#National Backyard Day

[rabbitcruiser]

National Backyard Day

National Backyard Day falls on March 19 and on this day we celebrate, embrace, and enjoy our backyards. Whether right behind your home or in a neighborhood park, backyards are a place for relaxation, happiness, and freedom. Gardening, cookouts, scavenger hunts, backyard camping, taking a nap, and homemade obstacle courses are a few of the creative ways that people use their backyards. These green spaces provide solace and creativity that is much needed in today’s busy pace of life. National Backyard Day is marked in celebration of the special backyard memories we share with friends and family all year round.

History of National Backyard Day

For many years, American backyards were purely functional. They were mainly used for gardening since there were few corner stores and market produce. However, after World War II, people had more disposable income and migrated to the suburbs. This brought about a significant transformation in the treatment of backyards. People focused more on the aesthetic appeal of these spaces and introduced ornamental plants and garden features.

Also, there was a surplus of materials such as aluminum and concrete, meaning that it was affordable to build patios, pools, and lawn furniture. The backyard grew into a place for leisure and entertaining guests and became an extension of the living space.

The establishment of Earth Day in 1970 renewed people’s interest in growing produce at home. Landscapers started mingling vegetables and fruits with ornamentals in formal garden designs, and “edible landscaping” became increasingly popular. Urban community gardens became more widespread and people picked up an interest in organic gardening once more.

Similar to the dooryard gardens of early America, today’s home gardens contain edible plants and herbs. People also include flowers and native plants to add interest to these utility spaces in distinctly American ways.

ZYRTEC®, a brand that makes oral antihistamines, has always believed in the power of the backyard. On the anniversary of backyards becoming the nearest green space of escape, ZYRTEC® officially designated March 19, 2021, as the first National Backyard Day.

National Backyard Day timeline

1700s

Home Gardening Begins in America

American colonists rely on productive home gardens for food crops and medicinal herbs.

Early 1900s

Changes in Gardening

Interest in edible gardening drops as jobs draw Americans to urban areas.

Late 1900s

Back to Their Roots

Edible gardens make a comeback as Americans become more health-conscious and desire more fresh, local food.

2009

A Presidential Garden

The White House plants its first vegetable garden since WWII.

National Backyard Day FAQs

When is the best time to water my backyard plants?

In the evening or early in the morning works best since the soil is cooler and less water will evaporate than during the heat of the day.

Why is home gardening important?

It contributes immensely to daily food needs.

What seeds sprout the fastest?

Radishes, melon, and squash plants. For flowers, consider zinnias or marigolds.

National Backyard Day Activities

Sit in your backyard: Take some time to relax and unplug. Leave your phone in the house, lay on a lawn chair, and enjoy the sights and sounds in your backyard.

Invite others: Invite your friends to spend time with you in your backyard. It could be something as simple as catching up over a few drinks, or more elaborate like an afternoon of barbequing.

Tend to your backyard: Inspect your yard to see if any weeds need pulling or if there are flowers that may have been neglected. Giving your backyard some tender loving care on this day will benefit both you and the garden.

5 Unknown Facts About Backyard Gardens

Flowers as clocks: The naturalist Carolus Linnaeus discovered that certain plants/ flowers opened at specific times of the day, such as Hawk’s Beard at 6:30 A.M., Hawkbit at seven A.M., and the Ice Plant at 11 A.M.

More than gold: The tulip flower was once worth more than gold, especially, the white variety.

Rich backyard soil: Studies show that there are more microorganisms in one teaspoon of soil than there are people on earth.

Plants have ears: Research has shown that vibration (like music or the sound of your voice) can affect plant growth.

Sweet tomato recipe: Regularly sprinkling baking soda into your tomato plant's soil can help reduce acidity which makes the tomato crop sweeter.

Why We Love National Backyard Day

It’s a day to relax: It's so easy to get caught up in life's busy pace. But on National Backyard Day, we get into chill mode as we unwind in these havens of serenity.

We get together with loved ones: Good things are always better when shared. National Backyard Day gives us a chance to bond and relax with our loved ones.

We connect with nature: Backyards have so much beauty that we often overlook. On National Backyard Day, we slow down and enjoy the smells, sights, sounds, tastes, and textures in nature.

Source

[ostdrossel]

It’s National Bird Day, and what better way to celebrate than with a lovely bunch of the current regulars? These were all taken over the holidays when we had a nice amount of snow. I would love to see as much of the US as I can but I am always happy I ended up in Michigan because we get all four seasons here, and it is such a great spot for wildlife, nature and birds. The variety we are getting to see here at any season is quite astonishing and can truly help to survive bad moods and dark times.

(Bird names on photo ALT)

[motordyk]

oh. the difference between a million and a billion is 10 more 1 millions.

so you take the 1 million you already have (1,000,000) and then add ten more 1 millions To That 1,000,000

1,000,000 - 1 M 1,000,000 - 2 M 1,000,000 - 3 M 1,000,000 - 4 M 1,000,000 - 5 M 1,000,000 - 6 M 1,000,000 - 7 M 1,000,000 - 8 M 1,000,000 - 9 M _____________

10,000,000 - 10 M

.

ok my bad. you actually have to add 100 more of those to get to a billion

oh wait no thats 100 M

so now you have to add another 10 Million On Top of That 100 Million that you already have.

and THEN you get One Billion.

you are no longer rich. i think youre just a fucking monster. all that money that you have in real life and you are doing nothing with it. you are going to die and you should die. does the us government even have that much

oh wait they do. and they were going to sell TWICE that amount, ALL OF IT, just to kill some random ass people. why. you deserve to get robbed and if you die trying to stop them that is on you. i cannot actually think of any good reason for you to have that much money and just let it go to waste by putting it in a corner somewhere. you are actually mentally ill and you need help. no wonder theres a cap in other countries on how much money you can own. holy shit

[inthecityofgoodabode]

November 2024: National Day Of Mourning & Surrounding Days

My queen harvested some of our ginger this week:

Prepping the butternut squash for my dish:

The blossoms on the Scarlet basil were gorgeous. I'm glad I took this photo Thursday because the frost in the small hours Friday morning damaged them pretty bad:

Thursday dinner - turkey, dressing, corn on the cob, asparagus, cranberry sauce & roasted butternut squash with Za'atar & pomegranate molasses (I found the recipe here):

My queen & I don't make desserts but this year she made a sweet potato pie that was delicious. That is homemade whipped cream on top:

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

happy fourth of july :)

[crow-ooc]

GOING INSANE

[rjptalk]

Decoration Day

Decoration Day, the Origins and Meaning of #MemorialDay #holiday #CivilWar

Some of the stories below have been told here before.  I thought it was a good time to share them again.    What bugs me most about our national holidays is that few people know what they are really about. It seems that we take it as some sort of extra vacation day and that we should all go out and have a party somewhere. The only exception to this might be Thanksgiving Day which remains on the…

[kxsagi]

What if (Sae, Rin, Isagi, Michael, Barou, Reo)'s son joined the soccer team, but they couldn't help but notice after a few days that he looked down and upset, whenever they asked about it, he brushed it off and said it's fine.

Then, at some point he finally confessed that it's because of his soccer team, they find out that he related to them, at this moment team started to disrespect him, because they thought he got into their team, not because of his skills, but because of connections, no matter hard he tried to explain, they won't believe him. Son isn't angry or resentful at them, but it became hard to play and enjoy soccer for him because of his team.

(Note: I am sure that none of them would let their children do that, because in their eyes, it means not taking soccer seriously)

“𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐦”

a/n: thank you for your patience love, i'm sorry this took a while!

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, barou shoei, and mikage reo

itoshi sae

you notice the quiet first – your son coming home, leaving his cleats by the door, and barely touching his dinner. sae’s not a big talker, but even he knows something’s off. 

the second he hears “it’s nothing,” sae calls bullshit. not out loud, he just stares, blankly, waiting. "then why aren’t you playing like you used to?" 

when his son finally admits the team thinks he’s only there because of his last name, sae just sighs. not angry. just disappointed in the world. 

“if you were actually bad at soccer, i’d be the first to say it.” that’s his idea of comfort. 

tells his son to lace up. they’re heading to the pitch. 

doesn’t go to the school. doesn’t talk to the coach. no politics. he trains his kid into a weapon instead. 

“you don’t explain your worth. you show it. make them shut up with goals.” 

suddenly, his son is playing like he's got something to prove. and sae watches from the sidelines, arms crossed, proud but still unimpressed. 

itoshi rin

rin sees it all – withdrawn posture, missed kicks in the backyard, excuses about “homework.” 

he tries asking nicely once. just once. 

“you’re acting weird. what’s going on?” 

when his son finally explains, rin's entire face goes cold. “you didn’t get in because of me. you got in because you’re good.” 

then comes the rant. cold and controlled, but furious. “they think i give a crap about getting you on a national junior team? i wouldn’t waste my time. you earned this. and they know it, that’s why they’re mad.” 

teaches his kid how to mentally block out noise like it’s defense training. 

also, totally corners the coach after practice. doesn’t even raise his voice, just says in a low tone, “fix your team culture. or i’ll make sure you’re replaced.” 

his son eventually starts scoring again. 

rin watches from afar, silently smug. he may not say “i’m proud,” but his son can feel it. 

isagi yoichi

isagi’s crushed. like. emotionally devastated when he realizes his son is hurting because of soccer. 

