#garden benches scotland

[classicmemorialbenches]

Is oak wood good for outdoor benches?

Oak wood is an excellent choice for crafting enduring and sturdy outdoor furniture. It possesses remarkable strength and durability, which makes it an ideal timber for creating timeless pieces. As oak ages, it develops a stunning silver-grey patina that is highly desirable to many people.

Oak wood can be a good option for outdoor benches, as it is a strong and durable hardwood that can withstand weather and outdoor conditions. Additionally, regular maintenance, such as cleaning and resealing, may be necessary to maintain the appearance and longevity of the bench.

[adventuresofalgy]

In a corner of Algy's assistants' garden that was sheltered from the north, there rested an old garden bench which, though undeniably decorative owing to advancing decay and its rich coatings of lichens and rust, was no longer safe for human beings to sit upon.

Fluffy birds, however, who not only weigh a great deal less than humans, but are able to leap up into the air should their perch unfortunately happen to collapse beneath them, are able to rest upon it without concern.

So, when Algy noticed a rogue patch of sunshine illuminating the corner of this bench, he hopped up onto it and lay back contentedly against the rusty arm rest, for although the new day had brought some fine sunny intervals, there was also a roaring and bitterly cold wind blowing from the arctic regions of the world, and the dense evergreen shrubbery which screened this spot provided a great deal of protection.

And as he revelled in the adventitious spotlight, Algy realised that for the first time since the autumn, the sun also felt almost warm. Of course he knew that this happy state of affairs was sadly temporary, for a great cloud threatened to bring another shower of sleet and hail very soon, but it was so spring-like for the moment that although there was as yet no sign of the skylarks returning, and in fact the wind was anything but mild, Algy just couldn't help singing:

Die Lerche in blaue Höh entschwebt, der Tauwind weht so lau; sein wonniger milder Hauch belebt und küßt das Feld, die Au. Der Frühling in holder Pracht erwacht, ah alle Pein zu End mag sein, alles Leid, entflohn ist es weit! Schmerz wird milder, frohe Bilder, Glaub an Glück kehrt zurück; Sonnenschein, ah dringt nun ein, ah, alles lacht, ach, ach, erwacht! Which translates roughly as: The lark into blue heights escapes, the thawing wind blows so gently; its delightful mild breath revives and kisses the field, the meadow. Spring awakes in beautiful splendour, ah, all anguish may have come to an end, all suffering has fled far away! Pain becomes milder, happy pictures, Belief in luck returns; Sunshine, ah, please come in, ah, everything laughs, ah, ah, awake!

[Algy is singing the popular waltz Frühlingsstimmen (Spring Voices) by the 19th century Austrian composer Johann Strauss, with original lyrics by Richard Genée.]

This waltz is often played as an orchestral piece, but the lyrics were written for soprano voice and, as an aria, Frühlingsstimmen used to be popular in concert performances. For those who enjoy such things, here is a charming, abridged, staged version from the archives, sung by the clear voice of German soprano Ingeborg Hallstein in 1963:

[enbycrip]

Folks, if you are talking about or sharing anything about “native plants”, please mention *your* location and *where* the plants are native to, not only country-wise but environment-wise.

So many people are learning about rewilding, gathering, foraging and gardening for food in harmony with the environment entirely online. Making your information clear for those people takes you little effort and limits confusion and misinformation getting out there.

The internet isn’t only “not just America”; many nations contain different environments with materially different conditions.

I live in Scotland. Most of the gardening and foraging information I get in the UK is calibrated for the south of England, which is a really different environment from mine - spring can come up to a month later and the south is semi-arid, which Scotland is *not*.

These days I actually look at a lot of Danish and Swedish gardening advice because their environment is a lot closer to mine. And that’s within one small nation. The world is wide and full of incredible diversity.

I am seeing UK-based pages sharing information about “native lawns” which contain plants from arid areas of the US because there’s no specificity in the original post. A small amount of information in the post, even a few lines, about locations, environments, context and goals would prevent this sort of confusion and incorrect information from spreading.

A lot of people are really enthusiastic and ready to be engaged in gardening for food, rewilding, gardening in harmony with the environment, soil preservation etc, but confusion and feeling they can’t trust information sources can really kill that. Make it easy for people new to the movement where you can, please.

ID: some photos of my native rewilded lawn from Scotland, UK, containing buttercups with butterfly eggs on them, yellow rattle, a willow tree, wild orchids, and many different grasses, and my small garden pond upcycled from a Belfast Sink surrounded by wild grasses, ladies’ mantle and wild geraniums and with woundwort and pondweed growing in it. There is a short path mowed in the lawn to allow safe passage of mobility devices and a wooden bench sitting in the long grass. A somewhat overgrown gravel drive and a front door with three steps up to it can be seen. The photos were taken in early June 2023.

[lorriiraine]

on a bench on an October night

Pair: Sebastian Sallow x female!MC

Summary: MC and Sebastian are visiting the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade which will teach MC what it means to be scared. Sebastian gets MC out and take her to a save place.

