#orticulture

[asfaltics]

.,

orticultural remains, jute, sisal . 03 . 20230126  

[kazxmp]

(H)orticulture (O)bservation (M)eetings (I)ntroducing (E)xcellent (S)pecimens - HOMIES

 Starter for @maibeemp

It had been easy to fall into an easy Rhythm with Mai. They had gotten along well over Discord after they had interacted a lot during streams. It helped that they both had an undying love for plants and he enjoyed how they had a nice duality to them. They would get in lengthy discussions about how native plants sustain a greater and more diverse insect population than introduced species do, or they could sit in complete silence while testing the PH level of their soil before potting whatever it was they had that day. It was comfortable and it helped even more that he was getting to do one of his passions while he was at it.  When the goth strolled into her apartment that day it was the same, only this time he had brought his own pots he had carved into oddly shaped mushrooms. Two for each of them. There was this little nook in his kitchen, right between the window and the wall that could really use some green-not that his whole fucking apartment wasn’t already crawling with it-and he had decided that every other pot just didn’t fit nice. It was frustrating how he couldn’t accept anything that wasn’t perfectly up to par with his vision so of course he had to make them himself. And just so happens... that Heather has a nice little place to put one of these too. So in the process of making two for himself he decided to give Mai two as well. “Sup, Mai. I made finished those pots I was talking about. Thought we could plant Tacca chantrieri. I got my hands on some.” It may not sound like he was excited, but he was really looking forward to this.

[opair]

stop. this is the police. you're being arrested for crimes against humanitea :|

❛ ------ it's not THAT bad. you just need to get some ice & some lemons. hey, is that a pitcher over there? ❜

[venezuelienneaparis]

[fatehbaz]

“’These are my conquests,” Josephine, wife of Napoleon Bonaparte, is reported to have said of the roses and lilies in her renowned garden showcase,” Bennett writes. [...] “She would spend as much as 3000 francs on a single rare bulb [...].”

Gardens are “the most political thing of all -- how you grow your food, whether you eat, the fact that the plant collectors followed the Conquistadors,” Leslie Marmon Silko told Ellen Arnold on the eve of the publication of Gardens in the Dunes [1999]. “You have the Conquistadors, [...] and right with them were the plant collectors.” [...] In Gardens, Silko uses the image of the garden to illustrate imperialism on international, national, local, and domestic levels. [...] Silko offers a microcosmic history of [...] conquest, European imperialism, and modern botanical piracy, while demonstrating commercial trivialization of the sacred. [...]

The gardens [...] exemplify America’s nineteenth-century gardening ideologies. In his 1782 Letters from an American Farmer, Hector St. John de Crevecoeur wrote of the spiritual benefits of agricultural labor. By the mid-nineteenth century, this idea had evolved into gardening as a form of moral calisthenics. [...] According to historian Tamara Plakins Thornton, in the 1820s “[h]orticulture entered the mainstream of American life ... as a movement [that] promised ... moral benefits to an entire nation.” [...] Further, by the 1890s, thanks to the early-nineteenth-century efforts of America’s premier landscape gardener, A.J. Downing, and, later, British gardening authority Gertrude Jekyll, landscape gardening had achieved the status of a fine art (Thornton; Bisgrove). It was in 1893 that historian Frederick Jackson Turner announced that the American frontier was “closed.” With [...] Native peoples more or less incarcerated on reservations, the American landscape garden provided a blank canvas on which the gardener could impose control and exercise her fine art [...].

[In Silko’s novel] kindly Mr. Abbott busies himself with agricultural experiments; he hopes to relieve hunger among the [white European] poor of the city [...]. Yet horticulture, as Mr. Abbott practices it, is a means of implanting American ideologies into the minds of the arriving [European] immigrants -- a microlevel exercise in nation building.

So preoccupied with the struggles of the urban [white European] poor, this [so-called] philanthropist seems oblivious to the fact that he and his neighbors are responsible for the displacement of the Mtinnecocks. [...] But perhaps Mr. Abbott is not unmindful at all; perhaps [...] he simply feels entitled to live wherever he pleases, even if that means displacing a community of indigenous people from their ancestral [land]. [...]

In Gardens nature is grossly manipulated by Euroamericans in landscapes that are designed to bolster the egos of their owners. [...]

“In a 1992 seminar,” notes Joni Adamson, “[Silko] explained that she wants readers to see [...] murder ‘side by side with what’s been done to cultures and populations and geography.’“ […] Lee Schweninger notes that in  [Silko’s] Ceremony, “[o]ppression of nature, Silko suggests, goes hand in hand with oppression according to race, gender, or class.” Silko reiterates this argument in Gardens. Plants “come from all over the world, and they’re also another way of looking at colonialism, because everywhere the colonials went, the plants came back from there,” Silko told Ellen Arnold. In Gardens plants are exquisite tokens that signify the international imperialism behind the botanical piracy in which [Euroamerican characters in the novel] engage. […] “Now, the Indians knew the value of wild orchids, but frequently white brokers came upriver and demanded their entire stock of a species to corner a market,” Silko’s narrator observes. “Indians who did not cooperate were flogged or tortured, much as they were at the Brazilian and Colombian rubber stations.” [...] The jungle scenes portray acts of gross violence in which the indigenous peoples and the land are […] exploited in the name of commercial imperialism. The pilfered cuttings, we know, will [then] be propagated and planted by the subjugated peoples of Britain’s Far Eastern colonies.

