#local plants

[birdghost]

new project coming in a couple months featuring local birds x local plants :)

https://www.backerkit.com/call_to_action/e4489c2b-3cf9-4588-8930-a9b6b2d9c415/landing

[lazyworksinprogress]

one of my long-term goals is to integrate more African leafy vegetables into my everyday diet and diversify my food sources by filling my home garden with indigenous, edible plants. While doing some reading today, I came across things about how food security and plant diversity is threatened by capitalism. This reminded me of that speech from The Fall of the House of Usher:

Anyway, I'm investigating how to do more growing and eating myself so I'll document how things go as it happens.

I'll be trying to work through a few options I've found on a local seed bank and doing variations of recipes I find with heritage plant substitutions.

[venzellakage]

[reasoningdaily]

Manicured lawns and uprooted dandelions are so last century. Here’s how you can transform your yard, balcony, or back patio into a sustainable ecosystem where plant and animal life can thrive.

Find even more environmental action inspiration in our How to Help the Planet collection, with advice on coexisting with creatures, making your wardrobe more sustainable, and more.

Image by RAphoto77/Getty Images

Give Your Yard Back to Nature

Jessie KissingerPopular Mechanics

Turning your perfectly unnatural (yet impressively green) lawn into an imperfectly wild(ish) piece of land requires a little time and energy at first. And then...a lot less mowing.

Can We Really Rewild the Planet? | The Future With Hannah Fry Episode 6 [WATCH]

Bloomberg

The environment is in crisis, but a revolutionary new conservation concept offers hope for the future. From the overgrown Fukushima exclusion zone, to the majestic redwood forests of California, Hannah embarks on a journey into the wilderness to discover how championing nature could help to heal the environmental wounds we have inflicted on our planet.

Native Plant Finder Tool

National Wildlife Federation

Search by zip code to find plants that host the highest numbers of butterflies and moths to feed birds and other wildlife where you live. Find the best native plants to help wildlife — based on the research of renowned expert in the science of plant-insect interactions, Dr. Doug Tallamy.

[shootwithheart]

Court is in session at the Prarie Lot with Compass presiding. Do you have anything to present?

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am. 

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining. 

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves. 

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise. 

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

 It was a nice little system that worked for them. 

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face. 

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand. 

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him. 

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.) 

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it. 

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him. 

"Mind if I have a word outside?" 

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely. 

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once. 

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. " 

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy. 

Wayne stared up at him. 

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in." 

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass. 

Hopper really did let the kid off easy. 

Wayne really did owe him. 

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them. 

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context. 

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard. 

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.” 

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn. 

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.” 

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut. 

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?" 

The Chief chewed on his split lip. 

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town." 

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble. 

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction. 

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird. 

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have. 

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab. 

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters. 

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around. 

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion. 

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it." 

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed. 

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.” 

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going. 

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life. 

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions. 

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.” 

Wayne sucked in a breath. 

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy. 

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t. 

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there. 

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.) 

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.” 

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest. 

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

 “A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.” 

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie. 

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.” 

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished. 

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.” 

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind. 

This one, he figured, was the most important. 

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.” 

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one. 

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington. 

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it. 

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn. 

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say. 

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.” 

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t. 

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy. 

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross. 

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer? 

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

[delphinidin4]

[sarahmackattack]

I made orbstructrions for making PollinatORBS (née seed bomb, but everything's so violent in the world, I didn't want the CHILDREN to see the word bomb. Or me. I don't want to see the word bomb if I don't have to. I am 35.)

Will the teachers I email this to use this worksheet? Maaaan who knows. Does the pollinatORB I drew kinda look like a turd thats being rolled by a dungbeetle? YEAH A LITTLE. But. Whatever kids. We're going with it.

Help a little bug near you. Look up native plants in your area. Plant a couple of em. Whisper to the first bug you see that you're happy to see them.

You can download the instructions here.