Warning: angst

Format: One-Shot

Note: still learning to write - be patient and gentle 😩😂🖤

(hc) - MCs haircolor

(ec) - MCs eye color

(House) - MCs Hogwarts house

A soft rustling of the leaves, the gentle whistling of the wind, the calming crackling of the branches in the air current.

It was autumn in Scotland and Hogwarts Castle was surrounded by the most beautiful reds and oranges of the falling leaves. The air was getting colder, the atmosphere warmer. Pumpkins with different faces and filled with candles had been standing everywhere for a few days, illuminating the gardens, the courtyards and the main hall. Halloween was getting closer and closer. What was popular with the students at Halloween - Hogsmeade. Honey Duke's was a hugely popular destination at this time of year. Students would buy loads of sweets, arrange to meet in their common rooms in the evenings and tell scary stories around the fireplace or sneak around the castle at night. Others used this time of year to visit a very special place near Hogsmeade - The shrieking shack.

That was Sebastian Sallow's plan too this year. A young wizard from the seventh year. Strongly built, brown, tousled short hair. Hazel brown eyes. His face and neck kissed by the sun, which left soft freckles on his skin. With long strides he walked to the great hall with one goal - MC.

MC and he had been close friends since fifth grade. That was when she came to Hogwarts. He had liked her from the first moment she had beaten him in a duel in DADA. He had been enthralled by her. This enthusiasm developed into an intimate friendship.

Arriving in the great hall, he looked around and spotted her sitting at her house table. Her (hc) hair fell in gentle draughts over her shoulders. Her (ec) eyes were fixated on a book she was reading. With a smirk, Sebastian walked towards her.

"Hey, MC! Aren't you getting tired of this dull book? How about a real adventure after a long time?", Sebastian asked her while sitting down and taking the book from her. Bored and with a feigned look of disgust, he flipped through the book. MC rolled her eyes. "An adventure...? Can't mean anything good coming from you," MC said with a smirk. "You and I... go to Hogsmeade and visit the shrieking Shack. What do you say? Appropriate for Halloween?" came from Sebastian. MC just sighed in amusement. "Those are all just rumours... that house isn't cursed," came from her and amused, she shook her head. "If it's not cursed, then why not leave in the first place?", Sebastian teased further after closing the book she had been reading earlier. MC hesitated a little. "Fine... if you really want to," she spoke timidly. "Scared?" the Slytherin retorted. Briefly, MC blushed and avoided his gaze. "Pah. Definitely not," she spoke and gave a short snort, which made Sebastian laugh. "Fine... get your things. I'll meet you outside in twenty minutes," with those words Sebastian stood up and left MC alone.

Twenty minutes later on the dot, MC left the castle. She was wearing a jumper in her house colour, along with black leggings and dark boots. Around her neck she had tied a scarf, also in her house colours. She looked around briefly when she saw Sebastian. Wearing a grey cloak and a Slytherin scarf. "Sebastian," she exclaimed. Said person turned and smiled gently. "Shall we?" he inquired again. After an affirmative nod from MC, the two set off.

Arriving at the shrieking shack, the pleasant, harmonious mood of the surroundings suddenly changed. Bare, black trees adorned the path, the bushes sprawled over the road. Ravens sat on the signposts and crowed their cruel sounding songs. Every now and then there was a rustling in the branches, the crooked house didn't seem to be getting any closer.

"Creepy, isn't it?", Sebastian interrupted the silence between them with a cheeky grin. From his expression, he actually felt quite at home here. MC, on the other hand, noticed how she was getting more shaky inside. However, she tried to hide it from her best friend as best she could. She couldn't admit that she was getting nervous. Not after she had made such a big claim that this place wasn't haunted.

Her reaction elicited only a soft laugh from Sebastian. "Don't worry. Nothing will happen to you. I'm with you, after all, protecting you from the evil, evil spirits," he spoke arrogantly. However, for the sole purpose of reassuring MC. To make her laugh. And it actually elicited a response from her. "I'm not scared," she spoke, poking the Slytherin in the side, whereupon he laughed softly again. "It's alright, if the brave one (house) says so..." he quipped. MC rolled her eyes, smiling only slightly.

Arriving at the front door step, her smile disappeared again. Her eyes darted up the front of the house. Ivy vines grew up the wall, the rotten wooden shutters rattled and banged open and shut again and again. The dirty windows shook in the wind. A low howling could be heard and holes in the roof left the house unprotected from all of nature's powers.

"We don't have to go in. If you want to turn back, we will.... I can buy you a butterbeer," came from Sebastian after watching MC closely. The young woman, however, looked briefly at Sebastian. She didn't want to freak out and leave. They were here now. Then they should go in too. Without thinking twice, MC opened the heavy, creaking door.

Inside the house it was dark. Cobwebs hung in every corner. The smell of rotting wood was in the air. Slowly the two went inside. The furniture was dusty, the walls tarnished and scratched, as if a wild animal had run through the halls of the house. "Lumos," spoke Sebastian, who had drawn his wand. A bright light illuminated the entrance hall of the house and the two of them got a better view of the surroundings. Crooked pictures on the wall, some had fallen down and broken. The wooden floorboards were already grey from the dust. The two took their time and looked around.

