#he got mustache and feed stray animals?

[deathmimedream]

Cardi’s Day Off

Just because he worked very hard, and often too much, didn’t mean that Copia never got a day off.

Usually he’d stay in his room, napping, feeding the wildlife outside, playing video games, or reading.

Not today.

Today, he wanted to spoil himself a little.

He’d showered, trading his cassock, soutane, trousers, button down shirt and suspenders for an oversized band tee shirt and sweats.

His face was scrubbed clean of makeup, mustache and sideburns neatly trimmed, the rest of his face freshly shaved.

He’d splashed on toner, a little hydrating serum and moisturizer, took time for a dab or two of cologne.

He paused on the way to his Kitchenette to lean down, petting along the back of one of the stray cats that wandered the Abby.

This one was a long-haired ragdoll that frequently appeared in his room, and shared his bed. He’d called him Puff, and had a sneaking suspicion Puff had adopted the cardinal.

He dodged around another big, fluffy, orange Tomcat, called Mojo, who he knew belonged to one of the sisters, as he dug for what he needed to make himself lunch.

Cats weren’t the only frequent animal visitors to his room, he’d even hosted a stray dog, a few wild mice he released safely outside, a raven that brought him bits of colored glass on the balcony, and multiple bats and songbirds.

The upper clergy teased him for his kindness and multitude of animal companions, calling him ‘little snow white’ but he paid it no mind.

He packed up a light lunch in a little handbasket, along with treats and snacks for his animal friends. He tucked in a good book, and a nice blanket to sit on outside.

He added in a bottle of il conte fini Pinot Grigio, and picking up the basket, and Puff, he headed outside for a relaxing afternoon in the gardens.

He stepped out to the terrace, putting Puff down to the tune of an indignant mew, and paused to pick up a chunk of cobalt seaglass from the raven’s feeder.

He left a few fat butternut squash ravioli for the sweet bird, tucking the glass away in his pocket as he moved to primo’s garden.

He spread the blanket under the oldest oak tree on ministry grounds, over a layer of thick, soft moss.

With a few groans he settled in, carefully unpacking his book, and the lunch he’d made himself.

Seeing Copia settled, Puff took it as an invitation to curl up next to the Cardinal’s hip, purring. He chuckled, taking a moment to scratch behind the cat’s ears, then opening the wine.

He took sips and nibbles of his lunch between turns of the pages, this current book a fantasy novel the same Sister who owned Mojo the cat had lent him.

Eve Forward’s ‘ Villains by necessity’. He was seven chapters in, and was finding it as enthralling as ‘the hobbit’.

Three hours later, lunch had been eaten, two glasses of wine drank, and Copia was napping with his back against the old tree, book opened under one gloved hand in his lap as he snored softly.

He made it to chapter twelve, barely.

Around him, an old dog and three cats curled up against him, one of Cardi’s hands on Puff’s back, while a dozen songbirds hopped around in the grass, and a Raven watched over everyone from a branch up the tree.

Snow White indeed.

[directdogman]

How old is gingi?? Like did they exist before the dialup or after, or is it up to player interpretation? Of course if you don’t have to answer if you don’t have one but it’s been in my head. They don’t go online or school but can read hieroglyphs, a now dead way of communications, so it’s been in my brain.

You really wanna know Gingi's canon backstory? Well okay. But, don't get angry at me if you can't accept it this way.

gingi was born in london in 1847. growing up with no more than a shiny ha’penny and a glint in their eye, gingi got a job at the local textiles mill. Gingi worked this job from when they were 3 to when they were 23. Gingi was quoted as saying "eh, it aight" to their boss, referring to the grueling working conditions involved with the job, before being promptly beaten to a pulp and fired for speaking without permission.

Soon thereafter, Gingi found a troupe of Clowns- Sorry. Soon thereafter, Gingi found a gaggle of Clowns- No, that's not right either. Fuuuck, what do you call a group of clowns?

I really don't think a group of clowns is called a 'clown alley', but none of this is correct, so I'll just move on.

Anyway, Gingi found many clowns living in the hills outside of town. They called themselves Luddites. They're were like communists, just without the sickles (only hammer.) Basically anarchists. Gingi, unsure of what a hammer even was (but desperate to learn) joined their ranks. The clowns mainly hunted boars with a flare gun in order to eat, which was a dangerous task, as any boars not instantly cooked once hit by a flare were obviously now on fire and PISSED. Their camp burned down like 6 times from angry flaming boars going apeshit at them.

