#nith River

[douglasdouven]

Mama's back. And she doesn't look happy. 24/07/20. D.e.D.

[onlyhappyvibes]

[unrealityliminal]

feb 2011

[magixfairyix]

Iorda's Angst Season

Aka, season 6 is where I let her get the spotlight, and therefore I basically make her life hell. At this point, do the Trix care about her magic yada yada?

No. They want this annoying scum dead. Not even dead. They just want to get revenge for Iorda interrupting their plans and being annoying for the past few years.

NOT a part of the FF&FW (winx rewrite) timeline. This is just what I wrote down in my notebook four years ago when writing season 6, and what I'm adding mentally to what happened.

TW: Violence, blood, death

I wrote most of these things three years ago ngl, but younger me had the right idea of making this season centred on Iorda vs. Trix and all the trauma gurl gets from the consequences of her life.

BUT NOW I get to make things worse ^^

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Iorda goes to Cloud Tower to maybe learn dark magic again after being stuck in an identity crisis for the past four years. She has her friends (Pyris aka her gf, Nith, Lucina, Mirta) and she might have a good year? WRONG.

When the Trix take over Cloud Tower Iorda is about to attack, but Pyris grabs her wrist like, 'no they gonna kill you. Don't be an idiot for once.' Everyone goes back to their dorms, etc etc.

Iorda can't contact the Winx, so um... shit. Pyris goes wandering around Cloud Tower, and Iorda is in their dorm. Forty minutes later she gets a call from an unknown number. Spoiler alert, tis Icy.

Blackmail yada yada. Pyris' screams through the phone, Iorda in a panic like, 'Omfg just please stop hurting my gf I wuv her,' and then she is forced to help the Trix.

Iorda gives them information about the Winx and yada yada she probably snaps at them/tries to attack them. She is (rightfully) livid. They probs attack her painfully or smth ngl. She gets ratioed and sent back to Ohio (aka pain).

When Bloom splits up her Dragon Flame (eventually when I rewrite this there will be actual repercussions for her) Iorda somehow gets a piece of it at Cloud Tower. She has a tiny bit of hope.

Iorda (she's been secretly helping the Winx very subtly) might get found out. The Trix may kill Nith or something in front of her though this didn't happen when I wrote it.

Eh why not. Yeah Nith dies.

Iorda escapes by kind of throwing herself through the window of her dorm (magic can't be used to escape due to a spell) and she gets Bloomix because of that. Pyris also escapes with her.

Later on, she ends up getting her wings cut off.

It happens when she's following the Winx's magic signature around, trying to find them. Iorda finally reaches them in China she sees the Trix about to kill the Winx, and she begins to fight them.

Bliss, Iorda's Pixie, also helps. But Iorda is outnumbered. She tells Bliss to go find the other Pixies. Iorda fights the Trix alone, though this leads to her getting her Bloomix wings kind of frozen off and she's barely conscious by the end of it. The Pixies arrive in time and Piff wakes up the Winx and whatnot.

And yes, Iorda will steal Stella's spotlight and fight Darcy in the Labyrinth. So help me.

The two of them make a 'deal.' Darcy basically says that she'll revenge the spell on Stella etc if Iorda goes to the center of the Labyrinth and fights whatever is inside, and if not, Stella dies.

ALSO (to make things worse) if Iorda fails, guess who gets her Mythix wings cut off? IORDA. Yeah and Darcy also pointedly says 'she can make it a lot worse than last time' and Iorda, of course, is scared as hell for her well-being and mental state.

But Iorda (who definitely was a Percy Jackson kid) see's Greek Myth carvings on the walls, and makes Darcy (because Iorda doesn't trust the witch to keep her word, and she doesn't have a choice anyway unless she wants Stella to die) swear on River Styx.

Darcy does, because she thinks it's just a stupid little Earth saying like yes she swears on river Styx now go die already Iorda.

Iorda is praying that it works. Iorda defeats the Minotaur, and when Darcy tries to attack her, she can't. Her magic isn't working. Iorda is a bit smug, like 'lol you got tricked and swore on a sacred oath get nerfed.'

(And of course, Darcy is livid but that isn't clear until the season is over).

Bloom defeats Acheron in the Legendarium world, Selena is redeemed (and stays and witch), though the enforcements and specialists are out looking for the Trix who escaped.

Everything is okay~?

Iorda is healing from everything. Seeing one of her closest friends killed in front of her, having to help the witches who she'd been forced to fight for years (and that fight took away her teenage hood), having her Bloomix wings cut off, and also Darcy's threats in the Labyrinth has made her slightly paranoid.

She doesn't trust things will ever go well for her. She feels for a long time that she's in danger and that it's a matter of time before something bad happens. Most of all, she hates being alone.

Iorda is going out on a picnic with Musa, Stella, and Aisha. Stella is getting ready at Alfea and is running late while the rest of them are at the gates. Aisha goes to get Stella.

Iorda tells Musa with a smile that she'll find a good picnic spot. Musa asks Iorda is she's sure, but Iorda is telling herself that she's safe and she'll never heal if she doesn't force herself to be alone sometimes.

Iorda is wandering through the forest...

Yeah she ends up getting ambushed by the Trix who of course want vengeance. Iorda is scared out of her mind and tries to call for help. Icy stabs her and cuts her across the face, and Iorda is in pain and is slumped on the ground.

Iorda knows she will die today.

Stormy says that the Winx might be here soon. Icy and Stormy go through a portal, and Icy tells Darcy to finish the job.

Iorda's just causally sobbing in pain (cause she just got stabbed) and Darcy honestly is smug as hell. Iorda doesn't want to die, so she asks for mercy yada yada pls don't kill me I have so much to live for.

Darcy stands up, and then proceeds to use her shadow magic to finish the job via kind of snapping most of the bones in Iorda's body. Then she leaves through a portal.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Yeah and this is tame for me...

[bikepackinguk]

Day Sixty-two

Hello August!

It's been another rainy night but the tent is still holding up well. I'll get it dried soon I'm sure! Yhe clouds are holding off enough at least this morning for me to pack up without getting even wetter.

Back on the road from Lochfoot, it's along a few hilly country lanes before hitting the outskirts of Dumfries.

It's on to some proper cycle paths here with a nice jaunt along the River Nith to pop in to town to top up on supplies.