Then a loud howling sounded. So loud and so shrill that it sounded like a woman's shrill scream. MC flinched and instinctively grabbed Sebastian's arm. Her gaze was fixed on the ceiling. Sounds that sounded like footsteps could be heard. "Hey.... All good... the holes in the roof.... And presumably the broken windows.... Are providing a vacuum that's causing that howling. There's nothing ghostly there," Sebastian's voice was soft and calm. Slowly he released his arm from her grasp and put it around her shoulders instead. He noticed how quickly her shoulders rose and fell. How she trembled.

After a moment, MC calmed down, swallowed once and took a deep breath. "Of course.... I know," she said dryly. Sebastian smirked. "Do you still want to go further?" asked Sebastian gently now. The young woman looked up at her best friend, then nodded. "Of course," came from her. She knew Sebastian. If she wanted to leave now, he would tease her about it again and again. So now she had to go through it too.

Sebastian went ahead, climbed the steep and crooked wooden stairs. The banisters could no longer be trusted - they wobbled with every step and the wooden boards of the stairs creaked suspiciously under his steps. Slowly and carefully, MC followed him. For a brief moment she had the feeling that someone was behind her. An icy breeze brushed the back of her neck, causing her to turn around with a jerk. There was no one behind her and yet she had sworn that someone had been there.

"What's wrong?" asked Sebastian, who had arrived at the head of the stairs. "Nothing... I just thought there was..... hmh.... Never mind," MC muttered. The moment she turned to take the next step, her foot broke through the stairs and she fell. A scream escaped her throat as she broke through the rotten stairs. But before she could fall any lower, two strong hands held her arm.

"I've got you, don't look down!" exclaimed Sebastian, who stopped her from falling with a firm grip. Panic rose in MC. "Sebastian please!!! In Merlin's name, don't let go of me!" she screamed in panic. It was laborious not to let MC fall. Still, the Slytherin mustered all the strength he had in him and pulled MC up to him. As soon as he had pulled her up to him, Sebastian fell backwards onto the dusty wooden floor, dragging the young woman with him, whereupon she landed on his chest. She was now shaking and crying. Immediately Sebastian wrapped his arms around her, holding her safe and close, stroking her hair soothingly. "Shhht.... It's all right, you're safe with me..." he whispered softly.

MCs crying broke his heart. In all the years he had known her now, he had never once seen her cry like this. He felt her fingers digging into his coat and her body only trembled more. "Sebastian.... I-I....," she tried to speak between her sobs and crying, however her tears stifled any following words. Sebastian looked around for a moment. "It's okay.... I'll get you out of here, alright?" he whispered calmly and blew a quick kiss on her hair.

Again there was an ominous howl in the house, to which MC only nodded eagerly. She froze, unable to move nor did a single syllable leave her throat. "Okay watch out.... I'll get you out safely... do you trust me?" whispered Sebastian as he slowly sat up with MC. The young woman just nodded and tried to stop her tears - to no avail. Sebastian smiled softly and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, dispelling the falling tears. "Then close your eyes and don't open them again until I tell you to, will you?" as he said this he pulled out his scarf in soft white and green. MC looked up at him in tears and confusion at the same time. Then she nodded slowly.

With her silent consent, Sebastian covered her eyes and ears with his scarf to make sure she didn't see anything or hear any more of that horrible scream-like howl. After making sure she could still hear him and only him, he stood up and knelt with his back to her. "Okay. Come a little closer to me and hold on tight.... Not that you'll fall off me again," came a little jokingly from the brown-haired one. However, his expression became more serious again when he realised how much MC was trembling. And how wildly her heart was beating in her chest.

MC put her arms around Sebastian's neck and was carried piggyback by him. With one hand under her legs, he carried her on his back. With the other hand he lit his way with Lumos. The staircase was still there, but it no longer looked quite stable due to the two steps that had broken away. It was worth a try, however. "Reparo," Sebastian spoke and the stairs magically reassembled. If the stairs had collapsed under his and then MC's weight, he had to be extra careful now. Slowly he took a step down the first flight of stairs. It held. Cautiously he walked on. Again and again the wind howled through the crevices in the walls and the broken windows. Another step. The stairs creaked loudly and MC's body tensed on his back. "Seb..." she whispered in panic. Sebastian tried to take a breath. "Do you remember herbology last week? Where Leander got bitten by that plant? I heard he's been picking branches and leaves out of his hair ever since. Garreth himself said that a lawnmower will be needed soon," came amused from Sebastian. MC was confused and just pressed more against his back. "Seb...", came from her again. "Hey, MC.... what do you want to do after graduation?", he asked. "What?" she retorted. "Tell me what you want to do after school?" he asked as he took another step towards the stairs. Again, a strong squeak and howl of the wood. "I-I... I want to be in London.... To be posted as an Auror," MC spoke. "Auror then, huh? Maybe we'll be partners...." Sebastian replied with a smile, ignoring the sweat on his forehead.

