#sheep manure uses

[farmerstrend]

Understanding NPK Analysis in Different Types of Manure: A Guide for Farmers

Manure is one of the most cost-effective and environmentally friendly fertilizers available to farmers. However, not all manure is created equal. Understanding the nutrient composition—commonly expressed as NPK (Nitrogen, Phosphorus, Potassium)—is crucial for optimizing crop yields and soil health. Here’s a detailed breakdown of the NPK analysis for common types of manure, along with…

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - August 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my new(ly repurposed) Patreon!

1. Smart hives and dancing robot bees could boost sustainable beekeeping

“[Researchers] developed a digital comb—a thin circuit board equipped with various sensors around which bees build their combs. Several of these in each hive can then transmit data to researchers, providing real-time monitoring. [… Digital comb] can [also] be activated to heat up certain parts of a beehive […] to keep the bees warm during the winter[…. N]ot only have [honeybee] colonies reacted positively, but swarm intelligence responds to the temperature changes by reducing the bees' own heat production, helping them save energy.”

2. Babirusa pigs born at London Zoo for first time

“Thanks to their gnarly tusks […] and hairless bodies, the pigs are often called "rat pigs" or "demon pigs” in their native Indonesia[….] “[The piglets] are already looking really strong and have so much energy - scampering around their home and chasing each other - it’s a joy to watch. They’re quite easy to tell apart thanks to their individual hair styles - one has a head of fuzzy red hair, while its sibling has a tuft of dark brown hair.””

3. 6,000 sheep will soon be grazing on 10,000 acres of Texas solar fields

“The animals are more efficient than lawn mowers, since they can get into the nooks and crannies under panel arrays[….] Mowing is also more likely to kick up rocks or other debris, damaging panels that then must be repaired, adding to costs. Agrivoltaics projects involving sheep have been shown to improve the quality of the soil, since their manure is a natural fertilizer. […] Using sheep instead of mowers also cuts down on fossil fuel use, while allowing native plants to mature and bloom.”

4. Florida is building the world's largest environmental restoration project

“Florida is embarking on an ambitious ecological restoration project in the Everglades: building a reservoir large enough to secure the state's water supply. […] As well as protecting the drinking water of South Floridians, the reservoir is also intended to dramatically reduce the algae-causing discharges that have previously shut down beaches and caused mass fish die-offs.”

5. The Right to Repair Movement Continues to Accelerate

“Consumers can now demand that manufacturers repair products [including mobile phones….] The liability period for product defects is extended by 12 months after repair, incentivising repairs over replacements. [… M]anufacturers may need to redesign products for easier disassembly, repair, and durability. This could include adopting modular designs, standardizing parts, and developing diagnostic tools for assessing the health of a particular product. In the long run, this could ultimately bring down both manufacturing and repair costs.”

6. Federal Judge Rules Trans Teen Can Play Soccer Just In Time For Her To Attend First Practice

“Today, standing in front of a courtroom, attorneys for Parker Tirrell and Iris Turmelle, two transgender girls, won an emergency temporary restraining order allowing Tirrell to continue playing soccer with her friends. […] Tirrell joined her soccer team last year and received full support from her teammates, who, according to the filing, are her biggest source of emotional support and acceptance.”

7. Pilot study uses recycled glass to grow plants for salsa ingredients

“"We're trying to reduce landfill waste at the same time as growing edible vegetables," says Andrea Quezada, a chemistry graduate student[….] Early results suggest that the plants grown in recyclable glass have faster growth rates and retain more water compared to those grown in 100% traditional soil. [… T]he pots that included any amount of recyclable glass [also] didn't have any fungal growth.”

8. Feds announce funding push for ropeless fishing gear that spares rare whales

“Federal fishing managers are promoting the use of ropeless gear in the lobster and crab fishing industries because of the plight of North Atlantic right whales. […] Lobster fishing is typically performed with traps on the ocean bottom that are connected to the surface via a vertical line. In ropeless fishing methods, fishermen use systems such an inflatable lift bag that brings the trap to the surface.”

9. Solar farms can benefit nature and boost biodiversity. Here’s how

“[… M]anaging solar farms as wildflower meadows can benefit bumblebee foraging and nesting, while larger solar farms can increase pollinator densities in surrounding landscapes[….] Solar farms have been found to boost the diversity and abundance of certain plants, invertebrates and birds, compared to that on farmland, if solar panels are integrated with vegetation, even in urban areas.”