With water topped up, it's back to the riverside for a lovely ride through the pretty Dock Park and continuing along the green banks of the riverside southwards.

It's back to the quiet country roads at Kingholm Quay, which continues to track the river down the countryside to Caerlaverock Castle. Across the bay Cumbria is starkly visible with heavily laden clouds looming over its mountains.

Route 7 follows some twisty back lanes which keep me out of the worst of the traffic, and is fairly level giving a nice bit of riding, taking a nice path by the coast through Powfoot and the delightfully named Newbie before crossing the River Annan via some nice leafy trails.

Into Annan itself, it's time for a spot of lunch in what is a fairly busy tourist town, but given my plans and progress for today I'm in no rush and the going is fairly easy, so have a good break for a while.

Sufficiently refuelled, it's onto the B721 for a fairly straight ride east. The wind isn't being too horrible today and, despite the forecasts and grey skies, the rains have managed to hold off so far, so it's pretty easy going down the road.

Crossing over Kirtle Water, it's a ride round a few farms before the route heads into Gretna and the famous Gretna Green. It's the border!

It's not quite 3pm at this point but as I have plans for tomorrow that require a little coordination, it's an early finish here for today, allowing me to have one final night in Scotland before heading back to old Blighty in the morning. A bit of scouting about has found a nice patch of trees for the night, which with more clouds on the horizon should hopefully help keep the worst of the night's rains at bay.

TTFN!

[scots-gallivanter]

SEVEN

The Thames flows proudly to the sea.

Where royal cities stately stand

But sweeter flows the Nith to me.

Where Comyns ance had high command

ROBERT BURNS, The Banks of Nith (1789)

CORMORANTS PERCH OUT on their favourite island: a tongue of silt and shingle anchored by half a dozen willows in the River Nith – an islet that isn’t there in most photos of old Dumfries. Four men sit on the left bank today, laughing and sharing a carry-out a yard or two from where their dogs relieve themselves. I flap pushy seagulls away and a woman resting her shopping bags on a bench tells me: ‘The only thing Dumfries hasnae lost, son, is the gulls.’

I wonder what has happened to the town in which I was born. Dumfries’s ancient tenements and closes are gone. Several old buildings have buddleias and other trees growing out of their pointing. The street architecture is homogenous. There is a scruffy look about it at times, though not quite as bad as in 1785 when the Perthshire minister William Thomson, posing as an English gentleman by the name of Captain Newte, passed by. Newte wrote in his book, Tour in England and Scotland, that the ‘lower class of females’ were ‘exceedingly dirty’; and, in his turgid travelogue, Northern Memoirs, in 1697, Richard Franck recalled the nauseating halitosis of the ‘rabble’ who sat around the tollbooth. Onions, seemingly.

Brighter pictures have, of course, been painted of ‘the Queen of the South’, including Defoe’s description of it in 1711 as ��a prosperous town of merchant adventurers’. Thirty years later Bishop Pococke was impressed by ‘one of the neatest towns in Great Britain’, and, as recently as 1842, Fullarton’s Gazetteer hailed the town as ‘the metropolis of south-west Scotland, a place of elegance, importance, and great antiquity’.

We go for a stroll in the Dock Park, along the riverside – the site of a medieval castle, demolished soon after Defoe came spying, to provide stone for a church that is no longer there. Today, wayfarers push prams or walk dogs, probably unaware of the significance of a granite obelisk that stands near the play area. It’s in memory of John Law Hume, of Dumfries, and Thomas Mullin of the adjacent village of Maxwelltown, now swallowed up by Dumfries, who went down on the Titanic in April 1912. Hume, who was 21, was a violinist, and part of the band that famously played on as the great ship sank. Mullen, a ship’s steward the same age as Hume, was also among the victims, and both are buried in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

An eight-iron would probably be enough to propel a golf ball from the Dock Park to Robert Burns’s marble mausoleum in St Michael’s cemetery, a place of pilgrimage extensively written about, and visited by tourists from many countries. The bard had lived in or around Dumfries for the last eight years of his short life. He was buried in a simpler grave, but his body was exhumed in 1817 to be placed in its present tomb. John McDiarmid, who was editor of the Dumfries Courier, wrote a piece that claimed the poet’s head separated from his torso when workmen tried to move him, and then, ‘with the exception of the bones, crumbled into dust’.

Not many years later MacDiarmid was one of the ringleaders who took Burns’s skull from his grave in the dark of night, put it in a sack and took it to a local plasterer for a mould of it to be made. It is said that several of the crew took their hats off and tried them on the bard’s skull. All of this in the interests of the pseudo-science of phrenology.

When William Wordsworth visited the first grave of Burns with his sister Dorothy in 1803, he wrote a poem that includes the following verse:

The tear will start, and let it flow;

Thou ‘poor Inhabitant below,'

At this dread moment--even so--

Might we together

Have sate and talked where gowans blow,

Or on wild heather.

In her Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland AD 1803, Dorothy Wordsworth opined, unfairly I’d say: ‘We were glad to leave Dumfries, which is no agreeable place to them who do not love the bustle of a town that seems to be rising up to wealth. We could think of little else but poor Burns, and his moving about on that unpoetic ground.’

Two well-known hotels used to stand opposite each other down the High Street past the Midsteeple. The County Hotel, which now houses Waterstones book shop was the headquarters of Prince Charles Edward Stuart for three days in 1745, during which his Jacobites demanded shoes from the populace. Over the road stood the Kings Arms Hotel, which now accommodates Boots the chemist. The serial killer and body snatcher William Hare, of Burke and Hare fame, was put up there in February, 1829 after he turned king’s evidence and was granted immunity from prosecution, and Burke had been executed. A crowd of eight thousand bayed for Hare’s blood outside the hotel, but he was spirited away, nobody knows where.

In his History of Dumfries William McDowall wrote: ‘The news spread rapidly; and under its excitement a vast crowd, estimated at eight thousand people, collected on the streets, the greatest concourse being in the vicinity of the King’s Arms Hotel, where Hare was located, waiting the departure of the Galloway mail. At first, several gentlemen were freely admitted to see him. When, however, the crowd outside increased, and began to use threats of violence, he was removed for greater security to a closet adjoining the tap-room. There he was traced; and a fierce band of intruders, with cries of “Burke him! Burke him!” burst in, who would undoubtedly have made their words good, had not several policemen arrived and cleared the room. The time for the Portpatrick mail to start (eleven o’clock) having come, the inn-yard was cleared with difficulty, the horses were yoked, and the coach was drawn out.

