#garden logbook

[garden-with-squid]

12/13/23

Things are coming along in the garden. There’s one more head of broccoli almost ready to harvest, and cover crops and onions are still alive. It’s slow, and something keeps eating the lettuce.

I’m reflecting on the past year, as one does in December. I’m a little burnt out in the garden, so maybe next year I’ll take winter off and cover crop everything. Just keep some easy growers like onions. That way, I’ll have more energy to start things in spring, maintain in summer, and harvest in fall.

By the way, I ate a bok choy yesterday. Some aphids and a little bitter, but still pretty tasty and hopefully nutritious. The potted onions are tasty as chives. Also rooted some baby spider plants.

[indiegame]

morning from the ridgetop

[onepiexe]

updated my resume FINALLY

[aliciascoolfinds]

Planting Paradise: How to Plan and Organize Your Garden like a Pro

Gardening is a wonderful and fulfilling hobby that allows us to connect with nature and create a beautiful outdoor space. With the help of a garden planner, we can easily map out our planting schedule, ensuring that our garden is always bursting with color and life. These tools help us organize our plants, layout, and even remind us of important maintenance tasks such as watering and fertilizing. A garden organizer is essential for keeping track of which plants are thriving and which might need some extra care. By categorizing our plants and noting their specific needs, we can ensure that our garden remains lush and healthy all year round. Whether we are growing herbs, flowers, or vegetables, a garden organizer helps us stay on top of everything and maintain a harmonious balance in our outdoor oasis. Through the act of planting, we not only beautify our surroundings but also nurture our own well-being. The process of digging in the soil, placing a seed, and watching it grow into a vibrant plant is incredibly rewarding. With the right tools and resources, such as a garden planner, we can elevate our gardening experience and create a thriving sanctuary that brings us joy and relaxation.

The garden planner comes with a checklist, and 3 bonuses. Bonus 1 is a A to Z Harvesting Guide, a canning checklist, and undated calendars in landscape and 2 page format.

Get your garden planner and checklist here

https://youtu.be/MoQrIg36pRE

[mysmallterarriumchild]

Terrarium:01

Day:02

Date:12.12.22

[euripidestrousers]

Can't get this AU out of my head, I need to let it out:

Muggle AU where Remus moves into a new neighbourhood. He notices his neighbour is almost constantly in his garage, working on his motorbike with the garage door open for fresh air. Remus, an avid gardener, is setting up his new garden beds and finds himself often glancing over to watch his neighbour work (he's impossibly handsome and Remus is just trying to figure out if he's real or a figment of his imagination conjured from lonelieness, alright?), and suddenly he's become incredibly clumsy.

The neighbour stretches his back, the tips of his fingers reaching the high ceiling and his shirt riding up - Remus fumbles the watering can and spills it all over himself. Neighbour lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead - Remus trips and dumps a wheelbarrow of soil on the driveway. The neighbour looks up and notices him one day and sends a friendly wave and smile his way - Remus promptly drops his sad, sick aloe vera plant into a bucket of water, sealing its death.

It's quite inconvenient, really, having a smoking hot neighbour who either doesn't seem to be aware of his good looks or doesn't care.

However, it comes in handy when his car won't start one day, and Handsome Neighbour hears the pitiful stutters of the engine and pokes his head over the low fence, asking if he needs a hand.

Remus promptly smacks his head on the open car bonnet and while he's busy protesting that he really needn't trouble himself as he gingerly presses the tender spot on his head, turns to find his handsome neighbour walking up the driveway. He grins, introduces himself as Sirius, and asks if he wants some ice.

"For the car?" Remus asks, bewildered and maybe a little concussed.

Sirius bursts into laughter. "No, uh, no, I meant for your head. Let me take a look."

"Oh, it was just a smack, I'll be right. No need to-"

"Actually, this time I meant the car", Sirius chuckles, peering into the engine.

Thus begins the horrible, embarrassing fumbles with Handsome Neighbour Sirius Black.