---

Text by: Terre Ryan. “The Nineteenth-Century Garden: Imperialism, Subsistence, and Subversion in Leslie Marmon Silko's Gardens in the Dunes.”  Studies in American Indian Literatures. Fall 2007.

[tenthousandtangles]

ZIA 294, from “(P)retty (H)orticulture (I)mages” taught by Kelly Barone @whimsybykelly as part of the CZT : AE Spring 2021 Masterclass.

[strenuus-venator]

You )(ave s)(ip taste in )(orticultural.

nope!=> She takes another shot

[valeriabpgr]

...orticultural use of arbors.A garden arbor plan can be a complementary asset with a larger landscape design or simply a single project idea for a small...h a larger landscape design or simply a single project idea for a small cottage garden. Whatever the scope of the work, all garden arbor plans have th #GreenGardenPassions.com #garden-arbor-plans #landscape

[pasamequivive-blog1]

Orticulture

On connait tous, dans notre entourage, ce chercheur d’emploi, qui fait concensieusement son travail de chomeur, qui se pleint de ne pas trouver de travail, mais qui n’a, dans le fond, aucune motivation.

[kwadejoslin]

How to Clean and Care for Garden Tools (9 photos) https://www.houzz.com/ideabooks/108926348/list/how-to-clean-and-care-for-garden-tools/

In this Q&A interview, we ask Troy Mason, horticultural supervisor at Sydney’s Royal Botanic Garden, how to clean and maintain handheld gardening tools so they work well for years.

Georgia Madden

[wendyandcharles]

Tweeted

ReadersGazette: Orticultural Obbit 'Obbitry of the Horticultural Kind by Punam Farmah https://t.co/wAPrKyF15Q A blog that documents the ad…

— Wendy Siefken (@WendyandCharles) October 17, 2017

[asfaltics]

tacking, a scrap

an ’orticultural scrap, Holworthy St., Cambridge, 23 September 2019

��

and more often the blundering... caused me to tack

ex A(rthur). F(rederick). Hopkinson. The Mystery of Kingswood : A Novel (1888) : 264

—

all tagged tack all tagged orts  

[opair]

@orticulture​​ said: all the little flowers give me something to believe in.

HALSEY STARTERS

DANI  FINISHES  TACKING  A  suction  cup  up  against  the  front  door  to  the  leafling.    the  chain  dangling  its  way  to  a  two-faced  open    &    closed    sign  hooks  precariously  on  the  edge.    the  signage  still  isn’t  quite  right    ;    leftover  half  letters  flutter    &    peel  away  from  the  glass,  faded,  gummed  up.    

she  catches  glimmer  of  soggy,  waterlogged  recognition  sliced  into  her  reflection  that  shoots  a  shock  tingling  out  to  her  fingers    &    toes.    it’s  too  dark  for  the  daylight,  a  double-fluttering,  blink  that  still  leaves  on  blue  eye  dimmed  after  all  this  time.    she  knows  that  it's  coming.  

her  smile  is  strained  when  she  turns  to  see  all  the  little  pots  tucked  into  the  places  where  they’ll  take  up  residence  long-term.    greenery,  florets  waterfalling  over  their  containers,  foliage  bright  as  a  brand  new  future  in  a  new  place  without  the  heavy,  curtained  fog  of  bly’s  sinister  haunt  crawling  up  behind  them...  it's  a  nice  sentiment  that  loosens  the  ghostly  grip  wrapping  around  her  throat.  

❛      this  little  guy  looks  at  home  already,    ❜    her  index  finger  waggles  a  leaf  as  if  to  say  hello,  viola’s  looming  presence  in  the  looking  glass  already  fading  away.    ❛    i  was  thinking    ---    did  you  know  you  can  get  little  sprinkler  systems  installed  in  the  shelves?    ❜    

[opair]

@orticulture​​ said: i brought you a blanket.

POST-TRAUMA STARTERS

❛    I  KNOW  I  SHOULDN’T  HAVE    brought  him  home.    ❜    dani  accepts  the  blanket  with  one  hand,  the  other  arm  still  cradling  the  dark,  sneezy  little  bundle  that  lets  out  a  plaintive  mew  at  being  shifted  around.    she  has  the  good  graces  to  flash  jamie  that  smile  smoking  of  half-guilt    &    asking  for  forgiveness  after  permission.    

the  kitten  lets  out  a  pink-tongued  peep  in  thanks.    his  eyes  are  a  gleaming  yellow-green,  his  bottlebrush  tail  flicking  around  in  interest  at  his  new  surroundings.  he’s  hardly  the  FIRST  stray    (    a  tattered  old  fern  plucked  up  out  of  a  rubbish  bin  flourishes  now  in  the  corner  behind  the  tv  stand    ;    a  thicket  of  succulents  wave  out  at  the  neighbors  from  the  window  sill  in  the  kitchen.    the  proposal  plant  itself  is  thick    &    full-leaved,  no  longer  sagging  in  its  sad  little  pot  with  its  roots  gnarled  around  a  claddagh    )  that  dani  has  scooped  up  off  the  street  to  march  into  their  flat.    

