#gorses

[blogbirdfeather]

Dwarf Gorse - Tojo-molar (Ulex minor)

Sintra/Portugal (28/11/2024)

[Nikon D850; ∑150mm F2.8 EX DG OS HSM APO Macro with Circular Flash Nissin  MF 18]

[transtundras-fr]

Saw the original image and couldn’t resist.

Banksy (Everlux) was kind enough to let Gorse (tundra) use himself as an ambassador so bug-fearing librarians wouldn’t get scared of the now public ancient breed.

(Ref below the cut)

[catpool36]

you're the sunflower, I think your love would be too much.

[velo-cats]

Gorsestar

[plasmapop]

03/04/23 • experiment with parataxis / beetle facts of dubious veracity / help! there’s private language in my beetles / who would put a poem back together if it exploded

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy had never seen a bicycle before, so he was naturally intrigued when his assistant obtained one and started cycling around the local landscape.

A fluffy bird, of course, does not need a machine to get from one place to another, so when his assistant next set out on her bike, Algy flew along above her, to keep an eye, and to try to observe how the strange contraption worked.

Algy had had no intention of being involved with any kind of machine, but when his assistant paused at a passing place on the road, in order to take some photos, he found that in fact he was consumed with a longing to try it for himself, and so he asked whether he could please try riding the bicycle, believing, like Mulga Bill, that he would "ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight". Posing proudly for the obligatory "first time on a bicycle" photograph, Algy then commenced to set off along the road…

But, just like Mulga Bill, he found that when:

He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray, But ere he'd gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away. It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver streak, It whistled down the awful slope towards the Dead Man's Creek.

However, Mulga Bill was of course not a fluffy bird, and there Algy had the advantage, because when the bike ran away with him he simply leaped into the air and flew back to his assistant to apologise.

Retrieving the bike from the bushes, she recited the whole poem for Algy's benefit, and advised him to stick to flying in the future 😀

'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze; He turned away the good old horse that served him many days; He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendent to be seen; He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine; And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride, The grinning shop assistant said, "Excuse me, can you ride?" "See here, young man," said Mulga Bill, "from Walgett to the sea, From Conroy's Gap to Castlereagh, there's none can ride like me. I'm good all round at everything, as everybody knows, Although I'm not the one to talk - I hate a man that blows. But riding is my special gift, my chiefest, sole delight; Just ask a wild duck can it swim, a wildcat can it fight. There's nothing clothed in hair or hide, or built of flesh or steel, There's nothing walks or jumps, or runs, on axle, hoof, or wheel, But what I'll sit, while hide will hold and girths and straps are tight: I'll ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight." 'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that sought his own abode, That perched above the Dead Man's Creek, beside the mountain road. He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray, But ere he'd gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away. It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver streak, It whistled down the awful slope towards the Dead Man's Creek. It shaved a stump by half an inch, it dodged a big white-box: The very wallaroos in fright went scrambling up the rocks, The wombats hiding in their caves dug deeper underground, As Mulga Bill, as white as chalk, sat tight to every bound. It struck a stone and gave a spring that cleared a fallen tree, It raced beside a precipice as close as close could be; And then as Mulga Bill let out one last despairing shriek It made a leap of twenty feet into the Dead Man's Creek. 'Twas Mulga Bill from Eaglehawk, that slowly swam ashore: He said, "I've had some narrer shaves and lively rides before; I've rode a wild bull round a yard to win a five-pound bet, But this was the most awful ride that I've encountered yet. I'll give that two-wheeled outlaw best; It's shaken all my nerve To feel it whistle through the air and plunge and buck and swerve. It's safe at rest in Dead Man's Creek, we'll leave it lying still; A horse's back is good enough henceforth for Mulga Bill."

[Algy's assistant is reciting the poem Mulga Bill's Bicycle by the late 19th/early 20th century Australian bush poet Andrew Barton "Banjo" Paterson.]