“wait, what? they said what?” 

he’s ready to go talk to the team directly like a cool dad, but your son stops him. “please don’t make it worse.” 

cue isagi smiling tightly and walking it off, only to immediately text his old blue lock crew: “do you think it’s crazy if i show up at my kid’s school and humble 12-year-olds and their coach?” 

instead, he decides to help his son with tactics. starts playing mock defense like a jerk during backyard practice. 

“they think you’re carried? okay, let’s show them what you can do with your own eyes.” 

breaks down footage. sets drills. it’s a little overboard. 

eventually his son gets his confidence back and even nutmegs one of his teammates. 

isagi screams. from the parking lot. 

kaiser michael

“are those brats seriously saying you got in because of me?” 

kaiser laughs. like full-on laughs. it’s not mean, but it is dramatic. “you’re my son. you were born with god-tier genetics.” 

when he realizes his son isn’t comforted by jokes, the mood shifts fast. 

he crouches down and looks him in the eye. “you don’t need to prove your last name. just prove that you’re you.” 

makes the entire recovery process a game. "for every goal you score, i’ll buy you one thing off your wish list.” 

also probably bribes the worst junior teammate with fake autographs to make him cry. “oops, i wrote ‘to my #1 fan’ on the card. tragic.” 

his son gets cocky again. and for kaiser, that’s all that matters. 

eventually shows up to practice in sunglasses like, “just here to watch my son humiliate your starting lineup. no shade.” 

barou shoei

furious. not just annoyed. pissed. like, kicking-a-water-bottle-at-the-wall level. 

“you’re my kid. don’t walk around with your head down like some wannabe. act like a damn king.” 

barou doesn’t do “gentle.” he does “tough love with protein shakes.” 

wakes his son up at 5 AM to train. adds weights. 

“they think you got in through me? fine. crush them. make them beg to be your teammate.” 

doesn’t let his son quit, not because he doesn’t care, but because quitting means letting other people define your worth. 

by the time his son returns to the team, he’s faster, stronger, and has developed a borderline terrifying goal celebration. 

barou watches silently from the car, smirking. that’s my boy. 

mikage reo

reo sits his son down and talks to him like an equal. 

“i get it. when you have money, people assume everything’s handed to you. same thing happens to me.” 

he’s soft at first. he listens. nods. hugs him. says “i’m proud of you for telling me.” 

but when he hears the full story, oh. the switch flips. 

“you’re not gonna let them ruin this for you. we’re mikages. we earn our wins.” 

hires a private coach to help his son sharpen his game. also casually donates new uniforms to the team anonymously, just to flex. 

gives a speech at the next parent meeting that’s basically: “nepotism doesn’t score goals. your sons are just salty.” 

his kid scores a hat trick next game. reo’s clapping obnoxiously loud from the stands. 

“who’s the nepotism baby now?” he says under his breath, sipping sparkling water. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[holyblonded]

putellas vs. putellas | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader

summary: usa and spain play each in a friendly, making it the battles of the putellas

warnings: none

notes: enjoy! i also think this was requested but i can’t find it

You sit in the locker room, legs crossed and eyes closed, breathing steadily as the music pulses through your Beats headphones. You’ve been in this position for nearly half an hour, unmoving and silent, a sharp contrast to your usual chaotic energy. The tension is electric. You’ve been counting down the days to this game, but now that it’s here, you’re trying to keep yourself grounded. You can’t afford to lose focus. Because today, you’re facing Spain. And not just Spain. You’re facing Alexia.

Your jaw tightens. You’ve gone against her before, in practice, in pickup games at the park, even in one-on-one battles in your backyard. But this is different. This is for real. On the world stage, with fans watching and commentators ready to analyze every move. It’s Putellas versus Putellas.

Your stomach twists. You know how she plays. You’ve studied her since you were a kid. You’ve learned from her. Hell, you probably mirror her more than you care to admit. Which means she knows exactly what to expect from you too.

“Wow,” Alex Morgan says, leaning against her locker and staring at you. “I’ve never seen her this quiet.”

Megan Rapinoe slips on her jersey, raising an eyebrow. “I know. It’s unsettling.”

“She’s in the zone,” Crystal Dunn observes. “Leave her alone.”

Tobin Heath chuckles from across the room, watching you with curious eyes. “Apparently she’s been playing with some of them since she was a kid.” She jerks her chin towards Emily Sonnett, who’s standing awkwardly in front of you, waving a hand to get your attention. You don’t budge.

“Hey, Estrella!” Emily calls out, voice cheerful. “You good?”

You don’t even blink.

“Wow,” Emily mutters, shaking her head. “She really is ignoring me.”

“It’s weird,” Megan comments, eyes wide. “She usually never shuts up.”

You take a deep breath, the music in your ears pounding rhythmically, blocking out the noise of the locker room. You’re in your own world, visualizing the game, running through scenarios in your head. You’re going to mark Alexia. You’re going to defend against her, attack her, beat her. Because for ninety minutes, she isn’t your family, she’s not your mother. She’s your opponent.

The tunnel buzzes with energy as you step onto the pitch, shoulders squared, face set. The Spanish national anthem plays, and you sneak a glance down the line. Alexia stands tall, hand over her heart, eyes fixed straight ahead. A chill runs down your spine.

She looks different. Not the warm, caring Alexia from home. Not the one who nags you to clean your room or sneaks extra food onto your plate when she thinks you haven’t eaten enough. This Alexia is cold, focused, every bit the captain and legend the world sees her as.

Your chest tightens, but you refuse to let it shake you. The whistle blows. The game begins.

The first time you encounter her, it’s in midfield. You step up to intercept a pass, only for her to sidestep with effortless grace, flicking the ball past you like it’s nothing. You spin around, chasing after her, teeth clenched. She’s fast, faster than you anticipated.

She glances over her shoulder, smirking. “Too slow, Estrelleta.”

Your blood boils as you double your efforts, pressing hard every time she gets the ball. She spins away, shielding it like she’s done a thousand times in your backyard battles. But this isn’t home, and you aren’t backing down.

You shoulder into her, disrupting her balance just enough. She stumbles, and you steal the ball, sprinting down the field.

She’s fast, but you’re faster. You hear her footsteps behind you, feel her breath on your neck as she tries to close the gap. You drop your shoulder, feint right before cutting left, leaving her a step behind. The crowd erupts as you whip a cross into the box, inches from Cata’s head.

Alexia glares at you, eyes blazing. “Really?”

You grin, cocky. “What? Can’t keep up, vieja?”

Her jaw drops and you take the opportunity to bolt down the field before she can retaliate.

The game is brutal. Every time you touch the ball, she’s there: marking you, blocking your path, using every trick in the book to throw you off balance. You shove back just as hard, elbows digging in, shoulders colliding. Neither of you hold back, each challenge fiercer than the last.

You swipe the ball from her again, twisting sharply, but she’s on you like glue. No passing lanes. Nowhere to go. You struggle for control, twisting and turning, and then she leans in, voice low and smug. “You’re predictable.”

Your vision goes red. “Shut up.”

She laughs, and you can hear the satisfaction in it.

You dig in, using your body to shield the ball. And then, with a quick backheel nutmeg, you slip the ball through her legs. She freezes and the US bench erupts.

Sonnet’s cackling reaches you over the chaos. “OH MY GOD, SHE JUST DID THAT TO HER OWN MOM!”

Alexia recovers fast, chasing after you, her voice sharp. “That was dirty.”

“You’re just mad I got you.”

She shoves you as she runs by, not enough to foul, but enough to make her point. You laugh, knowing you’ve gotten under her skin.

The game is a war of attrition. You get fouled, hard, and before you can even react, Alexia is towering over you, hands on her hips. “Get up.”

You smirk. “Worried about me?”

“Not even a little.”

When she falls, you stand over her, offering a hand. She slaps it away, getting up on her own.

“Nice try.”

You laugh. “Still stubborn, huh?”

“You’d know.”

The match drags on, intensity never dropping. With ten minutes left, Spain equalizes, and you curse under your breath. 2-2.

You and Alexia battle until the very last second, neither willing to concede an inch. The final whistle blows. A draw.

You’re drenched in sweat, bruised, exhausted. You turn to Alexia, expecting a glare, but instead, she walks over and slings an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Good game, Estrelleta.”

You roll your eyes, shoving her off. “I hate you.”

She laughs, ruffling your hair. “Sure you do.”

Tobin jogs over, shaking her head. “That was insane. You two are menaces.”

Alexia grins, eyes softening. “She’s worse.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, she pulls you into a hug, tight and warm.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispers, voice quiet against the noise of the stadium.

Your chest tightens, the fire in your belly fading.