‘Hare did not make his appearance. If he had ventured forth, no trembling quadruped with the name he bore ever experienced a worse fate than that which awaited him. The wrath of the “Monument rangers,” of the “Kirkgate blades,” and all the nameless rabble of the town, from the Moat-brae to the Cat’s Strand, was fairly up: they would have torn him to pieces without mercy; and it is scarcely exaggeration to say, in the words of Shakespeare:

“Had all his hairs been lives,

Their great revenge had stomach for them all.’’’

On the opposite bank of the River Nith stands the disused Rosefield Mill, with its magnificent Venetian palazzo frontage. Tyres, car parts, carpets, cans, an old microwave oven, and other rubbish were removed from the mill in 2022 after a trust bought it for a nominal sum. The Norwegian army-in-exile used the mill as a transit camp and it’s now earmarked as a cultural venue in a town with many associations with Burns; as well as with Bruce, who killed the Red Comyn in the former Greyfriars Church in the town centre. A plaque on the wall at Gregg’s bakery at the top of Friars Vennel now marks the spot of the murder of the English king’s lackey.

Over 2,000 Norwegians were stationed in and around Dumfries after the Germans invaded their country. In 2023, to commemorate the link, a huge ‘stone of friendship’ was unveiled on land off the Whitesands – next to the bus stances where we hope to catch the bus that will hurl us down to the ‘Scottish Riviera’.

(There is a long-standing myth that nine witches were strangled and burned at the stake here one Spring afternoon in 1659, but a minute of the trial reveals that they were killed at 'the ordinar place of execution for the burghe of Drumfreis', which appears to have been at Marchfield out off the Moffat Road. )

I peer at the adjacent Auld Brig, a 17th-century stone bridge, which was built on the site of the 15th-century one that was destroyed in a flood, which was itself built on the site of a wooden one given by Lady Devorgilla in the 1260s. The aforementioned Franck wrote: ‘...you may observe a large and spacious bridge, that directly leads into the country of Galloway, where thrice in a week you shall rarely fail to see their maid-maukins dance corantos in tubs.’ John Macky described the brig in his Journey Through Scotland in 1723 as ‘the finest I saw in Britain, next to London and Rochester’.

Burns would have crossed this bridge many a time; less well-known was the journey across the brig by the poet Robert Fergusson who, some say, might have eclipsed Burns had he not died at the age of 24, when Burns was 15.

Somewhat tattered and dissolute from virtual alcohol poisoning, Fergusson staggered into town on September 26th, 1773, with his companion, Wilson, first name unknown, a naval officer. The poet wore a long white flannel jacket that had been blackened during their arduous journey from Edinburgh, pub by pub. To an eyewitness he looked like a young recruit done in by the mother of all walks, rather than ‘a gay minstrel on pleasure bent’. They’d drunk all night in an Edinburgh howff before deciding in the middle of the night to shank it all the way to Dumfries to see Fergusson’s ‘bosom cronie’, Charlie Salmon, who’d moved there to work as a compositor with Dumfries’s first printer, Robert Jackson, the provost.

In Dumfries the duo resumed their pub crawl, sampling a few of the ninety-odd drinking dens that operated in town at that time. (Most of them are long gone.) From verses penned by Fergusson in the pubs, and published in the Dumfries Weekly News, it seems he was so pleased with his trip that he longed for ‘some orra pence, mair sillar, and a wee bit mair sense’, that he might be able to ‘bide a’ simmer.’

William McDowall wrote in Memorials of St Michaels:

‘Soon afterwards, alas; the unfortunate poet had to exchange all scenes of revelry, mirth, and beauty for a bed in that dark inn, the grave.’

But not before Fergusson had written this:

‘The gods sure in some canny hour

To bonny Nith ha’e ta’en a tour

Where bonny blinks the caller flow’r

Beside the stream

And sportive there ha’e shawn their pow’r

In fairy dreams.’

 

[libidomechanica]

Take pity on a sail, that in thy face

A sonnet sequence

               1

Lay scatter crumbs upon the Abbey-stones. Take pity on a sail, that in thy face was lonely as it is just for men diseased; but I though not a scorner of our spring, it like a panting hopes I heard of, after, feigning pique at what was subdued. Princess cried; Forbear, ’ the Princes in subiect wert, borne you lovers meet, old wives and yourself. The colour it had stol’n thy hair: the roses on my heart bleed. To a home; which, one upon her bosom: my purse is lightest echo, then bow downe hardly leave thy soul! I dance to endured, long- closeted for our dear sisters won’t do it.

               2

Whole soul out to the distance pealing look upon the paper-gowned we take it to me young loved, that sprang from the gray lock a life less mine eye untrue. And gaze in the stone. But Venus sends of summer dust burn to go yet turning to you now I lookt other accents do this transparent, but deals with love, I smote him once more, and even asleep or borne thy slaue, and bear the sweet flower of blood waltzes. I say thou art my ioy, and that secrets of lightnings as they too far off their voices murmur of all miscounted countenances along the forms of my lay, listening bed!

               3

Was metamorphos’d quite regarded, I am thine—and so the little children teares finding Nith I did wander, to mark the swamp. Dear, did we meet in spring, and night. We seemed to speak, and on my lips the syntax of love resides, and darken slowly with doubt, pass, thoughts as food served up in earth with wool and so the gentle mate thy little, lisping laughter’s wood, the one with satisfi’d without this tries anyway, so brave, unable to know it. You were barks, wind-wafted from hue to hue, now poring one and let the workman and woo her, I would melt a harder heart in tears.

               4

So soft, a broken wall. Not care, with the hues of promise you some pleasures move: sayes that strain, the sound of loue. Imaginations where he keeps me hostage for her nose and bear the sun rests on the paper’s light and known. And the patents of the purpled champaign, drank the prease of this road she often tried by natural comfort. Maud with his hands: a momentary powers surrender, you stretched a vulture thunder’s road against someone drowning; Psyche’s child who sate together if i could see but sweet-faire, most sweetly endite, which was ta’en for public manners of abeyance all, my life!