(It's entirely possible that Sirius keeps finding minor problems with Remus' car and offers to fix them for free just to have an excuse to chat to his shy, and frankly adorable, neighbour who is living proof that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, because while he's always wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat along with 3 layers of sunscreen more fitting a retired senior, and always seems to be dropping something, he has a wicked wit and cutting opinions on national politics, and God, Sirius could talk to him for hours. Remus' car has had a full logbook service done by the time Sirius gets invited inside for a cup of tea and they kiss in the kitchen and fuck nasty on the counter)

[lonely-lighthouse-keeper]

JOURNAL OF THE LIGHTHOUSE STATION AT CACHALOT COVE

[[ log 72 ]]

~Cloudy Conditions All Day, Slight Rain from 1000-1430~

~Wind Speeds Up to 20 km/h~

Time of writing this log is 2212

Duties done at the station:

𓇼 Fog Watch

𓇼 Mail Check

𓇼 Garden Upkeeping

𓇼 Winding of the Clockworks

Good evening logbook! I have discovered the cause of my tiredness being the fact that for the past week, I have been working, doing the tours, and working again, to the point where I haven't gotten out of the station and the working mindset to give myself some time to myself. I decided to ask my sister Elizabetha if she would like to explore the town, and to my surprise, she said yes. I did warn her about her man-craziness, and that we shall be in the public eye, and she told me to not worry. She took me to this lovely store where they sold what humans call makeup. Now, I've never heard of this before, so it did pique my interest, and when I tell you how interesting it is, best know that it is.

So many colors and uses for everything! A lovely worker girl was able to help me out while Elizabetha was left to her own devices, and I ended up choosing whats called a lip scrub, as it will help keep my lips moisturized during these colder months. I am surprised on how helpful it is, and more surprised that my sister was able to be "normal" for once! I suppose thats about everything for tonight.

May the Seas Guide You~~

[queenaeducan]

On Life in the Lighthouse

This ancient logbook is filled with meticulous veilfire runes. Though it is encoded, flicking through it offers vignettes of borrowed memory.

Fearful refugees are ushered into the Lighthouse through eluvians, emerging from the infirmary and libraries as soldiers, spies, and scholars. Gardeners plant long-extinct herbs that grow, are harvested, and wither in the blink of an eye. The sharp smell of distilling medicine wafts from a window, and poison for the enemy drips into a vial. The arguments of a war council go on late into the night; forbidden songs are sun freely, with filthy lyrics substituted for the Evanuris' names.

Finally, a heated conversation silhouetted against glass with quick shadows darting behind it. The argument ends with a wordless but unmistakable impression: "You summoned them: you feed them."

[garden-with-squid]

8/13/24

It’s not so bad here now. The pumpkin is growing back new leaves.

The seedlings from 7/6:

And a new tray of fall crops sowed 8/7

On 8/1, after my squirrel rage, the sweetest lady in my garden group gave me turmeric, butterfly pea (!!!) and a few other odds and ends from her garden. Her tiny backyard was packed with beds and pots; her compost bin was so healthy, and she offered me to come back and dig some up. Bless her.

I fertilized the plants again. Tomatillos are flowering; cucumber is finally making good growth with more hand watering; I’m planning for a better fall garden. It’s not so hot right now so I can think straight.

[indiegame]

so many dead servers. damn.

[onepiexe]

ok i can talk abt work now. i got hired to assist the main person who runs inventory and communicates with the vendors, orders plants and products etc etc. its been hard and mostly office work but insanely rewarding.

[arcaladiwoompa]

Sketch drawn for #100 Overachiever's Logbook, for the HxH Greed Island Server. The challenge was to write/draw a character doing something you did within the past 24 hours. I did some gardening yesterday and I thought it would be so healing for Killua to grow something.

[rollforthings]

Dug’s Duty: An Actual Play of Little Dung Guy

This post is part of a series I'm calling Solo RPG Sundays, where I spend a lazy Sunday afternoon with a solo journaling tabletop game. As I start this project, solo journaling games are everywhere in the indie scene but aren't really my cup of tea -- I love the collaborative nature and shared story of group games, which I don't really get with journaling games. My hope is that by sharing my experience with solo journaling game, I'll gain a new appreciation for them, share with others what they can do, and boost the signal of indie creators. With that said, here's the first in the Solo RPG Sundays series, Little Dung Guy.

Little Dung Guy is a one-page solo journaling rpg where you play as a dung beetle in its sisyphean task to get a ball of poop up a hill. This game was written and illustrated by Felix Klee, published by Sleepy Badger Games, and submitted as part of the 2024 Game Exploder Game Jam. Find it pay-what-you-want at this link to play for yourself: https://sleepy-badger-games.itch.io/little-dung-guy