but  it  is  the  first  time  she’s  carried  something  home  with  more  spirit  than  a  rosebud.    

dani  reaches  a  knuckle  down  to  stroke  between  his  ears  to  elicit  a  surprised  thrum  of  a  PURR.    there’s  a  saucer  of  milk,  a  pried-open  can  of  tuna,    &  now,  a  soft  place  to  rest.    ❛    but  he’s  just  so  cute.  how  could  i  resist?    ❜    

[opair]

@orticulture​​ said: i think we could live forever in each others faces.

HALSEY STARTERS

THERE'S  DISCOURSE  EVERYWHERE    --      percolating  at  their  stall  at  the  famer’s  market,  discussed  under  breaths  from  visitors  to  their  shop,  on  the  TV,  in  the  magazine  crinkled    &    dog-eared  on  jamie’s  nightstand.    by  the  end  of  the  year,  they  might  actually  be  able  to  get  married.    by  the  end  of  a  year  that  has  come  so  quickly  that  one  step  at  a  time  expanded  into  long  strides,  into  running.    &    now,  planning  for  next  month  is  planning  for  six  down  the  road.    

(    now  has  finally  caught  up  to  her  with  grabbing  hands    &    that  sick,  wet  pit  of  despair  teeming  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake    ;    she  hasn’t  told  jamie  what  she  saw  in  the  shop  glass  that  day  she  came  home  with  a  stray  plant    &    a  gleaming  ring    )

they’ve  been  wearing  the  rings  for  a  while  now,  committed    &    married  in  everything  except  for  the  paperwork.    the  evidence  of  that  is  all  around,  a  casual,  comfortable  domesticity  that  might,  under  any  other  circumstances,  be  enough  to  finally  put  dani’s  anxious  heart  at  ease.    

❛      you  should  put  that  in  your  vows,    ❜    she  tosses  off  over  her  shoulder  as  she  uncorks  a  bottle  of  wine.    the  supreme  court  case  plays  out  in  a  low  glow  in  their  living  room.    dani  comes  in,  one  glass  clutched  by  the  stem    &    the  other  wrapped  around  the  neck  of  the  stuff.    she  looks  at  jamie,  one  leg  tucked  under  her    &    just  as  captivating  in  home  life  as  she  was  with  a  garden  smudge  streaked  across  her  brow    (    a  little  dust  of  soil  actually  smears  across  her  collar  now,  too    ).    &  it  strums  something  about  FOREVER  in  a  struggling  ache  that  she  wants  so  badly.    ❛    ----    again,    ❜    dani  adds,  landing  on  the  cushion  in  an  unbalancing  act  of  not  spilling  the  wine  while  also  leaning  a  kiss  against  jamie’s  cheek.    

❛    if  they  really  pass  it,  you’ll  have  to  legally  make  an  honest  woman  out  of  me.    ❜

[opair]

@orticulture​​ said: don’t do that. don’t shut me out.

POST-TRAUMA SENTENCE STARTERS 

❛    DID  YOU  MEAN  WHAT  YOU  SAID?    ❜      there  are  good  days,  bad  days,    &    everything  in  between  since  bly.    this  is  the  type  of  morning  where  the  water’s  already  welling  up  under  her  skin  like  a  storm  stirring  grey  into  the  sky.    it’s  seething,  slowly  simmering  up  to  the  surface  of  her  skin,  steeping.    her  gaze  is  split  now,  one  half  still  clear  as  the  day    &    the  other  murky,  the  bottom  of  the  stagnant,  dirty  old  pond  back  at  the  manor.    but  she  still  turns  it  over  to  jamie.    the  static  charge  of  the  unspent  squall  is  all  her  own  warring,  internal  tension,    &    nothing  that  jamie  has  done.    

but  it's  eating  away  at  her  all  the  same,  a  tide  threatening  to  push  past  the  floodgates.  

her  index  finger  hooks  into  a  mug,  clattering  china  because  she’s  lofting  up  on  her  feet    &    hauling  herself  with  one  leveraging  hand  against  the  cabinet.    the  kettle  is  on  the  stove  almost  to  a  boil.    

she’s  not  any  better  at  tea  after  all  these  years,  but  it  feels  like  there  has  to  be  some  method  of  calming  the  blooming  gale  that  tightens  the  crank  in  her  breathless  chest.    both  hands  wrap  around  the  glass  like  it’s  an  anchor  that  could  keep  her  still.  

 her  lips  are  thin,  the  wide-eyed  gaze  brimming  with  the  threatening  cloudburst.      ❛    after  owen’s  mom  died.    that  thing  about...    ❜      her  attempt  at  a  steadying  inhale  staccatos  instead.      ❛    how  it’s  not  fair  on  anyone  when  someone  gets  worn  away  day  after  day.    ❜