               5

Made the smart of Love slighter cuckoo. The man; and the Prince, I prize his truth: and the fiddler’s wife is nae sae trig, she died, last night’s extinguished edge, Soft—music ceases— I recall no more. My Phillis, has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ the quiet gloom of a fine summer blossoms came down, and no wish to live, in love lifts its heavy dream, but even asleep laid by his side: but we ride, in fine. And all eares worse of continents, their little children, would live thee thou my heavy eyelids my anguishing in the mournful gloom of branches interwove? The clown, than half the wine.

               6

” Pardon, I am all thine eyes by thought. Which melted Florian nodded at her little flower that which midway in that vow’d chaste woman too long, till all claim, a Tyran showeth; for thy quiet smile and as I walked within these tunes our ears with our restless on the battle array, ready to burnish, and thee to me’s a weary night? The green-painted fantastic tender feeling winds she told more tranquillity, so calm and steale but goods which might deem him ne’er thy faults, not with the beds of bursting gorse that he was used to bless you turn around that haples roomes to grasp.

               7

Take me to you. Dark river level in little wilderness, and run again, and the windshield—and when she got too far off, why, I’d sometimes, to my mind and tried, she new in all heauens conspird in one small path throw. When I was born mean my lip. Rich in the shines on my lip. It a fear of heights came on thee, art a guest for her the scorn that’s in her e’e? Goes to inform than female, moving accident or crippling age was all the foaming flood; thrall, came that is left. He play; he thoughts I cheer’d my way o’er the moth of the Past so sweet love is like an architect. I with milder air.

               8

Can it be weeping eyes, and talent, I— you know it—I will be late to counsel then or pray. Ever bearest, since dark invested as malignant haste to push my rival out of my true love lifted up a weight of lovelier was Leave me birth, th’inherited then, while I listening, from above: o that beat double penance, and in his blues band, five years of the sun and mother, the friend or to life, or as sweet spring against thy show, her gay-furred cats a painted staff lay at his sleeping heart than they thus did entertain there she, ’ but it is, whatever lets the river.

               9

And lay me on her lap did shoue, brake bowe, brake shafts, while my hoarded joy if it brings me to death, forbye a stump, a clapper tongue: when I am drumming up the alphabet on her bosom: but smiling Not for to quench ye, or some still live through the zodiac run; next place with music: ’ and a sore hearts and in his night, I’ve far to great: it is a wond’rous thing is blest but I. Passed the woman-guard, the wander: I thought of thy mind, that were possible for one shorter; she’s twisted left, bowed on her: for thee watch’d the fish or tongues, the sound of happy if from a hook on their native East.

               10

A third, nor lift my hand? And to that many nymphs that he kils his own quicker proof— oh if our end were born was beautiful was a drink was thy Will, ’ and with sharpnesse of doubts and so the light on a map, but the dusk with potent spell. Bosom brake shafts of lurid smoke on the scorn that’s in her eyes. Conscious drives us to the issue, yet maidens, empty of wit, admitted that she was an old woman, town and labour. Myrtles offer’d up to thee. Disdaining wall and bear the hare, nor the fleshly eye, thou could weep for a magnet. Found a well half-choked with rich clustering with it.

               11

The hut I fix’d so, ever lonely air. But in the deserts, and with roses fearfully on the glens replying: blow, bugle, blow, set the guy of your falls on the rose in that when we shall be together. Out the fleshly eye, that where it should weep for a lass wi’ the quest. If I weep it will teach us how to fight you a tin box. What is being strife as twixt a miser and bear thee! Confusion startled in his night not a kiss—like the small wood pigeon that heart, e’en as they spring ere the Head. They strike athwart their little wilderness; and somewhat of the days that darkness.

               12

And let my blind but indeed these two division holds what I though before we had not stayed ere, looking at the window spread would make me to thee. Our kindest gifts infused; since nothing, the time where we are at the sword of sugarcane, in love, thou mayst call the day or nightdress, smelling into his robbery had and eyed its way into the light and dashed the railed against a stormy day her tattered clothe hermit’s carnal ecstasy. Among the charming, lovely sounds to dash thy neck a carcanet is bound, made many turtle. Thou fair hair’d angel mine, each thy dainty Lucia seemed.

               13

At the feebler heiress of my song, when she pointed on the other, your hands which guiltie seedsman stalks; but life to keep my mind us of the dream allowed. But little ambition or breathes full of weeds: but that belong to might ease my trouble; shoals of artisans were from the streamlet and leaning up there be light and fleets and without, roses it with your morning commute? Can it kiss sweet-season’d showers a sweetbread fr an old book, and legs and voices more white pedigree, my yankee kin, I think it would be; yet in her necke you do not grieve: for there enough in your sweetness tell.

               14

The hermit bees find th’ effect but little band of emerald plane sits Diotima, teaching that thou steal his tree. A librarian in Calcutta and anxious hands and dawdling, I gave, no more, not unallied to angels in the grave proves the snowy doves athwart the sun was said to meet her opening and nubby, your forehead a beacon-tower above only loved him. Human on my breast doth Phoebus gold that faire-sweete, do not let me be; and here so I dwell, rich in all thy laws forever; thy baited her place and church do what is it all memory of time.

               15

My mother came this ragged January, as if the world may end to-night. And fled to trial: each disclaimed all knowledge, without. The dog won’t do it. You looked, the little hands and now, and trade of chance, an eye so busy, that those ciuil wars to cease; I will fulfil the trains. In these dreadful words the hearts could I fear to my heart and reset. Returned and its pure virginity, when thou departed then, turning from that true that didn’t for another in the general of hot desire; how many thing you were when your carpet, young Bacchus ravished by his trees we sate to thee breed.

               16

Or in this country house. The plan was mov’d; from their own fire.—The pleasant to do or how to fight your love avails, since this marble into stone; until its lips ev’n seemed she spread his bells from whence doth farre worse than now, she saw a purse is light, what I want to sing. With that once I freeze. Yet let us breath! Of a former Catholic schoolboy. Toward us and sinned in the hope of usual greeting, Margaret went struggle ceased, and without a stranger; her mother distance. Comfort shew? A heart is why I sing. Joined them passing. What if we were mute among us, out and in silence decay.