Gingi learned many slurs from these degenerates in face paint. Eventually, Gingi ate one of the clowns' large red noses (at the behest of a talking snake) while the 'clown alley' was asleep and was thus cast out of the tribe having only a shiny ha’penny, a (now dulled) glint in their eye, and a tamed boar named Gregor. Gingi, feeling upset by this betrayal, decided to devour the devil snake. However, the devil snake was rife with parasites (it's literally satan from a biblical allegory, c'mon dude) so Gingi's flesh turned green, and it's still green to this day.

Gingi wandered throughout england with their boar (Gregor), soon coming to the conclusion that the english accent was really bad and that nobody should ever talk like that again. Shortly thereafter, Gingi heard about a land of opportunity on the other side of the Atlantic. One full of hoagies, the Dallas Cowboys, a place where people don't speak like they're British... Because now, they weren't. The country had just fought a revolution and George Washington had killed the Queen of Englanderland with a cannon over unpaid taxes. Washington had dubbed their new land... Ohio.

Gingi immediately did what any hardworking orphan bxy would do and built a raft out of hollowed out turnip husks so they could sail to Ohio, land of opportunity. Gingi drifted across the ocean for many days and many nights. At one point, Gingi landed in a strange land known as "Cuba". Gregor decided to settle down there with a young Joseph Stalin (stalin isn't evil yet at this point in the timeline, he's just a hot young dude with a mustache) so Gingi swam to florida by their lonesome. Spending 3 days in florida caused Gingi to get stabbed in the heart a bunch of times (hence the stitches/bruises on the chest.)

Gingi, now near the fabled land of Ohio, kept wandering, but noticed a gaggle of stray raccoons on the road. They screamed to Gingi "please, sxr, our mother went and focking DIED on us, we are SO hungry." Looking at these poor weeping and wanting animals, Gingi sprouted 4 new teats and began feeding them. To be clear, these were ADULT raccoons. They weren't even orphans, they just wanted Gingi's rancid milk for themselves. Bastards.

Soon thereafter, Gingi said "im still somehow not in ohio, how long have i been wandering" and checked their watch (A parting gift from Gregor, the boar) and realized it was the year 1960. A man with a phone head met Gingi and said "Hi, I'm Calman Crown. I'm from Dialtown, Georgia, not to be mixed up with Dialtown, WISCONSIN, home of Dialtown: Phone Dating Sim. You are green and have many nipples." Gingi replied "how dare you speak with me" and left him. Now that we're near present day, we've almost caught up to present day Dialtown.

gingi found a 2-for-1 offer in the local antique store. A phone + typewriter head, both made of stitched together flesh. Gingi pointed out that these heads wasn't antiques because they'd smell by now if they were, and the shopkeeper, now distraught that the two items gingi were holding WEREN'T antiques, gave the weird objects to gingi for FREE. In actuality, the two objects WERE stinky, the shop keeper just had a bad sense of smell from chain-smoking. Gingi put the phone made of flesh onto his head and said “great, i’ll save the typewriter for Karen’s route in Dialtown: Phone Dating Sim now on Steam.”

Alright, I think we're in 1963 now? Gingi’s green, has the head (and the nipples), but we’ve still a while to go. FUCK. Gingi, now feral + hungry, enters a random home nearby and mauls a baby Randy in his crib, like that damned Lindbergh Baby, and as such, Randy's life starts off SO badly and never recovers. He needs SO many stitches. Gingi buys a tent with their remaining shiny ha’penny and then sets up the tent in a local park. Gingi falls asleep for like 60 years and then wakes up. Dialtown Phone Dating Sim chapter 1 begins.

The End. Sorry if this isn't the origin story you wanted, but it beats a IS PHONEGINGI RANDY'S DAD? game theory episode. if it helps, just remember that every word of this was merely ass and didn't really happen. thanks. how dare you ask me anything. thanks. this is what you get. thanks.

[kaxenart]

15, 16, 18 for the hussar(s) of your choice?

15. Are they the type to adopt strays (animals or people?) What or who have they “adopted” over the years?

Kadir is the most likely to adopt a stray animal. It is why he has a cat and a dog. Eve vetoed getting a marmot and a bear. "It can make money by doing tricks!" "NO!" He got Potato the horse because after gathering loose horses from a battle, Potato was the only one no one wanted.

