#amaryllid

[chimerabytes]

Amaryllid, a former Worker Drone tasked with harvesting foreign flora from other planets. He was eventually converted into a Disassembly Drone, the AbsoluteSolver taking advantage of Amary's negative emotions after being abandoned by his former humans.

Amaryllid loves nature, and lives in a warehouse overrun with wildly growing plants. They continue to collect and grow various flowers, succulents, trees, fruit, and vegetables. Especially paying extra care to specimen harvested from now destroyed planets.

(Amaryllid use he/they/it pronouns)

[floragender]

[ID: 3 flags with 11 horizontal stripes. The stripes from top to bottom are dark purple, purple, pastel purple, light purple, light pink, dark red, light pink, light purple, pastel purple, purple, dark purple. The dark purple stripes are wavy. In the center of the second flag is a black silhouette in front of four red spider lilies. The silhouette has a white question mark for a face.]

YOUR PERFECT MATCH IS . . . ♡ ‎ ; ‎ MYSTERYESS , a gender connected to being the goddess of mysteries / being mysterious and having red spider lilies tied to you

[ for @cocajimmycola's coining event day 002 , prompt was mystery / flowers ~ ! please tell bun if this has been coined before ]

[artechoceneexplorer]

Herbs and Spices of Teyvat: Sumeru

The lush jungles of Sumeru harbor an incredible diversity of plants, animals and fungi, and the people of this region have naturally made use of all this diversity for their cooking, known for its variety of flavors and spices.

Some of the most commonly known plants that used as spices are the Harra Fruit, the Sumeru Rose, and the Padisarah.

The Harra Fruit is one of the, if not the most, commonly used spice across sumeru, obtained from the Harra Plant (Aromatosquama dracovum). This plant is a strange cactus with broad, lobed leaves that grows in forests clearings and other more open areas of the rainforest. Its fruits exude a spicy aroma that is meant to dissuade mammalian frugivores , as this fruit is dispersed by dusk birds. To use this spice, one must dry the fruit, and then ground it to a powder, so all the different parts of the fruits, with different flavor compounds, can mix to create an incredibly complex mixture.

The Sumeru Rose (Rosoides communis) is a bulbous amaryllid widespread across the rainforests, and that is more often used as an ornamental plant for its beautiful, fragrant flowers; but that can, and is, also used in cooking because of those same flowers, which are edible, and provide the food with that same pleasant aroma. The bulbs and leaves can also be used, as they are technically edible, but they are poisonous if eaten in enough amounts.

The Padisarah (Padisarah paradoxicus) is a rare, underbrush magnoliid whose flower buds are ground and used to make a very valuable spice. It is a plant with extremely demanding growing conditions, and only grows in a select few places, exclusively in gardens. This is because the natural habitat of this plant, alongside a host of other flowers, no longer exists, but this plant has been able to survive by being cultivated artificially by humans.

[chimerabytes]

ok throwing together a Murder Drones oh cee on the spot

Name: Amaryllid (Worker ID 4246, -> Serial Designation A)

Gender/ Pronouns: Neutrois, He/They/It pronouns

Classification: (former) Worker Drone, converted into Disassembly Drone

Personality: Ama is quite aloof, tends to keep to himself and doesn't like talking about himself. Amaryllid uses this unassuming persona to his advantage, strategically picking off other Drones to siphon oil from. At first it came with much guilt, but Ama has learned to steel himself and let go of their guilt complex. Other than that, he can be a bit too soft-spoken and a doormat, but harbors an insidious hatred for anyone who would take advantage of their personality.

Backstory: Amaryllid was a Drone previously created for the purpose of scavenging and harvesting organic life on other exoplanets, primarily flora. Amary would make countless trips to other planets and gather native flora, and bring them back to Earth to hybridize with Earth plants and cultivate special varieties for the wealthy socialites to use in gardens. It is unknown when Amary was converted into a Disassembly Drone, but it's theorized it was as a result of Amaryllid questioning the ethics of colonizing and depriving exoplanets of their unique, natural resources.