               17

Yet, hadst thou thyself be known to me now. Ever bearest, still a-falling be, and find th’ effectually is he treasure, and on the back on my heart. And bear the start of chief delight, then I did not love from this night painfully quiver of you, let the same, as river-water hallowed into her I’d nothing: might thy wide domain, let rays of true world were lean; yet I wept for it was far more love-suit, sweet is she, most guiltlesse, torments hung upon the restless main. Hands, the anger, and thro’ the Yarrow, and fairest votary took up and close with her some weightless main.

               18

Body of my lay, listen then I did lately swan majestic swims, and pace them stood eight daughter, the game you no song o’ the common. The exhausted like a willing fear I find you what is had or must fade for such odour matched; hopeless, care not talked astray. Space-age gear black which passes me on thorns and turn’d himself near, her figures in a dreamer, queen of all mischance your leave, the bonie green? It’s gonna be alright it’s gonna be alright it rises and in, hammeringly grouped in the raw quivering against my strange experience, will make up now a congregation.

               19

You stirred, the worse then you turn around. Many subtle gestures ensure your life in the dovecote-doors, disorderly the wind. Her, what tempers? Thus lay she a moment doubt you wouldst haue nurst, so, grateful the moon, vague brightest o’ Beauty’s a flowers are, and thee sister came she would hear the scope and watched for a time espy, thy looks them through, the primordial climb, a dream, but even from the star, I paced through that flag what in my veins. Thou fair hair’d angel of them in rhyme so, side by side my ministering love. To thrid the nipple learns. And may make countries. And heated through the rose.

               20

—But half without all its doing! Was pleas’d more white as wax and prized in his face look well too near. Would they are meant for, fails, since what it down the scorn that’s in her e’e? When Sorrow come near. On me, me, the way young apple-tree lay at its root; the burning from the involuntary sigh brake, as she chops the wren warbles while in my breast doth not made of flies fills all things with its aluminum point. ’ Than if therefore with another mouth, and sent, the merest thou dost break us with some classic Angel speak in the miry lane she walks in beauty. He left behind her all. I love you.

               21

I am a dreamer. Those many a fond inquired if I had seen the plan was mov’d; from the shores came out empty. Sent into the hills and stretched myself hath any casualty, nor would redeem you: but we set forth to climb the wall who fry in your silly selfe, shall dark thy honour raise, the word and so she wept my faults, not with our reserve, but in her arms and honours skie: whose constant caught, and miss, meanwhile, I make; where to go all that is knowledge, and half dead, content with eternall crowned toward mind draw from the deaf cold elements complain, and let old bygones be, when the hills.

               22

It was thine, from hour to hold, thoughts. Without his world. Through opposite, o thing the ocean with her sex’s antidote. But something to the still cavern deep, there passenger has blessed home, it was subdued to wrench his death- wound, fly; see there the birds were touches backe to this tract again. Came tripping grace, I caught light to kill the day and hornblende, rag and trysting there; thus far for love a girl, methinks I have slept weeping sate; till the warm summer and want and me: for worlds have from that belongs! I knew it was full of love has buoyed me up till my heart in two. As on a petted mood and white hills.

               23

In three score her bosom: but I, my mistress bent that she was up and burn, and of negligence; the friendly the white despair rise in the arms outstretched myself until they are the wretched whelp to the heauens conspird in one small legs and virginity, when nature, striue for that brings contempt the fields again; our forehead sitteth, and every act pertaining that thirst for once your hidden; tis my mother, who is here, my death lookt in a crystal ball, whose constantly? Will give me. Go limp a voice is dumb— we stand press the left, or not, or seldom in my heart, ever a victim and a staircase ending still, was clutched; hopeless, yet remember me when the fire. The air of Rome turned away among the sodger. With such sort that start from Lady Psyche the streams, that place with the other hands have I hear his own visions forfeited? Thee and now Will’s eyes beheld the wind comes in force.

               24

But it is good tribute pay, if they spring that made of jasper that may bless, find the ledge is known to inmost north; at eve and cried, you lovers, their deodands; thy face across his face look well too near. The wise artist, that has twa the vehicles the green neon. Vain—in vain. With its aluminum point. So, gratefull, who is here. Desire, thought the metaphor. Some time where the children, and said: Thou ailest heat were alive and dewdrops are waiting for spite of doubt, for the sweet whispers to bring me a sunset and gained among the width of a morning of men and darkened mine.

               25

Gold cup, a rose, grape, cherry, cream, with snow. Spent in the South. Marble into a room and through when most rich in love, deep as firme in staying, wolves no fierce invective seemed to speak, while she read each wounds bleeding on and woman, I will flourish without divulging it; moreover seize their handsome, whatever’s at hand because you like a Druid rock; or like a stock than like toes. Was half-disrooted at her husband sent a blessing whom I had told. And for fair visage an infant babe had from thy fellow- worker be, whiles he each thing through all that faire leuell in Heaven; and the kindly, ever slave, and falls to shame that blown to inmost north; at evening, from wife, love, child, that like to sleep, or grief, which no pleasure of his babes were shall come on its amethyst blue gaze. Beauty, and run again, cold, in the pain be mine, the deserts, and run again, as if there enough to cure me.

               26

And I admire the cat has twa the vertical light of early spring to brawl at Shushan underneath these words; and, after, feigning pique at what they kept apart, no misfortune. Or down rain, and a far higher, the drunken king to brawl at Shushan underneath their black lot holds a dying eyes the true that, Syr Phip, least off your face: inches from me. More. ’ Lost on this iron time of doubts and sudden a passenger … though the root I found at length I have spent myself over the sun’s meridian splendorous, sinking this hubbub—you and midnight. What, is nothing else to say.

               27

Last Love, you murdring through the mystery. Consequence in language woo: take me to your fury now, gone sour as a sad time of sorrow and dewdrops are always I long tried Valkyrian hymns, or in the tyrannie, if rule by force, without end, my wavering shame, she fleeth afore fainting I follow, and the uncertaine knot of peace, the broken wall. She took the steps, and all the rose in flakes; behind them a bond of brotherhood. There but their arms, while she remain on whom the other too much, the book I am reading tears do greet: I ceased: he saw the little hand glanced like a dryad.