Parzival adopts people. He took a different unit's drummer boy for a few days. He also pissed off his mom by feeding a horde of street urchins during the revolution. It started with a few kids he happened to meet while going about his day, but word spread and Parzival thought it was rude to have a cut off point because that wasn't equality. Parz's dream retirement is probably getting 1000 horses.

Jardin is the kind of person who would find a way to kill a pet rock with neglect.

16. How do they like their baths/showers? Hot/cold, long/short?

When Parzival is on leave and has time to relax, he dumps too much perfume into the water and soaks until the hot water gets too cold.

Vang isn't sure if he likes washing cold or if he is just used to it.

18. How has their hair changed over time? What is their favorite hairstyle?

Parzival's hair mainly changes in the sideburns. There was also a short lived mustache attempt in his late teens.

Not sure who had the most drastic hair change.

[riting]

Johanna Hedva and Lucas Wrench on the durational performance of Machine Project

When Machine Project closed a year ago, on January 13, 2018, we wondered: what if what just ended was a show that was fifteen years long? Perhaps a bunch of artists had visited there as unwitting collaborators in, and audience to, an ongoing performance disguised as discrete events? We asked a couple Machine regulars to write about the show and reflect on how it might help them think about issues specific to performance.

Johanna Hedva: If Machine Project wasn’t a big ol’ performance, what was it?

Was it a science-fiction movie? It had (was) an imaginative concept that foregrounded innovation and exciting technologies, and was entirely populated by extraterrestrials.

Was it a catering service? When I worked there, every day we’d scoot the tables together and squinch our IKEA folding chairs in close and eat the takeout lunch Mark Allen had bought for us out of company funds, and this is the number one reason, of so many reasons, why it’s still the best job I’ve ever had, and I imagine I can speak for my fellow colleagues in saying that it’s one of the best jobs they’ve ever had, simply because eating together day in and day out for several years builds community and trust and friendship like nothing else.

Figure 1: Claire Kohne as Kalypso the vengeful sorceress who chases after Odysseus as he is being rescued in the VONS parking lot. From Odyssey Odyssey (2013).

Was it a really long Vine? ‘Twas a zany goofball slapstick premise exceptionally executed in an unfathomably pinched amount of time, and also served as a vessel for cultural criticism and commentary, while birthing a zillion trends.

Was it a tabletop role-playing game? Maybe not exactly, but in essence it was a bunch of people who could be called players rather than competitors, creating their own characters who participate in a collective narrative within an agreed-upon (fictional or non) setting, which follows guidelines and rules of that agreed-upon world, but which is not necessarily and probably quite different from the rest of the world, and which is great fun and probably addicting. Also, once they got that great website, they sort of became a MMORPG (massively multiplayer online role-playing game), because of those brilliant animated avatars (drawn by Tiffanie Tran) of an octopus (representing the artist), a cactus with a beret (poets), and a pineapple with a mustache (representing the public).

Was it a Hollywood blockbuster? Because it pretty much fits film critic Tom Shone’s definition of a blockbuster being “a fast-paced, exciting entertainment, inspiring interest and conversation beyond the theatre (which would later be called ‘buzz’), and repeated viewings,” and, for a nonprofit, it was pretty damn financially successful.

Was it a book of aphorisms? Fits the Online Etymology Dictionary’s definition for aphorism as “a concise, terse, laconic, and/or memorable expression of a general truth or principle,” and it would be more than just one aphorism, more like a book of them, a very long book, because there were way more than just a few.

Figure 2: Joe Seely as Clay, an old bitch who's been waiting in the desert for 100 years to see the symbol of her desire again. From Ancient Monuments to What (2015).

Speaking of books! Was it a cookbook? Chock full of recipes that simultaneously include careful measurements and room for error, for how to make various dishes, from soupy liquids to layered cakes to multi-plated entrees?

Was it an example of magical realism? Political critique folded into phantasmagorical otherworldly otherworlds, with intricate metaphors, animals, witches, forests, and shipwrecks, and strange objects and doorways that may or may not take you to another dimensional realm that may or may not be 100 years from now or in the past.

Was it a PhD thesis on how certain forms of sociality feel better than others, but strangely it’s hard to articulate why?

Was it an attempt at utopia? Isn’t utopia inherently a failure? Then, but, so, didn’t it succeed?

Was it a puzzle that refused to be solved?

Figure 3: Nickels Sunshine as Yama-uba, a crone with mouths under her hair who feeds on young girls. From Ancient Monuments to What (2015).