"Yeah maybe..." the young woman at his back replied with a slight smile. Overcoming the problematic stairs and shortly after regaining solid ground under his feet, Sebastian walked calmly towards the exit. The moon stood bright in the dark, starry sky. The cold October air enveloped the two of them. "Are.... Are we out?", MC inquired uncertainly. "Yes... but I'm still taking you out of here... just relax, MC, and trust me..." came softly from Sebastian. MC was unsure, however, she just nodded. After a short while, and the further they got from the hut, her body relaxed.

Soon Sebastian came to a stop and let MC off his back. "So... we're there," came from him. "There? Where is there?", MC wanted to know. "In a place I've wanted to show you for a while," with these words Sebastian slowly pulled the scarf from her eyes. After a moment, the young woman opened her eyes. When she opened them, she saw a lake covered with the red and orange leaves of the surrounding trees. A lake in which the starry sky was reflected. MC was just speechless for a moment. "Seb this is..." she whispered, "Brilliant? Fantastic? The best thing you've ever seen?", Sebastian anticipated her with a grin. MC smiled a little. "Beautiful..." came from her. Then she looked up at Sebastian. Her eyes reflected the starlight. All fear was gone from her face. "I'm glad you like it, darling..." came from him. A slight hint of blush rose to his face as he realised that he just called her darling. MC noticed it and smiled softly. "you said.... You wanted to show me this place? So you knew the place before?" she inquired softly and sat down on a bench near the lakeshore. Sebastian followed her and sat down next to her. "Well... yes. I discovered the place here while exploring Hogsmeade, just before Ominis and I went back to the castle... The lake was filled with stars and... the sight of it made me think directly of you," he spoke softly, his gaze falling forlornly on the lake. "Of me?" the young student repeated. Sebastian nodded and a slight smile crept onto his lips. "To you.... To your smile... and especially to your eyes. They have... the same sparkle as the stars on the horizon and in the reflection," Sebastian whispered. MC's heart beat faster and her cheeks also turned red now.

There was a short silence.

"I'm sorry I forced you into it... I shouldn't have talked you into it in the first place," his apology sounded sincere and full of remorse. "I was really scared for you.... I swear to you I'll never do anything like that to you again..." he added, looking at her seriously for a moment. MC returned his gaze and smiled gently. "Don't be sorry... I loved being there with you... you saved my life... and showed me this beautiful place here.... I don't regret going there with you Sebastian," slowly and gently MC took Sebastian's hand and held it securely in hers. The brown-haired man looked at the young woman for a moment, uncertain and embarrassed. Then he sighed. "MC.... I" - "I know... me too...." she whispered. Sebastian looked at her for a moment, sighed and slowly pulled her close. "I will protect you at all costs...I promise," he whispered with certain emphasis as he gently lifted her chin and looked deep into her bright eyes. After a brief moment, a brief, uncertain hesitation, Sebastian sealed this promise with a gentle kiss on her soft lips in which he poured all his love.

On a bench on an October night, mutual love warmed the hearts of two souls.

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

This one will get also uploaded on my Wattpad in a whole OS collection 🖤

[thecryptidcottage]

↳ ft. lindsay + jace ! ( @infiinitys ) at jace's farmhouse

it did not take very long at all for lindsay to fall in love with the verdant plot of land that the professor who'd stolen his affections called home ; after spending nearly two years in harsh concrete landscape of the city, he'd be a liar to say there weren't times his heart yearned for the greener pastures of his own home, the sprawling hills of his family's mains, and jace's farmhouse ? well, he'd be hard-pressed to say it wasn't the closest he'd felt to home himself since he'd left scotland, and it floods his chest with a warmth that could rival the stifling august heat. the gardener admires the local flora as he strolls the perimeter of the property with jace, hand in hand, gaze dancing across a lush horizon as the sun sinks below the distant treeline that frames it. ahead of them, air bud leaps and bounds after butterflies that flutter not unlike the ones in his chest every time he finds himself in present company. ❝ it must be lovely being out here, away from everything and surrounded by so much nature, ❞ he muses aloud, dreamy and enamored. ❝ waking up every morning to the songs of all the robins and the thrushes, coming out to fresh dew on the grass... ❞ lindsay chuckles, shaking his head and stealing a glance over at jace. he looks beautiful right now, lindsay thinks ; the warm, golden-orange glow of sunset illuminates already rich brown irises, catches on curls that grow more wild the longer the pair spend wandering the balmy summer evening. ❝ i can thank the british railway fer my daily alarm. ❞ and he often has to step over trash in the stairwell on his way out of the building. lindsay doesn't mention as much, though ; for one, jace has been inside of his flat by now and knows well enough, but also, he is fond of the little place he's made for himself he doesn't want to paint it as desolate in any way. ❝ and thanks ta the kind folks of the br, i'm never late fer work. ❞ they round the property toward the back of the farmhouse, the bench swing on the porch catches his eye and lindsay tugs at jace's hand with a wry smile, head tilting toward the house. ❝ come on, swing with me ? please ? ❞

[aerialashes0]

Beautiful Places to Scatter Ashes in the UK

Losing a loved one is one of the most emotional experiences, and finding a meaningful way to honour their memory is essential for many families. One of the most poignant ways to do so is by scattering ashes in special places that hold sentimental value. The UK, with its rich history, stunning landscapes, and tranquil coastlines, offers a variety of perfect locations to scatter ashes. Whether you choose a peaceful hillside, a majestic forest, or the sea, there are numerous Places to Scatter Ashes in Uk that provide a lasting connection to the person you’ve lost.