10. National Wildlife Federation Forms Tribal Advisory Council to Guide Conservation Initiatives, Partnerships

“The council will provide expertise and consultation related to respecting Indigenous Knowledges; wildlife and natural resources; Indian law and policy; Free, Prior and Informed Consent[… as well as] help ensure the Federation’s actions honor and respect the experiences and sovereignty of Indigenous partners.”

August 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[evans23]

RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 14 - DECEPTIVE KINDNESS [C1]

Pairing : Elliott Marston x OC

Summary : She tried to escape her arranged marriage, but she found herself trapped with Elliott. Can she trust him ?

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Arranged marriage. Some rude words. Racism. Racism towards aborigines. Tell me if I forgot anything.

A/N : I didn't proofread because I'm so, so, so behind and my brain is just like "Woman ! I'm tired !"

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

When you were told you were getting married to Armand de Mont-Alban, you ran away. You never would have believed your father would offer your hand to another without asking you. You had always been his little princess, the one he let everything go. But apparently, not this time. You had some tantrum, threatened to throw yourself into the sea, but your father wouldn't listen. On the contrary, he had threatened to lock you in your room until the wedding day if you continued to make him go gray.

So, without hesitation, and with the discreet but kind help of your mother, you had fled Sidney. Your mother had given you the money she had saved up for years to help you join your uncle, his brother, in the Outback.

You had taken your business with you, the bare necessities, and you had joined the stagecoach that would take you to Adelaide. From there, another stagecoach would take you to Alice Springs. And finally, your cousin's husband would help you reach your uncle's house in the north.

At least, that was the plan, because once you arrived in Alice Springs, you learned that your cousin and her husband had left town for Katherine almost a month ago. The letter announcing it must have gotten lost, but whatever the case, you found yourself spending more than you had planned to be able to sleep. You had hesitated to leave again. The town needed waitresses and although you were not used to manual labor, anything was good to escape. Except that your father would come to get you there, you were sure of it and here, no one would protect you.

So, after talking to a merchant and giving him the rest of your money, you had managed to find yourself in a cart full of pigs to reach the town where your uncle lived. But honestly, pigs were worth much more than your fiancé.

Armand was a cold man. He came from a rich family, richer than yours, who had made their fortune in sheep's wool, then later in breeding prestigious horses. His father was a governor and his mother came from a long line of French aristocrats. If his mother was mannered, she was also very pleasant although she often lacked judgment about her son and even more so on the question of the aborigines.

His father was a rather pleasant man, always with a joke and everything seemed to interest him. But Armand... Armand had inherited a hot-tempered character, amplified by the fact that as a child, his mother had never refused him anything. And when he couldn't get obedience with a snap of his fingers, he used his hands.

After days and days of a hellish journey, you had finally arrived at your uncle's. The initial surprise he had when he saw you, all disheveled, your beautiful clothes rumpled and smelling of manure, evaporated to give way to a dull anger when you explained to him the reasons for your presence.

"Uncle, maybe you could have the marriage annulled. You are influential," you begged him, tears in your eyes.

Your uncle was probably one of the richest men in northern Australia. First thanks to his work, later thanks to the inheritance from his parents. Your poor mother had not been able to have anything of this inheritance and all the estates, jewels and bank account that was in the United Kingdom had returned to your uncle. A good sport, he had shared them with your mother and you too at the same time. But today, for the first time, you saw in this wealth a power that could help you get out of this arranged marriage that you did not want.

"I'm going to go to Sydney, see your father and this Mont-Alban. The father might be able to be convinced to abandon this union."

"Am I going to have to stay here alone ?" you asked him without even trying to hide your apprehension.

"No. I have a partner who is also a good friend. I'll explain the situation to him and I'm sure he'll let you stay with him while I'm gone. He's a cattle rancher who has influence here in the region. You'll be safe with him. But, [Y/N], please avoid being too quick-witted with him and above all, don't tell him your opinions on the aborigines. He's..."

"I get it," you grumbled, rolling your eyes.

"He's really smart, but his opinion on the aboriginal issue..."

"Is biased because despite his great intelligence, he's a bit of an idiot ?" you answered seriously.

"Yes, well, avoid the question with him, please."

You agreed without adding anything, already knowing that you were going to hate him. But it wasn't like you had a better solution, so you couldn't be ungrateful.

Your uncle had had no trouble getting Elliott to agree to you being under his protection. A nice, well-filled envelope and the promise that he would be given priority for the sale of his cattle had been enough. Elliott was his friend, but he was aa skilled negotiator and your uncle respected that.

"This is my niece," he said as he helped you off the cart."

"This is my niece, [Y/N]," your uncle introduced you.

"Mr. Marston, I'm delighted," you said politely.