Was it a distant island that we tried to voyage to, but alas, our ship ran aground and our beards grew wildly and became entangled in the rigging and, thin with scurvy, we watched the sun go down as the skies roared with thunder and some of us howled at the future while others listened to the wind?

Was it a petition or a vow?

Was it a love letter? It loved me. I loved it. Am I the only one, I don’t think so.

Should these questions be answered? Can they? But why would we want to?

Was it a promise covered in tiny musical notes that when all played together made the big, resounding chord of curious joy?

Was it a dream? It was one of the best dreams.

Johanna Hedva is a fourth-generation Los Angelena on their mother’s side and, on their father’s side, the grandchild of a woman who escaped from North Korea. Hedva is the author of the novel, On Hell (2018, Sator Press). Their fiction, essays, and poems have appeared in Triple Canopy, The White Review, Black Warrior Review, Entropy, Mask, 3:AM, Asian American Literary Review, The Journal Petra, DREGINALD, and Two Serious Ladies. Their works of performance, design, and sound have been shown at Human Resources LA, PAM, the Getty’s 2013 Pacific Standard Time, the LA Architecture and Design Museum, and the Museum of Contemporary Art on the Moon. Most of their performances in Los Angeles were hosted by Machine Project, including The Cave series and Odyssey Odyssey, their adaptation of Homer's Odyssey, which was performed in a Honda Odyssey being driven down the freeway. 

Lucas Wrench: Notes on Vermin

The Machine Project Mystery Theater was originally built in 2013 for Chris Weisbart’s Alvarado Caverns project - which transformed Machine Project’s storefront into an amalgamation of a 99 cent store, gas station bathroom, hologram-laden indoor cave, and a faux-victorian seventeen seat basement theater, replete with velvet curtains, gold foam molding, and clamshell stage lights. Most importantly, Machine Project’s Mystery Theater featured a drop-tile foam ceiling, painted gold, leaving a ten inch gap between Machine Project’s rapidly deteriorating ground level floorboards and the precariously adhered foamcore below. Due to Machine Project’s penchant for spontaneous trapdoor construction, by the time I arrived in the summer of 2014, this once benign buffer zone had transformed into a kind of snack graveyard, home to pretzel crumbs, gummy bears, stray popcorn, spilled Tecate, and several bags of chips.

I’d like to examine the multi-year rat infestation that followed through the lens of what our founder refers to in donor presentations as “grass roots porosity”. It’s the philosophy that a small, nimble art space like Machine Project can be host, partner, and collaborator with a wide range of fellow art spaces, community groups, and institutions, creating a network that’s arguably more generative than those of better funded, but less porous institutions.

Figure 1: “Pro-Porosity / Grass Roots Culture”

Porosity is a liability for museums. While Machine Project’s vermin offerings were limited to Snyder’s pretzel rods and various gas station snacks, the sustenance provided by collecting institutions is far more valuable. Anthropological materials offer a protein rich food source, full of keratin, wood proteins, and plant matter. Works on paper can be considered simple sugars - easily digestible starches beloved by louse and silverfish. Painting offers a mixed diet - glues and varnish, wood and canvas. In anticipation of these threats, the borders of the institution are vigilantly policed. Giant freezers inoculate unseen intruders. Inspections and traps hunt for “visitors” like lady bugs and house flies, that can indicate a breach in security and become food for more malevolent vermin. Black lights scan for eggs and insect trails that warn of pending invasions.

Figure 2: Document Freezer at the Gilcrease Museum - Tulsa, OK

Figure 3: Insect trap collection at Gilcrease Museum - Tulsa, OK

To be clear, i’m not advocating for more rat-infested art spaces. Machine Project’s infestation was traumatizing. It demanded weekly visits from Karl The Exterminator to remove glue traps from the drop ceiling. I had a rat chew its way through the secret trapdoor in the upstairs apartment and fall some sixteen feet into the storefront. I saw rat tails dip low between the foamcore tiles, nearly brushing the heads of unsuspecting audience members below. Mice crawled over my feet as I attempted to run sound from the back of the theater. More traumatizing still was the constant, audible scurrying, the threat that at any moment the flimsy tiles would fall, unleashing the barely contained plague above.  