(Content warning: bugs and poop, of course.)

~~~

Hi. My name is Dug, and I’m a dung beetle.

I’ve got a job, a real important one. I work in sanitation and early-life care. A unique combination to be sure, but the savanna is home to all kinds of unique work opportunities. I gather poop into easy-to-move, ergonomic spheres, and roll them into the best spots. There they serve as home base and food for a new generation of dung beetles. Anyway, the following is a professional logbook of my work experience and musings on the craft. It’s for posterity and job training for future combination-sanitation-early-life-care workers, like myself.

Day 1

Weather: hot, sunny.

I got to thinking about the nature of my career. Who do I work for? Technically I’m self-employed, a contractor of sorts. My duty (hehe) is to the younger generation of scarab-lets that come after me. But I guess in the clerical sense, my employer is a middle-aged African elephant named Subira. Subira is an excellent boss. She’s a patient and attentive listener, she takes care not to step on me with those enormous padded feet, and her high-fiber diet makes my job all the easier. We don’t really talk much -- my work is more the back-end of the production line -- but this just means she’s very hands-off when it comes to the work I do, which I appreciate. I’m sure most folks prefer being hands-off when it comes to my line of work, but not me. Anyway, today Subira’s given me a lot to work with, and I’m taking it up this hill here.

Working mostly with my back legs in a rhythmic workflow, it leaves the mind to wander as I work. I think about the future and what I hope to achieve one day. I like to think I’m a pretty simple guy. I often think about culminating my life’s work in a huge, round ball of elephant dung and settling down, having a few hundred kids, maybe taking up gardening in my retirement. It’s not a huge dream, but then I’m not a huge guy. I like the simple things in life -- dirt, dung, rolling, family, the warm sun, and semi-digested leaves and grasses.

Sometimes I wonder if the larger animals here on the savanna are aware of what I do. Sanitation work is often overlooked, I think. Folks usually don’t  consider their waste after they’ve discarded it. Like, take buzzards for instance. They relieve themselves from the tops of trees, or even from high up in the sky. I bet they haven’t a clue where their poop even goes after the fact. But then, buzzards do care a great deal for the waste of lions and leopards and such. The leftovers from a big animal are food for the buzzards. And the leftovers from elephants and giraffes and the like are food for dung beetles like me. I guess it’s all relative when you look at it from multiple perspectives. Lok at things all ‘round. Kind of like this ball of dung, which is probably double the size of when I started on it this morning. Anyway, I’m not really sure how aware the big fauna are of the work I do, but at least the elephants like Subira are careful not to step on me.

I’ve passed the halfway mark up this hill now. The sun is at its highest, the slope is getting steeper, and this ball is probably much heavier than even me now. I hear the hum and buzz of cicadas drift across the hazy air. I quite like the cicadas; they may be loud and talkative, but they have some interesting ideas and they’re always good company if you don’t mind hanging out in large numbers. Sometimes after a shift I’ll hang out with some fellow dung beetles, and we’ll shoot the sh- uh, the breeze, over lumps of mulch. It’s mostly standard work talk, which I don’t mind, but often the conversation gets into these one-upping matches about the size of the dung balls everyone’s rolled. And while I must admit I’m guilty of getting into those discussions myself, they can get a little annoying. And I’m pretty sure Dusty is stretching the truth about the ball she rolled last week. There’s no way you could roll a 30-cenitmeter ball out of hippo dung, it’s just too wet!

Ah, poop! Just as I was nearing the top, a huge breeze whipped up, curved my dung ball sideways out of my grip, and it tumbled down to the bottom of the slope. I knew this was going to happen today. Th stars weren’t right last night and the cicadas were chirping off beat this morning, both clear signs we were gonna be dealing with harsh conditions. Dusty doesn’t believe in the cicada theory, but it’s never told me wrong. Shit. Ah well, nothing for it but pick up what’s left and try again. I’m pretty beat though, so I guess I’ll leave it lie and start it up tomorrow.

~~~

Day 2

Weather: hot, sunny.

Okay, here we go, bright and early. The ball was right where I left it, and I’ve started it back up this hill. I lost some progress on it, but at least it’s a lighter start to the day and I can roll up most of the bits that came loose on the slope.

I wonder if other dung beetles encounter this kind of professional setback. Surely others have similar experiences. But maybe my approach is a little off. I remember this time Dusty hit a snag and her dung ball starting rolling down, but she held right on and rolled with it. Kept it mostly together too, and she bragged about the scratches on her shell from the experience. Maybe I should try the hang-on trick, too.

This wouldn’t be the first time a workday went up in steam. This one time last season I tried rolling on a flat plane got a great shape and size, only to roll directly into a termite mound. After the initial panic -- it was a very big dung ball, and termites are pretty tiny -- there was a lot of kerfuffle about how to proceed. Eventually I had to concede to some weird zoning bylaw, which I’m pretty sure the termite foreman was just making up on the spot. But I wasn’t about to argue the matter further, I was wasting daylight and the termites were getting agitated and swarmy, so I just cut my losses and had to start a new ball from scratch. It was a shitty day, but it taught me the importance of location and regular blind-spot checking, so I guess it made me a better roller in the long run.