“I’m proud of you too,” you mumble into her shoulder.

Alexia guides you towards the stands, neither of you say anything, just exchanging a glance before scanning the crowd for the three people you know will be waiting.

Eli stands near the barrier, wearing a jersey, stitched perfectly down the middle. One side is the deep red of Spain, ”PUTE” written on it and part of the number eleven proudly displayed. The other is white, “LLAS” on the top and the rest of eleven emblazoned across it. It’s ridiculous, it’s dramatic, and it’s so Eli.

You grin. “Dios mío, you actually wore it.”

“I had to,” she sniffs, eyes suspiciously shiny as she tugs it tighter around herself. “My girls, both of you, playing on this stage, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime moment.”

Alexia sighs, shaking her head. “You’re getting sentimental.”

“Of course I’m getting sentimental!” Eli huffs, grabbing Alexia’s face with both hands, ignoring her protests as she presses a loud kiss to her forehead. “My little alegría captaining Spain! And you—” She turns to you next, gripping your face just as tightly. “My estrella, playing like you were born for this.”

You groan but lean into it anyway. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Alba and Olga stand just behind her, both of them grinning. Olga crosses her arms, nodding toward Alexia. “You got cooked by a teenager, mi amor.”

Alexia scowls. “I did not—”

“Nutmegged,” Alba chimes in, biting back a smirk.

“That was one time!”

You preen, puffing your chest. “And I’ll never let you forget it.”

Alexia turns to Eli, desperate for backup, but Eli just sighs dramatically, wiping at her eyes. “I don’t even care about the score,” she says, voice thick with emotion. “Seeing you two out there, fighting, giving everything, I am just so, so proud.”

You glance at Alexia, expecting another eye roll, but she just nods, quietly accepting the words.

Eli pulls both of you into a crushing hug, and for once, neither of you resist.

You’re barely settled in your chair when Alexia, sitting beside you, nudges you with her knee.

“Try not to embarrass yourself,” she murmurs, just low enough for you to hear.

You scoff. “That’s your job.”

The interviewer, clearly amused by the dynamic already, starts with the obvious question. “Estrella, this was your first time facing Alexia on the international stage. What was that experience like?”

You lean forward, resting an elbow on the table. “Terrifying. She’s so serious when she plays, I thought she was gonna disown me on the spot.”

Alexia rolls her eyes. “That almost happened after you nutmegged me.”

“Nutmegged?” The interviewer’s eyebrows shoot up, and you grin as Alexia groans.

“Oh yeah,” you say smugly. “Clean through the legs. The bench was losing it.”

Alexia shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can’t believe I have to deal with this publicly now.”

The interviewer laughs. “Alexia, what was it like playing against someone you’ve practically raised?”

Alexia exhales, glancing at you before answering. “It was… strange. I’ve seen her grow up, seen her train, so I knew she was good. But today, I realized just how good she is.” She pauses, then smirks. “Still reckless, though.”

“Reckless?” you echo, affronted. “You fouled me like five times!”

“You were running straight at me like a bull! What was I supposed to do?”

The interviewer can barely contain their laughter. “It was a very physical game between you two.”

You cross your arms, mock-offended. “She’s mean.”

Alexia scoffs. “And you called me vieja on live television.”

“Can I plead the fifth?”

“This isn’t America.”

The interviewer shakes their head, thoroughly entertained. “Final question, what was said between you two after the game?”

Alexia glances at you, something softer in her gaze now. “I told her I was proud.”

You clear your throat, suddenly feeling warm under the attention. “And I said the same.”

For a moment, the playful banter is gone, replaced by something genuine, something real.

The interviewer smiles. “That’s beautiful.”

Then Alexia turns to you. “But I’m getting you back for that nutmeg.”

“Oh you wish.”

[percyjackson-post]

Riordanverse Characters but it’s cursed things I did as a child: Part 1

Part 2

Percy Jackson: Deciding at age 5 that I could suddenly swim and attempting to show this by jumping into a pool only to immediately start drowning

Annabeth Chase: Punching a boy in the gut as a kindergartener because he stepped on my foot so he could take the book I wanted from the bookshelf

Leo Valdez: Being told as a kid to go and check if the grill was still hot and pressing my full hand onto the metal to check. It was indeed still hot.

Jason Grace: Kicking out not one but TWO pool lights out of their sockets on separate occasions and managing to give myself and two other people minor electrical shocks

Piper McLean: Hiding under a table and using children's safety scissors to give myself bangs…twice

Hazel Levesque: Stealing a concerning amount of shiny rocks from multiple national parks. Not that I would do that since it’s a crime.

Frank Zhang: Attempting to pet a wild bear in my backyard and getting way closer than a 4-year-old should be to a wild animal before being stopped. 

Will Solace: Managing to sprain my neck in a bounce house and choosing to tell nobody about it for over 2 days

[rabbitcruiser]

National Backyard Day

National Backyard Day falls on March 19 and on this day we celebrate, embrace, and enjoy our backyards. Whether right behind your home or in a neighborhood park, backyards are a place for relaxation, happiness, and freedom. Gardening, cookouts, scavenger hunts, backyard camping, taking a nap, and homemade obstacle courses are a few of the creative ways that people use their backyards. These green spaces provide solace and creativity that is much needed in today’s busy pace of life. National Backyard Day is marked in celebration of the special backyard memories we share with friends and family all year round.

History of National Backyard Day

For many years, American backyards were purely functional. They were mainly used for gardening since there were few corner stores and market produce. However, after World War II, people had more disposable income and migrated to the suburbs. This brought about a significant transformation in the treatment of backyards. People focused more on the aesthetic appeal of these spaces and introduced ornamental plants and garden features.

Also, there was a surplus of materials such as aluminum and concrete, meaning that it was affordable to build patios, pools, and lawn furniture. The backyard grew into a place for leisure and entertaining guests and became an extension of the living space.

The establishment of Earth Day in 1970 renewed people’s interest in growing produce at home. Landscapers started mingling vegetables and fruits with ornamentals in formal garden designs, and “edible landscaping” became increasingly popular. Urban community gardens became more widespread and people picked up an interest in organic gardening once more.

Similar to the dooryard gardens of early America, today’s home gardens contain edible plants and herbs. People also include flowers and native plants to add interest to these utility spaces in distinctly American ways.

ZYRTEC®, a brand that makes oral antihistamines, has always believed in the power of the backyard. On the anniversary of backyards becoming the nearest green space of escape, ZYRTEC® officially designated March 19, 2021, as the first National Backyard Day.

National Backyard Day timeline

1700s

Home Gardening Begins in America

American colonists rely on productive home gardens for food crops and medicinal herbs.

Early 1900s

Changes in Gardening

Interest in edible gardening drops as jobs draw Americans to urban areas.

Late 1900s

Back to Their Roots

Edible gardens make a comeback as Americans become more health-conscious and desire more fresh, local food.

2009

A Presidential Garden

The White House plants its first vegetable garden since WWII.

National Backyard Day FAQs

When is the best time to water my backyard plants?

In the evening or early in the morning works best since the soil is cooler and less water will evaporate than during the heat of the day.

Why is home gardening important?

It contributes immensely to daily food needs.

What seeds sprout the fastest?

Radishes, melon, and squash plants. For flowers, consider zinnias or marigolds.

National Backyard Day Activities

Sit in your backyard: Take some time to relax and unplug. Leave your phone in the house, lay on a lawn chair, and enjoy the sights and sounds in your backyard.

Invite others: Invite your friends to spend time with you in your backyard. It could be something as simple as catching up over a few drinks, or more elaborate like an afternoon of barbequing.

Tend to your backyard: Inspect your yard to see if any weeds need pulling or if there are flowers that may have been neglected. Giving your backyard some tender loving care on this day will benefit both you and the garden.

5 Unknown Facts About Backyard Gardens

Flowers as clocks: The naturalist Carolus Linnaeus discovered that certain plants/ flowers opened at specific times of the day, such as Hawk’s Beard at 6:30 A.M., Hawkbit at seven A.M., and the Ice Plant at 11 A.M.

More than gold: The tulip flower was once worth more than gold, especially, the white variety.

Rich backyard soil: Studies show that there are more microorganisms in one teaspoon of soil than there are people on earth.

Plants have ears: Research has shown that vibration (like music or the sound of your voice) can affect plant growth.

Sweet tomato recipe: Regularly sprinkling baking soda into your tomato plant's soil can help reduce acidity which makes the tomato crop sweeter.

Why We Love National Backyard Day

It’s a day to relax: It's so easy to get caught up in life's busy pace. But on National Backyard Day, we get into chill mode as we unwind in these havens of serenity.

We get together with loved ones: Good things are always better when shared. National Backyard Day gives us a chance to bond and relax with our loved ones.

We connect with nature: Backyards have so much beauty that we often overlook. On National Backyard Day, we slow down and enjoy the smells, sights, sounds, tastes, and textures in nature.

Source

[reasonsforhope]

"For over a decade, the Yosemite toad has been recognized as a federally threatened species, after experiencing a 50% population decline during the Rim Fire of 2013.

