him and asked, in a neighborly way:

“Good-morning, Mynheer Bly-moe-dig (Mr. Cheerful). How do you sail to-day?”

That’s the way the Dutch talk—not “how do you do,” but, in their watery country, it is this, “How do you sail?” or else, “Hoe gat het u al?” (How goes it with you, already?)

Then Van Eyck told his dream. It was this: The Moss Maiden and Trintje, the wood elf, came to him again at night and danced. They were lively and happy.

“What now?” asked the dreamer, smilingly, of his two visitors.

[Illustration: The kabouter took the wood and shaped it on the inside.]

He had hardly got the question out of his mouth, when in walked a kabouter, all smutty with blacksmith work. In one hand, he grasped his tool box. In the other, he held a curious looking machine. It was a big lump of iron, set in a frame, with ropes to pull it up and let it fall down with a thump.

“What is it?” asked Van Eyck.

“It’s a Hey” (a pile driver), said the kabouter, showing him how to use it. “When men say to you, on the street, to-morrow, ‘How do you sail?’ laugh at them,” said the Moss Maiden, herself laughing.

“Yes, and now you can tell the people how to build cities, with mighty churches with lofty towers, and with high houses like those in other lands. Take the trees, trim the branches off, sharpen the tops, turn them upside down and pound them deep in the ground. Did not the ancient oak promise that the trees would be turned upside down for you? Did they not say you could walk on top of them?”

By this time, Van Eyck had asked so many questions, and kept the elves so long, that the Moss Maiden peeped anxiously through the window. Seeing the day breaking, she and Trintje and the kabouter flew away, so as not to be petrified by the sunrise.

“I’ll make another fortune out of this, also,” said the happy man, who, next morning, was saluted as Mynheer Blyd-schap (Mr. Joyful).

At once, Van Eyck set up a factory for making pile drivers. Sending men into the woods, who chose the tall, straight trees, he had their branches cut off. Then he sharpened the trunks at one end, and these were driven, by the pile driver, down, far and deep, into the ground. So a foundation, as good as stone, was made in the soft and spongy soil, and well built houses uprose by the thousands. Even the lofty walls of churches stood firm. The spires were unshaken in the storm.

Old Holland had not fertile soil like France, or vast flocks of sheep, producing wool, like England, or armies of weavers, as in the Belgic lands. Yet, soon there rose large cities, with splendid mansions and town halls. As high towards heaven as the cathedrals and towers in other lands, which had rock for foundation, her brick churches rose in the air. On top of the forest trees, driven deep into the sand and clay, dams and dykes were built, that kept out the ocean. So, instead of the old two thousand square miles, there were, in the realm, in the course of years, twelve thousand, rich in green fields and cattle. Then, for all the boys and girls that travel in this land of quaint customs, Holland was a delight.

[blackpjensen]

WNLA’s 100th Anniversary Honored With Proclamation From Governor: This Week’s Industry News

Want to keep up with the latest news in lawn care and landscaping? Check back every Thursday for a quick recap of recent happenings in the green industry.

Governor Issues Proclamation Honoring WNLA’s 100th Anniversary Commemorating its 100th Anniversary, Governor Scott Walker issued a State of Wisconsin Gubernatorial Proclamation on January 3, 2018 officially declaring it as Wisconsin Nursery & Landscape Association Day (WNLA). Governor Walker presented the Proclamation to WNLA President Ross Swartz in a ceremony at the State Capitol in Madison, Wisconsin. Also on hand were WNLA Board members and officers, Executive Director Brian Swingle, Representative Paul Tittl of Wisconsin’s 25th Assembly District, and Representative Amy Loudenbeck of the 31st Assembly District. The Proclamation recognizes the economic impact of WNLA and acknowledges the environmental and social impact of nursery plants and landscaping, mentioning the benefits of erosion control, noise abatement, water filtration and purification, air quality improvement, oxygen production, energy savings, community beautification and pride, plus the advantage to wildlife and pollinators that a robust landscape provides. The Wisconsin Nursery and Landscape Association serves the Green industry and its 225 members, which include growers, landscapers, and industry suppliers. WNLA is celebrating its 100th Anniversary with events in 2018.