Elliott snickered and you did your best not to make a scathing remark at him. In his eyes, you were indeed a well-bred little rich girl who had never known a single minute of work. And he was right. But he was wrong when he thought you must be a little prig used to ordering and getting things done.

"No sir here, sir, that was my father. I'm Elliott," he finally said before taking the suitcase that your uncle had just taken off the cart. "I'll show you to your room."

Elliott's imposing stature, mixed with his dark eyes and that mustache that gave him the air of a man of high society, impressed you right away. He made you nervous, but there was no way he would realize it.

You walked through the house which was beautiful, clearly demonstrating the man's wealth, even if it was far from the opulence of your own home. However, you did not mark the servant. Or rather the slave. An aboriginal. You clenched your fists, but true to your promise, you said nothing.

"Here is your room. It is the coolest in the house, even if it will be stifling most of the time. If you need a bath, Kunkurra is here for that."

He put your suitcase on the floor and left without another word. You settled in comfortably, thanking Kunkurra who seemed surprised but said nothing. Deep down, you hoped that this cohabitation would go well. After all, your uncle trusted this Elliott.

You couldn't be more wrong. You couldn't stand him. Elliott. He got on your nerves. He was arrogant, full of himself and racist. He didn't share any of your values ​​and when he twirled his gun between his fingers like an Appalachian cowboy, you imagined him shooting himself in the foot and it amused you immensely.

You tried to eat before he finished his work so as not to have to share his table and you avoided being in the same room as him as much as possible. In truth, you spent most of your time reading and sometimes helping Kunkurra. 

The slave had been surprised the first time you helped him with the dishes, but he hadn't said anything. You weren't like the other people on the estate. He liked you.

That night, however, you couldn't avoid Elliott who had caught you talking to his horse. He had been touched by this gentleness that wasn't apparent but seemed to be your true nature. He had then asked you if you would have dinner with him and you hadn't dared to say no.

All evening, he had asked you questions that were more than just polite. They were too specific. It was a little too much about your family's money too.

"Being a well-born girl, life must have been easier," he remarked as he cut his steak.

"It probably was. Until now," you replied without looking up from your own plate.

"You always got what you wanted, right ? It must be a change for you to play servant alongside Kunkurra. Washing plates is probably not something you did often at your parents' house."

You blushed slightly at his last sentence. You didn't know he had noticed you helping his slave.

"Indeed, I have rarely washed dishes in my life. But I have never desired an arranged marriage."

"With a rich man. Enough to have even more servants and to ensure you never break a nail."

"At least our servants are paid !" you spat, suddenly raising your head.

Elliott, for the first time since you arrived, saw something other than melancholy in your eyes. There was a fire under there, a bright fire that was ready to burn all of Australia.

"You men are all the same," you finally said, "to believe that obedience is better than happiness."

"I never said that," Elliott replied more quietly than he expected, "and don't be so quick to judge all men based on the ones you've known so far. This fiancé may not be so terrible after all."

"The first time he met me, he called me a 'mare to tame' but also that he would be happy to do it. Judge for yourself, Elliott."

After that, a heavy silence ensued and when you had finished your plate, it was without shame that you helped Kunkurra clean up the kitchen.

After that evening, you no longer avoided Elliott. You stood up to him, answered him back in kind and you weren't afraid to challenge him. And he liked it. No one had ever dared to speak to him the way you did, much less a woman, but you, you weren't afraid to speak your mind. You were different from the cocky little Lady he had imagined. In fact, you were even interesting. Sometimes.

Knock, knock, knock.

...

Knock, knock, knock.

...

Knock, knock, knock.

The door flew open, revealing a shirtless Elliott and for a moment, you couldn't take your eyes off his muscular torso. A scar on his stomach slightly intrigued you, but when his baritone voice started growling at you, you quickly came to your senses.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, WOMAN, IT'S..." he turned to glance at the clock on his dresser, "it's one in the morning!"

"There's something out there," you said quietly.

A noise had woken you up and trembling but determined you had gone to knock on Elliott's bedroom door.

"Maybe one of the men needed to pee," he replied, suppressing a yawn.

"It wasn't a man peeing," you replied a little frustrated that he didn't take you seriously.

"We're in Australia, my dear. We're surrounded by wild animals. They exist here, far from your nice houses in the city," he said without hiding his exasperation.

"What if it wasn't an animal?" you insisted, not reassured.

He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes before finally returning to his room in a theatrical gesture to come out a second later with his gun.

"You never do anything without it?" you asked following him.

"My dear, if it's a thief, you'll be glad I took my gun."