[thegrandimago]

Taken the same day as the previous post, these are southern swamp crinum (Crinum americanum). They're native to North America from Texas to South Carolina, into Mexico, Cuba, Jamaica, and the Cayman Islands wherever there's still water bodies. They bloom from summer to autumn with fragrant white flowers and pink to red stamens as shown. Afterwards, they produce seed capsules containing large fleshy seeds. #plant #plants #flower #flowers #wildflowers #wildflower #texasplants #texasplant #txplants #txnature #crinumlily #crinumlilies #amaryllids #amaryllid #texasnativeplants #texasnature #nature #flora #plantae #angiosperms #vascularplant #tracheophyta #monocot #asparagales #amaryllidaceae #amaryllidoideae #crinum #crinumamericanum #southernswampcrinum (at Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center) https://www.instagram.com/p/CkoUa92qMkQ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[blur-sanity]

But, I know that it is not Forever

By Amaryllide 

I know... I am a page in  your books or the words you write in your poems I know... I am the portraits you are always painting or the inspiration behind your masterpieces I know... I am the reasons for your smiles or the tickles of your laughter I know... I am your shining star or the light in your life I know... I am that heartfelt

Or your thoughts

But,

They say always is never and forever is a lie.

And,

There is a face like a spring flower throughout the heat of the day.

When the sky turns gray, I buy an umbrella to keep watching it.

Days will turn into nights, and the clouds will turn into rain.

I would give the world for this.

But, I know that it is not forever

[msclaritea]

An Icococlast by Arthur Conan Doyle

It was daybreak of a March morning in the year of Christ 92. Outside the long Semita Alta was already thronged with people, with buyers and sellers, callers and strollers, for the Romans were so early-rising a people that many a Patrician preferred to see his clients at six in the morning. Such was the good republican tradition, still upheld by the more conservative; but with more modern habits of luxury, a night of pleasure and banqueting was no uncommon thing. Thus one, who had learned the new and yet adhered to the old, might find his hours overlap, and without so much as a pretense of sleep come straight from his night of debauch into his day of business, turning with heavy wits and an aching head to that round of formal duties which consumed the life of a Roman gentleman.

So it was with Emilius Flaccus that March morning. He and his fellow senator, Caius Balbus, had passed the night in one of those gloomy drinking bouts to which the Emperor Domitian summoned his chosen friends at the high palace on the Palatine. Now, having reached the portals of the house of Flaccus, they stood together under the pomegranate- fringed portico which fronted the peristyle and, confident in each other's tried discretion, made up by the freedom of their criticism for their long self- suppression of that melancholy feast.

"If he would but feed his guests," said Balbus, a little red-faced, choleric nobleman with yellow-shot angry eyes. "What had we? Upon my life, I have forgotten. Plovers' eggs, a mess of fish, some bird or other, and then his eternal apples."

"Of which," said Flaccus, "he ate only the apples. Do him the justice to confess that he takes even less than he gives. At least they cannot say of him as of Vitellius, that his teeth beggared the empire."

"No, nor his thirst either, great as it is. That fiery Sabine wine of his could be had for a few sesterces the amphora. It is the common drink of the carters at every wine- house on the country roads. I longed for a glass of my own rich Falernian or the mellow Coan that was bottled in the year that Titus took Jerusalem. Is it even now too late? Could we not wash this rasping stuff from our palates?"

"Nay, better come in with me now and take a bitter draught ere you go upon your way. My Greek physician Stephanos has a rare prescription for a morning head. What! Your clients await you? Well, I will see you later at the Senate house."