Figure 4: Diagram of Machine Project Rat Migration

But with a year and a half of distance between me and the rats, I recognize that the conditions that enabled this gnawing torment are the same conditions that made Machine Project such a valuable resource for artists. It was a space where you could cut a trapdoor in the ceiling without hesitance, and install gold foam tiling without concern for the ensuing trash accumulation. Where a temporary basement theater could stay up for a few more years so other artists can use it. Where the solution to a three year rat infestation was removing the floor of the storefront entirely, then reinstalling it at a 30 degree angle to present a play.

I’m now living in Tulsa, Oklahoma, working at a museum with a giant freezer and insect traps, in an office that requires key-cards to access, where no food is allowed, and the trash is dutifully removed every night.  I am protected here - a beneficiary of the museum’s commitment to preserve their collection in perpetuity, and a casualty of the fact that crumbs in my office could spell disaster for some Xth century manuscript stored a floor below. But from a public programming perspective, tasked with bringing the outside in, I can’t help wondering what it would look like to create some space here where a bit of infestation is tolerable. The only problem is how to keep it from spreading.

Lucas Wrench is a 2019 Tulsa Artist Fellow. He was Machine Project’s operations manager (2014-2017) and associate curator (2015-2017).

Machine Project was a place for artists to do fun experiments, together with the public, in ways that influenced culture. It happened at 1200 D North Alvarado, Los Angeles, CA 90026, and elsewhere, from 2003-2018.

Photos by Laure Joliet and provided by the artists.

[ginnyzero]

Completely Harmless Ch. 18

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter Eighteen The Silverglade Farmer’s Market

The next morning, they were up early and eating toast on the run as they ran around the Manor doing maintenance chores and getting ready. Even Linda was excited. She was going to cover it all on her social media. Antonia had ingredients that needed to be taken down to her outdoor kitchen at the pavilion where she’d be making a smaller version of the menu, mostly the lunch and dessert items with the chicken soup.

They loaded all the boxes up on their horses with the items for their display, choosing the most loyal of ducks to go with them and made quite the parade to Silverglade with Antonia riding ahead of them on her scooter like a pacer. (Linda got several pictures.)

Sally met them with a clipboard. “The Silver Glade Fine Dining is in the food pavilion. We have had to put up three pavilions!” Her eyes got big. “This has been amazing. There’s a card with your name on it for your spot, Chef Antonia.”

Antonia nodded and the girls with the boxes of food went with her.

“And we’ve set up an entire section for the Clubs in Pavilion two with the crafters,” Sally said and checked her clipboard.

“Got it!” Lily saluted.

“Pavilion one is the farmers,” Sally said. “And Andy has put in a petting zoo.”

“Good of him,” Regina grinned. “We’ll go get set up.”

“Oh, and while Loretta and Tan didn’t have anything to do with the planning, they’re more than willing to take advantage of the publicity,” Sally curled her lip. “So, they’re here too. Just a warning. But so is Justin with a display about Camp.”

They made faces and nodded at her before heading inside tent two. They set up their display, a big board about the Silverglade Equestrian Center with pictures of everything underway and everything they hoped to accomplish.

The ducks settled into a barrel full of straw they’d brought with them. They had big bows around their necks similar to the one that the Baroness had on the back of her dress.

Lily went around and shook all the President’s hands, including Loretta’s, and thanked them for coming. The others gushed. Except Loretta, she sniffed.

Across the way, Lily could see Ferdinand’s Horse Market, though there was a farmer’s wall and a couple fields between them. You didn’t need binoculars to see their horses. “I’m going to go over, say hi, and see if they want to send someone over to direct tourists to check them out.” She got on her horse, waved, rode over.

“Morning!” She called out to the older couple who were getting some horses settled.

“Morning,” the older and somewhat portly man smiled at her.

“I’m Lily of the Silver Drakes Riding Club,” she slid off her horse. “And um, I’m sure Pia has been by to tell you that today we’re having a Farmer’s Market by the Golden Fields. And, you’re more than welcome to send someone to direct them down here to check out your beautiful horses.”

Ferdinand beamed at her. “Pia did tell us that was going on. We’ve been watching those pavilions going up with quite a bit of interest.”

Eddie nodded. “Thank you for riding over to tell us what’s going on. Oye! Goofy Lars!” She raised her voice only slightly. She didn’t want to scare the horses. “You go with this young lady and tell folks about our horse market, you hear?”

“Sure thing, Eddie,” Goofy grinned. He chose one of the horses and tacked it up.

Lily smiled. “Pia might be by later to tell you again, or Kate, the leader of the Summer Chipmunks.”

