#Pine Bark Nuggets

[a1asod]

Enhance Your Garden with Gold Timberline Mulch: A Closer Look at Pine Bark Nuggets

When it comes to beautifying your garden, the right choice of mulch can make a significant difference. Gold Timberline mulch, specifically pine bark nuggets, offers a fantastic solution. With their natural aesthetic appeal and practical benefits, pine bark nuggets are becoming increasingly popular among garden enthusiasts. In this article, we will explore the benefits, application, and maintenance of gold timberline mulch, focusing on the use of pine bark nuggets.

The Benefits of Gold Timberline Mulch

Gold timberline mulch, predominantly composed of pine bark nuggets, provides numerous benefits for your garden. These benefits include:

Moisture Retention:

Pine bark nuggets act as a protective layer, reducing moisture evaporation from the soil. They help retain moisture, ensuring that your plants stay hydrated even during dry spells. This feature is especially beneficial in areas with water restrictions or arid climates.

Weed Suppression:

A layer of gold timberline mulch inhibits weed growth by blocking sunlight from reaching weed seeds. Pine bark nuggets act as a natural barrier, reducing the need for excessive weeding and minimizing competition for nutrients between weeds and your plants.

Soil Temperature Regulation:

The mulching properties of pine bark nuggets help stabilize soil temperatures by insulating the soil. This insulation protects plant roots from extreme temperature fluctuations, providing a more favorable environment for healthy growth.

Erosion Control:

Gold timberline mulch, specifically pine bark nuggets, aids in erosion control by minimizing the impact of heavy rainfall or water runoff. The nuggets allow water to infiltrate the soil slowly, reducing the risk of soil erosion and keeping your garden intact.

Application of Gold Timberline Mulch with Pine Bark Nuggets

Applying gold timberline mulch with pine bark nuggets is a straightforward process. Follow these steps to achieve optimal results:

Prepare the Area:

Before applying the mulch, clear the area of any existing weeds, debris, or rocks. Ensure that the soil is adequately watered and cultivated for optimal plant growth.

Determine the Thickness:

Decide on the ideal thickness of the mulch layer. Typically, a depth of 2 to 4 inches is recommended for pine bark nuggets. This depth provides effective weed suppression and moisture retention without suffocating the plants.

Apply the Mulch:

Spread the gold timberline mulch evenly over the prepared area. Ensure that the pine bark nuggets cover the soil surface uniformly. Avoid piling the mulch against the base of plants or tree trunks to prevent moisture-related issues.

Maintaining Gold Timberline Mulch with Pine Bark Nuggets

To maintain the appearance and effectiveness of gold timberline mulch with pine bark nuggets, follow these guidelines:

Regular Inspections:

Periodically check the mulch layer for any signs of compaction, mold, or pests. Fluff the nuggets and remove any debris to keep the mulch looking fresh.

Replenish as Needed:

Over time, the mulch layer may break down or thin out. Replenish the gold timberline mulch with pine bark nuggets as necessary to maintain the desired depth and benefits.

Watering Considerations:

When watering your plants, ensure that you water deeply enough to penetrate the mulch layer and reach the plant roots. This practice promotes healthy root development and efficient water absorption.

Conclusion

Gold timberline mulch, featuring pine bark nuggets, is an excellent choice for enhancing your garden's aesthetic appeal and optimizing plant growth. With its moisture retention, weed suppression, soil temperature regulation, and erosion control properties, pine bark nuggets provide numerous benefits. By following the application and maintenance guidelines, you can enjoy a flourishing garden that stands out with the beauty of gold timberline mulch.

Source: https://bit.ly/46xNSwK

[mountainbarkexpress]

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[survivalist-anon]

Log 16: A bark worse than his bite

Pine Hills most reputable bar: Big Foot Saloon. Ironically, we don't get bigfoot sightings here in Pine Hills, but with nearly 8ft space soldiers with occasionally some quirk about will probably confuse a few folks now.

The morning staff now finally get to have that night out drinking they wanted.

Fjord by this point was just enjoying himself, he was more familiar with a bar setting than I thought. He practically blended in, if were-vikings were common place the west coast.

Ronnie and guys were laughing about some plans they're going to make this weekend.

Jonas was telling us a story that happened to her for the billionth time.

Fjord intensively listening. As for me, my brain checked out a little while ago.

"-And so than, I had my tonsils removed, for the thrice", Jonas concluded.

"....Jonas I'm not certain you CAN remove your tonsils more than once...", I'm certain the last time she said 'twice'.

Frank hand walked up to our table with a rather sizable tab. "Here you go folks, hope you enjoyed your drinks", he looks to Fjord who had drunk a horrendous amount of alcohol, specifically beers, IPAs and I believe I recommended him an actual craft mead, he absolutely loved it. Yet he was more sober than I was with my one bottle of hard cider.

"Oh right, ugh, this be my 'treat'," he quickly handed the little bag of gold nuggets to Frank.

Frank takes the bag without question and promptly leaves.

Ronnie looked at me wondering why Frank accepted a mystery bag rather than cash (Frank apparently didn't believe in the American banking system). "Dang, thanks Fjord...that must have been quite the bill. That had to have been like...I don't know hundreds of dollars.".

Jonas nudged my shoulder again, "dang girl, is he loaded too?", giggling.

"Ah no worries, I just wanted to show my appreciation for being so welcoming.", his smiled warmly. Suddenly he snapped to head to the door.

Oh no.

Jeff and his gang were at Frank's tonight. I guess their usual hangover hang out at Tom's house may have gone wrong considering he lives with his mother.

I was sitting next to Fjord and I FEEL his growling. I had to whisper to him, "Fjord ...Fjord not here, you don't need to do anything.".

His eyes were locked on to Jeff, I was starting to get scared of he was going to kill him in front of everyone in the bar.

His friends from the station were laughing, meanwhile he still looked so drained, a little more rested but drained.

"Hey what are you looking at asshole!?", Tom aggressively spoke to Fjord from all the way across the bar.

Jeff turned around to see who it was...I could tell there was something brewing in him. I would feel more sympathetic to him if it weren't for everything I'd gone through with him.

His eyes shot to Fjord, it was a look of jealousy.

Fjord was standing his guard. Me and him knows he could take every single one of them. However I was more worried of the scene this could cause.

The others at our table began to worry, Ronnie looked at Jeff, than to Fjord. Whom by this point resembled a guard dog than that tall strong friendly weirdo who made wolves howl.

"Lorey, what's going on? Does Fjord know those guys?", the concern in his voice began to match my anxiety with the situation. I look to him and began to gently touch Fjord's arm to calm him down.

"Fjord, you can relax. Please. He isn't going to do anything....he can't anyway.", I felt like I didn't get through to him yet. So, I pull his arm a little, put my arm around his shoulders and place my face on to his, I didn't care about the pungent alcoholic smell from either of us... just close as contact I could get sitting next him.

It was for some... primordial reason....all I could think of doing.

Fjord, finally began to loosen his guard. "Lass?".

"Please Fjord, I'm ok, you're ok, and everyone here is ok...", all I could do is speak as if I was soothing him. I'm not even sure if it was the correct way to do it, but it was working.

He shuffled closer and wrapped his arm around me. "Yes, ok...thank you lass....".

It was a strange moment, time stopped, the sounds of the bar faded out, and it was just our hearts beating.

"Hey, man, come closer to us and-", Jonas was threatening someone as I had my eyes closed.

"-or what... you'll call the cops?", a dead toned, familiar voice had rung out.

"oh shit.", I whispered. I look up to see Jeff.... just standing next to our table. The look on his eyes was of betrayal? Bags under his eyes and an unblinking stare.

"Jeff.... seriously. Please leave us alone.", Ronnie and the guys at our table had not begun to raise their guard.

"....who's....the red head....", Jeff didn't ask...he just made a statement disguised as a question.

Fjord just turned to him, expressionless as he could muster. "....Fjord....you must be Jeff...."

"yeah..... you're not from around...are you?", Jeff was just looking at Fjord, trying to make sense of him. This huge, big red haired man, something about Fjord reminded Jeff of.... monsters...".... where are you from...Fjord?"

Jonas interrupted, "He's from Europe, Jeff, of course he's not from around here.", although Jonas could have been off by a few light-years. Her comment actually helped.

"oh...like...where.... Ireland.... Scotland?....", he continued monotonly.

Having no idea where or what was either of the two countries, "Yes. Both.", I couldn't help but think maybe Fjord was messing with him. "I have family there.".

Jeff just stared at him, than to me. "....you moved on pretty qui-", suddenly Fjord just barked at him.

"Wrouff!", it was as if I had a large but gentle dog next to me.

The scream Jeff let out along with the startled jump he did was the greatest comedic timing one could ever ask for. Not even on accident you could ask for a better jump scare.

He fell to the floor as his Tom, Beck and Mark help him up, "See I told you we should have gone to Portland today!", Beck scolded Tom.

"What and have my girlfriend find out?! Hell no.", he refuted.

Struggling to get his friend up as he was a bit tangled in the chair he felt on, "You asshole it was your idea!", Mark squeaked.

The gang was laughing harder as some of the patrons, who already had their share of grievances with Jeff's gang of friends, began to laugh too.

"Come on man! He wasn't even that loud.", Ronnie cackled.

I hid my laughter so I didn't make it worse for Jeff, Fjord's laugh sounded like the victorious chuckle of some fantasy hero who's just defeated a dragon.

"What is the matter lad? Dog got yur tongue?", Fjord quipped, the laughing continued.

Jeff quickly shuffled up to his feet, "YOU SON OF A BITCH! THATS ASSAULT OF AN OFFI-", Tom tapped his shoulder.

"Bro that isn't going to work there likes several witnesses and Chief already said you can't just say that.", Tom had made a serious point. Jeff for the longest time had always used that excuse whenever he had been inconvenienced by some of the people around. Now, it's completely pointless to do so.

Huffing angrily, "I'll get you for this! FORD!".

Tilting his head, "Ugh...it's Fjord.".

"WHATEVER YOU FUCKING SWED!!!!", he huffed again and looked at me.

Probably hoping for some cheesy revelation that Fjord is some highschool picking on the little guy trope....but it's not going to work anymore.

I just gave him a look of pity. "Jeff... please. I'm sorry for what's happened between us...but its really over now...".

The ball dropped for him right there. "...you know what....fuck it lets-", he was about to put up his fists until a heavy hand was placed on his shoulders. It was Frank.

Frank the only retired Navel officer in the whole time. He had trained out at sea for a better part of his youth, took absolutely no shit from anyone....and he wasn't just going to let a bar fight happen in his nice and reputable place.

"No pig fights allowed.", it was barely a warning, he just dragged Jeff outside along with Tom in tow, Beck and Mark were also being forced out but his brother and husband. All four where kicked out of his bar. "AND STAY OUT, chumps.". He went back behind the bar and went on like nothing happened.