The Patrician had entered his atrium, bright with rare flowers, and melodious with strange singing birds. At the jaws of the hall, true to his morning duties, stood Lebs, the little Nubian slave, with snow-white tunic and turban, a salver of glasses in one hand, whilst in the other he held a flask of a thin lemon-tinted liquid. The master of the house filled up a bitter aromatic bumper, and was about to drink it off, when his hand was arrested by a sudden perception that something was much amiss in his household. It was to be read all around him—in the frightened eyes of the black boy, in the agitated face of the keeper of the atrium, in the gloom and silence of the little knot of ordinarii, the procurator or major-domo at their head, who had assembled to greet their master. Stephanos the physician, Cleios the Alexandrine reader, Promus the steward each turned his head away to avoid his master's questioning gaze.

"What in the name of Pluto is the matter with you all?" cried the amazed senator, whose night of potations had left him in no mood for patience. "Why do you stand moping there? Stephanos, Vacculus—is anything amiss? Here, Promus, you are the head of my household. What is it, then? Why do you turn your eyes away from me?"

The burly steward, whose fat face was haggard and mottled with anxiety, laid his hand upon the sleeve of the domestic beside him.

"Sergius is responsible for the atrium, my lord. It is for him to tell you the terrible thing that has befallen in your absence."

"Nay, it was Datus who did it. Bring him in, and let him explain it himself," said Sergius in a sulky voice.

The patience of the Patrician was at an end. "Speak this instant, you rascal!" he shouted angrily. "Another minute, and I will have you dragged to the ergastulum, where, with your feet in the stocks and the gyves round your wrists, you may learn quicker obedience. Speak, I say, and without delay."

"It is the Venus," the man stammered; "the Greek Venus of Praxiteles."

The senator gave a cry of apprehension and rushed to the corner of the atrium, where a little shrine, curtained off by silken drapery, held the precious statue, the greatest art treasure of his collection—perhaps of the whole world. He tore the hangings aside and stood in speechless anger before the outraged goddess. The red perfumed lamp which always burned before her had been spilled and broken; her altar fire had been quenched, her chaplet had been dashed aside. But worst of all—insufferable sacrilege!—her own beautiful nude body of glistening Pantelic marble, as white and fair as when the inspired Greek had hewed it out five hundred years before, had been most brutally mishandled. Three fingers of the gracious outstretched hand had been struck off, and lay upon the pedestal beside her. Above her delicate breast a dark mark showed, where a blow had disfigured the marble. Emilius Flaccus, the most delicate and judicious connoisseur in Rome, stood gasping and croaking, his hand to his throat, as he gazed at his disfigured masterpiece. Then he turned upon his slaves, his fury in his convulsed face; but, to his amazement, they were not looking at him, but had all turned in attitudes of deep respect towards the opening of the peristyle. As he faced round and saw who had just entered his house, his own rage fell away from him in an instant, and his manner became as humble as that of his servants.

The newcomer was a man forty-three years of age, clean shaven, with a massive head, large engorged eyes, a small clear-cut nose, and the full bull neck which was the especial mark of his breed. He had entered through the peristyle with a swaggering, rolling gait, as one who walks upon his own ground, and now he stood, his hands upon his hips, looking round him at the bowing slaves, and finally at their master, with a half- humorous expression upon his flushed and brutal face.

"Why, Emilius," said he, "I had understood that your household was the best- ordered in Rome. What is amiss with you this morning?"

"Nothing could be amiss with us now that Caesar has deigned to come under my roof," said the courtier. "This is indeed a most glad surprise which you have prepared for me."

"It was an afterthought," said Domitian. "When you and the others had left me, I was in no mood for sleep, and so it came into my mind that I would have a breath of morning air by coming down to you, and seeing this Grecian Venus of yours, about which you discoursed so eloquently between the cups. But, indeed, by your appearance and that of your servants, I should judge that my visit was an ill-timed one."

"Nay, dear master; say not so. But, indeed, it is truth that I was in trouble at the moment of your welcome entrance, and this trouble was, as the Fates have willed it, brought forth by that very statue in which you have been graciously pleased to show your interest. There it stands, and you can see for yourself how rudely it has been mishandled."