Scattering Ashes in the Sea: A Serene Tribute

One of the most popular and serene ways to say goodbye is by scattering ashes in the sea. The vast expanse of the ocean provides a sense of eternity, as the ashes become part of the ever-changing tides. The UK’s coastline, stretching from the rugged cliffs of Cornwall to the tranquil shores of Scotland, is dotted with beautiful beaches and peaceful coves. Whether you’re near the busy beaches of Brighton or on the quieter shores of the Isle of Skye, scattering ashes in the sea allows the spirit of your loved one to float with the waves, a fitting tribute to those who loved the sea.

For many, scattering ashes in the sea has a symbolic meaning, representing the freedom and eternal journey of the soul. In some coastal locations, it is possible to arrange for a small ceremony aboard a boat, allowing the ashes to be released at sea. Companies like Aerial Ashes offer services to help families make this tribute even more meaningful by ensuring the ashes are scattered in a location that fits your loved one’s spirit.

Historic Locations for Ashes Scattering

In addition to the sea, many families opt to scatter ashes in the beautiful gardens or grounds of historic locations across the UK. From castles to botanical gardens, the possibilities are endless. The stunning Kew Gardens in London, with its tranquil atmosphere and lush greenery, is a perfect example of a location that offers both peace and beauty. Scattering ashes in such places not only provides a sense of serenity but also connects the memory of a loved one with the enduring history of the site.

Another well-known location for scattering ashes is the Lake District, home to rolling hills and beautiful lakes. Many people choose to scatter ashes near the water’s edge, allowing the ashes to settle in the stillness of the lake, a perfect place to reflect on memories and the life that has passed. These scenic locations offer a perfect place to honour a loved one who appreciated nature or had a connection to the area.

Mountainous Locations for a Majestic Tribute

For those who seek a more dramatic setting, scattering ashes in the mountains of the UK offers a breathtaking and spiritually uplifting experience. The Scottish Highlands and Snowdonia National Park in Wales are two of the most spectacular locations where families can release their loved one’s ashes. The towering peaks and rugged landscapes provide a serene backdrop for those who wish to honour a memory with an element of grandeur. Scattering ashes in the mountains allows the ashes to be returned to the land, where they can rest among the elements—wind, water, and earth.

Scattering Ashes in Gardens and Memorial Sites

While outdoor locations are often the preferred choice for scattering ashes, there are also formal memorial sites designed specifically for this purpose. Many churches, cemeteries, and crematoriums offer gardens where families can scatter ashes in a designated area. These gardens are peaceful sanctuaries, providing a tranquil space to reflect and pay tribute. Some even have benches, memorial plaques, or trees dedicated to the memory of the deceased, allowing families to return and visit their loved one at any time.

In conclusion, there are countless places to scatter ashes in the UK, each offering a unique way to commemorate a life and create lasting memories. Whether you choose the sea, a historical landmark, a mountain, or a peaceful garden, the act of scattering ashes provides a beautiful and meaningful way to honour a loved one. Aerial Ashes can guide you through the process, ensuring that the location you choose aligns with the spirit of the person you wish to remember.

[camdenleisurepirates]

I'm very much in agreement with her suggestions here. Yes, this is a shrine for the cult of Sts Crowley and Aziraphale, so let's treat it with the reverence it deserves. Don't deface it to the point where park maintenance is forced to remove it. Be mindful that there are also non-fandom visitors to the park. In short, be good citizens - those are in short supply in some quarters these days, we need all the good examples we can get.

(PS - I like to think the *original* bench has been smuggled off to Scotland or somewhere, to participate in the filming. Or maybe it lives in Michael or David's back garden).

The GO bench in St James Park has been replaced with a different one

Very sorry to report that the sanded down bench they returned at the original spot in St James Park is actually NOT the OG fandom one.

There are some very prominent features the OG bench had. Most importantly, the shape of the back of the bench, the armrest shape, and the height of the bench itself:

OG bench (pic taken last year):

The new bench, unfortunately, has a different back shape (the tops of the left and right wooden planks at the back):

I did some ineffable detective work in St James Park this weekend of 25th January (with the help of @0xlilith and @fuckyeahgoodomens and @fuzzywhispersbear) and examined all the benches in the near vicinity and subsequently all the benches in the park, in case they just moved it to a different spot. They did not.

I now have a special photo folder in my phone featuring some of the possible candidate benches in St James Park, because that's what you do if you are a GO fan on a trip to London.

All the potential candidate benches that fit the shape criteria didn't meet the "recently cleaned" criterion or the "at least a bit visible carving scars in the right places" criterion.