Fjord was impressed by this, "Oh...thank you Frank! I owe you a debt of gratitude!", he waved.

Frank just grumbled to himself just satisfied that no one split nose blood on his nice clean wood flooring. "Oh, Pauly, can you please call Chief Colt and tell him his rascal son is causing a commotion again. He's also banned.".

Pauly cocked his eye, "Wasn't he banned from here last time for that Christmas party last year?".

Frank stopped for a quick second to think about that, "...well he's banned again until I forget.".

After a few more minutes, it was finally closing time.

Ronnie checked if it was clear for us to go to back to our cars. These guys were still police officers after all. "ok, looks like they left."

As everyone headed back to their cars and said their goodbyes, me and Fjord head back home.

I sighed from the fun, all though a little bit too close for a close shave situation, we had back at the bar. "Fjord I have to ask, why are you still so sober? I swear you had drunk like 2 gallons of beer or something.".

Licking his lips remembering the mead likely enough, "Oh yes. You see lass, all Astartes had a special organ implanted in us. It helps filter and purify any contaminats, poisons or anything that could inebriate us. However, life can be pretty boring of you're sober lass. So...we the mighty Vlka Fenryka, had found a cure for such an issue...MJORD. Unfortunately...I can kill mortals like you just by getting a whiff.", he laid back a little.

"Ah yeah, I remember you telling me that...", the mystery toxic concoction he told me about a while ago had me wondering. "...what is it made of?"

He gave a tilted smile, "heh, nothing that could be made 'ere on earth. It requires the vegetation and Fenric roots to ferment for weeks, than a ceremony has to be done to purify it so it don't just turn into some nurglelin sludge.", he huffed a little and looked out the car window to see the stars. "....I wonder where Fenris is from this planet....".

I could tell he was homesick, "you miss your home don't you?", I glanced over to him laying down comfortably.

"Well ...yes, there are aspects of Fenris I do miss...yet...so far here has been great too....it's... peaceful."

The word peaceful may mean two different things from both our perspectives. In my eyes, the world had gotten very dangerous....wars, the climate, the looming doomsdays that supposedly needs to happen.

Maybe from his world view, this place is peaceful not because it is.... because it isn't the world he is use to.

"Yeah, it's nice out here, I'm wondering...do you think I'd like Fenris if it was possible of me going?", wondering what he would say.

He looked at me a with shock, "Would fancy bein frozen the second you step foot on the cold sharp winds lass?", he said it with much urgency it was cute.

I giggled a little from his reaction, "no not really, funny enough it sounds like you lived in a place similar to Antarctica. It's the coldest place I know for certain.".

He sat there wondering about what I said, "ugh... pardon me lass but where is Antarctica?".

"It is a cold, isolated place in the most southern pole of Earth, it's name purely defined by the fact it has no bears.", I felt the need to throw that little tidbit.

The cogs in his brain were trying to figure out how dangerous were the bears on earth to the point we named a whole continent after not having bears.

He just laughed off, "Alright lass, such a strange planet this is... wonderfully strange."

We drove back home with the volume of the car low.

As we get out of the car, I checked my new yellow mail box for regular mail. Nothing new, just bills and useless advertisements.

We head inside and lay down to relax after an eventful day.

"So lass, I believe it is time for your slumber I presume?", he sat on the couch, laying his head back watching me place my things on the kitchen table.

"yeah, it's past midnight, lucky for me I have a day off tomorrow.", as I tell him this, that business card falls right out of the pocket.

"hmm.... Ben....I wonder....", I remember what Ben and his gang wanted to do but I had begun to wonder how much they knew of the space marines. "Hey Fjord, let's go out tomorrow. I want to do some...reconnaissance.".

He turns around, "Oh, what for lass? Is there something you think Aldercon needs to know about?", he gives a cheeky grin.

"Maybe, there's a guy in town who tries to find Space Marines. I'm wondering how much he actually knows...you know....to see if he could be helpful or a threat?", I look at him, he knows what I mean by threat.

"oh ok lass, do you need me to do anything for now?", he asked.

A bit of a strange question, "ugh, no I'm fine. I better get to bed.", I yawned a little, I get a glass of water for him if he needed something to drink in the middle of the night. "Goodnight Fjord, I'll see you in the morning.". I give his head a little scratch and caress.

"hmmm, goodnight lass.", his eyes close as he dozed off.

I turn off the lights and head to my room.

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

Driving down the highway, a large bus full of people drive past the welcome sign of Pine Hills.

There was noise in the bus, chanting, incantations humming in the air.

The driver.....blank masked man.

An old, greyed lady in bright, fashionably colored robes lifts her hand up. "STOP."

The bus makes a stop in a camp parking lot, the bus door eerily opening, with the clapping of her sandles, the lady steps out and examines the clearing. She looks to the stars, uttering in tongues to herself.

Praying to something....or someone.

Turning around, with a terrible grin on her face, "COMMENCE....the pilgrimage! TO THE GREAT ONE!", pointing dramatically to the forest trail. "HE awaits.....".

As her command was heard by the group of 20 or so people. As they all get out from the bus in a single file line. They collect their things, and march to the mountain ridge.

The lady stays behind, waves her hand at the bus....as a pinkish and blue glow emanates from her palm, a familiar sigil appears.

The bus begins to fold, unnaturally like if it was being crumpled like a piece of paper. The driver inside, unreactive to what was happening. He too, began to fold like paper. With metal bending, glass cracking and plastic squeaking.

The bus had shrunk down into the size of a model toy version of the bus. The driver was strunken as well.

The lady walked up to the bus, picking it up and peaking into the bus. "Soon...the great one will consume this pathetic world...and create a new world. HEHEHE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHA!", her manic laughing echoed through the night.

What had once been considered an impossibility, had now begun to leak...into our world.

End of Log 16

@kit-williams @barn-anon @egrets-not-regrets

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @walking-natural-disaster @starfrost740

@squishyowl @sleepyfan-blog @lawnchair86

[deepslowpanicfics]

♡ deepslowpanic Yoonkook Fics ♡

Spectacular Views [ E | 13/13 | 134k ] hurt/comfort | breaking up and getting back together | self discovery | anxiety and depression | recreational drug use | big romantic gestures | falling in love again and again | my magnum opus

All the Ways I Call You Mine [ E | 5.8k ] a/b/o | scenting and cuddling | first heat together | nervous yoongi | soft and sweet

I think I'm coming alive with you [ E | 6.5k ] bed sharing | new relationship | first time spending the night | consensual somno | sleepy cuddles and smut

Liner Notes [ E | 16k ] friends to lovers | so much pining and yearning | boys in an indie band | on tour | road trip | concerts | bed sharing | fears of the future | fluff and angst | love confessions | yoongi writes love songs about jungkook

Do You Even Lift Bro [ E | 6k ] strangers to lovers | awkward flirting | second hand embarrassment | horrible pickup lines | buff disaster jungkook | twink daddy yoongi | public sex | mirror sex | gym

Sweet and Sour [ E | 3k ] strangers to lovers | emotional hurt/comfort | jk has a bad day and needs chicken nuggets | funny and cute | awkward flirting | getting together

Meowdy Purrtner [ E | 7.5k] strangers to lovers | meet cute | getting together | cat and cowboy puns | getting together | sexy cowboy parties | first dates | can i see your cat?

Small Pleasures [ E | 5.7k ] friends to lovers | roommates | mutual pining | microdick yoongi | big dick jungkook | insecurity | accidental voyeurism | getting together | cock worship | yoongi has huge balls

Baby, I'm howlin' for you [ E | 5k ] established relationship | a/b/o roleplay | kink negotiation | 5+1 | yoongi is so done but so whipped | jungkook is a brat with a werewolf kink | fluff and humor

Anything Lovely [ E | 12k] strangers to lovers | soulmates | meet cute | mutual pining | getting together | falling in love | fluff and sweetness

Gift Wrap [ E | 3k] established relationship | christmas fluff | horrible flirting and banter | sexy santa jokes | yoongi is so done but jungkook is so sweet | soft horny boys

All Bark and No Bite [ E | 9k ] strangers to lovers | meet cute | yoongi gets chased by jeon bam | first dates | getting together | sweet boys falling in love

Tell Me Your Name, Is It Sweet? [ E | 3/3 | 30k ] strangers to lovers | meet cute | ballet dancer jungkook | tattoo artist/pianist yoongi | getting together | so much fluff | soft and sweet | falling in love

Welcome Your Sweetness [ E | 10.5k ] new relationship | relationship negotiation | communication | boundaries and insecurity | love languages | lots of cuddling | soft boys falling in love

Make Me Glow [ E | 8.5k ] friends with benefits | misunderstandings | getting together | yoongi is very patient | jk accidentally drinks a "love potion" | sequel to this vmin

You're the Star, I'm Falling [ T | 3.3k ] friends to lovers | acnh | pining | getting together | first date and first kiss | love confessions | wishing on stars

Clever as the Devil, Twice as Pretty [ E | 5/5 | 37.5k ] enemies to lovers | casino heist, thieves, hackers | rivalry | hurt/comfort | fighting and injury | banter and teasing | getting together

In The Outbound Tide [ E | 8/8 | 53k ] friends to strangers to enemies to friends to lovers | childhood friends | emotional hurt/comfort | reunions | slow burn | yearning | learning to forgive and love | healing | lots of music references

We Are Probably (in love) [ E | 7k ] friends to lovers | roommates | 5+1 | pining | misunderstandings | humor and chaos | second hand embarrassment | jk serenades yoongi with wap

Snow Place I'd Rather Be [ E | 5.5k ] established relationship | snowed in | super soft cozy boys | cuddling and snuggling to keep warm

We Set the Motion [ E | 8/8 | 57k ] strangers to lovers | meet cute | nervous yoongi | confident, sweet jungkook | journalist meets guitarist | music as a love language | getting together | so much fluff | falling in love

Love You All Over [ E | 8.5k ] established relationship | shy yoongi | body worship | boys falling in love | porn with a little soft plot | sequel to the fic below

Fright Where You Belong [ T | 5.7k ] new relationship | first dates | getting together | fluff | carnivals | haunted houses | soft punk boy

[grcvityfclls]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀The President’s Key

August 23 - 8:00 am

Back to Gravity Falls. Finally! Summer is almost over, my birthday is so close and yet so far away, but today I'm coming back. Hopefully forever. I like Piedmont, don't get me wrong, but that one summer at my gruncle Stan's house? I'll never forget it. My whole life is based on that and all the secrets I discovered back then. Okay, okay. I didn't discover them alone, but that's just MY story. 𝘔𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘴? I never want to hear that again in my life! I love Mabel. I truly and deeply love her, but I'm moving to Gravity Falls. I graduated from college w̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ ̶n̶a̶m̶e̶ ̶w̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶m̶e̶a̶n̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶a̶n̶y̶o̶n̶e̶. Now it's my turn. And it's my turn alone. (𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔!)