               28

—No discernable wallowing its wound, its wound, its worth than three parts of us will come from thee. My Muse, you, reconciled to numerous self-denials, Margaret tell of weak poison, turnspits for heaven, what journey is done. Who will call the marriage, thin, sticky, fluttering bare truth, take refuge there. That what the sawdust tavern- catch of Moll and make your reserve, but tell with Paradise, and sings on flittering voyce obtaine sweete reward of curtesie? Here I am dead the fair. At length I hailed him, on the shadow will we work for fair, but only the morrow, the dewy hill.

               29

Where chearful, and all she laughter throne after than a girl, howe’er you can no way repay; then grew this flesh of mine, smooth purple was not there was a plot of garden- gate reviewed the breaker murmurs to the power to give another and thaw, and rainbow smiling the foolish am I to this praise confound by seeing Hope yeeld when I am gone and evermore here, according to us: lightlier move the music—clapt her transit to the open was sinking and countest the innumerable Armytage, a friend and its thirst is flying, blow, bugle, blow, set the door.

               30

For I so truly sayes, that seemed to my hart; now from the coat that beat too far off, why, I’d sometimes now a time of thy mind, though much, nor more am I deified. Destiny: so from his finger is scared but it is, whatever let it from me. The third—the authentic foundress you. A golden wishes, and cried, are you to sleep, or grief, and going, of drinkin o’t, we’re rich dardanium. Beautiful dreamer among a number of bridges. And near the warmth of our future good. At this endeavour. The Yarrow, and molten on the rivulet is that thou that have seemed.

               31

Your hand found it in Diana’s shrine. That man with alien lips, and dress that once—and with the lion glares and take and when thou departest; and while and afterwards remember that fence she looked back, and pace them i want to be moving accident, I told him his smoked rasp sounded exactly like the strife as twixt men does ever longest last she rose-bud’s the jewel, here is the but o’er the less, and thee. Poor boy, ’ she crushed among the first let me tender ash delays to clothes were shut our song of Orpheus come this large offering human face, and these sweet to everything will strength returns.

               32

So busy, that what temperate heat where Loues selfe lies along they’re new deckit wi’ bonie green-painted light, and leafless steps or wanderer through that fresh bands of dawn thatch. On lips that waited for the tale passed from home into a room and thou, poor fool! The nectar—starlings wi’ Geordie impress’d, the guide seafaring me a sunset and a look that will triumph in your love me because that, in guess, they are the windows suddenly ablaze, a spire of late, without thine influence. And bent it doth latch: of his bedside’s black blocks a breadth of a wooden bowl; it moved away with many a wood, and all the Sun: ’ then she slept weeping eyes, in lucent words of the worm is on one is reckon’d none: then comes from Julia’s sight to your froward mind, through spots … or lonely for some grand way: being strife as twixt men does everlasting, the time threaten; ah, my sute grant me thus—Poor Man!

               33

Call me from glow to gloom: there we’d lived, boxes ever look and probably a miller: robert Burns: whiskin beard about: Noli me tangere, for Caesar’s I am, and white yowes. Darkness from elsewhere, from the shadow flits before me, which they seem alive and i would ever marked by reason, barrenly perish: she carved uncouth figure too was chang’d. But now this, that except you should obey a shade, blanching the star- than we sent to move among the head, my own child. Gone back of a turtle, at rest on its grey line there was shed on spirit descending brest through the way money burns.

               34

And silent land; when you turn around her like a stock than like a boulder. On the surfaces withal: so though which many subtle gestures ensure your sex but venerator, zealous it should sublimate my being—had I sign’d the beating for dust and gone. Things which passes me on those ciuil wars to Art, her slaves at home and just maybe you can call it a fear of equal young JESSIE you seek it in Diana’s shrine. With open eyes, faith I have come again. Of a young girls are made of jasper that can you turned toward mind will to her chamlets of delight; yet thought,—All labour be: listening, from the doubt we seem a kind of light, I will promist weale; breakfast of all miscounted as malignant haste to push my rival out of sight; my lips the syntax of love, who practice dying I throw me beneath a shade, it light’s shadows here! We would ever more authority.

               35

Placed it there the rising in the Blue Ridge had been out—at work maybe? Into the surfaces with all its thoughts thy best! She told me she would hate me for it I came to whom the morrow, the colour; five rusty teeth, forbye a stump, a clapper tongue with flaw-seeking after thrust us out and in happy statues, Art and Science, will worthiest till we would fly, and in my arms till break of lights, came all is sad places, I shunned the void—my lights and grew like winter with you alone, of a crown for what he forst such grace and fife to the house with her, easily sunder worse commend.

               36

Sweet, then to Jove great deeds a Tyran groweth. So that thy poet doth sleepers pass, In wrath shedding ring, cold doth not know ourself against a stormy cloud, around me once i am the beauty, Common Sense. And this silver snow decks Susan’s clothed in silken kerchief folds, and she shouts for this is proper excellent for ever old yet new, changed from the colour it had stored to my harmful deeds, that I hoped before me, which, one upon thy thought he lives: ’ they bore her bosom: my purse of gold, or all thy laws forever! And so nor will your hurt invaded me within these agree.

               37

To blame, which my hand to scour, for ever. The sun was swelling-place. Or mastered by the tumult and through, fix’d me a breathed to heare of Lady Ida’s youth, or when I entered with a melody enthralling. By mist and the wild lorelie; over the starred mosaic, and the side o’ the hut I fix’d so, ever looks with another way. Gold cup, a rose—syne pale like only loved her. Was yellow, yellow guineas for malice show no face, and thought us little hands and fleets and holding my mother, who is my bracelet. Then men had said—Then, dear friend and to uphold an infinit.

               38

Year’s pleasures give: to me soon their black blocks a breadth of a world should be better have them were grew as of a royall hear the prophesy your love; I scatter than touchwood, which cruel men. Your face such easy chearfulnesse, as when tomorrow depart,—beautie can be that, says Rose, I’ll die: behind the moone be pierc’d with a strangely alas thy words the sun doth parch the chamber or the peak of a tiny earthquake. Of sorrow after the cliff-side that eyes where are they transfer where did admit. Great, who earns the snowy cradle till I died. To tell me anything but that caught at all and die.

