#planting native wildflowers: to love and be loved

[cloudgremlin]

Truly the point of existence in this world is to love and be loved in all its shapes and forms

[reasonsforhope]

"Next Monday [6/17/24] is the start of National Pollinator Awareness Week, and one Colorado advocacy group is hosting a flower planting drive to rewild Colorado’s meadows, gardens, and just maybe, its children too.

Created by constitutional amendment in 1992, Great Outdoors Colorado (GOCO) is a state-funded independent board that invests a portion of Colorado Lottery proceeds to help preserve and enhance the state’s parks, trails, wildlife, rivers, and open spaces.

This year, GOCO’s offshoot Generation Wild is distributing over 100,000 free packets of wildflower seeds to collection points at museums, Denver Parks and Rec. offices, and libraries all over the state to encourage kids and families to plant the seeds in their backyards.

The Save the Bees! initiative aims to make the state more beautiful, more ecologically diverse, and more friendly to pollinators.

According to a new report from the Colorado Department of Natural Resources, 20% of Colorado’s bumblebees are now at risk of extinction. Even in a small area like a backyard, planting wildflowers can make a positive impact on the local ecosystem and provide native bees with a healthy place to live.

“The Western Bumblebee population has declined in Colorado by 72%, and we’re calling on kids across Colorado to ‘bee’ the change,” said GOCO Executive Director Jackie Miller.

Named after Generation Wild’s official mascot “Wilder,” the Wilderflower Seed Mix was developed in partnership with Applewood Seed Co. and packets are now available for pickup at designated partner sites including more than 80 Little Free Library boxes.

By distributing 100,000 Wilderflower packets, Generation Wild is providing more than 56 million seeds for planting in every nook and cranny of the state. All seeds are regionally-native to Colorado, which is important for sustaining the living landscape of bees, birds, and other animals.

Additionally, by using flower species adapted to the Mile High climate, landscapers and gardeners need to use less water than if they were tending non-native plants.

“Applewood Seed Co. was excited to jump in and help Generation Wild identify a seed mix that is native to the Colorado region and the American West, containing a diversity of flower species to attract and support Colorado’s pollinator populations,” stated Norm Poppe, CEO of Applewood Seed Co. “We hope efforts like this continue to educate the public on pollinator conservation and the need to protect our native bees and butterflies.”

Concluding her statement Miller firmly stated that children grow up better outside, and if you or a parent you know agree with her, all the information on how to participate in Save the Bees! can be found here on their website, including a map showing all the local pickup points for the Wilderflower Seed Packets."

-via Good News Network, June 13, 2024

[summerwages]

daisy knows..

[los-plantalones]

Red milkweed beetle on common milkweed.

[clove-pinks]

Suddenly, the drainage ditches near my work in an industrial area are filled with exquisitely lovely pink flowers—huge, showy blooms on vigorous bushy plants that sprang from the ditch water.

It was very difficult to approach the flowers, with no shoulder on the road, train tracks everywhere, and few businesses open to the public. My phone pictures are not impressive, but I made positive ID as swamp rose mallow (Hibiscus moscheutos)!!

It is a native wildflower! Up close it's more obviously a type of Hibiscus. I can't believe that something so beautiful and exotic grows wild here and that it makes the drainage ditch its home.

[thelethalsilence]

[landwriter]

Lilium columbianum, June 2024

[fandom-blackhole]

On a side note, its probably because I'm on my period and I always get sentimental when I am, but Kansas truly is beautiful in it's own right. Like sure we don't have rolling hills, beautiful forests, or towering mountains, but we we have prairies where you can see for miles, we have a beautiful patchwork quilt of land broken into squares of golden wheat and grasses and lush greens of corn and soybean and vibrant purples of alfalfa sewn together with lines of trees and silver dirt roads. All gently decorated by pastures loveable and sweet cattle and calves, or the occasional regal horses.

Maybe she's boring to most, long and an eye sore, but the older I get the more love for my home. The more I wish she was loved and respected for all she offers just like the more tourist-y states.

I guess maybe you just have had to grow up here to see her for what she is.

[vandaliatraveler]

This past January, I made a resolution to get my garden beds to 70 - 75% native plants. My, oh my, that was an ambitious goal. I probably need another year or two to reach that level of coverage. On the other hand, the native wildflower seeds I purchased in January have germinated and produced healthy, vigorous shoots (above). Today, I planted the spreading Jacob’s ladder (Polemonium reptans) in four different beds. I have spots prepared for the rest also, including hairy beardtongue (Penstemon hirsutus), blue-stemmed goldenrod (Solidago caesia), yellow pimpernel (Taenidia integerrima), and wild geranium (Geranium maculatum). The project is at least moving ahead; this coming September, I’ll buy or collect more seeds to plant before the first frost.