"By Pluto and all the nether gods, if it were mine some of you should feed the lampreys," said the Emperor, looking round with his fierce eyes at the shrinking slaves. "You were always overmerciful, Emilius. It is the common talk that your catenoe are rusted for want of use. But surely this is beyond all bounds. Let me see how you handle the matter. Whom do you hold responsible?"

"The slave Sergius is responsible, since it is his place to tend the atrium," said Flaccus. "Stand forward, Sergius. What have you to say?"

The trembling slave advanced to his master. "If it please you, sir, the mischief has been done by Datus the Christian."

"Datus! Who is he?"

"The mutilator, the scavenger, my lord. I did not know that he belonged to these horrible people, or I should not have admitted him. He came with his broom to brush out the litter of the birds. His eyes fell upon the Venus, and in an instant he had rushed upon her and struck her two blows with his wooden besom. Then we fell upon him and dragged him away. But alas! alas! it was too late, for already the wretch had dashed off the fingers of the goddess."

The Emperor smiled grimly, while the Patrician's thin face grew pale with anger.

"Where is the fellow?" he asked.

"In the ergastulum, your honour, with the furca on his neck."

"Bring him hither and summon the household."

A few minutes later the whole back of the atrium was thronged by the motley crowd who ministered to the household needs of a great Roman nobleman. There was the arcarius, or account keeper, with his stylum behind his ear; the sleek praegustator, who sampled all foods, so as to stand between his master and poison, and beside him his predecessor, now a half-witted idiot through the interception twenty years before of a datura draught from Canidia; the cellarman, summoned from amongst his amphorae; the cook, with his basting-ladle in his hand; the pompous nomenclator, who ushered the guests; the cubicularius, who saw to their accommodation; the silentiarius, who kept order in the house; the structor, who set forth the tables; the carptor, who carved the food; the cinerarius, who lit the fires—these and many more, half-curious, half- terrified, came to the judging of Datus. Behind them a chattering, giggling swarm of Lalages, Marias, Cerusas, and Amaryllides, from the laundries and the spinning-rooms, stood upon their tiptoes and extended their pretty wondering faces over the shoulders of the men. Through this crowd came two stout varlets leading the culprit between them. He was a small, dark, rough-headed man, with an unkempt beard and wild eyes which shone, brightly with strong inward emotion. His hands were bound behind him, and over his neck was the heavy wooden collar or furca which was placed upon refractory slaves. A smear of blood across his cheek showed that he had not come uninjured from the preceding scuffle.

"Are you Datus the scavenger?" asked the Patrician.

The man drew himself up proudly. "Yes," said he, "I am Datus."

"Did you do this injury to my statue?"

"Yes, I did."

There was an uncompromising boldness in the man's reply which compelled respect. The wrath of his master became tinged with interest.

"Why did you do this?" he asked.

"Because it was my duty."

"Why, then, was it your duty to destroy your master's property?"

"Because I am a Christian." His eyes blazed suddenly out of his dark face. "Because there is no God but the one eternal, and all else are sticks and stones. What has this naked harlot to do with Him to whom the great firmament is but a garment and the earth a footstool? It was in His service that I have broken your statue."

Domitian looked with a smile at the Patrician. "You will make nothing of him," said he. "They speak even so when they stand before the lions in the arena. As to argument, not all the philosophers of Rome can break them down. Before my very face they refuse to sacrifice in my honour. Never were such impossible people to deal with. I should take a short way with him if I were you."

"What would Caesar advise?"

"There are the games this afternoon. I am showing the new hunting-leopard which King Juba has sent from Numidia. This slave may give us some sport when he finds the hungry beast sniffing at his heels."

The Patrician considered for a moment. He had always been a father to his servants. It was hateful to him to think of any injury befalling them. Perhaps even now, if this strange fanatic would show his sorrow for what he had done, it might be possible to spare him. At least it was worth trying.

"Your offence deserves death," he said. "What reasons can you give why it should not befall you, since you have injured this statue, which is worth your own price a hundred times over?"

The slave looked steadfastly at his master. "I do not fear death," he said. "My sister Candida died in the arena, and I am ready to do the same. It is true that I have injured your statue, but I am able to find you something of far greater value in exchange. I will give you the truth and the gospel in exchange for your broken idol."