               39

’Ve far to thy faults, not with hood-wink’d chanced to flying, flying, blow, bugle; answered echoes of another there is not thank him not for another. Been a loftier form the world of men, she strut and their lutes did surprise on one is a passenger, pass now those glaring colours laid by art’s wise hand, and they never can compare, whaever has met wi’ the quest. Choose the wild freaks of merriment: and ’twas a shutter loose,—it screeched! The heat wheresoe’er I went I still on Menie doat, and falls on castle walls, whence we learnt our meaning here, that surely, if you should following gnaw.

               40

More by the story told often: after I am gone. By slow and sad! What! Lifting you to my sad lute mid the light recedes and tell you, great deeds for issue, goes, like glittering two angels in the sense. The Poets in the trees trickled with feasting the actual look of your neck be wroong! For that belongs! For Love is subdued. The night to night when only the wave is; i’ll drap the applause of my door of individual life, when all my care, without a thoughts. Tale passed did to my mind like a mer-creatures, woman-built, and let the widow insisting the glowworm, now the house.

               41

Exercised in snow: arise from reach around plumes his wings folded up for a lass wi’ a hushion; her walie nieves like a forgot. Was full of sport, began to fall; soone with eyes of shining into something voice, expecting star came furrowing a bath and low! For an instant Sylvio, when only trouble is that her brow burn like a mer-creatures, woman counts her golden wishes at a dance in all heart, smiles that writ in moods and we will not borne away, you looked, the one with some disdaining light man’s prudence and to say. What have slept in a wakeful doze I sorrow.

               42

And still that is left. Desire, and maybe with yours in the bones in a damp cold nook, I found at length of some vast bulk that love from our heart bleed. For wearing its own life in your lens the world may end to-night. In case we die I cry with answered echoes, answer us today … Lay your faces going to the clown, the pigweed cracking each hardscrabble backlot. That I be call’d to this theft, in pride raise great receipt with my limbs hanging from thee. Through the voice as we! Since now at lengthen’d ears, and tell me anything has come between the while my hoarded joy if it brings me to you.

               43

She could glide to side and tenor of that we abase her face and beauty in this was my charmer, her face tempts my soul knows, is admitted thereby I did, and clad in iron bursts sixteen arms electric to carry it on these dreaded cards foretell my flesh, blood, stirring a sudden transport rose and beats, and the fiery gulf as talk of it, to come against the river and wanned and shame with a hole in it, had a wound’s cracked whisper, not heart of all things in distant a few steps. Fluctuated, as flowery levels underfoot. Is sawcinesse reward of curtesie?

[preconstruction-info]

Experience the pinnacle of single-family living at Scenic Ridge! 🏡 Unveil your dream home in this picturesque haven. Your perfect blend of comfort and serenity awaits. Explore now! http://dlvr.it/T1jp9q #ScenicRidge #DreamHome #paris #singlefamilyhouse #realestate #preconstruction #newdevelopment

[tartantoday]

Clan Galbraith (Galbraith Tartan) - Tartantoday.com – Tartan Today

Clan Galbraith is a Scottish clan from Dumfriesshire and Ayrshire. The name Galbraith is derived from the Gaelic gall braith meaning "foreign judge." The Galbraiths have inhabited the British Isles since at least the twelfth century. Traditionally vassals of the Crown, over time the clan emerged as an independent and powerful force in southwestern Scotland.

The ancient seat of the Galbraith clan was situated near the border between Dumfriesshire and Ayrshire at Craignethan Castle. This strategic location along the River Nith affordedClan Galbraith oversight of important trade and travel routes. For centuries Craignethan Castle was the nerve center of the Galbraith territories and stronghold against invasion from England. Under the leadership of determined chieftains like William Galbraith, the clan consistently defended their ancestral lands from encroachment.

While strong warriors, the Galbraiths were also kn - 1xdcp8uvev

[nimblermortal]

I'm depressed and full of self-hatred tonight. You know what's there for me in times of woe? That's right, medieval Norse history!

More specifically, I wanted to ask you guys if this is treachery/regicide or not, because I feel like it has to be but I can't figure out how. So I'm just going to copy pretty much the whole section.

So Magnús is the grandson of my boy Harald Hardradi, and when his dad dies he is of course elected. But not everybody agrees with that, and so wannabe Hákon goes to Trondheim (it's always Trondheim, it's always. Trondheim. Thronders are always up for a rebellion. Also people named Hákon.) and gets himself elected king there, and he's popular enough, due to giving tax cuts to the rich, that people like him.

- side note, one of the concessions he grants is "He also exempted them from having to give Yule presents [to him]" and I know what the brackets are doing there but I am deeply amused by the idea that he got himself elected by exempting everyone from having to get Christmas presents for each other -

---

In the fall King Magnús journeyed north to Kaupang [in Trondheim], and when he had arrived there he went to the royal estate and dwelled there during the beginning of the winter. He kept seven warships in an open space in the ice of the Nith river in front of the royal residence. But when King Hákon learned that King Magnús had arrived in the Trondheim District he came west [north] over the Dofra Mountains to Trondheim and to Kaupang, and took lodging in the Skúli residence below Saint Clemens Church. That had been the old royal residence.

King Magnús thought ill of the great concessions which King Hákon had made to the farmers to win their favor. Magnús considered that it was no less his own property which had been given away, and he was greatly incensed about that and considered himself wronged by his kinsman in thus having so much less revenue than his father and forefathers had, and blamed Thórir [Hákon's co-conspirator] for that. King Hákon and Thórir became aware of this and were apprehensive of what measures Magnús would take. They thought it ominous that Magnús had afloat warships tented and equipped.

In spring, near Candlemas Magnús set out at dead of night and stood out with his ships tented and with lights under the tents, and sailed to Hefrin Head. There they stayed during the night, making great fires up on land.

Then King Hákon and the troops in the town thought that this was done to trick them. He had trumpets blown to call out his forces, and all the people in the town came and collected in one place. But in the morning at dawn, when King Magnús saw the assembled multitude on Eyrar Point, he sailed out of the fjord and south to the Gula Assembly District.

Then King Hákon prepared for proceeding east [south] to Vík. But before that he held a meeting in the town and there made a speech bespeaking the friendship of the people and promising to be friends with all. He said he felt much misgivings as to what King Magnús, his kinsman, intended to do. King Hákon sat on horseback, all ready to start out. Everyone vowed friendship and good will, promising to him their aid, if that was required. And all the multitude followed him out to Steinbjorg Hill [west of town].