The wildfire, which encompassed a mass of land near Yosemite National Park, made the amphibian species especially vulnerable in its home habitat. 

Native to the Sierra Nevada, the toads play a key role in the area’s ecosystem — and conservationists stepped in to secure their future.

In 2017, the San Francisco Zoo’s conservation team began working with the National Park Service, Yosemite Conservancy, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, California Department of Fish & Wildlife, and the U.S. Geological Survey. 

The goal of all of these stakeholders? To raise their own Yosemite toads, re-establishing a self-sustaining population in the wild. 

“Over the past several years, SF Zoo’s conservation team has been busily raising hundreds of these small but significant amphibians from tadpole stage, a species found only in the Sierra Nevada, for the purpose of reintroducing them to an area of Yosemite National Park where it was last seen 11 years ago,” the zoo shared on social media. 

By 2022, a group of toads were deemed ready for release — and at the end of June of this year [2024], 118 toads were flown via helicopter back to their habitat.

“It’s the first time anyone has ever raised this species in captivity and released them to the wild,” Rochelle Stiles, field conservation manager at the San Francisco Zoo, told SFGATE. “It’s just incredible. It makes what we do at the zoo every day worthwhile.”

Over the past two years, these toads were fed a diet of crickets and vitamin supplements and were examined individually to ensure they were ready for wildlife release.

Zoo team members inserted a microchip into each toad to identify and monitor its health. In addition, 30 of the toads were equipped with radio transmitters, allowing their movements to be tracked using a radio receiver and antenna.

The project doesn’t end with this single wildlife release; it’s slated to take place over the next five years, as conservationists continue to collect data about the toads’ breeding conditions and survivability in an ever-changing climate. They will also continue to raise future toad groups at the zoo’s wellness and conservation center...

While the future of the Yosemite toad is still up in the air — and the uncertainty of climate change makes this a particularly audacious leap of faith — the reintroduction of these amphibians could have positive ripple effects for all of Yosemite.

Their re-entry could restore the population balance of invertebrates and small vertebrates that the toads consume, as well as balance the food web, serving as prey for snakes, birds, and other local predators.

“Zoo-reared toads can restore historic populations,” Nancy Chan, director of communications at the San Francisco Zoo, told SFGATE. 

Stiles continued: “This is our backyard, our home, and we want to bring native species back to where they belong.”

-via GoodGoodGood, July 11, 2024

[bloodyjuls-blog]

NOTHING MUCH(Russo's sister X Leah Williamson)

Kay Russo had always been Alessia’s shadow. Since they were little girls, Alessia was the star of the family: the one who shined on the football field, the one who made her parents proud, the one who had a solid group of friends who seemed to want to crush anyone who didn’t fit into their perfect world. Kay, on the other hand, was “the other.” It wasn’t that she wasn’t talented; it just never seemed like enough.

As they grew up, the differences became more pronounced. Alessia had a clear path: Manchester United, the English national team, and eventually Arsenal. On the other hand, Kay was stuck in mediocre jobs and awful comments from her parents and sister. “Why can’t you be more like Alessia?” was a phrase she heard all too often.

The relationship between Kay and Alessia was tense, but the breaking point came one night, when Alessia, along with a group of her friends, began to make fun of Kay in front of everyone at a family gathering.

“And you, Kay?” “What have you been up to lately?” Alessia said with a venomous smile. “Did you find a job or are you still living off of mom and dad’s money?”

Laughter echoed around the room, and though Kay tried to keep her composure, she felt her stomach churn with shame. That night, locked in her room, Kay collapsed on her bed with her eyes filled with tears. She knew she had to change something in her life and escape that toxic dynamic. It was then that while surfing the internet, she saw an ad for the Royal Navy: “Find a purpose. Discover your potential. Join the Royal Navy.”

Kay didn’t think twice. She knew that enlisting was her ticket out, but she also knew that her family would never understand. So she made a drastic decision: she didn’t tell them anything. The following week, the recruitment process began.

A few weeks later, Kay received confirmation: she had been accepted. The date to report was marked on her calendar, and as it approached, she felt a mix of nerves and relief. One night before she left, she decided she should at least tell her family something, but not everything.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, I’ll be gone for a while,” she said over dinner.

Her mother looked up from her plate with disdain.

“On ​​vacation? With what money?” she asked sarcastically.

Kay took a deep breath, trying not to lose her cool. “Never mind, I just wanted to let them know.”

Alessia laughed softly and murmured, “Always so mysterious.”

Kay gritted her teeth, finishing her meal in silence. That would be the last dinner she would share with them for a long time.

The day Kay left, she left home early, carrying a backpack and leaving behind a short note on the kitchen table: “I’m gone. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Take care of yourselves.”

The months that followed were a whirlwind. Basic training in the Royal Navy was brutal, but Kay held on to it with determination. Every physical exercise, every lesson, every grueling hour felt like a step toward freedom. Here she wasn't "Alessia's sister," she didn't have to endure her family's hurtful comments. Here she was simply Kay, someone trying hard to find her place.

After completing her training, Kay was given her first leave. She decided to return home, even though she knew it would be difficult.

When she arrived, the reception was cold. Alessia wasn’t even there; she was away on a trip with her team. Her parents barely showed any interest in hearing about her experience in the Navy.

“So what’s next?” her father asked in an indifferent tone. “Are you going to be here long?”

Kay felt the knot in her chest grow bigger. That night, as Alessia posted pictures on Instagram with her teammates, Kay sat alone in the backyard, wondering if she would ever truly belong in this family.

It was during one of those visits home that Kay met Leah Williamson. Alessia had invited some of her teammates over for dinner, and though Kay tried to stay out of the way, she couldn’t help but run into them. Leah was kind, something Kay hadn’t expected. They had a brief but meaningful conversation, and in that moment, Kay felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: connection.

Kay returned to her base after that brief visit home. The experience only reinforced what she already knew: her family would not change. But one thing remained in her mind: Leah Williamson. They had exchanged a few words over dinner, but there was something about her warmth, the way she seemed to see Kay as a person, and not as a shadow of Alessia. Leah didn’t know her, she was unprejudiced, and that made her different.

The day Kay had her first chance to visit London while on leave, she remembered that Leah was playing for Arsenal. She decided to take a chance and attend a match. It was strange to be surrounded by thousands of fans excited about something that, until recently, had been a source of insecurity for her: football and the shadow of her sister. Alessia was not on the team yet, which made the experience a little more bearable.

After the match, Leah, who had played spectacularly, was surrounded by fans and media. Kay watched her from a distance, trying to convince herself that she would simply leave without saying anything. But Leah saw her.

“Kay!” she called from the field, waving excitedly.

Kay froze for a moment before shyly approaching.

“What are you doing here babe?” Leah asked, clearly surprised but pleased.

Kay shrugged, trying not to look nervous. “I was in town and thought I’d come to watch the game.”

Leah smiled, and something in her expression made Kay feel less invisible. “I’m glad you came. Do you have plans now?”

Before she could stop herself, Kay shook her head. That night, they ended up having dinner together at a small, low-key restaurant near the stadium. It was the start of something unexpected.

As the months passed, Kay’s visits to London became more frequent. She always found an excuse to see her, and Leah seemed to enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed Leah’s. They talked about everything: life in the Navy, the challenges of being a professional soccer player, and, occasionally, Kay’s family struggles.

One night, as they walked through the quiet streets of London after dinner, Leah stopped and looked at her seriously.

“Kay, why don’t you ever talk about Alessia much? I know you are sisters, but you almost seem to avoid mentioning her.”

Kay looked at the ground, feeling her chest tighten. Talking about Alessia was like opening a wound that never healed.

“It’s complicated, Leah. I’ve always been… different to them. Alessia’s the star, the one who shines. I… I just exist on the periphery.”

Leah took her hand, an unexpected but comforting gesture. “That’s not fair, Kay. You shouldn’t feel that way.”

Kay looked up, surprised by Leah’s sincerity. It was at that moment that she knew this connection was something special.

As her relationship with Leah grew stronger, Kay knew there would be trouble sooner or later. Leah was a public figure, and although she hadn’t revealed details of her personal life to the world, speculation was constant. The Arsenal team was full of rumors about who Leah’s partner could be, but no one suspected Kay. Alessia, still playing in Manchester, had no idea that her younger sister was getting so close to one of her friends.

Kay also knew that her family wouldn’t approve of the relationship, not only because of who Leah was, but because the idea that she could have anything valuable in her life seemed inconceivable to them.

Everything changed when Kay received the news of a new deployment abroad. It was a high-risk mission, and although she was used to challenges, this time was different. Now she had something to lose. When she told Leah, the reaction was immediate.

“How long will you be gone honey?” Leah asked, trying to remain calm.

“I don’t know but it could be months.” Leah nodded and cuddled her, but Kay could see the worry in her eyes. That night, as they said goodbye, Leah hugged her tighter than usual.

“Just promise me you’ll come back, okay?”

Kay didn’t answer, because she knew that was a promise she couldn’t guarantee.