MGIX Kicks Off January 15 with Powerhouse Lineup The Ohio Nursery and Landscape Association’s regional conference, Midwest Green Industry Experience (MGIX) takes place January 15-17 at the Columbus Convention Center. Featured presenters include Marty Grunder (Attain, Train, Retain and Entertain a Modern Day Green Industry Workforce), Jeffrey Scott (Nine Proven Profit Strategies for Tree Lawn and Landscape Contractors). In addition to business education, the MGIX is loaded with courses on pruning, plant maintenance, identifying weeds and planning pest management strategies. It also includes a State of the Industry report by Craig Regelbrugge, AmericanHort.

Portland’s New Pesticide Ban Expected to be Costly Beginning July 1, 2019, residents and city workers will no longer be able to freely use synthetic pesticides in Maine’s largest city, except in a few limited cases, reports the Portland Press Herald. The City Council on January 3 unanimously passed an ordinance regulating pesticide use in Portland. Advocates say it’s one of strongest anti-pesticide ordinances in the country, with scofflaws facing potential fines ranging from $100 to $500. Portland will start using organic pesticides on all city-owned properties beginning this summer. The only exempt properties will be Hadlock Field, Riverside Golf Course and five high-use athletic fields that remain exempt until 2021. City staff estimates that the ordinance could cost up to $700,000 to implement. Those costs would cover new employees, equipment and up to a $250,000 set-aside to replace the turf on athletic fields.

WaterSmart Innovations Conference Issues Call for Abstracts Experts in the field of urban water efficiency are invited to submit abstracts for the 11th annual WaterSmart Innovations Conference and Exposition (WSI), slated for October 3-5 in Las Vegas. Abstracts must be submitted to speakers no later than Monday, February 26. Professionals, scientists, government employees, organizations, public and private institutions, policy makers, students and all others working in an industry related to water efficiency are invited to submit an abstract for an oral presentation, panel discussion or workshop. A complete list of topics and submittal guidelines is available at the WSI website. Candidates chosen as presenters will be notified by email and postal mail no later than Monday, April 30.

Industry Consultant Dan Pestretto Forming Peer Groups Landscape business consultant/coach Dan Pestretto is forming “Mastermind Peer Groups” focused on helping owners build businesses that work for them. The groups will be based on honesty, accountability and the sharing of diverse perspectives in a safe haven of confidentiality. Group members will learn how to implement the “Seven Step Business Systemization” plan along with developing a complete operations manual specific to their own company and brand. Pestretto says affordable groups (no more than six members each) are being formed for different revenue-range companies, including companies of $500,000.

CASE Announces “Kickstart” Landscape Business Development Contest CASE Construction Equipment is now accepting entries for the CASE Kickstart Contest, a business development contest where landscaping contractors can win a suite of prizes designed to take their company to the next level. Business owners are encouraged to enter the contest online by answering basic questions about their operation, and describing how they would evolve their services by winning the contest. The deadline for entry is March 30, 2018

Six Landscape Pros Earn Jeffrey Scott’s 2017 Mighty Oak Awards Six outstanding lawn and landscape companies earned business consultant and author Jeffrey Scott’s 2017 Mighty Oak, based on their performance as a business leaders. Scott announced the awards at his Leader’s Edge peer group meetings. The award winners: Seth Kehne, The Lawn Butler, Knoxville, Tenn.; Loriana Harrington Beautiful Blooms Landscape & Design, Menomonee Falls, Wis.; Douglas McIntosh, McIntosh Grounds Maintenance, Milan, Mich.; Bob Drost, Drost Landscape, Petoskey, Mich.; Sean Baxter, Lawn & Landscape Solutions, Olathe, Kan.; and Chris Cotoia, Executive Landscaping, South Yarmouth, Ma.