(A very useful graphics made by @fuckyeahgoodomens)

It is, of course, possible that I am wrong and the bench is there somewhere and has been cleaned so well that not even the carving scars are visible. I just recorded all the Clues as I collected them and this is the logical conclusion:

I think it is realistic to consider that the OG bench was damaged beyond salvation and as such, was removed permanently. I feel like maybe some of the carvings were too deep and beyond repair. I might be wrong, they just might be rotating the benches and our bench is just sitting somewhere in storage, waiting for being cleaned and returned. (It is probably not in different park because all benches have a SJP at the back and I think they make sure to not mix them up).

I, personally, am actually fine with fans writing on the bench. It is within my personal limits of what is OK. But some of the fandom love was maybe too vigorous. And as a whole, I think that this shows us that we might try to treat the new bench with a bit more respect. By refraining from carving in it with a knife. By using plain pencils to write our little notes so that they don't destroy the bench, are easily cleaned and are not visible to regular visitors of the park, only for people who know what they are looking for. Use it as a scavenger hunt place (my personal favourite) to leave little trinkets and gifts for other fans (but hide them well so that they don't visually disturb regular visitors).

I am not openly promoting vandalism here. I am just being realistic and I seriously have nothing but love for the people who left their permanent mark on the bench. (And I would HATE for this post to be used for hating on these fans. Pls don't.) I believe we can find a sweet spot of showing our love for the bois and not damaging the bench beyond salvation.

And I think the management of St James Park is showing us that they are just doing their job and they don't hate us (hopefully).

Why? Because the heart padlock of Aziraphale and Crowley is still there. Someone even added another padlock and a little fly! And these things didn't disappear. I think this hopefully demonstrates that fandom activities in moderation are allowed.

The bench is a symbol of fandom love and as such, I don't think it can be lost. It is what we make it. There is a new lovely bench at the spot and it attracts GO fans just like the previous one did. And while I know many people (including me) will grieve the piece of fandom history that might have been lost, I think that this is an opportunity for a fresh start.

We'll be OK. This place still feels loved.

[wcndvrlxst]

for: closed ( @0fmercy )

Since early in her childhood, Amara had been quite drawn to nature. As far back as she could remember she'd always felt more at home among the flora, fauna, and animals than any other place. Despite her training and upbringing- during which her mother seemed to be unwilling to admit defeat when it came to Amara's insistence at ruining her best dresses, shoes, and hairdos while playing outside- which tried endlessly to break her of her 'uncooth' habits, the Lady had retained her love for all things outdoors. Location no exception, one of the things Amara enjoyed the most about being in Scotland was the opportunity to feast on new scenery. Walking the gardens had become an exquisite pastime, one that the Lady ensured she partook in at least momentarily each day. Today being no exception, Amara found herself seated on an empty bench, lost in thought and in the beauty of the gardens. The sound of approaching steps drew her from her stupor, and she jumped visibly, standing quickly and smoothing her hands over her dress before speaking. "My apologies, I must have lost track of the time. Please, sit, do not allow me to disturb you."

[classicmemorialbenches]

Techniques we use to depicting images on memorial bench designs

At Classic we have a number of techniques we use to depict images on our memorial bench designs and one of our favourite things to do is the colour resin inlay. There are several techniques that can be used. Here are,

✅Preparing the artwork

✅Carving the shapes into the wood

✅Pouring all of the colours

✅Skimming off the excess glue

✅clamped

[adventuresofalgy]

It had rained heavily all night in the wild west Highlands of Scotland, and when Algy woke up in the morning the world was obscured by dense, grey Scotch mist again, and there were new pools of standing water everywhere.

But as the day advanced the air began to clear, and the water simply vanished – with remarkable speed – in the mysterious manner peculiar to this land where the higher ground is surrounded by deep peat bogs and drained by multiple burns that flow swiflty into the adjacent sea.

And by the time that Algy was ready to settle down with a good book of verse for some light Sunday afternoon reading, the wind had swung right round from the chilly north to the milder south, and a little watery sunshine was breaking through the clouds, albeit reluctantly.

So Algy returned to the old garden bench, tucked himself tightly into one corner, and opened his heavy volume at a random page, where by chance he read:

O THOU with dewy locks, who lookest down Through the clear windows of the morning, turn Thine angel eyes upon our western isle, Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring! The hills tell one another, and the listening Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turn'd Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth And let thy holy feet visit our clime! Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls Upon our lovesick land that mourns for thee. O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put Thy golden crown upon her languish'd head, Whose modest tresses are bound up for thee.

[Algy is reading the poem To Spring by the late 18th/early 19th century English poet William Blake.]

[rederiswrites]

Always attracted to unusual or shaded colorations. Of course, if you're buying from a big bulb place--and they have the most variety and sales I think?--do always look up everything and see other site's photos, ideally non-commercial photos. They retouch the hell out of the colors on Breck's, etc. Even so, sometimes the subtler real colors are nicer.

Here's a funny one: Breck's is selling it, under the Alliums section, as "Sicilian Honey Lily". It's a weird allium and an even weirder lily, but apparently it recently underwent a bit of a cladistic upheaval and is now (again?!) officially an allium. Just look at it, though!