During deployment, Kay was severely wounded in an ambush. The bullet that hit her back damaged her spine, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. Doctors told her she would never walk again. The physical pain was immense, but the emotional blow was even worse.

When she was finally able to reach Leah from the military hospital, the conversation was brief but full of emotion.

“I’m alive,” was the first thing Kay said, her voice shaking.

Leah, on the other end of the line, let out a sigh of relief, but she couldn’t hide her worry. “What happened, Kay? Tell me the truth.”

Kay closed her eyes, feeling the tears begin to flow. “I’m in a wheelchair, Leah.” I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.

The silence on the other end of the line was painful, but when Leah finally spoke, her voice was firm. “I’m going to be with you, Kay. No matter what.”

Kay spent weeks in the military hospital, facing the reality of her condition. Doctors stabilized her, but the words she most feared hearing finally came: she would never walk again. She wasn’t ready to face it. Her life as she knew it had changed forever. The military, her only refuge, was also out of reach.

London became her next destination. The medical staff recommended that she be transferred to a civilian hospital where she could receive specialized treatment and subsequently begin the rehabilitation process. When Kay thought about where she could stay afterward, only one person came to mind: Leah.

Leah waited for Kay at Heathrow Airport, visibly worried. Even though she had received constant updates about her condition, seeing her in person would be an emotional challenge. When Kay appeared in the wheelchair, pushed by a hospital attendant, Leah felt her heart tighten in her chest.

Kay wore a stoic expression as if she was using all her strength to keep her emotions in check. Leah could see past that, though. Kay’s eyes, once full of life, now reflected exhaustion and pain.

“Hi my love" Kay said quietly as she came to her side.

Leah leaned in to hug her, ignoring the fact that they were in the middle of a crowded airport. It was a long hug, one they both needed.

“Welcome home baby,” Leah said softly leaning against her and kiss her deeply.

Kay wanted to correct her, reminding her that London wasn’t her home, but she couldn’t find the words. Maybe, after all, Leah was the closest thing she had to a home.

Leah’s London flat was cozy but small, and the modifications needed to accommodate the wheelchair made the space feel even more cramped. Leah had worked tirelessly to get everything ready, installing ramps and rearranging furniture. Kay felt grateful, but also deeply uncomfortable.

“You didn’t have to do all this, Le” Kay said as she scanned the space with difficulty.

Leah, who was making a cup of tea, turned to her with a calm smile. “Of course I did. I wasn’t going to let you go through this alone.”

Kay nodded, but inside, guilt and frustration were growing. She wasn’t used to depending on anyone, let alone someone as important to her as Leah.

The first few weeks were a mix of intense emotions. Kay tried to keep a routine, attending physical therapy sessions and learning to adjust to her new life. However, every little failure—not being able to reach something, needing help with simple tasks—felt like a monumental defeat.

One night, while Leah was cooking, Kay decided it was time to talk about what had happened at the military hospital. It was a weight she had carried alone for far too long.

“Leah, can you sit down for a moment?”

Leah stopped what she was doing and sat across from Kay in the living room. The concern on her face was evident.

“What’s wrong, Kay?”

Kay took a deep breath, her hands shaking slightly. “There’s something I need to tell you about what they did to me in the Navy before all the injuries happened.”

Leah nodded, her expression becoming more serious. “I’m listening.”

Kay began to speak, her voice shaky at first, but gaining strength as she went on. She told him about the treatments she’d endured: the electroshocks they justified as “experimental therapy,” the times they’d left her alone for hours without help, and the “rehab” sessions that often included pushing her physically to the limit.

“There were days I thought… I wasn’t going to get out of there. They yelled at me that I needed to be strong, that if I couldn’t take it, I didn’t deserve to be in the military.”

Leah clenched her fists as she listened, her face reflecting a mix of anger and sadness.

“How could they do that to you?” she finally asked, her voice cracking.

“It’s the price of being weak in their world, Leah. They couldn’t stand someone like me not being “useful” anymore.”

Leah leaned forward, taking Kay’s hands in hers. “Listen to me, Kay. What they did was inhumane, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. You are one of the strongest people I know.”

The tears Kay had been holding back finally began to fall. Leah didn’t say anything else, she held her, allowing her to release all the pain she had built up over the months.

Alessia’s arrival at Arsenal added a new layer of tension to Kay’s life. Although both had avoided any confrontation, Alessia’s passive-aggressive comments were quick to appear.

One afternoon, while Leah and Kay were at home, Alessia arrived unannounced. Leah had forgotten to lock her door, and Alessia walked in like she owned the place.

“So this is where you’re hiding, Kay?” Alessia said, with a sarcastic smile as she looked around the apartment.

Leah, who was in the kitchen, quickly came out upon hearing Alessia’s tone. “What are you doing here, Alessia?”

“I just wanted to see how my long-lost sister lived. It seems you’ve been busy… or should I say ‘well-kept’?”

Kay, who was in the living room, turned to face Alessia. “What do you want, Alessia?”

“I want to understand how you went from being a ghost to… this.” She pointed at Leah with a nod.

Leah, clearly upset, stepped in. “Alessia, if you come here to cause trouble, you can leave.”

The exchange escalated, and Kay felt old wounds reopening. Alessia had always known how to touch her weak spots, and Leah was caught in the middle. Eventually, Leah had to ask Alessia to leave, leaving Kay emotionally drained.

Despite the conflicts, the relationship between Kay and Leah continued to grow stronger. The emotional connection they shared was evident, and small displays of affection—a hand on the shoulder, an unexpected hug—began to evolve into something more.

One night, while watching a movie together, Leah leaned slightly toward Kay, resting her head on her shoulder. Kay, surprised at first, allowed the gesture and smiled.

It was a small moment of intimacy, but to Kay, it meant more than Leah could ever imagine.

Winter had come to the city, and with it, the streets of London were filled with Christmas lights and decorations. Kay, however, barely noticed the festivities. Her days were divided between physical therapy, medical adjustments, and increasingly intimate moments with Leah. However, the conflict with Alessia and the memories of the abuse at the military compound weighed on her like a constant shadow.

One morning, as Kay tried to adjust to the new exercise routine her physical therapist had recommended, Leah received an unexpected text from Alessia. She wanted to “talk.”

“Is it a good idea to give her space after what happened here?” Kay asked from her spot in the living room, as Leah checked the message.

Leah sighed, leaving her phone on the table. “I think it’s not just you, Kay. Alessia… she has issues to work out with herself.”

Kay raised an eyebrow. “Don’t justify what she does. She’s always found ways to make me feel like I’m worthless.” Leah walked over and knelt in front of Kay, placing her hands over hers. “No one has the right to make you feel that way. Not even Alessia.”

Kay wanted to believe her, but the years of emotional abuse she had endured were not easy to forget.

That afternoon, Leah went to Arsenal Stadium to meet Alessia after training. Alessia, who had been in a bad mood all day, was quick to spill the beans.

“What the hell are you doing with Kay?” Alessia asked bluntly as Leah closed the door to the meeting room.

Leah, trying to remain calm, replied, “I’m looking out for her. Something no one else is doing.”

“Looking out?” Alessia let out a sarcastic laugh. “Since when do you need to play savior?”

Leah frowned. “This isn’t a game, Alessia.” Kay has been through things that neither you nor I can imagine, and instead of supporting her, you--

“Don’t lecture me!” Alessia interrupted, slamming her hands on the table. “Kay has always been a burden. Every time I tried to stand out, she was there, ruining everything.”

Leah felt her patience wearing thin. “You know what ruins everything, Alessia? Your inability to see her as anything more than a reflection of your insecurities.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Alessia hadn’t expected such a direct response, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

“This isn’t over, Leah,” she finally said, before leaving the room.

That night, Leah returned to the apartment emotionally drained. Kay noticed her expression and decided it was time to share something she had been holding back.

“What happened?” Kay asked as Leah plopped down on the couch next to her.

“Your sister… doesn’t understand anything,” Leah replied, massaging her temples.

Kay sighed and looked out the window. “It’s because she’s never seen me as her sister, Leah. I was always ‘the other Russo.’ The one with no talent. The one who didn’t fit in.”

Leah turned to her, surprised by the tone of vulnerability in her voice.

“You want to know why I joined the Royal Navy?” Kay asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Leah nodded, knowing Kay needed to vent.

“I saw an ad online while I was looking for a job. It seemed like a way to escape everything… from Alessia, from my family, from myself. I wanted to prove that I could do something for myself, something that no one could take away from me.”

Kay paused, her hands shaking as she recalled those days.

“But even then… it was never enough. And then… then came the hospital.”

Leah took her hand, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

Kay shook her head. “I need to. Because if I don’t, those things are going to keep haunting me.”

Then, Kay began to speak, detailing the horrors she had endured. She described the time when she had arrived at the hospital very badly injured thinking that what had happened was her fault, or that it was all karma for being fragile and not facing things, where she would rather a thousand times have her die than have a partner who had a family that loved him.