“We’ll be just as appreciative of them as of you. Might want to go take a gander myself later,” Eddie said. “But can’t leave the horses by themselves.”

“I’ll mention it to the other clubs. We can spell you for a bit so you can check it out. Course, they might want to buy your horses after,” Lily said with a sly smile and twinkling eyes.

Ferdinand laughed.

Eddie smirked.

Lily tugged on her hat. She mounted her horse and joined Goofy Lars. “So, is there a reason they call you Goofy?”

He shrugged and pretended to fall off his horse.

“Right,” Lily giggled and they rode off together.

People other than the vendors were beginning to arrive when they returned. The chefs were meeting each other and shaking hands talking about their menus for the day and where they were situated.

There was a blonde man with a mustache named Mario who claimed he was from the observatory. He was dreadfully French. He wanted to put in an eatery and a store up there. But the only way anyone could get up there was if there was a reliable lift to get there. Melissa reassured him that they were working on it. Lily said she might have the perfect chef for him. Did he like bouillabaisse?

He adored bouillabaisse.

Lily gave him the French chef’s number. She hadn’t gotten five feet before Mario was on the phone and grilling them about their different French dishes and if they wanted a job.

Melissa tapped her shoulder. “Thank you. We had no idea who to ask.”

Lily smiled. “Not a problem. That chef’s nose is probably out of joint since the Baroness hired Antonia. He’ll probably leap at the chance to have a restaurant in the sky so to speak. Maybe you can get Franz’ restaurant plans he had before taking up with Courtney out of him.”

“Which one is Franz?” Melissa asked. “And Courtney?”

“Courtney Summers, big girl in the farmer’s cap,” Lily tugged her over to the restaurant tent and pointed Courtney out. “She probably has a bunch of sandwiches and is doing fried chicken wings.”

“Oh, her,” Melissa said.

“Real snooty attitude, better deal with him.”

Melissa nodded and trotted off to chat up Franz.

Lily went to check out the farmer’s tent. Each of the farmer’s had made up a display or the different clubs had help them make up displays. Lily wasn’t sure. There were pictures and they all had produce and finished products on their tables.

The first farmer was Steve’s Farm and Stable. Steve was a grain farmer. He grew wheat, oats, and corn. His fallow fields were full of alfalfa and hay that he used to help feed the Tinker Horses he kept at the stable. The other farmers paid him to rent the horses to plow their fields. They were cheaper, sort of, than tractors. Though, they did have some smaller tractors they could use if the horses got stubborn.

And horses could get stubborn.

Steve was the reason why there was the grist mill on top of the hill. Most of the places around got flour to make bread and such from Will’s Mill that was supplied with grain from Steve!

Steve also, along with the Baroness, and the Camp, supplied a lot of the fertilizer that the farmers put out on their fields to keep them nitrogen rich. Horse manure was richer than cattle manure.

He was the leader of the little farming cooperative around Silverglade.

Landon was a sheep farmer. And his sheep provided milk, meat, and wool. He tended them out on the Everwind Fields. It could be lonely. The sheep helped the grass stay short though. But sheep could be delicate and they got bugs and things. They were constantly wandering off too. That’s why he was grateful to have the Summer Chipmunks around. They were farm girls and knew the signs. They also had a good knack for finding strays.

Barney and Marley Summers were brothers. (They were related to Carney and Courtney. Lily sensed a theme.) They both had produce farms. They grew things like potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbage, turnips, peas, beans, onions, garlic, spinach, and the like. They sold a lot of their produce to Jorvik City high end restaurants and were thrilled that more restaurants like that would be coming to the area.

While the Vineyard wasn’t really a farm, there was a small display about it with grapes and flats of duck eggs that had been brought down by Godfrey in his car. (No one really wanted to trust eggs to horses.) The Silver Drakes had help him unload it.

In Valedale, there was a dairy farmer. However, every day they shipped their milk off to the Sunfield Creamery over by Jarlaheim. Their cattle were free range cattle that wandered about the oaks of the Hollow Woods. They supplemented their feed with alfalfa and the cows were heavy creamers. They made a decent living off of this.

Andy, he who had set up the petting zoo, had a sheep farm in Firgrove. Or, he had sheep and no farm. He wasn’t really old enough to own a farm yet. He had some chickens but not enough to do more than supply the local cafes and his grandmother’s pancake cakes. He mentioned that there was an abandoned farm out by the mountains he had his eye on for when he was older. But, he had to beware of wolves and the bear who saw his sheep as easy meals.