The first photo is from Breck's, the second from a gardening website, so...you see what I meant. The first is dramatic and vivid, the second a beauty you have to look a little more closely for, but nonetheless what a beauty!

I used to think that hostas were painfully basic. Now I think they're basic for a damn good reason and also I enjoy growing out of my assorted snobberies. Frees me to enjoy things so much more.

In addition to being incredibly reliable mixed-shade performers and a great "background plant" that holds its own against weeds, hosta comes in an incredibly wide variety. You could have a lovely shade planting of absolutely nothing but hostas. People collect them. I can see the temptation.

Here are "raspberry sundae" and "white feather":

I have a weird little niche along the front of the house, where there are walls on three sides and it's the north side of the house. It's also where the bulk of the pipes and wires pass into/out of the house. We've been persistently thinking of this as "the sculpture garden" since we moved in, even though we have no sculptures, because someday ("when we're rich," as we say), we will have the space planted with hostas and coral bells and ferns around the edges, with white gravel over the rest, and display the work of some of the many talented people we know. I'm dreaming of a kinetic iron sculpture, and maybe @phantomtheraccoon and I will create something concrete with glass and mirror mosaic. Maybe speckle some fused glass flowers like these around. Anyway...

And while I totally definitely want to fill the 'park' area next to the pond (so called because it came with picnic benches below mature trees, mainly Shagbark Hickories) with all the usual cheerful crocus colors in the spring, look at these two unusual lovelies:

(don't plant Siberian Squill for that early spring color, though. It's reportedly very invasive, and there are so many good native ephemerals.)

And I've got to find some Surprise Lily bulbs, too. What an odd fucking plant. The leaves come up earlier in the year, and then die back, so when the flower stalk and big flashy flower comes up, it looks like this:

None of the photos I could find properly communicate how fucking weird it is seeing these things just sprouting naked out of the grass. But the girl likes them, so we get them. She's got us wrapped around her little finger, you see.

Think I gotta go steal some daffodils from @ahedderick, too, and see her farm. Always good to get a dose of mountains and see friends.

When I was a child, I visited Brodie Castle in Inverness Scotland. My grandfather contacted the laird directly, because the guidebook said that the castle would be closed while we were there, but the laird and I might be distant relatives. (yes, this was back when you couldn't just look it up on the internet. Fucken wild really.) In the end, we can't find any family connection, except for the small detail that the laird and my (other) grandfather looked like brothers. Either way, it worked-- the castle wasn't actually closed but the laird invited us to lunch with him, and it was lovely, and he was very sweet, and everything in his red sports car and private part of the castle was absolutely covered in dog hair. This is all relevant because HIS father had been absolutely mad about daffodils, and planted over 400 daffodil varieties around the town and castle, making it the Scottish national daffodil collection, and they were blooming while I was there.

It was incredible, and made a huge impact on my child brain.

So deep down, nine year old me still dreams of great swaths of daffodils.

Now I'm looking at fall-planted bulbs. Crocuses, daffodils, tulips, alliums... now there's a daydream that can get expensive fast! But it's hard, because the only way to get those babies dividing and filling out is to get them in the ground! Makes "you can always get them later" a less persuasive self restraint.

[jillraggett]

Plant of the Day

Wednesday 4 January 2023

Even when the fronds of deciduous ferns have died back the rusty colour and structure still have much to add to the winter garden. Here the form was enhanced by the plain walls which were also home to a dramatic sculpture.

Jill Raggett

[allthingseurope]

Inveraray Castle, Scotland (by Guido Schweins)

[dwknock]

The Stonefield at Milton near Dumbarton

[icurrey]

Someone’s back garden. #edinburgh #scotland #garden #vine #bench #flowers (at Edinburgh, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/BnHf5PNAOwP/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1j64p7sddvt9j

[oumaheroes]

I kinda wish you'd just write something cute or angsty or both about Baby Alfred and England.

I got u anon, I got u. I have a longer fic for these two and this topic in the works set in a more modern time period, but for now have something quick.

Word Count: 1233

Characters: England, America

-------------------------

'Shhh,' Arthur sighs and rearranges Alfred on his hip, the crown of his head pressed into the crook of Arthur's neck, 'I know. I know.'

'It hurts,' weak fists grip Arthur's night shirt, pulling the fabric taut around his neck, 'Please. Please make it stop.'

Arthur moves again, slow steps that gently rock the child in his arms against him as he crosses from one end of the room to the other. He brings up one hand to cup the back of Alfred's head, feeling the burn of fevered skin, 'I'm sorry, love. It needs to run through.'

Alfred lets out a high moan into Arthur's shoulder. His hair is damp, sweaty from a whole day of this, but Arthur is scared to wash him again. Too much information from too many centuries contradicts, should he undress him? Keep him warm and covered? Wash the sickness or keep him away from the water that apparently now bleeds health away?

Arthur is exhausted.