Website Launch for Drought Tolerant TamStar St. Augustinegrass TamStar St. Augustine is a new drought tolerant, low water use grass developed by turfgrass breeders at Texas A&M University. A new website dedicated to TamStar at tamstargrass.com, was launched recently by the Turfgrass Producers of Texas to serve as a resource for industry professionals and homeowners. The site offers research and information about TamStar’s benefits, installation, maintenance and where to purchase this scientifically advanced sod. TamStar St. Augustine is the result of more than a decade of  research at Texas A&M AgriLife Research and Extension Center in Dallas. It was bred to stand up to drought and specifically meet the demands of commercial and residential lawns and landscapes in Texas.

LiveWall Installed To Bring Comapny’s Corporate Values To Life Applied Imaging installed a 198-square-foot LiveWall Living Wall as the main design element in the lobby of its new corporate headquarters in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Applied Imaging is an independently owned provider of document imaging technology and managed IT and network services. LiveWall is the developer and supplier of the green industry’s most sustainable, durable and low-maintenance living wall system. The 198-square-foot living wall is 9 feet tall and 22 feet long. In total, it includes 98 LiveWall modular planters, which contain inserts that hold the growing medium and a mix of six different tropical plants, chosen for their ability to thrive indoors. The integrated irrigation components use drip stake assemblies, which inject water into the growing medium. The light fixtures above the green wall use LiveWall Norb (Nutri-Orb) bulbs, a specialized white-light LED grow bulb that provides the light spectrum and light nutrition plants need while giving off a white light like regular indoor lighting.

Greenworks Commercial And Carswell Establish Partnership Greenworks Commercial, producers of battery-powered outdoor equipment for landscaping and turf management professionals, and Carswell Distributing Company have announced an exclusive partnership to benefit independent lawn and landscape dealers throughout 13 southern states. Through the arrangement, Carswell and Carswell OEI will provide distribution, logistics, service and sales support for both the Greenworks Commercial 82-Volt line of tools and the newly launched Greenworks Elite 40-Volt line of tools, among independent dealers in Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Louisiana, Arkansas, Tennessee, Oklahoma, Texas and Missouri.

Ruppert Landscape Announces New Branch in Southern Richmond Ruppert Landscape has expanded its Virginia landscape management operations to include a new branch in southern Richmond. This branch joins four existing landscape management branch offices in Virginia located in northern Richmond, Gainesville, Alexandria, and Fredericksburg. Dave Sharry has been promoted to branch manager and tasked with overseeing the new branch. As branch manager, he will be responsible for the overall welfare of the branch, including the safety and development of his team, strategic planning and budgeting, training, and day-to-day operations.

Douglas Dynamics’ Doug Clark Receives Certified Snow Professional Designation Douglas Dynamics LLC, has announced that Doug Clark, product manager for Western Products, has earned his Certified Snow Professional (CSP) designation from the Snow and Ice Management Association (SIMA). Clark joins fellow Douglas Dynamics CSP employees, including Andy McArdle, director of product marketing for Douglas Dynamics, and Daniel Gilliland, training manager for SnowEx. SIMA’s Certified Snow Professional certification was developed for owners, operators, and executives within the snow and ice industry. It focuses on the critical elements of running a professional snow business and recognizes a level of service, quality and value to customers.

The post WNLA’s 100th Anniversary Honored With Proclamation From Governor: This Week’s Industry News appeared first on Turf.

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[turfandlawncare]

The Little Greenhouse That Could by Allen Bush

The little greenhouse in 1980.

My first greenhouse was neither big nor fancy. Built in 1980, the 14’ X 32’ hoop house—small by commercial greenhouse standards—became my plant propagation house for the next 15 years. I spent a lot of time in the little greenhouse at Holbrook Farm and Nursery near Mills River, NC. It was a quiet hideaway from the workaday world—a sanctuary for solitude and fecundity.

The greenhouse survived blizzards, heavy winds and even a fire. We propagated thousands of perennials and woody plants by seeds, top cuttings and more labor-intensive root cuttings.

Good fortune saved the structure when I closed the nursery in 1995. The little greenhouse might have ended up on the scrap heap, but my friends Heather Spencer and Charles Murray dismantled the bows, purlins, heater, fans and mist unit and drove it home to Asheville. Heather and Charles are passionate gardeners.