[cerbreus]

In the process of making the terrible horrible literal trash heap section of our back yard into an actual nice hangout spot for this summer

[nuytsia]

Donkey orchid, Diuris spp.

[herbalnature]

Check out the fiery beauty of Platanthera ciliaris, with its vibrant orange blossoms reaching out like little flames. These charming orchids add a burst of color to the green tapestry of their native U.S. habitats.

[wiisagi-maiingan]

Becoming a gardener has made me discover so many different types of bugs that I never knew about. I had no idea that my area had so many native bees (there's a species of North American bee that only visits squash plants!! there are bright green metallic bees!!). I've seen bugs behave in ways that I've never found anyone talk about irl or online (a garden near me has a catnip plant that is ALWAYS covered in blue mud dauber wasps, why?). I've learned that there's many, many bugs and other creepy crawlies that are impossible to find information about online for whatever reason, and there's many spiders specifically that I've never been able to find the names of.

It's also made me terrifyingly, devastatingly aware of how few bugs there are compared to when I was a kid and that those numbers are visibly dropping every year. Butterflies are still a rare sight, no matter how hard I try. I'm getting more bees visiting my squash and bean plants, but less in the flowers. The wasp nest that was built near my window like it is every year is considerably smaller than previous years, even with more material to build with and a consistent source of water nearby. There's fewer grass spiders and the huge orb weavers I loved so much have disappeared completely in the last couple years.

We've stopped raking the leaves. We've planted more things, even started a wildflower garden. I've set out bug baths and a bee house. I'm planning on planting more next year, but will that even help? How can my little yard even begin to undo just a fraction of a fraction of the damage done by climate change and massive loss of habitats?

This isn't meant to be a doomer post, so please don't lecture at me like it's one. I'm just tired and sad and I miss my spiders.

[reasonsforhope]

re: sending an ask about something that makes you hopeful to start off the new year on a good note. this is a personal project that has given me hope! (sorry for the length, i'm a rambler)

next to my house is a shallow creek. when we first moved in the banks were choked with trash, scrap metal from the road, and invasive brush. when it stormed, rainwater would run off the road, turn the creek black, and make it smell like roadkill mixed with chemicals. once we were settled in our house, we decided to try and clean it up a little bit at a time. we got to work replacing the invasive bushes with native groundcover just a few seedlings each season, and every spring since then we've made a tradition of sending out an invite to a bunch of neighbors/extended family/friends to come help clean trash out!

its been a source of hope and pride for me to see how the younger people in our community have gotten excited about taking care of the creek after that first little push. our little ecosystem has slowly improved thanks in part to our efforts: the biodiversity has steadily improved with each passing year, the baby trees we put in are going strong, the wildflowers on the banks are beautiful in the summer and help catch the gravel/muck that slides off the road! Its all very rewarding, and i love the feeling that we have made an impact, even if its a small one :)

anyway, that's something that brings me hope! i wish that 2025 will be an even better year than the ones before, for our little creek and for the world in all. p.s thank you for this blog, it has been a real light for me in the past year <3

!!!!!!! This is amazing!! This is what it's all about - picking a spot where you can make a difference, and then doing it. Small, local impacts make such a huge difference, especially in terms of ecology and ecosystem restoration

What an amazing story, and thank you so much for doing this!! That little creek and the plants and animals that live there are so lucky rn

[rederiswrites]

You can train your tastes. You can choose what you see beauty in.

Lemme go further, actually. You are constantly doing so--or letting others do it for you.

Nearly two decades ago, when we were planning our wedding, I made a very firm decision not to look at any wedding planning magazines or anything with marketing material for wedding products. I wanted our wedding to be uniquely us, and I also wanted not to be bombarded by product advertisement and beautiful photo shoots of very expensive weddings. Consequently, maybe we wasted a little bit of time reinventing the wheel, but we had a wedding we were very happy with that only cost perhaps four thousand dollars at most, probably not that much, spread out over our finances and those of both our families. Our guests went home with live potted plants that we'd paid pennies for at end of season, our florist had a great time getting to design a bouquet that tested her skills because I didn't have any preconceived ideas, my dress was utterly unique--and I really do feel that those magazines would have had a corrosive effect on all that.