“There was a doctor… I will never forget her face.” She told me I was a failure, that someone in a wheelchair was nothing anymore, that I was wasting valuable Navy resources that could be used on soldiers who would go back into combat, I… I can’t take it anymore.” Kay paused, taking a deep breath.

Leah hugged her tightly, unable to hold back her tears. “God, Kay… I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

“I don’t want you to see me as a victim, Leah.” Kay rested her forehead on Leah’s shoulder. “I just want to be someone who deserves… something.”

“You deserve everything, Kay. And I’m here to remind you of that every day.”

Despite everything, Kay began to find small moments of peace in her life with Leah. They began to spend more time together, sharing stories and laughing despite the circumstances.

One night, as Leah read a book on the couch, Kay leaned into her, resting her head on her shoulder. Leah smiled and set the book aside, putting an arm around Kay.

“You know?” —Leah said after a while. —I never thought I'd find someone I wanted to share so much with.

Kay looked up, surprised by the confession. —And me?

—You're that person, Kay. My person, my forever.

For the first time in a long time, Kay felt like maybe, just maybe, she had a place in the world where she truly belonged.

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Part Seven ～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, slice-of-life, domestic country vibes

Word Count: 3,209

Synopsis: You & Mark are about to set off on a road trip to your hometown in Georgia, and Mark’s about to get a crash course in southern living. The real challenge though? Meeting your family.

a/n: this chapter got a bit long but there was a lot i wanted to do with it – it’s also my FAVORITE so faaar

read part six ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

The week before the trip, you were practically glowing.

Mark couldn’t even finish a sentence without you interrupting with something like, “Oh! Did I tell you my mama has a peach tree in the backyard now?” or “Wait till you try Daddy’s smoked brisket—he’s been workin’ on that recipe since before I was born.”

He swore you hadn’t stopped smiling in three days.

You were packing early, too—which Mark found both adorable and mildly terrifying. Every time he came over, you had a new duffel bag half-zipped on your bed. You kept saying things like, “Should I bring my cowboy boots or my church boots?” and “Do you think your lil’ superhero suit’s wrinkle-resistant, baby? ’Cause I got the iron out.”

He was happy just listening. You talked about your brothers like they were a trio of rowdy golden retrievers, about your Meemaw’s cast iron skillet like it was a national treasure, and about your mama and daddy with a kind of love that made Mark ache a little.

“You really think they’re gonna like me?” he asked one night, trying not to sound nervous.

You’d blinked at him like he’d asked if water was wet. “Sugar, you carried a busted water heater outta Meemaw’s crawl space and didn’t even mess up your shirt. They’re gonna adore you.”

—

The sun had barely crested over the rooftops when Mark showed up at your place, backpack slung over one shoulder, a hopeful smile on his face.

“You ready?” he asked, bouncing slightly on his heels. “I figured we could take off by nine—be there by lunch if we fly.”

You didn’t even look up from where you were strapping down the world’s most over-packed cooler in the bed of your pickup.

“We are takin’ off by nine,” you said sweetly. “In my truck.”

Mark paused. “...Wait. We’re not flying?”

You stood up, dusted your hands off, and opened the driver’s side door like the conversation was over.

It hit him slowly. A memory montage in his brain: you sidestepping the subject every time he offered to take you flying… how you suddenly “remembered errands” when he mentioned rooftop views… how your voice got a little too light whenever he said, “Wanna try something cool?”

He blinked. “Hold on. You’re scared of flying.”

You paused mid-sit, one brow arching over your sunglasses.

“I’m not scared of nothin’ sweetheart,” you said, pulling the door shut. “I just prefer transportation where my feet stay firmly on the ground—just like God intended.”

Mark snorted. “So... you’re telling me you’ll hand-feed a goat, slap a copperhead off the porch with a broom, and throw me a wrench from the roof of a barn—but you draw the line at a little air travel?”

You didn’t respond, just gave him a look.

Then the engine roared to life.

“Wait—are you serious?”

You put the truck in gear.

Mark took a step forward. “Babe.”

The tires rolled.

“Babe?!”

You rolled down the window. “I got a seat warm and ready, darlin’. You can either get in or get to joggin’.”

Mark hesitated for one tragic second.

You were already rolling toward the road, and now he had no choice but to run and all but launch himself into the passenger seat, backpack bouncing off his shoulder.

You barely glanced at him as you adjusted the mirror.

“Good choice, sugar.”

He leaned his head back against the seat with exaggerated breathlessness.

“I can’t believe I just got hijacked by a woman who won’t get on an airplane but owns a tire iron named Lucille.”

You reached over and turned the radio dial.

“Buckle up, baby. You’re in my airspace now.”

—

The road trip was an adventure in itself.

Every time you stopped for gas, Mark had to learn a little more about southern road-trip culture. Boiled peanuts were first. His face when he tried them? Priceless.

“...So these are beans. Just... wet beans,” he’d said, eyebrows raised as he chewed through the first batch.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, casually popping a handful in your mouth. “You ain’t a true southerner 'til you’ve had a bag of boiled peanuts and a sweet tea. You’ll get used to ‘em.”

Mark’s response was just a grimace, but he kept eating.

Next stop: barbecue. Of course, because no one goes to the south without trying proper BBQ.

The tiny hole-in-the-wall diner was legendary, and Mark had learned one important lesson: don’t try to compete with southern food. He made the mistake of ordering a side of fries with his pulled pork sandwich, and the waitress side-eyed him so hard he almost felt like he was in an old western standoff.

"You don’t need fries with that, sugar,” she said, placing an extra side of cornbread in front of him.

He never questioned it again.

Somewhere past the Alabama line, the sky had turned into a soft hue of amber-pink. You had one hand on the wheel, the other lazily tapping to the beat of the crackling country radio. The hum of the tires on pavement was steady, soothing—and then, there it was.

A familiar little guitar twang floated through the speakers.

You perked up instantly. “Oh my stars, babe—it’s you!”

Mark, halfway through unwrapping a MoonPie, blinked. “Wait, what?”

You gave him a look like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re the stranger with the big iron on his hip!”

Mark blinked, laughing under his breath. “That makes zero sense.”

“Sure it does,” you said, eyes still on the road as you started to hum along. “Only instead of a shooter, you’ve got fists.” You glanced sideways at him, voice dropping just a touch. “Big. Iron. Fists.”

Mark’s ears turned red instantly.

You smirked, tilting your head just slightly. “I’m just sayin’… a man with hands like that?” Your voice was syrup-slow now, just soft enough to ruin him. “I wonder what else those big irons can do.”

Mark straight up choked on air.

He turned toward the window, jaw clenched, trying to reset his whole internal system.

“Okay—nope, nope,” he muttered. “We are driving. Public roads. Laws. Sanity.”

You just smiled, innocent as pie, tapping the steering wheel. “Mhm. Eyes on the road, baby. We got states to cross.”

Mark sank down into the seat, dragging a hand down his face.

—

The sun was just starting to dip below the tree line, that perfect golden hour haze settling over the world as your truck rolled past the weathered “Welcome to Georgia” sign.

Mark was reclined in the passenger seat, a bag of pork rinds half-eaten in his lap, and the windows were down just enough to let in the soft evening breeze.

And right on cue—as if the state itself had been waiting—the radio crackled, and Ray Charles’s voice slid in smooth as honey.

🎶 “Georgia… Georgia…” 🎶

You gasped softly, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my lord, they knew,” you whispered, hand lifting off the wheel like you were praising the radio gods. “They knew we were comin’ home.”

Mark laughed, watching you with that same look he’d worn for the past three states—utterly helpless.

“I feel like I should salute or something,” he murmured.

You nodded solemnly. “Just put your hand over your heart and think about fried chicken. That usually works.”

As the chorus swelled, your voice joined in—not loud, not performative—just soft, like the words had lived in your chest your whole life. Mark listened, barely breathing, and yep—there it was. That twist in his chest.

Every mile brought more pine trees, more wraparound porches, more soft red clay kicked up by old trucks and tractors and summer wind. And then finally—you pulled up the long gravel drive to your family home.

The porch light was on, casting a warm glow over a big old farmhouse with a weathered roof, rocking chairs, and flower boxes blooming bright as July.

And standing dead center in the doorway was your daddy.

Tall. Silent. Holding a .22 like it was just another part of his outfit.

Mark froze halfway out of the truck.

“...Is that—?”

“Yep,” you said, already slamming your door shut. “That’s Daddy.”

Mark blinked. “Does every member of your family answer the door with a gun?”

You shrugged. “You’re the one who keeps showin’ up on porches with bruises. It raises questions.”

He swallowed, slowly stepping around the truck like a man walking into a saloon showdown.

“Evening, sir,” he offered, voice polite.

Your daddy didn’t blink. “Name?”

“Mark Grayson.”

Silence. A long, slow scan from head to toe.

“Occupation?”

You coughed behind your hand. “He’s... uh... real strong.”

Another beat.

Then finally—Daddy lowered the gun.

“Strong, huh?” he said gruffly, then turned and walked back inside without another word.