August 23 - 11:30 am. 

My first break since I started my car in the morning. My stomach was so empty I was afraid it would eat itself if I didn't take a break. It's about 7 hours from Piedmont to Gravity Falls, which means I'm halfway there. Still without incident. I'm knocking on wood (𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥) that it stays that way. At dinnertime, I decide to take a break at the Golden M in Red Bluff. Never had better chicken nuggets, tbh. But I'm already looking forward to the pancakes at Greasy's Diner. My mouth is watering just thinking about it! 

August 23 - 1:00 pm

F◬🜲☆. As if I had conjured it up, my car had a flat tire. I decided to take another break so Terry could take a break and drink some water. Have I mentioned Terry here before? His full name is Terbium Pines. He's a massive black wolfhound with long fur and deep dark eyes. I found him on one of my unexpected outings and he never left. I think he chose me to be my best fur friend ever. The vet said he's about three years old, but his eyes look much older sometimes, and when I talk to him I occasionally think he really understands what I'm saying, but then he wallows in the dirt and has those puppy eyes that he gets a treat for. I love him. (𝒯𝑒𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉!!! ♡)

August 23 - 10:00 pm

What a day! Changing a tire was never this hard. The heat was killing me and Terry barked at every car that went past. Then he wouldn't get back in the car when I tried to drive off. It took me another half hour to get him back in. Crazy guy. We passed a traffic jam and I stopped to help. Luckily no one was hurt, but I took way too long to get back on the road and finally emerged a couple hours ago. Ford helped me with my stuff and now I'm sitting in my old bed in the attic. I wonder if Mabel would be mad if I pimped it out a bit. I guess I'll only know if I ask her. Or I'll just do it (ha ha). ( 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒮𝒪 𝑀𝒜𝒟 𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊!!!)

August 28 - 2:00 pm

Okay, the last couple days have been ridiculous and overwhelming and too much to talk about. Here's the most important info: I found the President's key. I hid it in case Stan or Ford were looking for it and forgot about it for the last few years (literally), but now I have it back in my hands. It opens all doors made before 1877 (𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦��𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰? 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵, 𝘵𝘣𝘩. 𝘵𝘰-𝘥𝘰: 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵'𝘴 𝘬𝘦𝘺 ⬜ ). Where did I hide it? Oh man, you'll never guess. Mabel is going to kill me. ( 𝒴𝑒𝓈 𝐼 𝒶𝓂! ) Our attic? It's a bit of a mess. ( 𝒜 𝒷𝒾𝓉?! ) I've been doing a bit of redecorating since we were teenagers, the last summer we lived here, and now it's a temple. I found a door in the wall that was locked, of course, but a day later I found the key and - surprisingly - it fit. The whole time I thought that our room in the attic was all that was supposed to be here, though I was so wrong. We never realized there was a whole room next to our beds. The house looks so small from the outside, but I was so wrong this time. Why didn't I realize that the length and width of the house didn't match its rooms!!! I've been so blind. And we've found secret rooms here in the past! 

What, you want to know what was in that room? Boy, that's a topic for another page in this journal. Be careful out there. Maybe you've been watched by something behind your walls. 

But: THE PRESIDENT'S KEY IS BACK! Nothing can stop me now! ( 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁! )

[noisycowboyglitter]

The Lighter Side of Camping Fast Food: Funny Tips for Outdoor Cooking

"Camping Fast Food" presents a humorous take on outdoor cuisine, poking fun at the contrast between rugged wilderness experiences and convenient, urban eating habits. This concept playfully imagines bringing the ease of drive-thru dining to the great outdoors.

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Picture a camper, dressed in full outdoor gear, standing in a forest clearing with a makeshift cardboard drive-thru window. Instead of a gourmet campfire meal, they're ordering a "Pine Cone Burger" or "Squirrel Nuggets" from a menu nailed to a tree. The "restaurant" staff might be a bemused bear wearing a paper hat, or a raccoon manning the non-existent cash register.

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The concept might extend to "delivery service" featuring carrier pigeons dropping acorn-based meals to remote campsites, or a canoe "drive-thru" for riverside campers. This lighthearted take on camping cuisine celebrates the joys and occasional absurdities of outdoor living, reminding us to find humor in the challenges of wilderness adventures.

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The humor lies in the contrast between the person's over-the-top fear and the bear's relatively calm demeanor. Maybe the runner is leaving a cartoonish dust cloud in their wake, or comically tripping over logs and bushes. The bear might be scratching its head, holding a picnic basket, or wearing sunglasses for added absurdity.

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This scenario plays on common fears about wilderness encounters, turning a potentially scary situation into a laughable one. It's a reminder to find humor in our outdoor adventures, even in moments of perceived danger.

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Enhance Yard Landscape with Ground Covering Services in Oklahoma

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You aim to satisfy your clients by delivering outstanding results on time. But finding a trustworthy supplier who offers competitive prices and consistent quality can be a hassle. It's frustrating when you experience delays or receive low-quality commercial mulch installation that puts your projects at risk. You deserve a smooth and efficient process that lets you concentrate on providing exceptional landscaping services. Mini Pine Bark Nuggets: These small nuggets are perfect for filling hard-to-reach areas or providing a textured look. It's also lightweight, making it easy to install.

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You aim to satisfy your clients by delivering outstanding results on time. But finding a trustworthy supplier who offers competitive prices and consistent quality can be a hassle. It's frustrating when you experience delays or receive low-quality residential mulch installation that puts your projects at risk. You deserve a smooth and efficient process that lets you concentrate on providing exceptional landscaping services. Mini Pine Bark Nuggets: These small nuggets are perfect for filling hard-to-reach areas or providing a textured look. It's also lightweight, making it easy to install.

At Bella Mulch, a wholesale landscape supply company, we focus on delivering excellent products easily and quickly. We want your experience to be smooth and stress-free, so we keep communication clear during the order process. We grind and color our bulk mulch to ensure top-notch quality for your project. Our friendly team is here to help you choose the perfect bulk landscape supplies and address any delivery questions

[johnandrewkarr]

The Cicada Killer

Sweat gleamed on the back of the dirty hand as it ripped down another bright yellow sign with black lettering.

No Trespassing.

A jagged row of them vanished into forested obscurity. That wise-ass Beeler woman thought little sheets of paper would spook a real man? If so, she wasn’t as smart as she pretended to be. Overkill like this reinforced what Randy Stall had already figured from their first encounter; she was scared and alone in the trailer. Even sober he wasn’t much for counting, but add all these to the ones he’d seen back at the service road and it was a ton of damn signs.

... a ton of useless damn signs.

Stall’s black t-shirt was damp in the early summer heat and clung to his lean frame. White threads dangled where he’d scissored the jeans into jorts. Sunglasses and a low-brimmed cap concealed dark intentions. The knife at his belt was sheathed, for now.

A whirring sound drew his attention. At the next tree, a thick black wasp with pale yellow stripes flew slowly back and forth, interested in something he couldn’t see. It was as long as his middle finger. Almost hornet-sized.

His lips stretched over gaps of missing teeth as he grinned and crumpled the paper into a ball. He drew back slowly, like the high school pitcher he’d once been, then threw heat. The paper ball knocked the wasp from sight, and it let out an angry buzz.Stall laughed. “Take that, bitch!”

The wasp reappeared. It circled him twice, wings scolding loudly, threatening. Then it almost seemed to glance away as a ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-CH! rose from the next tree. The cicada mantra was instantly familiar and far louder than any cricket chirp. The wasp zipped over, landed on the trunk and raced like a tiny assault vehicle toward a groove between bark nuggets. The chitter was replaced by scraping and buzzing as the two large flyers battled.

The wasp hooked its leg claws into the larger insect and hauled it from the groove, turned it so they were belly-to-belly, then arched its body to sink the curved stinger into its prey. The cicada fell silent and went rigid. Clutching it tightly, the wasp flew with it through the remaining woods to a brighter area ... the front yard of Stall’s prey.

Though motionless, he knew the cicada wasn’t dead.  

Female Cicada Killers were bigger and stronger than the non-venomous males. The females had the stingers and toxin—but not for killing outright. They fly to the nesting site, drag their paralyzed prey into one of several chambers and lay an egg in one of its legs. The egg hatches in a couple days. The larva feeds on the cicada, keeping it alive as long as possible, then turns into an adult wasp.

Shitty way to die, Stall thought, through a chuckle.

He was about to turn away when another wasp shot past him, then hovered back and forth a couple feet from his face. It was fast, but a couple swipes finally persuaded it to back off. It landed higher up on the pine, turned head-down and watched him with large faceted eyes.

He flipped it off and slipped through the remainder of the woods. Ankle-high work boots crunched twigs and pine cones. After a brief pause he crept into a relative clearing where crepe myrtles bordered two sandy pathways with grass in the middle.

He glanced over his shoulder for a glimpse at the intersection of the driveway and State Road 334. Didn’t see anyone turning in, or driving by. The Atlantic Ocean and Cape Fear River were both within pissing distance, and the seasonal swell of human flesh was strong and rising, yet very few folks deliberately trekked into this area, where the woods were thick and dark waters sloughed into brackish creeks.

“Might want to drive up or have your man get the snail mail,” Stall had said to Shannon Beeler, setting her packages on the small table of the front porch and handing her the delivery tablet. “Heard some coyotes cryin’ in the woods near your mailbox.”

And no hint of a dog anywhere, he added silently.  

The dusky woman signed the form, arched a brow and handed the tablet back. “Coyotes we got, all right. And the occasional wolf.”

He was cautious enough to wait a couple weekends before returning.

Now grass blades hissed beneath his strides. Small petals drifted down from the ornamental trees, ignored. It was strangely muted here, though. Unlike the woods around his own trailer, there was no hint of cicada chanting.

Which made him wonder if a scream would carry through the surrounding woods.

Nah. Too much distance and sound-snuffing trees.

Keeping to the shade of the crepe myrtles, he strode with purpose toward the orange double-wide at the end of the drive. The bushes that had been neatly trimmed just a couple weeks back were now reaching for the top rail of the front porch. The grass was long enough to send up seed spires.

Maybe Beeler had gotten lazy. Whatever.

Buzzing cut the quiet.

Several dark specs darted from the sunshine and into his cloak of dappled shade. They hovered near the grass, then up along the tree trunks and branches. As he closed in on the trailer, he could discern the pale yellow stripes on the black bodies as long as his fingers, and the red-orange, swept-back wings as they set down. They lined up on either side until he passed, then took new positions. Maybe it was the pills, but it was weird anyway.  

Too many damn wasps. No wonder there were no cicadas around.