When we moved to this property three years ago, I spent a LOT of time looking at images online, trying to form a coherent vision for a property that was at the time a fairly blank slate. I found myself scrolling through a lot of Russian dacha Instagrams, of all things, and they unlocked something for me. Seeing the same homey make-do decorations and techniques I grew up around a continent away, the same plywood cutout old ladies and tractor tire flower planters, somehow chewed through that last binding cord of classism, and suddenly I saw the art in it. The expression of a desire to embellish and beautify, even when you have very little, even when all you can afford is things the more well-to-do consider trash. I saw the exuberance of human love for beauty in a brilliant flower bed planted next to a collapsing shed--it didn't need to be perfect to be worthwhile. They didn't wait til everything was pristine to start enjoying things. And now I earnestly and unironically covet my own version of the tractor-tire Christmas tree at the farm down the road.

We've spent centuries now idolizing the manicured estates and quaint country retreats of the European wealthy elites. We've turned thousands of miles of living ecosystem into grass deserts in service of this vision. We need to start deliberately retraining our tastes. Seek out images of a different idea of beauty and peace. I'm not telling you what it'll be. I'm telling you this is not involuntary. You can participate. You can look at the many beautiful examples of native xeriscaping for arid climates, or photos of chaotic tangles of wildflowers, tamed by narrow paths, a bench under an arbor overwhelmed with wisteria. Maybe instead of trying to get lawn to grown under your mature trees, you'd actually get far more joy out of a patch of dirt. A hammock. A firepit ringed with log sections for seats.

You can free yourself from harmful conventions of taste and beauty, and you do it through imagining something better.

[jar0fhoney]

Satyr Forest Spirit X Fem!Reader🌱

Content: NSFW, Feminine presenting reader, knotting😇

Imagine you move to the middle of nowhere. Like in the COUNTRY. You got a job with incentives teaching at a school in town since it’s so rural.

And you end up renting this little farm cottage on some old couple’s land. There’s been a drought for MONTHS, and just about everything living thing is dead. It’s depressing as hell.

But you try and make the most of it. Hanging up bird feeders and stuff. You find yourself sitting outside at night on your rickety folding chair, it’s not so ugly out here when it’s completely dark outside. There’s a colony of fire flies which twinkle about at the tree-line, and oh the night sky out there is unbelievable.

You accidentally fall asleep one night on the screened in porch. And that’s when he sees you for the first time.

The guardian of this land. An old spirit. And a grumpy one.

No one’s lived in that cottage for a long time, and that’s why he hasn’t passed through in months. He didn’t realize there were humans trampling around out here as well. So at first he hates you, because humans don’t ever do him any good.

You were probably going to tear up all the plants and trees and put in that ugly invasive sod humans love so much. In fact, this was why he’d started the drought all those months ago. A new housing development had begun construction on his precious land. Stupid humans wouldn’t be able to water their big ugly lawns without any water. He was, to put it simply, on strike. He told the raccoons to crawl into your attic and make a ruckus, and the mice to wreak havoc on your pantry in the night. He was trying to push you out. And it almost worked.

But one day, you roll big pots onto your front porch filled with plants that he recognizes. Big milkweed plants. You had been trying to teach the children in your class about native flora and fauna, and the importance of protecting it.

Do stupid humans even pay attention to things like monarch migration patterns?

When the first little caterpillars appear on your plants you are thrilled. Snapping tons of pictures for your kids at school. The Guardian Spirit, watching nearby, feels a jolt go through his body which almost makes him sick. Endearment. You tend to your milkweed plants like a mother, carefully watering them each so they didn’t succumb to the drought, tenderly avoiding the growing larvae.

He starts passing through to watch you every day. You set up a birdbath which circulates fresh water, hoping to attract some birds to your feeders. The Guardian makes sure to mention it to his prettiest birds, and feels his chest swell watching you happily observe them from the kitchen window.

He tells the raccoons and mice to nock it off, much to their confusion. He finds himself wanting to see you pleased by his land, and his animals. He tells the most gentle doves to visit you in the morning, waking you with their soft coos outside your bedroom windowsill.

Living out in the country becomes magical. You don’t know what you did to deserve it. One weekend you gasp when the crack of a thunderstorm wakes you from a nap. You rush outside, drops beginning to plop onto outstretched arms, “THANK YOU!”

He can hardly stand the drought anymore. You needed to see his finest work. It rained for a week straight, and you were worried about flash floods sweeping you away. But he would never let that happen, not to this sweet human. The meadow around your cottage starts to grow, fast. He has chosen the most fragrant and lovely wildflowers for you. Bees lazily float from flower to flower (He made them swear not to sting you, of course).