Mark exhaled. “Okay. Cool. That’s fine. Totally normal.”

You looped your arm through his, grinning up at him. “Welcome to Georgia, sugar.”

The screen door creaked open before you could even make it up the steps, and there she was—Mama.

Hair up in hot rollers, apron on, flour dusted on one cheek, and a casserole dish somehow already in her hand.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!” she called. “My baby girl and her mystery man!”

You barely got up the steps before you were swept into a hug that smelled like cornbread and Chanel No. 5. She kissed both your cheeks, then held you at arm’s length, giving you a once-over.

“You eatin’ enough? You look thin.”

“I’m fine, Mama.”

She waved that off and turned her gaze to Mark—and Lord have mercy, that woman could scan a soul. Her smile never wavered, but her eyes? Sharp as Meemaw’s sewing shears.

“And you must be Mark.” She stepped closer, still holding that casserole like it was loaded. “I’ve heard plenty about you.”

Mark smiled, sweet and a little nervous. “All good things, I hope.”

She leaned in, patted his cheek, and said, way too gently, “We’ll see.”

Then she swept past, calling over her shoulder, “Y’all come in and wash up. Supper’s almost ready.”

He turned to you, eyes wide. “...She terrifies me.”

You grinned. “Oh, honey. That was her bein’ polite.”

The screen door hadn’t even shut behind you when the thunder of boots hit the hallway.

Three of them.

Your brothers.

Built like linebackers, all flannel and worn jeans and big grins that didn’t quite hide the fact they were absolutely sizing Mark up like he was about to be thrown into a ring.

The oldest, Jesse, clapped Mark on the back hard enough that might’ve dislocate something in the average man. “So you’re the one who’s ‘real strong,’ huh?”

Mark coughed. “I—uh, yeah. I guess.”

The middle one, Beau, grinned. “What’s your max bench, son?”

The youngest, Caleb—sweetest face, meanest grip—smirked. “Bet I could take you.”

Mark blinked. “...Take me?”

“Wrestlin’,” Jesse said cheerfully, already rolling his sleeves up. “Out back. After supper.”

Beau nodded. “It’s tradition.”

Mark turned to you with the slow horror of a man realizing he might be about to fight three generations of corn-fed chaos.

“...Do I have to?”

You were already biting back laughter. “Well sugar, it’d be rude to say no.

—

Dinner smelled like heaven dipped in butter and baptized in bacon grease.

The table was packed. Casseroles, cornbread, sweet tea in mason jars the size of your head, bowls of mac and cheese that looked legally golden, fried okra stacked like tiny crunchy monuments, and a pecan pie cooling on the counter like it knew it was the finale.

Mark was trying his best to keep up. He was polite, he was charming, and he said “ma’am” so many times Mama actually started to smile for real.

He thought—for one shining second—that maybe he was in the clear.

You bumped your knee against his under the table and whispered, “You’re doin’ great, sugar.”

He leaned close. “I think your mama likes me now.”

You gave a small, noncommittal hum.

He blinked. “What?”

Before you could answer, Jesse leaned back in his chair, wiped his mouth, and said, “So, Mark…”

Oh no.

Here it comes.

“You ever wrestled a hog?”

Mark froze, fork halfway to his mouth. “I—no?”

Beau grinned. “Good. Wrestlin’ us should be a breeze, then.”

Mark’s fork dropped to his plate.

“Wait, you guys were serious?”

The chairs scraped back. Jesse was already rolling his sleeves up again. Beau was cracking his knuckles. Caleb was taking off his flannel like this was Friday Night Smackdown: Backyard Edition.

You just sipped your tea, absolutely zero help. “I did say it’d be rude to say no.”

Mark turned to Mama in desperation. “Ma’am? Is this… normal?”

She didn’t even look up from her sweet potato casserole. “Just don’t bleed on the gardenias, dear.”

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving only the silver hush of moonlight and the warm, golden glow of the porch light to spill across the yard. Crickets chirped their nighttime chorus, the rope swing creaked slow in the breeze, and three full-grown men stretched like they were about to enter a pay-per-view main event.

You leaned against the porch railing, arms crossed and smiling like it was a front-row ticket to the best show this side of the Mason-Dixon. Mark stood in the middle of the yard, looking real concerned for a man who regularly fought intergalactic warlords.

“So this is happening,” he said slowly, glancing between your brothers.

“Oh, it’s happening,” Jesse confirmed, already tossing his cap to the ground.

“No cheap shots, no runnin’, and no weird city kung-fu,” Beau said, rolling up his sleeves. “Just a good ol’ southern-style throwdown.”

Mark blinked. “City kung-fu?”

“You know what I mean,” Caleb added, nodding like that clarified anything. “No yoga nonsense. No pressure point magic. You go down, you stay down.”

Mark looked up at the porch where you stood, very much not helping, grinning.

You just shrugged. “Play nice, sugar.”

Mark sighed and looked back to the brothers. “What’s the win condition?”

“You tap,” Caleb grinned, cracking his knuckles. “Or cry. We ain’t picky.”

You gave Mark an innocent smile. “Told you dinner was just the warm-up.”

Before he could reply, Jesse lunged.

Mark barely dodged, skidding backward in the dirt. “Okay. Okay, we’re doing this!”

Beau came next—broad, fast, and aiming to grapple. Mark sidestepped again, trying not to accidentally dislocate anything, and that’s when Caleb came in low, arms wrapping around his middle like a linebacker with something to prove.

They went down hard.

You let out a gleeful little cheer. “Get ‘em, baby!”

From the ground, Mark shouted, “I’m trying!”

He rolled, kicked off the dirt, and spun out of Caleb’s hold like he’d done this a thousand times. And he had. Just never while holding back this much.

He couldn’t hit hard. Couldn’t fly. Couldn’t suplex Jesse into orbit no matter how tempting it was.

But what he could do?

Use every ounce of technique drilled into him by Cecil’s trainers, by Nolan, by muscle memory and pure, stubborn will.

A quick twist of the hips—Caleb was down. Jesse came from the right—Mark ducked, grabbed, and pinned. Beau tried to tackle him from behind—Mark dropped to the ground, rolled forward, and flipped him like a pancake at Sunday brunch.

The yard went quiet.

Mark stood panting, grass-stained and wild-eyed, hair a sweaty mess, moonlight silvering the sweat on his skin.

You tilted your head, eyes shining. “Well hot damn,” you said, slow and syrupy, “the stranger with the big iron fists delivers.”

Mark looked up at you, dazed, like maybe he was hallucinating the whole thing.

“That was hotter than church with no A/C,” you added, fanning yourself with your hand.

Mark mouthed help me.

And then—WHAM—Caleb launched himself one last time, and Mark caught him mid-air. One-handed.

Set him down like a toddler. Patted his shoulder.

Total silence.

Then Jesse, flat on his back, wheezed, “This man’s made of steel.”

“Boy just caught me like a sack of mulch,” Caleb mumbled, from the ground.

Beau shrugged, picking grass out of his hair. “Hell. Fair and square.”

You clapped politely from the porch. “Good hustle, boys.”

Mark staggered toward you, the scent of sweat and churned-up dirt clinging to him like battlefield glory.

Mama met him at the screen door, holding a plate in one hand and a dish towel in the other. She gave him a long look, then handed over the plate—loaded with leftovers.

“You earned your seat at the table, son.”

Mark blinked. “...Thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

As you held the door open and Mark stepped inside, you leaned close, all smiles. “C’mon, baby. I’ll patch you up.”

Mark looked at you like a man reborn.

—

Mark wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing over at you. His heart gave a little jump when you looked right back.

Your smile was soft, but he could see the mischief still dancing in your eyes. “That all you got, sugar?”

He gave you a half-smirk, rolling his shoulders as if to say, no big deal. "Just a warm-up."

You shook your head with a small laugh, stepping closer to him. He could feel the heat of your hand on his arm as you reached up, your fingers brushing his jaw—gently, tenderly. His breathing went still as your lips met the bruise on his cheek, soft as silk.

The world around him blurred as you kissed each tiny little scuff and bruise with that special tenderness that only you could give. He was absolutely done for, and he knew it.

When you pulled back, he was breathless—and not from the fight.

You cocked your head, letting your hands rest on his chest. “You’re lucky you’re made of steel sugar, them boys have been known to break an arm or too,” you said teasingly.

“I’m lucky to have you,” he muttered, still stunned by your care, your touch, your everything.

You hummed a sweet sound, brushing a finger over his lips. “You look like you could use a drink.”

Mark managed a crooked grin. “I think I’m good for now... unless you’ve got something with a little more kick than sweet tea?”

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curling into that mischievous smile that had been driving him wild all day. “Oh, I’ve got somethin’,” you purred. “But you ain’t ready for it yet.”

Mark chuckled, though he wasn’t so sure anymore. If you kept looking at him like that, he might just be ready for whatever you wanted to throw his way.

“Careful, darlin’,” you said, slow with heavy lids. “If you keep makin’ eyes like that, we might end up gettin’ in trouble.”