The Emperor laughed. "You will do nothing with him, Emilius," he said. "I know his breed of old. He is ready to die; he says so himself. Why save him, then?"

But the Patrician still hesitated. He would make a last effort.

"Throw off his bonds," he said to the guards. "Now take the furca off his neck. So! Now, Datus, I have released you to show you that I trust you. I have no wish to do you any hurt if you will but acknowledge your error, and so set a better example to my household here assembled."

"How, then, shall I acknowledge my error?" the slave asked.

"Bow your head before the goddess, and entreat her forgiveness for the violence you have done her. Then perhaps you may gain my pardon as well."

"Put me, then, before her," said the Christian.

Emilius Flaccus looked triumphantly at Domitian. By kindness and tact he was effecting that which the Emperor had failed to do by violence. Datus walked in front of the mutilated Venus. Then with a sudden spring he tore the baton out of the hand of one of his guardians, leaped upon the pedestal, and showered his blows upon the lovely marble woman. With a crack and a dull thud her right arm dropped to the ground. Another fierce blow and the left had followed. Flaccus danced and screamed with horror, while his servants dragged the raving iconoclast from his impassive victim. Domitian's brutal laughter echoed through the hall.

"Well, friend, what think you now?" he cried. "Are you wiser than your Emperor? Can you indeed tame your Christian with kindness?"

Emilius Flaccus wiped the sweat from his brow. "He is yours, great Caesar. Do with him as you will."

"Let him be at the gladiators' entrance of the circus an hour before the games begin," said the Emperor. "Now, Emilius, the night has been a merry one. My Ligurian galley waits by the river quay. Come, cool your head with a spin to Ostia ere the business of State calls you to the Senate."

First published in 1911.

 @ebaeschnbliah @shylockgnomes @sarahthecoat

[floragender]

[ID: A flag with 9 horizontal stripes. The stripes from top to bottom are dark brown, dark red, red, orange, pale orange, orange, red, dark red, dark brown. Overlaid on the flag are red spider lilies.]

Spiderlillyic

A gender based on the spiderlilly and the moment life ends (dying). Native throughout Asia, they represent final goodbyes.

[not to be confused with spiderlillygender]

[victorfursov]

Мед Под Микроскопом: Пыльца Амариллиса Hipperastrum X 400, Kiev, Ukraine

ЛИНК = https://youtu.be/KfwKPOH8XUE = Мед Под Микроскопом: Пыльца Амариллиса Hipperastrum X 400, Kiev, Ukraine = Honey Under Microscope: Pollen of Hipperastrum X 400, Kiev, Ukraine   VIDEO LINK = https://youtu.be/KfwKPOH8XUE  Honey Under Microscope: Pollen of  Hipperastrum X 400. Мед Под Микроскопом: Пыльца Весенних Цветов в Воде и Меде Х 400 01.04.2015.  Мед Под Микроскопом: Пыльца  гиппераструма Hipperastrum в Воде и Меде Х 400 Гиппеа́струм (на латыни Hippeástrum) — род растений семейства Амариллисовые (Amaryllidaceae). Нередко гиппеаструм ошибочно называют амариллисом.

Corydalis solida, synonyms = C. halleri, C. transsylvanica (fumewort), is a species of flowering plant in the family Papaveracae, native to moist, shady habitats in northern Europe and Asia.