A pickup truck with a line-crossed ant silhouette on the side was parked out front, along with a sedan that had once been silver, judging by the curling strips of paint.

More wasps flew around Stall. He cussed again and pressed forward, hand rising now and then to swat a few of the more brazen ones away. He sent a couple of them cruising to the side, where they quickly recovered. The noise was starting to freak him out.  

The wasps circled him a moment more, then vanished. The noise fell to just a solitary drone. Heavier. In the area, but not too close. He almost looked around for a plane, but was too focused on his goal to get distracted now.  

He was maybe a dozen feet from the porch when the front door swung wide.

What stepped out looked more like some space alien than the woman he’d encountered a couple weeks ago. She seemed tall up on the porch. Goggles jutted over dark rimmed glasses, and a surgical face mask covered the lower portion of her face. The lab coat was a little snug in the shoulders and bust line, and draped over scrub pants and an old pair of clogs.

Slowly her gloved hand moved the goggles to her broad forehead and pulled the face mask down. Her temples glistened in the sunlight. She wiped the perspiration from her mocha-toned face with a cloth, then leaned forward on the rail.

“Lose your truck somewhere, Mister Substitute Delivery Man?” she said, peering down at him. Her narrow brows arched over the straight black line of the glasses.

“And here you only saw me the one time,” Stall grinned, removed his shades and turned his hat around as a way of mocking her movements. “Must have made an impression!”

“Your pupils were dilated then, too, never mind the sunshine. I bet you’re flyin’ high for this little visit. Here’s your chance to live. Go away now and get off the drugs.”

“Uh, what?”

“Go now and live.”

Stall laughed and shook his head. “But I got a special delivery!”

“Yeah, you delivered yourself just fine.” She made a crooning sound.

“Hell you say?”

Shannon Beeler smiled as the deep and angry buzzing sounded again from the woods and grew louder.

Stall’s eyes narrowed. Cocky bitch. Was there a gun in the lab coat pocket?  

“Hear that?” She made a slow spherical motion with her gloved hand.

The buzzing became rapid and louder.

Stall drew his knife, took a few steps forward then paused, head cocked sideways. The buzzing was rushing toward them now. Drone? Was that why she was so confident, she had a goddamn drone filming the place? If so, he had to get her inside, quickly. “Inside the house, bitch! Move!”

She spoke over his shoulder. “Not much meat on him, but he’ll due for now.”

“No flyin’ camera is gonna save your ass!”

As the first stair squeaked under Stall’s boot, a shadow loomed in the corner of his eye. The sound that came with it rattled his eardrums and drummed in his chest. He started to look over his shoulder when thin hairy legs ensnared him. Pain flashed as his ribs snapped. Hooks at the ends of the legs punctured his body, and spun him so violently something was ejected from his pocket.

Stall gazed into the compound eyes of a monster.

Independently moving antenna as long as his arms protruded from its head. Above the black exoskeleton blurred red-orange wings that sent a horrid death wind over him. Chomping and clacking mandibles completed a tapered head larger than his own.

Shouting and cursing, he tried to strike and shove it off, but the beast held him fast. It arched its abdomen to bring a wickedly curved stinger between his legs and up into his lower back. It stabbed for his spine and split the gap between two vertebrae. Stall howled as venom spread like a liquid fire through vein and muscle. His struggles slowed. His cries became whimpers, and from there to wide-eyed silence. Satisfied, the wasp pulled him tightly to her undercarriage and lifted him into the air, arms and legs dangling listlessly.

“Thanks for the delivery,” Shannon Beeler said.

The wasp flew Stall to its underground nest where it laid an egg inside his thigh. The next day the larvae hatched and immediately began to consume its paralyzed food.

For over a week Stall remained alive, mouth agape with a silent scream.

                                            *         *         *

 A delivery truck turned off State Road 334 and onto the white sandy pathways of Shannon Beeler’s driveway. Grass grew high enough between the trails to brush the truck axles. Crepe myrtles passed on either side of the opened cab, and tiny white blossoms like snow flurries drifted onto the broad windshield and inside the vehicle. A moment more and dark shapes mixed with the white as Wes Cobb navigated the driveway’s familiar curves.

At first he thought they were dragonflies hunting in the summer morning, but then recognized the largest of the wasp family, the Cicada Killers. He’d been delivering a long time and wasn’t alarmed, even when they flew in and out of the cab. They were pretty much harmless, which was good because there were several with him now, and showed little inclination to leave.    

The open doors also let in the humid air of the nearby ocean and river. The truck rocked and squeaked down the uneven sandy pathways. He cleared the crepe myrtles and braked to a halt in front of the orange trailer with the small sedan and exterminator truck in front.

Shannon Beeler appeared on the front porch almost as soon as the truck halted. She touched up her hair, pushed the glasses to her head, parted the lab coat and smoothed her t-shirt and shorts. More wasps buzzed back and forth around her. She almost seemed to glide down the porch steps. She halted at the driver’s side and put a hand on her hip. “Now where you been hidin’, Wesley Cobb?”

He grinned. “Seen Shannon Beeler around?”

“You hittin’ the ghange? I’m right here.”

“Well, you look a little like her, but the Beeler I knew was a bit, uh, shall we say ...”

Beeler cocked her head and smiled. “Mmm?”

“... fuller!” Cobb leaned on the steering wheel and laughed, stomping the floorboards for emphasis.

She laughed, pulled back the lab coat and looked down. The t-shirt hung loosely below her bosom and the shorts didn’t pinch her skin at the waist. “Been busy. Too distracted and too tired to make big meals.”  

“Shouldn’t go an’ starve, now,” Cobb warned. “And damn, girl, it’s summer break! Only got a couple weeks until Session Eight. Take a breath already!”

Her smile faded a bit as she watched the wasps, eyes growing wide as if mesmerized. Cobb was about to clap her out of it when she focused on him once more.  

She took off her long latex gloves and stuffed them in her lab coat pockets. “Got time for some ice tea, Mister Delivery Man?”

He shook his head. “Nah, sorry. I’m behind as usual. But I got a delivery for ya! Hang on a sec.”

“Take your time. I ain’t on a schedule today.”

Cobb had known her long enough to recognize her common speech hid a sharp mind. He ducked back into the cargo hold, brought out two sizeable boxes marked with bio-material green crosses. She held her arms out but he stepped down from the truck and cocked his head toward the porch.

“I got ya,” Cobb said, hanging onto the boxes. “Porch good?”

“Anyplace, really.”

The wasps accompanied them as they walked. A majority of them floated around her alone, he saw. She slowly waved her arms and the insects eased back a bit.

“What the hell,” Cobb said. “You the wasp whisperer?”

“They like my little ranch here,” she said, as they went up the steps.

He set the boxes on the small table and held the computer pad out for her to sign. He turned at a sudden deep buzzing sound, scanned the woods for the source, and when he looked back Shannon was shaking her head at something, then quickly recovered.

“You didn’t deliver last time,” she observed.

“Vacation,” he replied. “You knew, right?”

“Oh yeah. Like I said, been busy.”

“That new guy did my week and another for Williams and then went missing—believe that? Shipping crew said he was hopped up on pills half the time.”

Shannon shrugged. “Too bad. He wasn’t as nice as you anyway.”

“Who is? Nobody, that’s who! Don’t forget me at survey time, Shannon Beeler.”  

“You still married?”

“Every day with my Brenda gal!” He noted the shadow that came across her face. “Hey, you’ll find yours. Just hang on a while.”

“Tools and mama’s boys. Never any middle ground.”

“Well, try the online sites. Someone’s out there for ya. They can’t all be bad, right?”

“At least one, but he’s taken.”

Wasp wings made the only sound for a moment.

“Been reading the prep chapters for Bio 310 summer class?” Cobb asked.

“Devoured them,” she said. “You?”

“Behind, as usual.” Cobb headed down the porch steps. “We gonna be lab partners again?”

“Hell yeah. I could use one now, too.”

“Huh?”

“Take a peek at what I got out back.” She picked up the boxes, walked down the steps and headed to the side of the trailer.

Cobb paused at the front of the truck and swiped at a couple wasps that easily dodged.  “Nah, I’m late already, girl. But what’s up with all the Cicada Killers?”

“Come on back and I’ll tell you. Those other deliveries can wait ten minutes, can’t they? It’s just a peek at my hobby when I’m not exterminating bugs or in the classroom.”

“Okay, Beeler. Let’s see what you got cookin’. Hopefully it ain’t meth!”

She smiled as he fell in step behind her.

Again he swung his arm slowly back and forth at the wasps. “Never seen ‘em this thick! They’re supposed to be solitary. What are ya,doin’, breeding the damn things?”

She laughed over her shoulder. She seemed lighter to him somehow. And not just physically, though she almost seemed to glide before him.  

They turned the corner of her trailer and the back yard opened wide. It was a grassy peninsula surrounded on three sides by woods of pine, sweet gum and live oak. At the center of the yard was a large wooden shed with double doors wide open, ceiling fans turning at moderate speed and overhead lights showering white light down upon several picnic tables. Under other circumstances, this might serve as the outdoor kitchen and eating area. Now the tables were laden with beakers, petri dishes, bubbling graduated cylinders, flames heating Erlenmeyer flasks with rubber stoppers and clear hoses snaking from them to a network of other containers.

Cobb whistled. “Wow, Beeler. Quite a set up. And you’re not cookin’ meth ...?”

“Science is the drug, Wes.” Beeler smiled, set her boxes down on the closest bench seat. Straightening, she held her arms out to the side. A dozen Cicada wasps landed and milled about on her lab coat. The dark forms scurried in separate directions, black chaos on a white canvas. They did not venture inside the coat, or on her neck or head.

“Watch it, there’s females!” Cobb stepped close with his hand raised, ready to swat.

“No, no! They’re just saying hello to Momma.”

And indeed the finger-sized wasps continued to mill about on Beeler’s body. They paused, rose a few inches with a collective buzz of red-orange wings, landed again on her arms and shoulders. They did not go for her head or face or legs.

Cobb shook his head. “Some pets you got there.”

She gently shook her arms and guided them from her chest area and they flew off. Some vanished, some remained to dart back and forth around them.

From the surrounding woods came several deep droning sounds, just shy of chain saw level. Shannon sang something Cobb couldn’t discern. A dark shape broke from the woods out of the corner of his eye. The volume quickly grew. Whatever it was, it was coming fast.  

Cobb leaped for a rake propped against one of the large doors. “What the hell!”

“Step inside the shed a little, Wes,” she said, calmly.

The shadow appeared on the lawn first, further knotting Cobb’s stomach. Then a creature straight out of insanity dropped down and hovered, large as a German Shepherd. Its wickedly angular head was covered in translucent hair. Long antenna moved back and forth above huge eyes and terrible jaws. Red-orange wings were swept back from the body and blurring. The wind from them stirred the dust from a bare spot, and dislodged dandelion seeds that drifted surreally away in a thin white stream as if fleeing the abomination.