On a sunny day, you drift out into the meadow and lay down in a soft and dense bed of grass. It all feels so alive. Well… it is alive of course. Plants are alive in a literal sense. But they thrum with an energy that clings to your skin like a perfect ray of sunshine. He can almost feel you like this. It makes him feel drunk. Feverish. Desperate. He steals himself away from his hiding spot. Dragging himself far away from you, lest he lose his composure.

All of these natural phenomena were strange, but what you felt in the meadow was not normal. You start researching. Googling yourself down rabbit holes about the supernatural and occult.

“Regional Natural Spirits”

“Protectors of nature”

“Old and powerful beasts who are charged with the stewardship of the natural world”

You must be losing it. You were supposed to be an educator. But the coincidences were hard to ignore all together. On the off-chance that there was some powerful spirit who was responsible for it all, you certainly didn’t want to appear ungrateful.

One night you bring out a plate, filled with the things the websites said the spirit might like. A piece of quartz crystal, molasses cookies you made from scratch (if the spirit has a sweet tooth), and finally a lock of your hair. You hoped it was enough, basing this all off of the old website you read.

As you kneel in the grass, feeling that familiar warmth spread over you, you call out into the trees,

“Uh- excuse me?”

The Guardian remains shrouded in the shadows, baffled by your strange behavior.

“I don’t know who might be out there, if there is anyone. But this land is very beautiful. I cannot imagine the work it took to bring it back to life. I must extend my gratitude.” You gingerly set the plate down in the grass, feeling like a fool,

“These are for you. As a token of my thanks to the Guardian of this land.”

How rude it would be, the Guardian thinks, to not accept your thanks personally. Stepping out from the trees, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. You freeze, unable to breathe. His torso is human-like, but his legs are that of a deer, and his face is like that of a goat. For a second, you wonder if you had perhaps summoned a demon by accident.

He doesn’t like the smell of your fear in his nostrils, “Don’t be afraid, please.” The voice is soft and low. He’s starts approaching you slowly, and you are still crumpled on the ground in complete shock. You feel a strong wave that warm golden energy waft over you as he gets closer. It feels like drinking a nice glass of wine.

He sits down just close enough to reach the plate you brought him. He smiles softly at the crystal he thumbs between his fingers, “it’s very pretty-“

His breath hitches when he notices the lock of your hair. “Oh-“ he murmurs, delicately picking up the bundle between his large fingers.

“You-you did all of this?” You ask meekly, breaking the silence. He’s still staring at the lock of your hair dwarfed in his giant palm.

“Everything.”

“W-well thank you very much.” You weren’t quite sure where to go from here. Was this some ritual you accidentally started ending with your heart in his stomach? He didn’t really look… blood thirsty though. Around his wrists were several delicate little bracelets of woven vine and natural stone, and around his neck was a long pendant from which hung a brilliant tiger’s eye stone which matched his eyes. He was really quite beautiful.

He noticed you eyeing him, admiring his adornments. “You can look closer,” He exclaimed pridefully, arms stretched out to you, “You can touch.”

You carefully take his wrist into your hand, running a thumb over the jewelry. You glance up his arm and to his torso, now able to see the deep scars in the moonlight. He senses your train of thought, even more proud to tell you all about worthiness in battle. “There are bad spirits sometimes, ones that threaten the balance of my realm. I defeated them all.”

You grow bold, running hand up his bicep and tracing over a scar there. His skin is hot under your touch. You pull back, “Sorry, that was rude-“

“No, please. I have not been touched like this… in many years. It is… pleasing.” His voice drips with need, bringing your hand to his arm again. You understand him entirely, bringing your hand to his shoulder where there is an especially deep scar. He raises his hand and cups your cheek, an intimate gesture but perhaps this spirit just has different notions of intimacy. He moves down to your collarbone, where you have your own scar from a car accident years ago.

“I didn’t know humans could be so lovely. Are you sure you are one?” He mutters, tracing his clawed fingers down your arm. You shiver at his touch, goosebumps forming on your delicate skin. “Do you have a name?”

You nod, “Y/n.”

“Please call me Silvans, y/n.” The name is familiar to you, perhaps one that you had glanced over during your research. “Silvans.” You repeated out loud. He loved the sound of his voice on your tongue. He wanted to taste it. He wanted to taste all of you. This was his first time being so close to a human, and experience he at one time assumed would be revolting. Silvans gasped when you moved both of your hands to his chest, still tracing your fingers over all his scars there.