He had readily listened to the doctors at first, all but allowing them to apply the recommended leeches that Arthur had never had a problem with until they had come close to Alfred's skin. But now, as Alfred grew hotter and weaker and Arthur grew more panicked, he has gone back to older, more desperate advice. It is Alisdair's voice - younger, warped by time- he heeds that tells Arthur to keep him cool. To give Alfred water and sing to him. Offer honey to strengthen him, willow bark to reduce the fever. A cool hand on Arthur’s own forehead, his cheek on rough, home spun wool.

It is night. Almost at the end, morning threatening to brighten the horizon below still bright stars and through the window Arthur can see nothing but the faintest outline of the garden and woods cresting against its edges.

‘Come on,’ Arthur gently places Alfred on the bed and firmly wraps him in a heavy blanket, ‘Let’s go outside.’

The house is quiet, the servants all asleep and Arthur carefully manoeuvres them through, hushing Alfred when he stirs. They would only interfere if they woke and this was something that Arthur felt he needed to do personally, despite their pointed advice and concern. He didn’t want to hand Alfred away to be cared for by someone else, even if that person was familiar, and damn the current customs and etiquette that continue to try and remove him.

‘Look,’ Arthur says once they are outside, ‘Look how bright the stars are tonight.’

Alfred opens a watery eye and peers upwards, head lolling back on Arthur’s shoulder, ‘Why are we out here?’

‘Fresh air will help,’ Arthur hefts him higher, tightening his grip to tuck a fold of the blanket closer around Alfred’s neck, ‘It’s too stuffy inside.’

‘It’s cold.’

‘It’s not too cold,’ the air was crisp but not bitter and Arthur himself felt better just being outside of that house, ‘You’re merely too warm.’

Alfred doesn’t respond and Arthur settles them on a bench by the trees, close to the house but near to the forest like a bridge between worlds.

‘I used to hate being unwell when I was very young. I didn’t have a house all year round and always felt terribly cold outside,’ Alfred lays against him heavily and doesn’t react when Arthur rearranges him to be more comfortable, body limp and loose, ‘You had to put up with the rain and the wind and I always wanted the fire. But then when I did have a stable home, I found that I felt worse inside. I feel better with the wind on me, after all.’

Clumsy and familiar, Scotland trying his best. Still the first thing Arthur’s mind goes to when it cannot comfort itself and he is too weak to stop its wandering to older places.

‘Even now?’

‘Even now.’

A flash of light amongst the trees, the mirror of an eye watching from the shadows. Arthur follows the dark shape of movement, daring it to emerge.

Alfred curls a hand out from the folds of the blanket and lightly holds Arthurs’ arm, dancing his fingers slowly into his skin, ‘When will this stop?’

‘When it is done.’

‘But why.’ He has never been seriously ill before, the sensation entirely foreign to him.

‘Because you’re alive. Because to be of your people is to suffer with them, sometimes.’

‘It’s not fair,’ Alfred huffs and his fingers pause. He sniffs and turns his head to bury it back against Arthur’s shoulder, ‘I don’t want to hurt anymore.’

‘I know,’ Arthur strokes back his hair and cards the strands through his fingers, working at the knots until they are gone. He finds himself humming after a time, a tune that swings from ‘Lowlands Away’ to ‘Miri it is while sumer ilast’ and then all the way to something nameless and forgotten. It thrums with a melody of an ancient tongue worn thin and pale in the current day and lost to the hills that bore him. The voice that hums it in Arthur’s head is a woman, someone so long gone he can’t even put a face to her voice but her song still lives within him somewhere, down in the deepest parts of his memory that doesn’t need words.

A slight breeze lifts Alfred’s hair to brush against Arthur’s chin. He is quiet, quiet and still and panic grips at Arthur’s heart suddenly like a vice, ‘Alfred?’

His hand is lifeless against the blankets, head downturned and face hidden.

The colony is stable, others have caught the pox but not them all but despite that Arthur, for just a moment, can understand keenly how fragile all of this is, how mortal they are despite the long years that their kind are granted to watch. What if this was a sign of Arthur’s negligence, his inability to care for something other than his own greedy self. What if he were taking life from Alfred, rather than Alfred from him- draining rather than growing to feed a hungry expansion.

He couldn’t bear it. Even a temporary death is one Arthur wishes Alfred to avoid for as long as he can.

Arthur shifts him again with growing urgency, ‘Alfred. Alfred, darling.’

Alfred’s head lifts, ‘No,’ he draws out the vowel, face puckering as he turns to tuck his chin over Arthur’s shoulder, ‘I want to sleep.’

Arthur lets out a short, sharp breath, ‘You can sleep,’ he says. He stands; they have been out here long enough, ‘Sorry for waking you, close your eyes again.’

‘Hmmm,’ Alfred goes quiet, all too happy to follow instruction and Arthur takes them back inside, closing the door firmly shut behind them.

-------------------

AN:

The songs Arthur hums are, in order of appearance, Lowlands Away: a sailor's song, or a sailor's wife's song, from the 17th century and Miri it is while sumer ilast: one of the oldest English songs ever recorded and dating from the 13th century.

https://mainlynorfolk.info/anne.briggs/songs/lowlands.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mirie_it_is_while_sumer_ilast

Thanks for the ask!