A moment more and it landed. Suddenly the droning was gone. It stood on its six thin legs before Beeler and Cobb, twitching and clacking its mandibles like wooden knockers. Then its head moved, seemingly to focus its faceted eyes from Beeler to Cobb. It took a quick step forward. Cobb stiffened and jabbed the end of the rake out. Inadequate, but better than nothing.  

“No, no, no,” Shannon Beeler cooed to the beast. She held her arm out and the monster wasp’s antenna reached for her hand. It’s entire body quivered, as if in ecstacy at the contact. Its mandibles knocked softly.

“Can’t be real!” Cobb said, through a constricted throat.

“Don’t worry – she still only eats tree sap and nectar from flowers.”

“Nothing gets this big on sap and nectar!”  

“Well, mainly,” Beeler amended. “See the ingredient ratio on the sprayer?”

She gestured with her free hand toward an egg-shaped pressure sprayer with a black wand protruding through the handle gap. Black bold lettering stood starkly out on white paper, secured by clear packing tape.  

80% H2O

15% PTTH

5% Boric Acid

 Shannon Beeler caressed the wasp’s forehead as if she were stroking a dog. She looked at Cobb. “A little bit of the acid helps dissolve the PTTH into their exoskeletons. Too much and they hate it, but just enough and it penetrates to trigger the hormone for molting. They get slow and docile for a while, then molt from their old shells into their new bigger ones. Do you want to pet her?”

“Hell no, I don’t!”

She watched him carefully for a moment, evaluating. She turned to the beast, as its thick exoskeleton gleamed in the sun while fine hairs were caught in translucent display. She clapped her hands and the wings sprang to life, along with the deep droning. The creature rose a few feet in front of Shannon, then drifted toward Cobb.

“Shannonnn ...?”

The droning increased to buzz-saw decibel. The thorax curled forward, and for the first time Cobb’s gaze found the wickedly curved stinger.

Beeler leaped between them, waving her arms.

“NO!”

The beast hovered as if uncertain. The antennae worked back and forth while the mandibles clacked a menacing tune. Finally it righted itself and vanished, droning receding behind it.  

Cobb’s pulse pounded in his throat. Given the strength to size ratio of insects, the thing had to be three four times as strong as it appeared. The wind blasts had been substantial. For a long moment he could only grip the rake and stare at Beeler. Finally he found his voice.

“God! That was real? Not a drone? It was a real goddamn wasp?”

“Oh, they’re real, all right.” She laughed, but then it died down as she saw the fear on his face. “It’s okay, Wes. I’ve got ‘em handled. Somehow my voice and scent become imprinted on them along with the formula ... maybe because I talk and sing a lot back here by myself. Maybe next time when you visit I’ll be in one of them snooty mansions where I used to spray for bugs.”

Cobb wanted to shout in alarm but could only stare. He looked at the space her aberration had occupied, then back to its creator. Finally he swallowed and formed words.  

“I don’t get how ...” was all he managed.

“How trailer trash altered the growth patterns of Cicada Killers?” she said, a little breathlessly. “I’d like to say pure brilliance, but it was a lot of reading entomology journals, hunch and experimentation, mainly with Prothoracicotropic hormone (PTTH) as an internal hormone trigger and boric acid as a delivery mechanism to get the PTTH to soften and seep through the exoskeletons. They’ll drink a little from nectarized sweet water that draws them in initially, but misting with just enough acid to seep into the delicate wings is effective. At first I was so happy when the first ones grew as long as two middle fingers – ha, how precise is that?”

Cobb strained to hear the buzz of those obscene wings.  

Shannon Beeler spoke a bit longer, but later he couldn’t recall what she said, exactly. He watched her wide dark eyes and moving lips and then his gaze fell upon the lab table, where his hand could wrap around the neck of an Erlenmeyer flask. Its thick base could serve as a useful blunt object. His mind went into a loop, urging him to take her out right here and now with one massive blow to the temple and then run like hell for the truck before any more of the beasts appeared.

But she hadn’t threatened him, and he wasn’t a murderer.

He strode from the shed.

“Wes, wait ...”

Back in the truck, he slammed the cab doors shut and started it. He opened the driver’s side a little. “You need to stop with wasp shit, Shannon. It ain’t natural.”

“Is it natural to use growth hormones on cows, turkeys and chicken?”

“Barnyard animals don’t want to kill me. That wasp did. Stop this shit now, before it goes too far!”

In the side view mirrors she watched him leave. He gripped the wheel hard to try and stave off the shudders.

At the intersection of her pathways and the state road, a dark sedan slowed and waited for Cobb to exit. Judging by the mesh barrier between the front and back seat areas, and the laptop between the female driver and male passenger, they were police.  

Cobb hesitated, hands shaking on the steering wheel. The cops observed him expectantly. The driver rolled her finger for him to get moving.

Should he tell them?

They’d think he was crazy.

He eased his truck into the road and pulled alongside their vehicle. He slid his door back. “About time,” the cop said. She shook her head and goosed the sedan to turn onto Shannon Beeler’s driveway.  

Finally Cobb leaned out. “Hey! Hey, wait!”

But the cops rolled on, raising a cloud of white dust as they headed for the orange trailer.

                                        *         *         *

  “We’re working a missing person case.”

Sergeant Davis held up a sheet of paper with a photo on it. Officer Tindell, her male counterpart, took the opportunity to peer inside the windows of the trailer.

“Saw him a couple Wednesdays ago,” Shannon Beeler said.

This drew Tindell’s attention. He pulled out a small note pad out and started writing.

“Go on,” Davis said.

Beeler shrugged. “He delivered some lab supplies and was gone. Haven’t seen him since.”

Davis nodded. “We’re talking the last few days. His girlfriend has reported him missing.”

Beeler was silent.

“How would you describe the encounter?”

“Brief.”

“We need you to come to the station and tell us more.”

“I suggest you leave.”

“Doesn't work that way.”

By now the sun was high enough to illuminate the gaps between the lawn and the bushes.  

Beeler uttered a high-pitched, crooning note. In the woods, a deep buzzing sound answered, followed by another. After a moment she uttered the sounds again.  

The buzzing rushed toward them. Two large shapes broke from the surrounding woods and hovered behind the cops. Tindell had time to reach for his gun as leg hooks tore into him. The mega wasp held him tightly while the curved stinger thrust between his legs and penetrated his spine. His scream trailed off, lost in the fading buzzing as she bore him away.

Davis started shooting with the gun barely free of its holster. The beast hardly seemed to notice. It snatched her and arched its body to bring the stinger into play.

“No you won’t!” Davis cried, bashing at the monster’s snapping mandibles with the spent gun. A radio appeared in her other hand. “Dispatch, Four Bravo Three! Ten-double zero! Officer down! Officer dow—ugh!”

The stinger pierced her back. The wasp’s thorax undulated as it pumped venom into the detective. Davis’ movements slowed, freezing the horror on her face. The radio fell from rigid fingers.

“Four Bravo Three, Dispatch. Please respond! All units, Ten-double zero. Repeat, Ten double zero. Converge on Four Bravo Three’s last know location of—”

The dispatcher gave Shannon Beeler’s address.  

The wasp flew off with its paralyzed prey clutched to its underside. Blonde hair waved as they vanished over the forest canopy. Dozens of smaller wasps darted around now, excited by the actions of their larger aunts. Many paused and hovered around Beeler as she crooned. Gently she waved her arms back and moved her body from side to side. The insects followed her motions, like reef fish gliding back and forth with the waves.

Cross-chatter from the police radio on the ground.    

Shannon Beeler picked it up and pressed the side button. “Still there, Dispatch?”

“Identify yourself! Who are you?”

The arch of her brows steepened, then lowered as part of a frown.    

“Where are the detectives? Answer! Where are the detectives!”

Beeler stood frozen. The cloud of wasps drifted hypnotically around her. Many of the smaller ones landed on her, crawled a bit and then halted. By degrees her face relaxed, then sprang into crazed animation.

“Sheeeee’s watching the detectives!” Beeler laughed and sang the old Elvis Costello song into the police radio. She sang and spun slowly as she made her way to the back yard laboratory, the wasps undulating en mass around her. Finally breathless, she halted and stared at the lab, then gazed at the weathered trailer.

“Here this, people,” Beeler said, into the police radio. “You’re not welcome in the land of Sphecius speciosus. Queen Bee, out!”

She hurled the radio over the shed.

She sang even louder now. The insects flooded in and danced through the air.

They emerged from burrowed nests, the surrounding woods, and beneath Beeler’s trailer. The decibel level doubled and tripled as they closed in from the surroundings, including scores of the large ones. Gleefully Beeler sprayed them all with her formula. Then she went inside the trailer, got the keys to the exterminator truck and pulled it around back before the shed. She kicked off the reservoir containers, tainted with bug poison. She replaced them with many nests, jugs of formula, sprayers and lab equipment.

She didn’t bother packing personal items or food.

The mansion overlooking the Fear River had everything—including an underground bunker.

The current tenants would provide fine ‘rich’ dining for wasp larvae. Even now, a swarm of the insects flew around, wings collectively thudding the air like a squadron of helicopters. Some crawled over the truck as she drove off, but hundreds more—perhaps thousands—flew above and around it.

The first sirens started beyond the woods.

The dark cloud followed her three miles to the gated community.

The security guard slid open his glass door. He took a half-step out, the challenge dying on his lips as he registered the noise, then what was causing it.

Shannon Beeler sat silently in the driver’s seat. On impulse she extended her arm out the window and sliced the air. One of the large wasps suddenly hovered face-to-face with the guard. He had time enough to realize the nightmare was real, and to scream when the beast reared up, leg hooks thrusting forward. The thin legs were like iron rods. She held him in place and sank her stinger into his back, then flew off with her immobilized prize.

Beeler’s truck snapped the boom with ease.

She drove the gracefully winding avenues to the mansion she had serviced as a pest control technician, and floored it into the iron gate. The truck’s grill crumpled a couple inches, headlights shattered, the hood puckered, and a jet of hot steam erupted, but there was enough engine to make it up the driveway, where she slammed into the back of a black Mercedes. The roaring cloud passed over her as she got out and stood before a porch as broad as her entire trailer. She gazed at the alabaster columns and the massive structure that beckoned behind them.

And smiled.

The wasps descended upon the dwelling. They crawled over the tiered roofs, the faux parapets, thick walls. Scores of them circled around the opulent columns to greet their queen as she strode up the porch steps and stood with her hands on her hips before iron double doors. Two giant wasps wrenched them from their hinges and dropped them, clanging, at her feet.

The insects formed a black tide and flooded inside.  

The owner and workers of the mansion became nest nutrition. As did the neighbors.