He made a bold judgment, placing both hands on your chest over the thin tank top you were wearing. “Ah-“ you gasped, feeling heat rush to your face. He was fascinated by your reaction, not realizing this was an intimate region for human females. “P-please don’t stop.”

This was all he needed to hear. He tore your tank top down the middle like it was a piece of paper, leaving your torso naked to him. Instinctually you cover yourself, earning a smirk and light scolding from him, “Humans are so strange.”

You yelp when he pulls you onto his lap, removing your arms from your chest. He’s practically licking his lips at the thought of you. His hands start working your breasts, swirling his thumbs around your hard nipples. You’re making the most sinful noises, like a soft melody to his twitching ears. You can feel yourself beginning to pool in your most intimate region. He leans you back a bit, giving himself access to suckle on your sore nipples.

He’s barely holding himself together. His breaths come out like desperate panting, his nostrils flaring at the first whiff of your wet and desperate pussy. “So… soft,” he breathes out, “do you… offer yourself to me?”

“Yes.” You respond breathlessly. He pulls you back in, licking your lips as if asking for permission. You open to him, letting him explore your mouth with his longe velvety tongue. It’s not like how humans kiss, he’s practically drinking you down. He pulls back, leaving the two of you connected by a long string of saliva. There is something… animalistic about it.

Your head nestles in the grass as he lays you down, towering over you. He tears off the little pajama pants you’re wearing with ease, leaving you completely bare. For a good long minute, he’s staring at your mound covered in hair, bringing his fingers to trace up and down your happy trail,

“Can I taste? Please?” He wasn’t asking, he was begging. You nod fervently, and in a flash he’s on his stomach pinning your legs behind his shoulders.

“Smells so good.” He grunts. The feeling of his warm breath makes your cunt flutter. He’s already bucking himself into the grass below him, working his hot needy cock out of its sheathe. He parts the lips of your pussy for full access, and takes a long exaggerated lick across the surface.

“Ah- yes-“ you groan, bucking into his face. You couldn’t tell from the position you were in, but he was drooling into your pussy. It was like nothing he had tasted before. A delicacy. His tongue played with you at your entrance, lapping up your juices greedily. His shifted upwards to your red and swollen clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over the sensitive little pearl. You cried out softly, squirming beneath him, and by now his cock is fully unsheathed and leaking.

Again he moves his tongue back your entrance, sliding his tongue inside of your as far as it can manage. He pokes into the spongey roof of your cunt, and without thinking you reach down to grab his horns. His wet nose presses into your clit, and you find yourself grinding into him for full stimulation.

You don’t last much longer. The experience is just as overwhelming for him as it is for you. Your orgasm rushes down his tongue and into his throat, making his head spin. He needs his cock inside of you. On his knees, you gasp at the feeling of his hot member slapping against your stomach. It’s big. Very big. And at the base there is a fat red knot, which you are sure won’t fit. He’s hasty and scattered, one hand on your hip, and another in the grass next you your head. He is holding on to the ground so tight to remain tethered to reality, that you can hear grass ripping from the ground.

“Take me…” you whisper to him, spreading your legs in invitation.

“This will be sh-short-lived, I must admit.” He stuttered. In this moment you saw him in a different light. Lonely and needy. Needy for love. Needy for companionship. It was such a human thing. You reached up and pulled him close by his neck, whispering in his ear, “Do not fret, Silvans. This will not be the last time.”

He groaned, and you felt the warmth of his tip at your entrance. Slowly, methodically, as if he was savoring this moment, he enters you.

“Does it hurt? Y/n?” Over and over again he’s asking you this, and you have to reassure him through the pleasure that you are okay. He starts rocking into you, filling you all the way to the top of his knot. His pace quickens, now both hands with a vice grip on your hips. Surely you will have bruises in the morning. His pace starts becoming frenzied, the image before him is too much to bear. Your arms limp with pleasure over your head, your tits bouncing with every thrust, your eyebrows knitted together and eyes screwed shut-

“OH-“ you both let out a strangled gasp as he pushes his knot into your swollen cunt. You feel a rush of liquid warmth fill you up. You look up at him and he’s staring at the stars, muttering something in an ancient language you don’t understand. Maybe a prayer? The two of you sit there for a second longer, and you try to wriggle off of his still erect cock. But to no avail.

“We must stay together, until sunrise. I’m sorry- I guess I mean I’m stuck inside until-“

You giggled, still lying beneath him. You had thought he might disappear into the night after he finished. After being fully satisfied. It was a welcome predicament, to be stuck warming his cock for the next couple hours.

-

Anyways Merrrrrrry Christmas ho ho ho