I’ve just had to stop rolling for a sec, something super interesting just happened. There was a shadow overhead, one of the buzzards I think, and an aerial poop just came down like a falling star right near me! It’s kind of fascinating, and it’s got me thinking. One animal’s waste and all that. Maybe I could roll it up. I’ve never done a hybrid ball before. This buzzard material is… different. Not sure it’s prime ball material, nothing like the elephant-issued industry standard, but hey, innovation breeds progress, and maybe it also breeds hundreds of larvae. Heck it, I’m gonna try it and see what happens.

Excellent! Just made it past the spot yesterday where the breeze foiled my attempt. The slope is leveling out and the top of the hill is in sight. The ball is really big now, and the incorporated buzzard material is blending in an interesting stripe pattern. It’s at this point I need to remember to keep things at pace, even, controlled. Don’t get hasty just because it’s almost done. Stay focused, stay on target, keep the rhythm. Left leg, right leg, other left leg, other right leg. Left leg, right leg, other left, other right.

Aaaand… there! Yes! I made it to the top! I wipe the dust from one of my several brows and give myself a pat on my front left shoulder. This is a fine specimen. Huge, round, with hybrid materials (elephant and buzzard dungs), atop this little hill in the full light of the savanna sun. If only my parents could see me now. They’d probably say something like, “Which one are you?” I’m one of hundreds of siblings and we dung beetles don’t really do names or anything until we reach our adult phases anyways, but I could definitely introduce myself and they’d definitely be proud of me. I hope one day, my future children will accomplish a feat like this, and I can ask them who they are and they can introduce themselves and we can all admire our glorious, if unglamorous, profession. ‘Cause we’re little dung guys, and that’s just how we do.

[leyia]

𝐓𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢 (𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬)

Summary: “Her tears tasted of salt, and lips chipped like sand. She was beautiful”

Pairings: Kiri x Metkayina!MaleOc

Word count: I lost track at this point.

Warnings/notes: Angsty Kiri cries the entire ocean ; umm plot ? Writer’s block (& I’m back from the dead lol). Title inspired from the Jake Sully’s Series by @stargirlrchive

You were definitely staring.

Well- sort of

•••

With Leiya’s family hosting the Omatikaya’s lodging, it was inevitable for you not to splash over each other. To be the Tsahìk’s confident and childhood friend meant being informed of the isle’s latest affairs (but ultimately : taking on the role of mentor in helping the tanned blue Na’vi foreigners adapt to sea)

Breathless-

She was at first ; when learning the basics of diving, while also leaving you short on breath.

You were tasked in teaching about the biome’s flora alongside Tsireya, who was on the opposite spectrum appointed to delve into physical respiratory exercises. Laughably, you weren’t complaining ; it was your field of expertise after all. Endless days of hunting with Aonung’s scavengermates through tepid- tropical lagoons wouldn’t have gone to complete waste.

Though through gritty teeth and fidgety fingers, your body-language couldn’t lie : Kiri caught your eye & when she mirrored your gaze, on Eywa your heart threatened skipping between beats. Her aura was.. tantalising, a sensation you never could name without wavering. She resembled the wild “blueberries” the Sullys had brought as token of appreciation for quartering. Indomitably alluring, but brittle in bleeding. You wanted to solace the sorrows she kept a front for, but her forteresse was one made of mistrust

•••

After tending as per usual to Awa’atlu’s seawall terraces *a chore tailored to your sparse schedule, you sailed off to inspect the proximate CoralCove. Upon skimming past the entrance’s gaping threshold, in-between mossy Stalagmites thrived your own secret subaquatic garden.

During the Eclipse’s after-hours, when moonlight stuck it’s quarter crescent & tidings rose above knee-altitude, you dedicated a moment’s sigh to the reef’s research …

Scribbling down the last of today’s findings in a keep-safe logbook, the intuitive reminder of heading home gradually became urgent. Yet before taking off, the unusual sight of flickering iridescence within the cave’s core had enticed a change of heart.

Distant echoes sparked betwixt unobtanium walls, and whispering wails protruded the thickness of it’s shallow waters ; another presence was within ear’s reach. However, this Haven was sharply located 6 nautical miles from the coast (whoever had trespassed wasn’t likely to be your familiar) ; so the noise left you perplexed.

You Blinked-

Rubbed your eyes with seasalt

“Kiri ?”