There was also a large apple orchard in Firgrove run by a rather boisterous family. They’d tried other trees, but apples had liked the area best. They too sold a lot of their apples to Jorvik City. Though the stables did buy their fair share as treats for the horses.

And that was the main Silverglade area farms.

Lily hugged Maya. “I’m so glad you came.”

“So am I,” Maya said and she brandished a sheaf of papers. “Look at all these orders,” she looked ready to cry. “When we said we were an animal farm for eggs, milk, and meat, they almost overwhelmed me with things they needed.”

“That’s wonderful, Maya.”

“And, your Chef Antonia gave me shillings to cover the olives she’s been taking from the farm. I can’t believe it. It’s working. You were right.”

Lily beamed at her. “That’s great. Antonia is really mad about what G.E.D. is doing to your family. We all are. In fact, where is Luciana?”

Luciana was deep in talks with Anastasia Silverglade.

“Anastasia,” Lily said and tugged Maya forward. “This is Maya Dew of the Epona Dew family.”

“Yes, my darling, Luciana and I were just talking about your family’s little predicament.” Anastasia gushed. “With the right publicity, we will be able to wrap this up before summer is over and get your family back where they belong.” She kissed Maya’s cheeks. “You leave it to us.”

Maya blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“We are doing a charity event to help your get your farm back,” Luciana explained. “Organized trail rides that riders will get sponsors for, the more trails they do, the more their sponsors will pay them! Anastasia has friends in the city that will match the amount of the private donations. We’re all very excited.”

Maya’s face slackened. “You, you’d do that for us, but, we’re nobodies.”

“You are an integral part of this county,” Anastasia said. “And we aren’t going to let the G.E.D. bully our people into hiding.” She stamped her foot. “My mother is going to hear about this, I swear it.”

“Hear about what, Anastasia dear,” Annabella Silverglade said in her bland but frosty tone.

Anastasia put her arm around Maya’s shoulder. “Mother, please meet Maya Dew of the Dew family. They had a lovely olive farm in Eastern Epona, but that wretched Ms. Drake and Mr. Kemball of the G.E.D. have run them out. They’re now hiding somewhere in shame.” Anastasia glared at her mother. “We can’t let them control our lands.”

“Of course not,” Annabella said. “They should have come to me immediately.”

“Well, they own the land now, but we have plans mother,” Anastasia raised her chin.

“I’m more than willing to hear them.”

“Ms. Luciana, these are your ideas, please explain,” Anastasia said, her tone imperious.

Luciana explained the idea to the Baroness as best she could.

Annabella nodded along. “Put down our Winery for one of the corporate backers.” She said to Anastasia. “We’ll get your farm back, young lady and run that horrible corporation out of my county for good.”

Maya nodded pale and her eyes wide.

“Silverglades know how to get things done,” Annabella declared and then moved off.

Thomas Moorland moved over. “And put down the Moorland Summer Camp as well. We support you, young missy.”

Maya burst into tears.

Thomas reached out, grabbed her into a big hug. “Oh, don’t be like that. I knew things were bad. I didn’t know they were that bad. You should have said something.”

“I wanted to. I didn’t know how,” Maya wailed.

Thomas rubbed her back. “That’s a good girl. We’ll get this all settled. You heard the Baroness. Not in her territory.”

Maya nodded. She returned to her table sniffling and wiping her eyes. The other farmers came around and gave her supporting hugs and shoulder squeezes. “Scary thing.” “Could be any of us, really.” “We’re here for you.”

Lily continued to learn about the farms. In the Harvest District, the Goldspurs had a large grist mill. They were also grain farmers like Steve. And they’d raided the Greendale forest for strawberry and blueberry plants, turning a couple fields of their farm into berry fields.

The Sunfield Farm was a dairy farm. They had a creamery. They kept chickens but only for themselves and a few local businesses. They grew grain and alfalfa to feed their cows and any extra they sent to the Goldspurs to make into flour.

The Jarlsson’s Farm was another produce farm.

Jasper in the Golden Hills may have called his farm a pumpkin farm, but he was another produce farmer. He grew mostly pumpkins and other squashes. His farm was really popular in the autumn months as he set up displays of carved and joined together pumpkins to be toured for a small fee and he had so many pumpkins that ranged from the size of his hand to bigger than your average toddler in height, it was great fun to look at them all. But an old man such as himself couldn’t live off the profits of pumpkins alone.