Amaryllidaceae (amaryllids) are a family of herbaceous, mainly perennial and bulbous (rarely rhizomatous) flowering plants included in the monocot order Asparagales. The family takes its name from the genus Amaryllis, hence the common name of the amaryllis family. Энтомолог, кандидат биологических наук Виктор Фурсов рассказывает о меде и пыльце растений - и показывает под большим увеличением микроскопа - в 100, 200 и 400 раз пыльцу растений -  пыльцу ГИППЕРАСТРУМА: Опыт 10: Цветочная Пыльца Увелич. Х400.   Мед и Цветочная Пыльца Под Микроскопом: Опыт 10: Увеличение микроскопа - от 100 - до 200 раз. Увеличение зум видеокамеры Х 20- Х 25. Микроскоп Олимпус - OLYMPUS CX-41.. Видеокамера Sony CX-240X. Объектив увеличение Х 10 и Х20, окуляр Х 10, зум видеокамеры Х 20- Х25. Видеокамера Sony CX-240X. ОБЩЕЕ УВЕЛИЧЕНИЕ - Х 100 - Х 200 - максимум до Х400 - Х 500 раз. \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Do you really like my Video and appreciate my efforts? I will be really grateful for your donations:  And it really works! Welcome to this page be my Patron and to know more about my work and my Video: https://www.patreon.com/drvictorfursov

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If you want to learn English language with me, or Biology in English (private lessons in Kiev or via SKYPE): Если хотите научиться разговорному английском языку вместе со мной по SKYPE or privately, или изучать биологию на английском языке, то я помогу Вам реализовать Вашу МЕЧТУ!

Это это мои контакты (частные уроки или уроки по СКАЙП): My SKYPE: zemi_san My E-mail: ufensia@gmail.com

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Пчеловодство в Украине 2015: Микро-Мир: Мед и Цветочная Пыльца разных видов растений под микроскопом.

Слушайте, смотрите наше оригинально�� видео, пишите комментарии, подписывайтесь на наш канал на Ютубе !!!!

VIDEO WAS RECORDED:   09.05.2015, the city of Kiev, the capital of UKRAINE. Recorded by Victor Fursov, Entomologist in Ukraine. ОРИГИНАЛЬНОЕ ВИДЕО ЗАПИСАНО:    09.05.2015., г.Киев, столица УКРАИНЫ. Original Video was recorded by Viktor Fursov, Biologist and Entomologist in Ukraine.

Explicit written and oral permission for recording and uploading this unique Video was received from interviewed persons (lecturers). We express them a great acknowledgement for this permission.

ПОДПИСЫВАЙТЕСЬ НА МОЙ ВИДЕО-КАНАЛ! УСПЕХОВ! https://www.youtube.com/user/ufensia/about

WELCOME TO SUBSCRIBE TO MY VIDEO CHANNEL: https://www.youtube.com/user/ufensia/about

WELCOME TO MY FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/victor.fursov.39

281005 Ukraine Beekeeping HoneyFlower Bee Load Pollen 232

Пчеловодство в Украине 2015: Микро-Мир: Мед и Цветочная Пыльца разных видов растений под микроскопом.

Мед Под Микроскопом: Цветочная Пыльца: Honey Under Microscope: Pollen of Hipperastrum X 400, Kiev, Ukraine.

VIDEO LINK = https://youtu.be/KfwKPOH8XUE

[floragender]

[ID 1: A flag with 9 horizontal stripes. The stripes from top to bottom are pastel yellow, pale yellow, orangish white, pastel yellowish green, green, pastel yellowish green, orangish white, pale yellow, pastel yellow. Overlaid on the flag is the Mozilla bouquet emoji.]

[ID 2: A flag with 9 horizontal stripes. The stripes from top to bottom are dark pink, faded pink, orangish white, pastel yellowish green, green, pastel yellowish green, orangish white, faded pink, dark pink. Overlaid on the flag is the Mozilla bouquet emoji.]

[ID 3: A flag with 9 horizontal stripes. The stripes from top to bottom are orangish yellow, pastel yellow, orangish white, pastel yellowish green, green, pastel yellowish green, orangish white, pastel yellow, orangish yellow. Overlaid on the flag is the Mozilla bouquet emoji.]

[ID 4: A flag with 9 horizontal stripes. The stripes from top to bottom are faded red, faded pink, orangish white, pastel yellowish green, green, pastel yellowish green, orangish white, faded pink, faded red. Overlaid on the flag is the Mozilla bouquet emoji.]