He crossed the living room with you on his heels. Your hand was almost touching his bare back, you were so afraid of being left alone. When he opened the front door, he made a gesture to you to keep quiet. You nodded while continuing to follow him on tiptoe.

Arriving on the porch of the house, he fired once in the air, making you jump. It was then that an animal on which the moon made its light dance, making its red fur shine a little more, ran away at full speed.

"A dingo," Elliott said, taking your arm to lead you into the house. "And now that we're awake, how about some tea?"

Without waiting for your answer, he set to work. You refrained from telling him that you were surprised that he was able to do something domestic without his slave. Instead, you thanked him in a low whisper.

"Thanks for not laughing."

"Oh, believe me, that was hard," he replied with a small smirk.

You each sat down in an armchair, but Elliott didn't miss your gaze that often lingered on his bookshelf.

"You can borrow some if you want."

"Thanks," you replied a little surprised, "I like books. They don't lie."

Elliott stood up with the grace of a feline and pulled out a large volume that hadn't been read in a long time to hand it to him.

"This one is full of lies. A story of adventure in the wild west."

"If this story allows you to escape for a moment and forget about reality, then it's not a lie," you replied as you took the book.

Elliott looked at you, really looked at you for the first time. And for the first time, he began to doubt what he had set out to do.

"Mr. [Y/S],

Your brother-in-law has asked me to watch over your daughter while he attempts to cancel this marriage you have arranged for her.

You and I, I am sure, are pragmatic men. I understand the importance of this union to your family.

I will protect your daughter as I promised, until you come to collect her to offer her to her fiancé.

As a man of the world, I am sure you understand that a service, especially one as great as watching over your most precious possession, cannot go unrewarded.

I would very much like to expand my business with Sidney and the surrounding towns and I am certain that you and I, Mr. [Y/S] could help each other.

In the meantime, please accept the assurance of my highest regards.

Kind Regards,

Elliott Marston."

"Do you remember London ?" Elliott asked you as you helped him feed the horses.

"No. I was four when we left, my whole life is in Australia," you answered with a hint of nostalgia.

You and Elliott were talking more and more. In fact, you would almost dare to call him a friend. He was witty and he listened to your opinion. You often argued about the Aboriginal cause, but one night he surprised you by questioning your fierce need to defend them without prejudice or mockery.

"Why does your father force you to marry this man if you are his little pet as you say ?"

"For the sake of propriety. We are always a bit English, no matter where we are, aren't we?"

Elliott shrugged his shoulders

"My father was Irish. But my parents died when I was very young..."

That's when he explained to you. Everything. And you understood why he harboured such hatred towards the Aborigines. You didn't excuse him for what he did to them in return, but you thought that maybe all was not lost for this man. He could be fixed. He could learn. He could become better.

"My father always kept the values ​​of the United Kingdom. He was strict when I was a child, but always fair and loving. My mother, she... well, I guess she always behaved like a good wife," you explained, stroking Elliott's stallion.

"Everything you refuse to be, right ?" he questioned without contempt.

"We are capable of being more than an obedient wife, Elliott. We can learn, we can do the same things as men. We are no less intelligent than you, and my friend Cassandra would be as capable as some of your men here. But there are very few men who are willing to see our values ​​beyond tradition."

Elliott said nothing because he knew he thought like your father. Yet he found himself noticing your subtlety, your intelligence, but also your resilience and the way you had of hiding your vulnerability under a facade of calm and restraint.

And he was starting to blame himself. He thought about that letter he had written just after you arrived with the intention of posting it as soon as he went to town to buy food. But he was no longer so sure he wanted to do it.

If only. If only he had hidden it better. If only you hadn't been snooping around after your bath while he was making you dinner, proud to introduce you to one of his specialties. If only he had burned that letter as soon as he understood what that tightness in his chest meant when he saw you.

Then, maybe you would have never known that his kindness had been, at least at first, just a deceptive kindness.

[arthursfuckinghat]

The Miles We Walked (And Will Walk)

[short fic based on this, also on my ao3]

It had been a long time since John had stepped foot in Valentine.

And honestly? He never planned to again, not after that business with Cornwall and those damn sheep.

But after meeting with Sadie, as per her request, Rachel was getting fussy. The mare knew she could swindle a treat or two from her rider, but this time, she was out of luck.

So, with a huff, they headed down the familiar dirt street toward the stables.

Valentine hadn’t changed much - Same weathered wooden signs creaking in the breeze, the smell of manure and pine, the churned-up mud still thick underfoot. It was like the years hadn’t touched this place. Not much had changed, except him.