“Already in trouble,” Mark muttered, his heart pounding in his chest. “Think I’ve been in trouble since the moment I met you.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear just enough to send a shiver down his spine. “Well then,” you whispered, the words lingering in the quiet space, “guess we better get real good at bein’ in trouble.”

read part eight ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

[gothicfied]

It's summer love, baby - Jude Bellingham Oneshot

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Summary: Seeing you with another guy at a backyard party, Jude knew he had to confess his feelings for you. Quickly.

Warnings: Mentions of drinking alcohol, other than that it's just fluff, best friends to lovers, reader wants Jude badly (who doesn't?), 23/24 Jude, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: kinda hate everything at the moment, school's been stressful, but here you go. Haven't written anything in a while ngl I hope this doesn't suck

Jude Bellingham. Everytime that name left your lips, you could feel your heart skip a beat. What kind of pathetic weirdo are you that you can't even think about him without becoming all giggly and kick your feet. You are best friends. At least, you're supposed to be. But something, ever since he moved to Spain and started playing for Real Madrid, changed between you guys.

You'd say growing up with him being your neighbor was one of the best things about your childhood. Jude and you went to the same kindergarten together, the same elementary school and even secondary school and so on. You used to do track, right next to the big field of grass that his team would train on. Wherever you were, he was there too. Wherever he went, he took you with him. It was like an unwritten rule Jude and you had put up the second you shyly asked each other if you're 'best friends'. That was in second grade.

The player had been home for a couple of days now, and after the loss against the spanish national team in the Euro's, there's nothing that consult him. The wound of it was still fresh, burning with disappointment in himself — It had cut Jude deep, especially because he out of everyone in the team thought they were going to bring it home this time. At least that's what he told you.

You two were sitting in his, very nice, car, driving to one of your mutual friends' house. Since all Jude did was sulk at home, your friendgroup decided to at least throw a summer party, before he left England again for vacation.

"God, it's been so long since we went out together, huh?" Jude flashed you a smile, his stupidly perfect white teeth grazing his lower lip. Oh, how much you missed him smiling at you in real life, Face Time was just not cutting it anymore. It quite literally punched all the air out your lungs as it took you a moment to regain your thoughts. "Well.. yeah, you could've flown me out to you more, you know?" You replied back, returning a smile.

Coming to a halt at a red light, Jude whipped his head to the side to face you, raising his eyebrows like he couldn't believe you: "What? What do you mean? I've asked plenty of times—!" He was cut off by you laughing, waving him off like he wasn't telling the truth.

He was, but sadly life often got in the way of you two. You, and only you, had visited him once or twice down in Spain, but you're obviously also an adult with adult responsibilities and adult things to do.. like pay taxes. Or go to uni. Or get the oil of your car changed. You hadn't quite figured this out yet, and Jude always took the opportunity to make fun of you for it.

"You know damn well it would've worked out better if you wouldn't always procrastinate all your assignments until the last day available.." Jude mumbled as he pulled into the driveway of Danny's house, but you pretended like you didn't hear him.

Danny was actually also a long time friend of his. You only knew him through Jude, regarding him as an acquaintance, nothing more. Sadly, he doesn't accept that — The countless of times Danny had texted you, called you, tried to invite you on a date were actually tiring. He was a nice enough guy, but he just wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

While you checked your purse if you had brought everything with you, Jude had already gotten out of the car and made a beeline to your side, opening the car door for you like always. "M'lady.." He said in that stupid flirty tone that always got you. Even if you rolled your eyes, even if you pretended like this was the worst thing ever, you always took his hand that he offered and let him help you out of the drivers seat.

"You're a charmer."

"I know I am."

Danny, while being real annoying, had one of the biggest backyards you've ever seen. The party was already at it's peak with people everywhere, just no one you recognized. Jude still held your hand, dragging you closer to him: "Stay close to me, okay?" he had leaned down to talk directly in your ear, "Danny tends to let.. kind of everyone in. I don't want you to be the victim of some creep." You squeezed his hand as a small sign of gratitude and before you could even say something, the other man suddenly started to approach you two, almost like he was summoned as soon as Jude spoke about him.

"Didn't think you'd actually show!" The redhead, yes he's a redhead, yelled over the music, dabbing Jude up. While they held small talk, all you could do is awkwardly stand next to them, inching closer to the english player everytime Danny's eyes lingered on you for too long.

"Real glad you brought her here with you, too. I was kinda startin' to miss ya! How come you never text back?" Due to Danny's scouser accent and the music and all the talking around you, you could barely make up what he was saying, but judging by the way Jude put an arm around you in an instant, it must've been something... weird.

"Bro, you gotta let it go man. You know she doesn't want you like that." Jude laughed at his own words and gave Danny a firm pat on the shoulder, before turning both of you away from him in an attempt to get out of the situation.

He wasn't your boyfriend, you knew that. He didn't like you in that way, you knew that. He's your best friend, you knew that. But, you weren't stupid. His reaction everytime you brought up a boy who's been bothering you was the same since late middleschool: jealous. Right? Yeah.. yeah, jealous. Definitely. You hoped it wasn't just your huge crush on him making you imagine things.

...

After an hour or two, the music had gotten louder, more people kept swarming in like moths to a flame and the taste of alcohol lingered on your tongue. You had promised yourself not to get too drunk, but the fact that you seemed to attract every toxic gym bro or incel nice guy at this party made you wanna down some more tequila shots. You and Jude had gotten seperated about half an hour ago, as some blonde girl swept him away when she realized who he was. That had already kinda ruined your mood for the night, but the guy that has been talking to you for the past ten minutes and who won't leave you alone made it a hundred times worse.

You were leaning against a tree, which was prettily decorated with fairy lights, idly sipping at your drink as you pretended to listen to the man in front of you. He was talking about cars or whatever, something that definitely did nit interest you in the slightest. But, at least from here you had a good view on where Jude was. He was sitting on one of those outdoor sofas, legs spread with his shirt half unbuttoned, talking to that pretty blonde girl from... wherever she came from. You bit down on your cheek everytime you saw her touch his arm or his hand or laugh at his stupid jokes just a tad bit too loud. Come on, he isn't even that funny, what the hell.

You didn't even realize you were staring, not until Jude made eye contact with you, giving you a look of 'Is everything okay?'. So, you snapped out of it, giving him a half-smile and looked back at the person in front of you. Seriously this guy has been talking to basically himself for like 15 minutes now and he's still going.

Now Jude was alerted of your situation, seeing from even afar that you were uncomfortable, felt awkward.. Having caught your eyes linger on him for so long made him forget about his conversation as a whole. If he was being honest, he was probably just talking to this girl to distract himself from you. He felt so stupid, so pathetic that apparently, he could do anything but try to make a move on you.

Why couldn't this just be like in movie or in books? Where you just knew how much he wanted you and kissed him. Because he would, for sure, not be the one to pull back first.

"Excuse me." He promptly cut off the blonde girl, getting up from the sofa. You were so focused on not focusing on Jude the entire time, that you didn't even notice him approaching.

"So, you know, the guy that rammed into me didn't even want to pay for the dama—"

"Heyyyy... sorry it took me so long, ready to go now, babe?" Jude slid beside you, snaking an arm around your waist. Your eyes immediately lit up the second you felt his presence next to you, feeling your heart drop in an instant. You tried your best to go along: "Oh, yeah, no worries," you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, "it was really nice talking to you, Tobi!"

Tobi, the guy, took a good look at you two. First at Jude, then at you, then back again at Jude, who was just grinning with pride, basically whisking you away. All you heard was: "Wait, your boyfriend is THE Jude Bellingham???"

...

With a click, you opened the door of the passenger seat of Jude's car. "You really have to stop entertaining guys for nothing." He said, tone more serious than it was before. While the two of you quickly walked out of there, you joked around, poking fun at him for thinking he was some great hero now.

"Dudeee, it was literally whatever. Poor guy, he probably feels so stupid now."

"For what? Flirting with the girlfriend of the best midfielder in the world?"

"Didn't you bring home a silver medal just last week?"

"Didn't I bring you the literal Champions League Trophy?"

Jude came to a stop right in front of you, crossing his arms in front of his chest while trying his very best not to snicker or laugh. You just raised your eyebrow: "I'm not even your girlfriend."

His eyes were probably the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. While gazing up at them in that moment, you didn't even register what had just left your mouth and the kind of reaction he showed to your words.

Yes, you were convinced, Jude Bellingham is a work of art. Everything about him was perfect. The way he delicately cupped your cheek and looked at you like you were the only important thing in his life, the way he smiled at you while moving his face closer to yours and especially the way his lips fit and moved so perfectly against yours, like he was made for you.

He kissed you with passion, pouring years of love and yearning into it, regreting all the times he didn't do this sooner when he realized how sweet you tasted. You kissed him back, telling him all the feelings you had for him in that small moment through the action, but it seemed enough.

And Jude didn't dare to break the kiss first.

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

Happy independence day to our backyard nation with the neighbors from my childhood. The national anthem is "Do You Hear The People Sing".