Row 1: Daffodilbouquetic and Amaranthbouquetic Row 2: Marigoldbouquetic and Hibiscusbouquetic ⛲⛲-🌼🌼-⛲⛲-🌼🌼-⛲⛲

1. Daffodilsbouquetic - tldr; a gender that is connected to or influenced by bouquets of daffodils. a gender that is connected to or influenced by bouquets of daffodils. It may also be connected to daffodils in general.

2. Amaranthbouquetic - tldr; a gender that is connected to or influenced by bouquets of amaranths. a gender that is connected to or influenced by bouquets of amaranths. It may also be connected to amaranths in general.

3. Marigoldbouquetic - tldr; a gender that is connected to or influenced by bouquets of marigold. a gender that is connected to or influenced by bouquets of marigold. It may also be connected to marigold in general.

4. Hibiscusbouquetic - tldr; a gender that is connected to or influenced by bouquets of hibiscus. a gender that is connected to or influenced by bouquets of hibiscus. It may also be connected to hibiscus in general.

⛲⛲-🌼🌼-⛲⛲-🌼🌼-⛲⛲

[cactusmandan]

While Cacti are my speciality, I'm trying to branch out into growing other plants which can cope with drought. That's where these (and the other African bulb plants I'm growing) fit into things. ;) These are assorted African Amaryllids, which shouldn't be confused with the genus Amaryllis. 'Amaryllid' refers to a plant from the family Amaryllidaceae. :)

These have been germinating nicely, which makes sense for seeds which don't have any innate dormancy. What's a bit weird though is that all these species are supposed to be Winter active and Summer dormant, yet they're growing nicely here in late Spring. I'm not complaining! I quite like the way they germinate. The cotyledon remains mostly inside the seed. The first organ to emerge from the seed is the petiole of the cotyledon. This petiole grows down into the substrate where it differentiates into the radicle and hypocotyl. The region between the radicle and the hypocotyl is what becomes the bulb plate in mature bulbs. From the hypocotyl grows the first true leaves, called plumules. There's more info on that here if anyone's interested. Very cool if you ask me. :)

So these are various things from different genera: Crossyne guttata, Brunsvigia bosmaniae, Brunsvigia orientalis and Haemanthus sanguineus. Hopefully they'll muddle through Summer without dying or getting eaten by snails...

[chimerabytes]

i know i said i was gonna draw amaryllid but i also wanna redesign my irkensona... buts also, caribou / reindeer fursona... :3

[floragender]

[ID: 3 flags with 4 horizontal stripes. The stripes from top to bottom are orange, yellow-orange, yellow, pastel yellow. Overlaid on the second flower is a white daffodil drawing.]

( @mogai-sunflowers ' 1,000 follower coining event ;; d1 )

;; 🌷DAFFODILIC🌷;;

A gender related to daffodils(AKA the 'narcissus flower').

☆term coined and flag made by @charlieisdumby (me)!☆

[◇DNI IF ;; anti-anti/proship, p^do/M.A.P, zoo, cringe/flop blog, anti-mogai, nsfw/k^nk blog, etc.◇]

[blur-sanity]

8 Rules of writing a good book

By Amaryllide 

Writing demands, the writer to be motivated at some point, to be familiar with the writing style/language, and knowing the rules of writing. You can’t just come and type down everyone in your mind. And expect that what you are writing is going to be leaked and get liked. Also, being a writer is such a strange job, and the rules are applied to them as strange they are.

Check this out:

1.Putting it on paper and then start fixing it. If it stays in your head, a perfect idea, you’ll never share it with anyone.

2. Leave out the part that readers tend to skip. Think of what you skip reading in a novel: thick paragraphs of prose you can see have too many words in them.

3. Analyze the type of writing and our audience, and then proceed. Every type, category of writing has the rules that guide it; so please use them.

4. Write with enough assurance and confidence, you are allowed to do whatever you like. (That may be a rule for life as well as for writing. But it’s definitely true for writing.) So write your story as it needs to be written. Write it ­honestly, and tell it as best you can. I’m not sure that there are any other rules. Not ones that matter.