The Storm Garden display was as full of plans as the Silver Drake’s and Silverglade Winery display. They were another vineyard and they also had a maple orchard. Though, all of Western Epona was a big maple forest and they had permission to tap those trees as well. So, they made maple syrup and wine. Their wine cave was an actual cave that had an exit in the New Storm Garden’s house cellar.

This amused Lily and Ami. Both were making syrups and wine. It was silly. The other farm in the Epona area was the Rockwell Farm. They were quite a large farm as they were the primary tenant farmers for the Winterwell family. They did everything from having sheep wandering about Sunset Islands, to growing produce and growing grains. They didn’t keep chickens or have cows however.

The Buttergoods grew cotton and flax.

Ginny pulled Lily aside and whispered to her that the Buttergoods were in league with G.E.D. That didn’t sound good at all. They had an inside man in the family, Robert Buttergood who was sabotaging the G.E.D. equipment. And the middle brother seemed like a good enough fellow, it was the eldest brother who was in charge that was the problem.

Pamela Moonriver had beehives and her honey was really quite delicious. She was looking to expand her operation if at all possible.

Lily put her into contact with Agnetha (who was wandering around looking at the displays herself.) And with the family who ran the Firgrove Apple Orchard, apple trees needed pollinating too! Mrs. Holdsworth wandered by and got into a conversation with Pamela about checking up on Mrs. Holdsworth hives. She was an old lady and wasn’t as spry as she used to be and bees made honey, lots of honey. (Hers was Dandelion honey or so she claimed.)

Birk’s Grange was a new farm, or well, an old farm under new management. Most the farming in Dundull was small family operations. Luciana though had encouraged the woman to come out and see what she could grow if she wanted to sell things like eggs and milk or extra produce out of her farm.

The South Hoof Farm was another family farm run by the Hightowers. They worked a rescue ranch for sick horses and so a lot of their produce went to feeding and taking care of their rescues. They didn’t always have a lot left over.

“Why not import some Highland cattle for the moors?” Lily asked.

“Highland Cattle?” Erik Hightower sounded dubious.

Lily showed him a picture on her phone. “They’re from Scotland. They’d do well on your land.”

He hemmed and hawed.

Lily took the idea to Kelsey.

“Oh it’s useless to ask him to do anything,” she rolled her eyes. “I know who to take that information to, it’s not like the younger two really know anything about farming or, care about it that much.”

Lily winced.

“I swear, the place runs on hopes, dreams, and Madison’s sugar high.”

Lily winced more.

Kelsey bit her lip. “I was also going to encourage sheep.”

“We might be over inundated with sheep.”

“Too true,” Kelsey nodded.

Deciding she’d seen everything, and that she was hungry, Lily jogged over to the restaurant tent to get some food. Out of loyalty to Antonia, she got a Gyro and some baklava. “Going well?” She asked after she swallowed.

“Amazingly. You wouldn’t believe all the corporate people Anastasia brought in who are raving about the countryside, the food, the hospitality. We’ve got an entire two busses of brides. It’s a madhouse.”

Lily grinned. “But that’s good for us.”

“You bet it is,” Antonia said as she rapidly sliced up the meat. “By this time next year, we’ll have weddings two to three times a week.”

Lily nodded and kept eating. She removed her gloves so the tzatziki sauce wouldn’t mess them up and she could lick her fingers. “You need anything, text me, and we’ll go get it for you.”

“Oh, Tracy came by half an hour ago, checked the stocks and ran off to the Manor before I could say boo.”

Lily grinned. “Good.”

“And that butler of the Baroness brought me more eggs without asking, Tracy helped him unload.” Antonia wiped her forehead with her sleeve. “You go be president of the club and make connections.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” Lily said as she finished her gyro, wiped her mouth and went to do just that. She was flagged down by Anastasia as soon as she got into the woman’s sight range and was introduced to Herman’s brother in the music business and soon all the names swam together.

She saw Conrad in the crafter tent. And a couple vendors from Silverglade she thought, a tailor and a baker. There was someone selling stuffed animals and riding vests at least. (nothing she would ever wear, far too many colors.) But Ingrid was talking to each of them and it sounded from what little Lily could hear (before Anastasia whisked her away) she was trying to set up a flea market in Firgrove.

That could be something.

It seemed to be a rousing success.

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.