Soon the entire gated community was emptied of residents.

Passing motorists had their doors torn off and occupants plucked away. Often the car was still moving when the driver was ripped out, leaving the vehicle to crash.

Those of the township who could flee did so. If they didn’t leave fast enough, the wasps took them. Soon only one human could walk freely in the land of mansions on the Fear River.  

Shannon Beeler.

The police made raid after raid.

Most of the time Beeler waited in the underground bunker’s theater for the gunfire to stop. One cop even had a chance to speak through a bullhorn before he too, was taken. Eventually they had enough firepower to bring down a few of the dog-sized wasps, but then bear-sized ones took their place and tore apart every group sent against them. Mandibles cut limbs and heads from bodies. Remains that were not consumed were dropped into the broad feeder creek, where they made an island of human flotsam.

Bull sharks, alligators and vultures feasted.

Until they, too, were plucked up.

Police snipers were snatched from the landscape, as were entire squadrons.

The Coast Guard cutter stationed in Wilmington was summoned. Shannon’s swarm rose from the forests and hillsides as a vengeful storm and intercepted the ship as it sliced the river. Booming rounds went out from the 25 mm chain gun at the bow. They ripped into the cliff face and blew holes into the sides of the mansion. Glass had no chance of remaining intact. Coasties on deck tore into the swarm with automatic rifle fire.  

The insects closed on them in a thousand directions at once. Wasps perished under hails of automatic gunfire, but after fifteen minutes all gunfire had quieted, replaced by trailing shouts as Coasties were carried off or killed outright. Mammoth bugs blackened the hull and decks, and splattered them with blood and ichor. They raced in an out of the hatches. After twenty minutes they flew off. The vessel, now unmanned, ultimately rammed the sands of a nameless river beach.

Next to try were special forces. Some made it back alive, none unscathed. The more they sent, the more powerful the swarm became.  

Politicians kept the larger military at bay. They cited the ancient Roman axiom that you don’t let an army operate en mass inside your borders, unless it’s a civil war.  

Were it permitted to do so, the Air Force could drop a bunker buster, but there were  networking tunnels now and many houses in which to evade death. The wasp swarm could darken the skies like the Persian arrows at the Battle of Thermopylae. The large ones had large offspring. Beeler did not necessarily have to create more, but she did anyway.

Small aircraft no longer flew low. Military drones fared no better.

Shannon Beeler made the FBI’s Most Wanted List. They cut her power but the bunker had its own power supply, and there were generators everywhere in this neighborhood.

Civilian activity thinned. The Fear River area in all directions became a kill zone. The wasps spread further and further out, owning the day and remaining alert but largely hidden at night. Those that succumbed to bullets and grenades were soon replaced.

Signposts went up along every road in the area. They featured a black outline of a wasp against neon yellow, over which was painted in jagged red letters:

Welcome to Shannonsland

                                       *         *         *

An army colonel and police captain stood before Wes Cobb on a narrow river beach. The three were surrounded by a group of cops and soldiers who stood with rifles ready. With a few exceptions guarding the rear and flanks, they faced a broad creek stemming from the Fear River. Small waves lapped the sand and sides of Cobb’s kayak. A warm breeze diced the surface water, creating a glittering path toward the beach and pock-marked cliff at the opposite shore.

Cobb grabbed his backpack tank and electric sprayer from where they had deposited them on the sand. He hefted them into the middle of the kayak as the two commanders spoke of tides, current and wind.

The guy holding the paddle stared at its owner with contempt.

Cobb kneeled and, using the two leaders as a screen, pretended to adjust the fit of the prosthetic leg. He wasn’t all comfortable with it yet, but had already modified it a little. He pulled at the thin blade as he stood, felt the press of steel against the inside of his forearm. “The current’s still headed toward Beeler’s beach, but it won’t be if you keep my ass here much longer.”

“Our raids were done from fast-moving boats,” the colonel said, breaking off his conversation to fix Cobb with weary stare. “You putz over in that toothpick and the bugs’ll fly out and snatch you from the middle. Too easy.”

“Have you seen ‘em fly at night?” Cobb replied. “... because I haven’t.”  

The police captain’s face contorted in the moonlight. “Tell that to the cops and soldiers we lost on half a dozen night raids!”

“Were the boats in the water when the bugs struck, or on shore?”

Silence told Cobb he was right. “Five weeks ago they crawled into my neighborhood after dark. Busted through doors and windows like wrapping paper. One clamped onto my leg and slammed me against the wall while another ... stung my wife and crawled away with her. I lost my grip on my gun. I didn’t even get a goddamn shot in.”

“Sorry,” the top cop said, her expression softening a bit.  

“My neighbor showed up with his deer rifle while the goddamn bug slammed me back and forth,” Cobb said, sloshing through the shallows toward the guy with his paddle. “Howard put some rounds through its eyes and it finally went down. Used his belt as a tourniquet around my thigh. Slowed the flow just as mandibles reached from behind and took his head off. I shot his rifle a few times and blacked out. Evidently Howard had also called 911 ‘cause I woke up in a hospital bed three days later. Too long for my Brenda to survive a wasp larvae.”

“You did what you could do,” the police chief said.  

“No," Cobb said. "But I am now.”

“A properly motivated fighter can rain hell on the enemy,” the colonel said. “But that acid in your tank is an inferior weapon. No range, son. Even if you did manage to drop one, it’d just fall and pin you down.”

Cobb shook his head. “They hate this concentrated shit, and I got the melted bug bodies piled up around the house to prove it. They come flying in by day, and crawling by night. Looks like she hasn’t bred them into night flyers.” The sloshing stopped as he stood before the soldier holding his paddle. “... yet.”

The colonel grunted.  

The special forces soldier spun Cobb’s kayak paddle like an airplane propeller. “Might be hand paddles tonight, civilian.”

A few rough laughs came from the others.

Cobb grabbed the paddle with one hand and slid his other hand low. The propeller halted and the men eyed one another; one in camouflage shirt and pants, muscles pressing against the material, and the other in a sleeveless t-shirt, shorts and boots and looking a little frail after rapidly dropping fifteen or twenty pounds.

     “One throat punch and I save the bugs the trouble of ending you, gimpy,” the dude said from behind orange-tinted sunglasses.  

The moon was big and bright, but not enough for shades.

“A month ago, yeah. Not today,” Cobb said.

“Any day.”

Cobb leaned in, and the soldier rose a bit on his toes. Cobb pressed with enough force to leave no doubt of the price of sudden movement.  

“Blade’s a good idea,” the soldier said. “Might need to slit your own throat when that jacked-up water gun fails.”

Cobb stared through him with lidded eyes. For a moment he saw the horror on Brenda’s face as the stinger entered her back. He blinked the image back and jerked the paddle away. He let the knife linger, then withdrew it. “Go team.”

“I could still arrest you,” the cop said.  

“For kayaking at night?” Cobb said.

“Why do it? We’ll get Beeler eventually. Yeah, the bugs are fast and strong. In the end, though, we’ll win.”

“Hasn’t happened so far. None of this shit scares her. She figures she’s due and it’s all Shannon’s land now.”

The boric acid sloshed in the tank as he pushed the kayak onto the dark waters and slid in. The others fell silently away as Cobb paddled across the broad creek. He paused beneath the overhead canopy of stars, took out a cigarette pack and tapped it against the heel of his hand. Two cancer sticks flew into the river, but he pulled a third out with his lips. He exchanged the pack for a lighter.  

Tremors made the flame dance. Finally he lit the cancer stick. New, short-lived habit. Didn't matter much without Brenda. He took several deep pulls then started again, keeping his gaze on the strip of pale beach where corpses of both human and insect had washed up.

With the red-tipped cigarette bobbing from the corner of his mouth, Cobb kept the kayak’s prow centered on the steep but not vertical cliffs, well aware that each stroke brought death that much closer. You have to know where the killers are, and where they are likely to be.

Draw them to you and you know where they are.

Buzzing started here and there from the nest holes in the cliff sides, beyond the cris-crossed trunks of Loblolly pines fractured by bombs and .50 caliber bullets. A distant voice sounded, female, crooning something unintelligible but mellifluous.

“Shut up, Shannon,” Cobb said.  

He took a final drag and flicked the cigarette. The white stem and red glowing tip tumbled and then struck the shallows with a hiss. He put clear safety glasses on. Acid mist plays hell on naked eyeballs. As the prow of the kayak slid softly into the sand, he stepped out, spray rifle ready.

Only relative silence met him. No six-legged footsteps, no buzzing wings, no clicking mandibles. Just a soft breeze that whispered of Death’s arrival.

Tensed for battle and receiving none, he doused the gaps between the fallen trees for good measure. He pushed the kayak out and watched it drift away a moment. Then he started toward the cliff trail that wound up the cliff.  

Sounds from above responded to his steps.

He negotiated the fallen trees, the wasp carcasses, human remains and fractured rock before arriving at the start of the trail. Moonlight gleamed off the face. In the many holes in the cliff, protruding antennae slowly moved back and forth. Mandibles knocked and clicked, along with bursts of deep buzzing and the scraping of leg hooks against stone.

A broken trail of stone steps zig-zagged upward. He sprayed every thirty feet before him and shot into the nearest holes, forcing the antennae to vanish deeper inside. He climbed up, higher and higher, boric acid sloshing in the tank on his back.  

He went down a few times, but not beneath hooked legs and snapping jaws, just trips. He wasn’t all that used to the prosthetic for climbing. Gasping for breath, he finally cleared the trail and stood in the ruins of a huge flagstone patio; toppled stone walls, splintered columns of what had probably been a pergola, and what was either the remnants of a large fire pit, or the calling card of a mortar or grenade.

He glimpsed the bugs in the shadows of the trees and the ruins of the house, some half exposed in the moonlight. His streams of boric acid gave rise to a mist that lingered before slowly dissipating. He’d done this enough to know that given the numbers of bugs concentrated here, something else persuaded them to stay beyond reach.  

“Wesley Cobb.”

She stepped from behind a broken column. The black sleeveless mini-dress clung to her reduced form and the high heels gleamed in the moonlight. Like himself, gone were ten or fifteen pounds of extra weight. Large dark eyes dominated her lean face. The perpetual dark rimmed glasses were gone. One arm was across her midsection, with the elbow of the other propped upon it, pistol aimed at night sky. “My swarm doesn’t like your formula! I don’t like it either.”

“To hell with you and your swarm,” Cobb snarled. He squeezed a couple bursts at her and the dark forms that inched closer from the perimeter.

Beeler ducked behind the column and the bugs scurried back.

“Stop, Wes!” she cried. “Please, I don’t want to shoot you!” Her arm and partial profile appeared with a flash and bang. The bullet tore into the stone tile at his feet, sending shards into his good leg and sparks off the steel rod of his prosthetic. He groaned a bit but did not go down.  