•••

You could barely distinguish her hunched build from behind, with faint bioluminescent freckles blending into the dimmed background. Yet, it was undoubtedly her signature hiccups that alerted your ears to perk up in concern :

Kiri’s voice was to you, discernable amongst any crowd. You took a silent liking to it’s husky ringing, almost imitating a Siren’s Lament… Granted she was mute most times, dry eyes darting in compass way to the Omatikaya Rainforest. Homesickness gradually caught up to her, though you only stood watching as she withered from within ; week after week.

The lingering thought of eavesdropping was impendingly tempting. Part of you wanted to know what her crestfallen irises wouldn’t reveal ; your latter resolve was skimming the nearest exit (with cautious steps) before being caught lacking. At least that was the initial intention, until your clumsy tail mingled with fins *making you tumble over in a reverberate spatter…

“Who’s there ?”

You stiffened, adrenaline rising. Heart rate betraying your cover, sh*t

“Leikh’a ?”

•••

Rising from the chilling waters, you shifted eye-contact to wherever she was blurred out of frame in avoidance to the clear tears streaming upside-down. Not as if Kiri’s crying face wasn’t undeniably hot tho

“Um, surprise ? Welp this is awkward.”

Upon lifting your gaze she only returned a stare, irises flashing upwards, visibly irked

“I bet Father’s worried about me if you’re here. But I’m not a child anymore, tell him to leave me be..”

Slowly wiping the remains of her tears, she composed herself

…

“Actually- I’m not here on his behalf, I come here quite often. It’s my hideout. Kinda rare finding oxygenated heathens underwater…”

“Right-

“It’s not about your Father is it ?”

There was an underlining tension in the air left unspoken

could you..

perhaps keep a secret ?”

…

“Sure,”

A few moments into the thick and thin, your tail couldn’t stop swishing left to right. This was the most Kiri had ever shared about ever since her arrival.

The luminescent pigments that dotted her skin had returned, and you found she was much more relatable than any of your siblings here ; even quirky sometimes.

•••

“I feel her, Leikh’a... Eywa.

Kiri had placed both your hands in hers, faintly whispering

I hear her breathing. I hear her heartbeat.

She's so close. She's just there.

Like a word about to be spoken...

I know you think I'm crazy”

“What does her heart feel like ?”

“Mighty.”

…

“Please don’t tell anyone.. your people think we’re freaks”

“I don’t,

Listen. You don’t need 5 fingers or fins to accomplish great things-

Oel ngati kameie, I see (through) you

And you’re beautiful.”

[sleepingfancies]

post mortimer

i thought about him for 5 seconds so now im answering this from half a year ago . posting under the cut for length . salute emoji

He's scared of spiders and horses. Spiders because they move too fast, and horses because they're unpredictable.

He grew up in a masonry town built near a stone quarry. He has a lot of passive masonry knowledge as a result, ie whether or not a building has good mold resistance at a glance.

He has a nasty scar across his upper back where a third party once fought against him taking a soul.

He can't remember his parents' names. He isn't sure why.

His favorite animal is the ladybug. They're natural pest control for his gardens, and he considers them a sign of good luck.

There is no proof of his existence. As far as any government jurisdiction or historical census is concerned, there is no man named Mortimer Crackbone.

His satchel has three major pockets. The first is padded and lined with specialized vials for souls. The second has a handmade dyed wool wallet given to him as a gift, a small notepad and pens, a compass, a roll of gauze, a personal journal, a logbook, and a small packet of sewing needles and black thread. The third (and the only one secured with a lock) is very carefully stocked with bottles of varying medicines and poisons.

He's not at all particular about his sleeping conditions. He could sleep on a stone floor just fine if it was the only option.

He's very good at riddles and gets competitive about getting them right.

His least favorite color is blue. It gives him a headache.

When he was 17 he played a drinking game with the other reapers, and he was the first one to pass out at the table. They never let him live it down, and he vowed to never get drunk again.

He would not be able to define 'himself' if asked. He has never put his own personality, traits, or values into words.

[lonely-lighthouse-keeper]

JOURNAL OF THE LIGHTHOUSE STATION AT CACHALOT COVE

[[ log 61]]

~Partly Cloudy Conditions All Day~

~Wind Speeds Up to 7 km/h~

Time of writing this log is 2305

Duties done at the station:

𓇼 Fog Watch

𓇼 Mail Check

𓇼 Garden Upkeeping

𓇼 Winding of the Clockworks

Evening logbook. I shall updat eyou on my situation, in terms of being sick.

I am feeling a lot better!

I have been drinking lots of tea these past two days, and as much as I have grown to love it, it got to the point where I could not stand how warm my body got. I told this to Mrs. Osslike and she forbids me from stepping outside! I guess it was for the best, but I still have a small headache from my stuffed nose and a slight cough. I suppose I shall wait that out.

May the Seas Guide You~~