Charles Murray and Heather Spencer drive away from Holbrook Farm with a load of plants in 1990.

I had recurring dreams back then that revealed the precariousness of my little greenhouse and the life of the nursery itself. I would awaken to find that there was no sign of the propagation house. Everything had vanished in the wind. Not just blown down, during the night, but blown to the yonder reaches of who knows where. There was not a shred of evidence that a nursery had ever existed. No hoop houses, no plant containers, no gravel—nothing but green fields.

Once the panic eased, I would realize the nursery I had built was once again the bucolic hayfield I had first fallen in love with in the fall of 1979.

There are few traces of the nursery, now, but memories of old friends remain. The swamp white oak, Quercus bicolor, the first tree I planted in 1979 is now a respectable 43-years old. The mighty oak was started from acorns gathered across the street from my Louisville childhood home.

Jeremias Ramirez on the site of the original little greenhouse on December 4, 2017.

Jeremias and Alicia Ramirez now own the 19-acre farm. Jeremias had worked at the nursery back in the day. He was a veteran of the propagation house.

The Holbrook Farm propagation house.

I was happy to find the native bottle gentian, Gentiana saponaria, while I was visiting the Ramirezes last month. It had been growing near the farm’s rock garden and pond for over 25 years. Jeremias gave me seeds to plant in Kentucky.

Gentiana saponaria in the Ramirez garden on October 21, 2010.

Jeremias and Alicia have planted dozens of trees all over the 19-acre farm. My worrisome dream came wrapped with a happy ending. The farm is loved more than ever.

Heather Spencer and Charles Murray garden in East Asheville. I’ve returned often for visits. Their garden keeps expanding. I can’t remember any garden walk-around that was as interesting as the three hours I spent there this past December. They passed in the blink of an eye, though it was a pokey, stop-and-go stroll. We told story after story. And, of course, there were plants, lots of beautiful plants.

Cloud forest maple, Acer skutchii, on December 4, 2017.

Heather has been focused on perennials for many years but is leaning now toward trees and shrubs. Oak leaf hydrangeas are planted extensively along one of their many woodland paths. Farther along, I didn’t recognize Davidia involucrata. The dove tree had shed its leaves a few weeks before and was loaded with seeds. I picked a handful. Acer skutchii, the rare Mexican cloud forest maple, was in glorious late, fall color. It’s just one of many rare maples scattered around their 16-acre property. Charles, among many other things, is a maple expert.

Heather Spencer and Charles Murray on December 4, 2017.

I kept seeing plants that I’d once sold at Holbrook Farm, where Heather and Charles had been good customers. Arabis procurrens, Kniphofia ‘Paramentier, Indigofera decora forma alba, Sedum ‘John Creech’ and Geranium macrorrhizum ‘Ingerwersen’s Variety’ have spread their wings. I loved seeing my babies again.

The Spencer-Murray Little Greenhouse That Could.

The little greenhouse exhaust fan is rusty but is still functioning. The mist line is triggered, every few minutes, by the original time clock. The fine mist cools off top cuttings of hydrangeas, Acuba, Illicium, Cephalotaxus and Taxus. The mist line also gets a workout from Charles’s grafts of Japanese maples.

Seeds of columbines and lobelias had recently been sown. Crocosmia corms are temporarily stored nearby in five-gallon plastic pots, waiting to be potted for a spring garden club sale. Tender agaves were protected for spring replanting.

We walked out of the little greenhouse. I stopped two or three times to turn back and take a look at my old friend.

          The Little Greenhouse That Could originally appeared on Garden Rant on January 11, 2018.

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[mightyoaksnursery]

Be a Fit Kids | Mighty Oaks Day Nursery Ofsted

Mighty Oaks Day Nursery Ofsted | There’s a lot of talk these days about fit kids. People who care (parents, doctors, teachers, and others) want to know how to help kids be more fit.Being fit is a way of saying a person eats well, gets a lot of physical activity (exercise), and has a healthy weight. If you’re fit, your body works well, feels good, and can do all the things you want to do, like run around with your friends.