She slowly reappeared, smoking barrel raised to the stars once again. “I didn’t want them to go after you or Brenda. I – I didn’t have to come out for this. There’s enough moonlight for normal binoculars. I see them across the river, and that it was you in the kayak. I had my swarm hold back so you could get here.”

He lowered the rifle tip and took a couple steps closer. She lowered the pistol, hammer clicking forward beneath her thumb.

“Murder agrees with you,” Cobb said, glancing at her outfit.

“Wes, don’t ... I … thought you might like this.”  

“Was it worth it?”

“Most of it, yes. But not this. Not with you.”

“It isn’t your world to burn, Shannon Beeler.”

“It’s take or get taken!”

“Which nest is Brenda’s body in?”

Her eyes welled with tears. “Wes, it’s been ... too long.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” He raised the rifle and squeezed the trigger.

“Wes, no ..!”

Her bullets tore through his acid stream. She screamed and her rounds dropped him. The bugs closed in, mandibles slicing into his body and taking his hands. Within the torrent of agony and fading consciousness, Cobb glimpsed a sudden light in the night sky. It grew exponentially brighter in seconds. The rush drowned out the screams and the bugs tearing him apart. There was a brief moment of realization, then the world exploded.

 Back on the far shore, the colonel and police captain watched through binoculars.

“Shannon Beeler is no longer a queen bee,” said the colonel.

“We took our guy out too,” said the top cop.

“Cobb was a dead man when he left in that kayak,” the colonel said. “You saw the bugs swarm after Beeler’s rounds hit him. We did him a favor.”  

A radioman stepped forward.  

“Sir! Command wants to know about a second drone strike.”

“Why the hell not?” said the colonel. “Cobb was right. The bugs don’t fly at night. Let’s pound her headquarters and all those damn nests to the molecular level.”

As he uttered the words, loud buzzing started across the waters. It built exponentially as more and more joined from other directions. Dark shapes streamed forth from the cliff sides, woods, and forsaken mansions and took to the night sky.

Moonlight glowed dully upon the hard exoskeletons of thousands of monster Cicada Killers, and lit a cloud of semi-translucent wings. As Death's shadow they raced across the waters toward the fleshy humans. Shouts rang out, along with the click and clatter of readying weapons and bursts of gunfire.

“Retreat!” the colonel cried, firing his .45 into the swarm.

A black shape swooped. His gun splashed into the river and he was laid out on the sand with a bleeding scalp. He started to get back up when a wasp the size of a bear clamped onto him.  

The police captain drew her sidearm and fired into the beast’s eyes, then kicked it away. She stood over the fallen colonel. Flashes from her rounds lit the area.

“Looks like with proper motivation they can fly at night!” the top cop snarled, an instant before a passing hooked claw severed her arm.

The gunfire faded. Screams punctuated the bass drone of powerful wings. The others were dead or dying or becoming paralyzed provisions.

Blood spurts from the police captain splattered the water. With her remaining hand she pulled a .357 revolver from her ankle holster. She fired three shots into the eyes of the closest beasts.

Another ended colonel’s scream as a stinger sank into his back.

The final round tore through her temple.

[a1asod]

Enhancing Your Garden’s Beauty With Gold Timberline Mulch

When it comes to landscaping and gardening, finding the right mulch can make a significant difference in the overall aesthetics and health of your outdoor space. One mulch variety that has gained popularity among gardeners is Gold Timberline Mulch. In this blog, we will explore the benefits and uses of it and how it can enhance the beauty of your garden.

What is Gold Timberline Mulch?

Gold Timberline Mulch is a premium organic mulch made from finely ground, aged bark. It is renowned for its rich golden color, which adds warmth and vibrancy to any garden. This mulch variety undergoes a rigorous composting process, ensuring that it is free from weeds, pests, and diseases.

The Benefits Of Gold Timberline Mulch:

Weed Suppression: It acts as a natural barrier, preventing weed growth in your garden beds. By inhibiting weed germination and growth, it reduces the need for manual weeding and helps maintain a clean and well-maintained garden.

Moisture Retention: One of the significant advantages of using this Mulch is its ability to retain moisture in the soil. It acts as a protective layer, reducing evaporation and helping the soil stay moist for longer periods. This is especially beneficial during hot summer months or in regions with dry climates.

Temperature Regulation: It acts as an insulating layer, protecting plant roots from extreme temperature fluctuations. It keeps the soil cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter, creating a more stable environment for plants to thrive.

Enhancing Garden Aesthetics:

Visual Appeal: The rich golden color of Gold Timberline adds an instant visual appeal to any garden. Whether you have vibrant flowers, lush greenery, or architectural plants, the contrast provided by the golden mulch creates a stunning backdrop, making your plants stand out.

Uniformity And Cleanliness: By applying a layer of Gold Mulch, you can achieve a uniform look throughout your garden. It covers any exposed soil, providing a clean and polished appearance. Additionally, the mulch prevents soil erosion, keeping your garden beds intact and tidy.

Best Practices For Using Gold Timberline Mulch:

Preparation: Before applying It, clear the garden beds of any existing weeds or debris. It is also recommended to add a layer of organic compost or fertilizer to provide additional nutrients to the soil.

Thickness: Apply a layer of Timberline Mulch that is about 2–3 inches thick. This thickness allows for proper moisture retention and weed suppression while still allowing air circulation to the plant roots.

Mulch Maintenance: Regularly check and replenish the mulch layer as needed, especially after heavy rain or wind. Maintaining an adequate mulch layer ensures that your garden continues to receive the full benefits of Gold Mulch.

Conclusion Garden Mulch is a valuable asset for gardeners looking to enhance the beauty and health of their outdoor spaces. With its weed-suppressing qualities, moisture retention abilities, and visual appeal, it provides a multitude of benefits for your garden beds. By following the best practices for its application and maintenance, you can enjoy a vibrant and well-maintained garden all year round.

Source: https://bit.ly/46p7TFs

[thetreecareguide]

7 Tree Care Tips for Property Owners

Need help keeping your trees from becoming hazards on your property? Understanding some basic tree care techniques will help prevent your trees’ sickness, destabilization, and death.

thetreecareguide.com gathered some essential tips to help property owners give their trees the best care so they thrive and stay healthy well into maturity.

1. Tree Selection

When searching for the “perfect” tree, you’ll want to look for one with a straight trunk. Trees that grow into large shade trees should have a strong central leader (trunk) with branches evenly distributed around it. Consider the following when selecting a tree:

Size (knowing the mature height and spread of trees can prevent multiple landscape problems)

USDA Hardiness Zone (A crucial consideration when selecting trees is their cold hardiness)

Pest Susceptibility

Soil Requirements

Tip: Send a soil sample to your state’s university extension for testing. This will reveal the soil’s nutrient content and availability, pH value, microbial activity, etc. This test will guide you if any soil adjustments are needed for healthy tree growth.

2. Tree Planting and Location

Trees can be planted anytime, as long as you can dig an adequate planting hole. If the ground is frozen, it’s better to wait for the thaw. Generally, the more time between planting a tree and the beginning of summer, the better (that makes fall the best time to plant new trees). Early spring is another popular planting time as well. Consider the following when planting your tree:

Dig the hole (2 to 3 times wider than the diameter of the tree's rootball)

Massage, loosen, and trim the roots

Place the tree in the center of the hole

Fill in the hole

Build a wide soil berm (this will help when watering your tree)

Stake and tie the tree

Water the tree thoroughly

Add a 3-inch layer of mulch

Tip: Trees should not be too close to buildings or power lines, and you should consider where you want shade or wind relief around your property. Try to plant trees 15 to 20 feet away from buildings when possible. Evergreens and clumping trees are typically used along property lines (as privacy screens) and in windbreaks.

3. Watering Schedule

Newly planted trees require more frequent watering than established ones. They should be watered at their planting time and at the following intervals:

1 to 2 weeks after planting, water daily

3 to 12 weeks after planting, water every 2 to 3 days

After 12 weeks, water weekly until roots are established

The above is a great rule of thumb, but different trees and soil types require different watering patterns, so keep that in mind to ensure your trees are properly watered.

Note: Water thoroughly before planting, at planting time, and the day after planting. This helps settle the soil and eliminates large air pockets.

4. Why You Need to Mulch

Tree care professionals prefer organic mulches, like wood chips, pine needles, hardwood and softwood bark, composted leaves, and other compost mixes. When these mulches decompose, they improve soil structure and increase soil fertility. Other benefits of proper mulching include the following:

Preserves soil moisture by increasing water infiltration and slowing evaporation

Significantly improves soil structure, fertility, and aeration as it decomposes

Efficiently moderates soil temperature, protecting roots from extreme summer and winter temperatures

Note: The most beneficial mulch options include wood chips, bark nuggets, composted leaves, or pine needles.

5. Seasonal Tree Pruning

Pruning can remove limbs and branches with a disease, fungi, and other decay, stopping them from spreading to healthier branches or the trunk. Removing these branches also exposes the others to more sunlight and air circulation, which helps reduce disease occurrence.

Note: Late winter is the best time to prune most trees. Trees are still dormant at this time of year, and, unlike early winter, wound closure will be rapid if pruning occurs just prior to the growing season.

6. Insect Pests and Diseases

Insect pests can be classified into three categories when regarding trees:

Chewing insects that eat portions of the tree (Japanese beetles, gypsy moths, tent caterpillars, etc.)

Sucking insects that suck sugars out of the tree’s stems and leaves (aphids and scales)

Boring insects that bore into the tree to eat portions of the inner bark or create nests. These insects cause the most damage to trees (Emerald Ash Borer, bark beetles, pine beetles, etc.)

Prevention: Apply insecticidal sprays in 2-week intervals before and during the growing season. However, insects can build up tolerance to even the best insecticide when used repeatedly. Alternate applying insecticides with different active ingredients.

Tree diseases, fungi, and viruses have three crucial factors: the host, the pathogen, and the environment (these make up the disease triangle). Consider the following:

The host is identified as the tree or plant in question

The pathogen is the disease, fungi, or virus

The environment is all the factors influencing the pathogen and host

Most tree species are susceptible to at least one disease-causing fungi. Yet, most fungi are beneficial to their host (only a few are harmful to trees).

Disease can be carried by vectors, most commonly insects. This is seen in dutch elm disease, where the bark beetle acts as a vector. Given there are a multitude of diseases, being able to properly identify the disease or pest that's doing the damage will help you considerably in resolving your issue.

Prevention: Fungicides kill the fungi that cause many common tree diseases. Treatment methods may include tree spraying or fungicide injection into the truck, branches, or soil. Insecticides should also be considered, as many pathogens migrate on insect vectors.

7. Tree Fertilizing and Pulling Weeds

When needed, the best time to fertilize is mid-spring (April or early May) or late fall once trees are dormant. The fertilizer should be spread evenly across the soil surface, and the amount of nitrogen applied should be 3 pounds per 1,000 square feet.