[cutiesigh]

「Demo WIP」 Can y'all watch my plant real quick? 🍈

[gallusrostromegalus]

If one were to print out a large amount of fanfics, how well-fortified would the resulting slash pile be after the introduction of a family of woodchucks?

While I appreciate the pun, the answer is not very because the thing that makes paper take ink so well is also the thing that makes it not very structurally stable .

[ex-injuria-jus-non-oritur]

18•01•22// back from a small hiatus to write my 4th exam 📝☕️✨ Here's to two of my favourite views and only 2 more weeks of studying before I'm done this round of licensing!

[annapolisrose]

white flowers in a pot

[buboplague]

merry christmas  🎄 watch out for pesky demons stealing your plant children

[flowerishness]

Aubrieta deltoidea (purple rock cress), Salvia nemorosa, (woodland sage) and Fragaria × ananassa (garden strawberry)

Escape artists

A few years ago, our local city council created a fancy boulevard sidewalk on the road leading down to the beach. The intention was to create a carefully-maintained, flower-laden, tourist route to endless fish and chips and ice cream cones.

Of course, one city council's 'pet project' is the next city council's 'waste of money' and that "carefully-maintained" part never happened. Unfortunately, the little flowerbeds soon went to wrack and ruin. On the other hand, it's interesting to see these successful garden escapees making a go of it in extremely poor soil. Now why doesn't my strawberry patch look this good?

[youredyingthatsallthereis]

silly civilian au roachghost (entomologist roach, floriculturist ghost)

roach who has saved every single glass jar hes been able to get his hands on for the last several years and uses them for absolutely everything: cups, food storage (leftovers, cut up produce, making his own sauces), little terrarium tanks for bugs, vases, displaying cool rocks, spices he ground up himself, saving up coins, etc.

ghost who doesn't really get why he does it but finds it weirdly endearing: the first time he goes to roach's place he blinks when roach hands him what is clearly an old, cleaned tomato sauce jar full of lemonade and a straw when they sit down on the porch, takes in the the slim, tall jar in the middle of the table filled with carnations whos stalks have been cut almost comically short to make them fit properly, thanking him for the dinner plate full of veggies that ghost can see more of in the rather overgrown little garden on the other side of the yard

they sit for hours talking each others ears off about bugs and flowers and the closely connected relationship between the two; ghost laughs when roach says that he cant stand to use insecticides in his veggie garden because he couldn't bear to hurt bugs and hes "happy to share with them anyway;" roach leans his head onto his fist and watches ghost's face light up when he starts talking about how excited he is that he won a contract to help landscape a new public park, going into detail about all the different types of flowers theyre going to plant to help with local flora conservation and how hes been trying so hard to convince the project manager to let him put in a community garden for families to grow flowers and produce to share

they talk until the evenings become crickets and stars, ghost helping roach bring the jars and plates in; saying goodbye takes another twenty minutes because neither of them can stop talking; finally ghost makes it out the front door, leaving only after promising roach he’d be back next friday evening with his favorite book on symbiotic relationships between bugs and flowers to help roach with pest control in his garden that way 🪻

[writterings]

honestly my state's pride was ultimately underwhelming this year for me, but i gotta say it's...somewhat nice that it can be boring? like im so accepted and validated by people in my life that pride no longer feels like (for me) an escape or outlet. i attended this specific event with my mom in 2018 and it was my first pride event. i was still in high school. i remember it literally brought me out of a deep depressive episode for a bit, because of how fun and affirming and safe it was. it was a celebration of me and people like me!

but now i kinda get that everyday in my life. so pride really only offers me a chance to hang with some friends, day drink, smoke weed in public, and pick up freebies at every tent. it's basically like any other holiday to me now. but isn't that amazing? that im so accepted and loved and celebrated as a whole queer person, that i can take something like pride for granted?

i'm super thankful for that. i'm still super thankful for pride.

and, i gotta say, it was really touching to see so many middle school and high school aged kids there, sometimes with their parents and sometimes by themselves. i hope they one day can find pride as "boring" as i do. i hope every queer person can.