If you would like to see more photos (without Algy) from Algy's assistant's cycling adventures, please visit her sideblog @photocyclelog

[hiadammarshall]

Gorse Wildfire

Follow hiadammarshall.com / Instagram

[bonefall]

Gorseclaw and Lizardtail being forced to go back to Riverclan drives me up a fucking wall. RIVERCLAN HAS NOT CARED FOR THIS FAMILY. We don’t know what happened to Lakeheart but we do know what happened to the rest of the family! Dappletuft was killed for trying to kill The Imposter as part of Stemleaf’s murder party who got no Vigil and was “treated like a rogue” after his death. Softpelt also dies fighting FOR the imposter because Mistystar fought with Thunderclan and Icewing growls about how she fought for the imposter IN FRONT OF HER FAMILY AT THE VIGIL. And finally Harelight who was exiled from Riverclan for daring to disobey Mistystar in the battle his sister died in, he goes back after the imposter is defeated and lives there for a while before being murdered in cold blood by Splashtail. Considering Splashtail’s villainous streak we have no clue if Harelight got a vigil or not. And after all of this Thunderclan tells them “but Riverclan is your home! You need to go rebuild it!” As if they owe Riverclan anything for what happened to their family this past year or so. Let cats that have been done wrong by a clan leave the damn clan!

REAL

The only thing that Lizardtail and Gorseclaw seem to miss is... the sky. Eating fish. These are things easily accessible in any other Clan; they had to get harassed by the cats of ThunderClan about their diet, there was no issue with getting their own food from the lake

As the Warrior Cat Food Guy, that made my heart sink in particular. Everything about this was horrible, but the way the ThunderClan cats zeroed in on RiverClan food choices was painful to me personally.

The fusion of cultures is often reflected beautifully in what we make together. You don't have to choose between furry prey and fishy prey. The blending of an aromatic, appetising smell and the subtle complexity of land prey that takes on the flavors of its diet sounds incredible. Migrant food is often mocked as "inauthentic" but it's not. It's new culture.

Who knows what sorts of new fishing techniques that the RiverClan migrants would have had to learn by fishing on lakeshore? Imagine what they could teach about patience and quiet observation to ThunderClan cats-- and, in turn, what their cooperative hunting style could do to influence them.

Gorseclaw and Lizardtail don't seem miss anything about RiverClan's culture, a culture that has caused the death of nearly every member of their family. They miss material things. And so they are harassed, made to feel unsafe, and driven back to a group that has given them nothing but pain.

Bleak.

[edinburgh-by-the-sea]

early summer gorse

[perfectlyscentedturtle-7]

♥︎ Countryside ♥︎

[blogbirdfeather]

Common Gorse - Tojo-arnal (Ulex europaeus)

Lisboa/Portugal (14/02/2024)

[Nikon Coolpix P900; 50mm; 1/80s; F6,3; 100 ISO]

[rowan--photography]

gorse flowering in the mist

December 2022

[amber-tortoiseshell]

[22ratonthestreet]

👍 well

[midzukishino]

My cards for the series "winter is…" and "spring is…" (like "love is…") For the vk wc group

[adventuresofalgy]

Spring at last!

It was the spring equinox, and Algy couldn't be more thrilled to be out and about adventuring after the long, dark, dreary months of winter…

At this time of year, the weather in the wild west Highlands of Scotland was apt to do almost anything, but for once it had decided to provide a fine, dry spell around the time of the equinox, and although Algy knew that the good weather was unlikely to last long, it was wonderful to see the world glowing with light and colour again.

One colour in particular alway stood out – or perhaps Algy should say screamed out – in the local environment in spring, and although it was not to everybody's taste, Algy loved it, for it matched his hair and brought the drab end-of-winter landscape to life. Of course the experience of blending with this particular yellow tended to be somewhat prickly, to say the least, but Algy put up with that for the sake of the joyful colour and scent.

As Algy rested briefly but happily in the mass of gorse, he thought…

Sound the flute! Now it's mute! Bird's delight, Day and night, Nightingale, In the dale, Lark in sky,– Merrily, Merrily merrily, to welcome in the year.

…for although it was not the start of the calendar year, it was quite obviously the start of the year in a much more real sense, and the start of a new year of adventures.

[Algy is thinking of the first verse of the poem Spring by the late 18th/early 19th century English poet William Blake.]