Note: Early spring growth depends almost entirely on nutrients absorbed and stored the previous year.

Tree Care Tips

In this article, you discovered tree planting and care tips to help you keep your trees healthy and strong as they grow and tower over your property.

Knowing what to do for your trees when planting them and as they grow will help you keep them thriving and prevent them from dying and falling on your property.

Not knowing the best ways to plant, care for, water, and trim trees leaves them vulnerable, and you responsible to spend money to have them removed.

Sources: extension.umn.edu/planting-and-growing-guides/watering-newly-planted-trees-and-shrubs csfs.colostate.edu/2018/02/20/late-winter-best-time-prune-trees-colorado/ ourcityforest.org/blog/2020/4/17/identifying-tree-pests-and-disease canopy.org/tree-info/caring-for-trees/mature-trees/ arborday.org/trees/tips/

For the original version of this article visit: http://www.thetreecareguide.com/7-tree-care-tips-for-property-owners/

[companews]

commercial mulch installation 11/22

At Bella Mulch, we offer a variety of compost alternatives to fit your details requirements: Our brown compost is excellent for including a natural touch to your landscape. In contrast, our red compost supplies a pop of shade. For an extra contemporary look, our black mulch is optimal. We additionally supply tiny pine bark nuggets for those who desire an even more one-of-a-kind look. Our IPEMA-certified playground compost is ideal for risk-free and also enjoyable play areas. Regardless of your requirements, we have the best mulch for you. Commercial mulch installation.

Since 2012, our compost firm has actually been providing property mulch services to home owners in the location. We have the experience and also understanding to do the work right the first time. Whether you need a small amount of mulch for your yards or a bigger quantity for your landscaping, we can help. Our experience gives you with the most effective feasible service and suggestions to ensure that your mulch lasts for many years.

If so, after that look no further than Bella Mulch. We are the leading mulch supplier in the Myrtle Beach area.

[industrynews4all]

residential mulch installation 11/22

At Bella Mulch, we offer a wide variety of mulch options to suit your specific needs: Our brown mulch is perfect for adding a natural touch to your landscape. In contrast, our red mulch provides a pop of color. For a more modern look, our black mulch is ideal. We also offer mini pine bark nuggets for those who want a more unique look. Our IPEMA-certified playground mulch is perfect for safe and fun play areas. No matter your needs, we have the perfect mulch for you. Residential mulch installation.

Since 2012, our mulch company has been providing residential mulch services to homeowners in the area. We have the experience and knowledge to do the job right the first time. Whether you need a small amount of mulch for your gardens or a larger amount for your landscaping, we can help. Our experience provides you with the best possible service and advice to ensure that your mulch lasts for years. 

Have you been searching for "mulch installers near me?" If so, then look no further than Bella Mulch. We are the leading mulch supplier in the Myrtle Beach area. We are dedicated to providing our customers with the best products and services. With our extensive knowledge and experience, we can help you create the perfect landscape for your home.

[scully-xo]

Now complete! “Quantum Files”

X-Files/Quantum Leap crossover, pre-series canon divergence, pining, angst, MSR

word count: 12k, rated t

@today-in-fic @xffictober2022

Their connection was tenuous - always had been. It began in person, a few brief moments he cherished, but it had been forged from light, her projected image shining out at him. Now she flickered, crackled - tiny lightning-bolts arcing through her façade. Or was it all in his head? Had his visions of her become more real than her manifestations? Or with each leap, was he surely, inevitably, fraying the threads that let her appear to him? Would the day come that he wouldn’t see her at all? Or would he continue like normal, talking to a figment that truly wasn’t there?

Read on AO3

Chapter: 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6

***

Chapter 7

After dropping off his cargo, Mulder learned that it was 1978. Too late. Too early. So, he led Jared Sica’s life as best he could. His wallet didn’t contain any photos of a family. Only a few crumpled bills and plastic cards. A rosary was wrapped around the rear-view mirror, but he had to stow it away in the glove compartment. It was one thing to want to hold on to memories of Scully, to remember what she looked like and the steady sibilance of her voice. It was entirely different to be reminded with every glance as he drove that he would never see or hear it again.

Instead of getting another payload, and continuing his cross-country lonesome journey, he found himself hanging around the same area. Driving by Vicky’s aunt’s place. He never saw her, but he wondered. It was safer than his other thoughts.

Several times, he passed by the place where he’d found her. The oil tanker was long gone. The weather turned, the brightness of summer burning away the mist. Each time he drove past, wheels grumbling on the asphalt, he wished for the fog. Maybe if it returned, Scully would come back, materializing through the wall of trees. Her unsubstantial light morphing into something real. It wouldn’t happen, couldn’t, but still he wished for it.

Soon, he’d have to move on. Jared had savings, and Mulder was Jared and could do what he wanted. He could use his savings, sell his truck, move near Vicky, and make sure she’d be okay. It was the only thing he could think to do that might make a difference. After all, he was five years too late to save Samantha. 

But some part of him wouldn’t let him. A little nugget of hope. Maybe Scully would find a way. If anyone could, it would be her. He didn’t let himself linger on that idea very much. Usually just in the moments before he fell asleep. When he reached out and pretended to run his fingers through her crimson hair. At this moment, it was just as real as every other time he tried to do it. Just like those other times, he’d feel nothing, as his hand moved through space instead. It felt real. Maybe pretending would be enough.

***

Mulder was passing by the stretch of road once again. It was the trees that gave the spot away. Something he’d even noticed in the mist, and was even more obvious in the bright glare of a summer sun. Two massive redwoods, side by side, crossing as they rose into the sky. It made a giant ‘X’, screaming that this was spot. This was it. Where he’d lost her.

He parked, pulling onto the gravelly shoulder, and approached the trees. Up close, he was dwarfed by them. It was a dizzying effect, and he laid his hand on the tough, spongy bark and inhaled the spicy-sweet scent. Bowed his head. In his pocket he carried Jared’s rosary and he fingered the chipped wooden beads. How much of the trucker did he carry with him? Would Jared’s God answer his prayers, fooled by the deception?

Even if Jared believed, and Scully, Mulder didn’t. He sighed, stretched his back, sore from sitting for so long. Then he unzipped his pants and pissed against the tree instead.

“Mulder.”

“Shit!” He spun around, dick in his hand, spraying everywhere, to see Scully standing next to him.

Her eyes flicked down, then back up to his face. “Um…”

Turning his back to her, stuffing himself in his pants, he whipped around again. “Scully!”

Her cheeks blazed. Her hair shone in the sun. Looked just like he remembered, better than any sunrise. 

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, her expression turned serious. “We don’t have much time. Where are you?”

“I’m, uh… right where I should be, I think?” He wanted to reach out and hug her. Wrap himself around her, like Vicky’s aunt. “God, Scully… you did it.”

Then he noticed her face. Drawn, thin. Her straight nose stood out, her cheekbones soared. Eyes a dull blue. Of course she’d done it. And it had cost her.

She nodded, looking around. “You were driving. Can you get to the same place? Even if you’re within a few yards I think I can manage it.”

“I remember, Scully.”

Standing a few feet away, she looked up at him. Hesitated. “I don’t want to go,” she said, biting her lip. 

He kneeled in front of her. Felt the stones of the rosary in his pocket jam against his leg. The weight of the device around his neck.

“It’s never changed, Scully.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I believe in you.”

Nodding, her back straightening, she gave him one last smile before stepping back into the shadows of the trees around them. Disappearing, hopefully, for the last time.

>>>FLASH<<<

His whole body ached. Limbs felt like he’d been torn apart and put back together again, over and over. His eyes felt like he’d been standing in a sand storm.

He coughed. Throat was dry. Stomach felt like it had shrunk to the size of a pea. Like he hadn’t had any food or water in three months. Maybe he hadn’t.

Cracking his eyes open, he saw the familiar capsule surrounding him. Trapping him inside. And across the plastic barrier, dark and dreamlike, was Scully. They were in the same room as before, but the lights were off. The screens surrounding him, and the ones near Scully, were the only source of light. She stood there, eyes wide.

“Wanna…” he croaked, his voice rough with disuse. Coughed again. Pulled against his restraints.

Instead of Scully, it was Mario in front of him, unlocking the door and pulling him out. Scully hadn’t moved.

“Slow now,” Mario supported him, half-carrying him from the chair onto another one. “There ya go.”

Everything was under plastic sheets. Packed away. Chairs lifted from the ground onto long rows of tables. Cables strewn along the tiled floors. He craned his head to look where he’d last seen Scully. She was gone. Disappeared. Was this a dream? Would they taunt him, for the rest of his life?

Small hands laid upon his shoulders. They trembled. He opened his eyes and saw her.

“Mulder.”

“Hey.”

“You’re really here.”

His eyes burned, but he kept them open until tears formed, turning her into an indistinct apparition. But she was there. He felt the touch of her hands as they patted over his arms, up his neck, over his cheeks. When her thumbs grazed over his lips, he nearly jumped from the contact. Her breath was sweet, minty. She smelled like sweat and soap. As much as he loved seeing her and hearing her, knowing she was there, it was all the rest of his senses catching up that convinced him this was real.

“God, Scully.”

Her face twisted, tears falling from her eyes, though she didn’t stop staring at him.

“It’s okay. It’s okay Scully. You did it. I’m home.”

Nodding, silent, she bowed her head against his chest. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders and held him close. It was a loose embrace, nothing like the bruising hug he witnessed between Vicky and her aunt. But with every second that passed, holding her and laying his cheek against her soft hair, he felt himself twining around her. Making an endless thread, her and him, that could never be unraveled.

She pulled back and looked into his eyes. Shining, bright, hopeful for the first time in weeks. Months.

Then he kissed her.

End.

[walks-the-garden]

Flowerpot Parasol! As the name implies, it often grows in flowerpots and greenhouses in climates that would otherwise be too cool and dry for it naturally.

As a general rule, fungus in your plant pots is a good sign for your garden, it means your soil is healthy, and they're no cause for alarm!

(Just make sure that if you have any young children that they are supervised and know to *never* eat Mushrooms they find, as these and many others are poisonous if consumed.)

[ID: Four images, each a different angle of a bright yellow cat litter pail that is being used as a plant pot for a pepper plant {Sugar Rush Cream, Capsicum Baccatum}.

There is mulch in the container in the form of pine bark mini nuggets, and one entire half of the container has bright yellow mushrooms coming up with wide umbrella-like caps that have a brown circle in the center.

The mushrooms have pushed the mulch around and squeezed into all available space, including between the pepper stems, squishing the caps as they crowd each other.

The stems of the pepper have turned brown and woody with age, (two year old plant) known as lignification, and there is bright green new growth farther up the plant.