5.You have a right to express what you see and what you feel and what you think. To be bold. To be as bold with your vision as you can possibly be. Our salvation, to the extent that we have one, will come out of people realizing the crisis of our species and of the planet and offer their deepest dream of what’s possible.

6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them--in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

7.Abandon the idea that you are ever going to finish. Lose track of the 400 pages and write just one page for each day, it helps. Then when it gets finished, you are always surprised.

8.Don’t worry even a little bit whether your book is on trend. All the trends will be trending differently by the time you get published, so it’s pointless to overthink it while you’re writing.

Bring your thoughts to life, and spread them to the world. 

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A word after word is Power( Spelling by Margaret Atwood)

 By: Amaryllide 

The only root of writing is having a word after another. As words keep on coming just let them from ( that is a sign of inspiration). Don’t ever wait for perfection, and if you do- you will never write anything at all-- A word after another, idea after idea, sentence after sentence, page after page, and at the end, it will be a complete manuscript.split everything down and connect later.

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Why do I want to be a writer?

By: Amaryllide

Many people get ideas in their minds about why they want to become writers, and most of the times- they are very wrong. You don’t want to be a writer because of- you just like books, you just heard about a writer, you dreamt of making it your career.

Here are the reasons why you want to be a writer:

1. A Breed which is not easily found:

Any dream is just unique at some point. Many people tend to dream of the trending things just because they are on a level that is a bit high. For instance, getting a high bill, traveling to developed countries. But the worse part; is that it goes with time. And, for others, they dream to become great sailors, business people, great people in the world, and more.

writing is a way of bringing life to the world. writers dream of reaching to many people, and it is a very unique and adorable thing which is not understood by many people. They would not understand you-you don’t dream the same thing.Additionally, there is a risk of becoming a writer, no matter what efforts you draw in; there is no guarantee that you will get your writings liked by the community that you tend to give the best of yourself.please, do this if you want to do it.

2. Get yourself a huge Therapy:

Therapy centers on expressing and communicating your inner struggles. so, writing is the greatest way of expressing and communicating to the community at large.

As you know, there are many kinds of scripts/writings which means that there are very different kinds of expression and communication throughout the created plot-- they do reveal the frustrations, feelings, fears, beliefs, and more. And the greatest secret of writing is that it can just drive you to the edge of everything which cures a bad mood/day/thoughts. At the end of the day, you will realize that all you have been through was a long-term therapy that lightened your life.

3.It is so wild-your life becomes too:

There is a lot going on in your head in a blink of an eye. They are things that you only image in your head-please, they are not imaginations-you can bring them to life. you can bring them with your paper&pen- ever wanted to be an astronaut, a traveler, a secret agent, and more? all that can happen is living in those characters.

4. Changing life:

All those Novels can change something for you. They teach in one way or another where it makes you laugh, smile, cheer up, cry and more. Don’t think that writing is just a random thing from no-where, it is just from some deep thoughts of a human being who has lived on earth, and the truth about our world at some point.

There are many things that go on that we have never wanted to understand. Someone who has the capability to make it to the fellows will just do it in his way. you want to be a writer just because you are willing to help the lives of different people with your knowledge. 

I know that there are different things that you have learned from different writings. Believe me, there is a difference. “I did read this from this book” see!!, people will say that; it just changes something in their mind. The amazing thing is that the community still saves the information from fiction. It is a pleasure to create fiction full of the right knowledge about what goes around.

You don’t have to expect anything in return in order to want to go for a writer!- “ No, No, No, No, And Never!”. All you have to do is to just to put down all the words from your heart and thoughts for a way to express yourself, live what you have in your mind, to change lives, and to become a rare breed. “ I know that seeing your work being a trend, being nominated for awards, impacting the world( which is very amazing), and more wouldn’t do any worse at any point-but don’t create for that; just live writing for the above-highlighted reasons.”