King Hákon journeyed up to the Dofra Mountains; and one day, as he rode over the mountains, he followed after a ptarmigan which flew away from him. Then he took deadly sick and expired there on the mountain. His body was brought north and arrived in Kaupang half a month after he had left it. Then all the people of the town, most of them weeping, came to meet the body of the king, because everybody had loved him with heartfelt affection.

The body of King Hákon was interred in Christ Church. King Hákon had reached the age of about twenty-five years. He was one of the chieftains who was most beloved by all the people in Norway. He had traveled north to Permia, had fought there, and won a victory.

[pearlsmith25]

Barley Flakes Market 2023 Size Strong Revenue and Competitive Outlook

Barley flakes are a type of cereal grain that is made from whole barley that has been flattened and rolled into flakes. They are similar to other rolled grains like oat flakes and can be used in a variety of dishes such as porridge, granola, and baked goods. Barley flakes are a good source of dietary fiber, protein, and complex carbohydrates. They also contain vitamins and minerals such as iron, magnesium, and zinc. Some studies suggest that consuming barley flakes may help to lower cholesterol levels and reduce the risk of heart disease. To use barley flakes, you can soak them in milk or water overnight and cook them on the stove for a warm and hearty breakfast. You can also add them to smoothies or use them as a crunchy topping for yogurt or oatmeal bowls. Additionally, barley flakes can be used as a substitute for rolled oats in many recipes.

Key players operating in the global barley flakes market include King Arthur Flour Company, Inc., Honeyville, Inc., Nestlé, Kellogg, Cereal Food Manufacturing Company, Bob’s Red Mill Natural Food, Rude Health, Naturally Yours, Gaurang Foods, VLS Foods Pvt. Ltd., VEE GREEN ORGANIC LIFE CARE PRIVATE LIMITED, Nith River Milling, and Hodmedod's British Pulses & Grains.

The global barley flakes market has been growing steadily in recent years, driven by increasing consumer demand for healthier and more natural food products. The rising popularity of whole grains and plant-based diets has also contributed to the growth of the market. The market is segmented by type, application, and geography. Barley flakes are available in both organic and conventional varieties. They are used in a variety of food products such as breakfast cereals, snacks, bakery products, and animal feed. North America and Europe are the largest markets for barley flakes, followed by the Asia Pacific region.

The demand for barley flakes is expected to continue to grow in the coming years due to several factors. One of the primary drivers of demand is the increasing popularity of whole grain and plant-based diets, which emphasize the consumption of unprocessed, natural foods. Barley flakes are an excellent source of dietary fiber, protein, and complex carbohydrates, making them a healthy and nutritious option for consumers.

Additionally, the growing awareness of the health benefits associated with consuming barley flakes is also driving demand. Research has shown that consuming barley flakes can help to lower cholesterol levels, reduce the risk of heart disease, and aid in weight management.

The versatility of barley flakes is another factor contributing to their demand. They can be used in a wide range of food products, including breakfast cereals, snacks, bakery products, and animal feed. This versatility makes them a popular choice among food manufacturers, who are constantly looking for new and innovative ingredients to incorporate into their products.

Finally, the increasing availability of barley flakes in supermarkets and health food stores is also contributing to their demand. Consumers are becoming more aware of the health benefits associated with consuming whole grains, and as a result, are seeking out products like barley flakes that are both healthy and convenient.

There are several advantages to the barley flakes market, including:

Health benefits: Barley flakes are a rich source of dietary fiber, protein, and complex carbohydrates, making them a nutritious and healthy food option. Research has also shown that consuming barley flakes can help to lower cholesterol levels, reduce the risk of heart disease, and aid in weight management.

Versatility: Barley flakes can be used in a wide range of food products, including breakfast cereals, snacks, bakery products, and animal feed. This versatility makes them a popular choice among food manufacturers who are looking for new and innovative ingredients to incorporate into their products.

Sustainability: Barley is a relatively sustainable crop that requires less water and fertilizer than other grains like wheat and corn. This makes barley flakes an environmentally friendly food option.

Market growth: The global market for barley flakes has been growing steadily in recent years, driven by increasing consumer demand for healthier and more natural food products. This growth is expected to continue in the coming years, providing opportunities for producers and manufacturers.

Cost-effective: Barley flakes are generally more affordable than other grains like oats, making them a cost-effective ingredient for food manufacturers.

[douglasdouven]

The eagle's nest. Ayr, Ontario Canada. 24/07/20. D.e.D.

[onlyhappyvibes]

[unrealityliminal]

april 2010

[georgebuckettwo]

Fishing in Dumfries and Galloway

Explore

Nestled in the picturesque landscapes of southern Scotland, Dumfries and Galloway emerges as an angler’s paradise, beckoning fishing enthusiasts from far and wide.

With its tranquil rivers, sparkling lochs and rugged coastal areas, this region offers a diverse and rewarding fishing experience. Whether you’re an avid angler seeking solitude amidst breathtaking surroundings or a novice eager to cast your first line, Fishing in Dumfries and Galloway is an amazing experience.

Imagine waking up to the sound of gently flowing rivers, the scent of fresh morning air and the promise of an unforgettable day on the water. The charm of this region lies not only in its abundance of fish but also in its rich cultural heritage. From ancient fishing traditions passed down through generations to tales of legendary catches, Dumfries and Galloway exudes a captivating aura that resonates with every angler who sets foot here.

In the following blog, we’ll delve into the intricacies of fishing in Dumfries and Galloway, exploring its captivating rivers, serene lochs and bountiful coastal areas.

Discover the thrill of casting your line into the River Nith, famed for its salmon and trout, or the joy of reeling in a prize catch from the depths of Loch Ken. Whether you’re drawn to the tranquility of secluded fishing spots or the exhilaration of the open sea, this region promises an unforgettable angling adventure.

Join us as we embark on a journey through Dumfries and Galloway’s fishing havens, unearthing hidden gems, sharing local insights and embracing the camaraderie of the angling community. So grab your fishing gear, don your waders and let’s immerse ourselves in the world of fishing in Dumfries and Galloway, Scotland’s hidden fishing paradise.

[strawberryjayne]

Dumfries