"Morning," the stable hand chirped, "That's a fine horse you got there."

Honestly, she was. It wasn't often that John saw Thoroughbreds around, her seal brown coat was especially gorgeous in the sunlight. Quite the horse indeed.

"Thanks, just need some hay and a few carrots for her."

With a nod, the man disappeared out back to fetch the goods, leaving John to let his eyes wander. There weren't many horses here, all things considered. A Half-bred, a Standardbred and a Morgan nickered softly in their stalls to the right.

But on the left, almost hidden away in a shadowed stall, was a horse that caught John’s eye. A dark head lifted, ears perked at his attention, and something about the animal stirred a long buried memory.

His brow furrowed. Wasn't that one of Arthur's horses?

"I'll be damned.." John muttered under his breath.

Carefully, he approached the stallion, hand outstretched. The horse didn’t hesitate, nuzzling into his palm like an old friend. John let out a weak laugh, gently patting it's neck. The big bastard remembered him.

"Long time no see, eh boy?"

The ardennes snorted, leaning into John’s hand, relishing the attention. A heaviness settled in John’s chest for a moment. Arthur had loved this horse, he remembered when the man proudly trotted into camp with it, and to see it here, tucked away and forgotten? Arthur would have been devastated.

The stable hand returned, arms loaded with hay and carrots. “I’d mind your hands with that one, partner,” he warned. “The thing don’t like anybody.”

John gave the horse one last scratch behind the ears, glancing over at the man. “That so?”

The stable hand shrugged, dropping the supplies on a nearby crate. “Guess it likes you. Ain’t nobody wanted it since it was left here. That fella didn’t seem right to me at the time, left a lot of money for us to look after it, but that was ’bout eight years ago now.”

Eight years. John could recall the last time he saw Arthur as if it happened yesterday. The way he fought, the way he pushed on with his horse until neither of them could go any further. He remembered, he was there. Hosea had given Arthur that horse, he remembered that too. How Arthur cradled the animal’s head, giving it one last goodbye, only to join it not long after.

The fact that Arthur wanted his other horse to be taken care of, even after he passed, struck John harder than he would have liked.

"How much for it?"

The stable hand huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You sure you want it? There's other horses 'round here."

John didn’t answer right away. He looked back at the ardennes, at the weight of the years resting on its shoulders, and felt that familiar prickle of old grief rising again. The horse was more than just a memory of Arthur, it was a piece of him. Something alive in the world that still remembered.

"How much?"

With a sigh, the man's eyes met John's. "Four dollars for the feed. The horse.. you can just take. You'd be doin' me a favour, but don't go tellin' folk I sold you that bastard of a horse."

John fished out a few dollars and gave the man what was due, shoving the goods into his satchel before turning back to the horse. The stable hand dusted off the saddle that he recognised as Arthur's, setting it down near the stall as he untangled the rest of the tack that came with it. John unlocked the gate and slowly geared up the horse, murmuring soft reassurances as he did.

“I’ll stable your other horse if you’re takin’ this one out,” the stable hand offered.

John muttered a quick thanks as he finished securing the saddle. The horse was a little jumpy, but John took it slow, carefully leading the stallion outside. He stepped back for a moment, glancing at the ardennes standing in the sunlight. It's grey coat glistened, the dark hues blending once more as the dust shifted. It didn’t look like the animal had aged a day.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” John murmured, giving the horse a pat. “Roca, was it? Arthur was always odd with names, wasn’t he?”

The stallion let out a deep huff, taking in the fresh air, softly nudging John's arm in agreement.

Satisfied, he put his foot in the stirrup and swung himself up into the saddle, giving Roca a nudge as they headed out of town. The ardennes moved steadily beneath him, falling into a rhythm as if it had been waiting for this for years.

“Sorry I ain’t Arthur,” John mumbled, patting the horse’s neck. “But you and me will get along fine, right boy?”

The stallion gave a content huff in response, the tension in the horse’s body easing with each step. John looked out ahead, the road stretching far into the distance.

“Maybe I’ll take you to see him, one of these days.”

The words hung in the air, a quiet promise. John straightened in the saddle, giving the horse another nudge. There were miles yet to ride, but for the first time in years, he didn’t mind the journey.

[esotericmama]

Permaculture Methods

Mixed Grazing: grazing a flock of multiple species together in Pasture, such as cattle, sheep and goats. Each species has different dietary needs and are able to graze on different plants in the Pasture keeping weeds down and using acreage more efficiently. Cattle prefer grass, sheep prefer weeds, while goats like brush and forage. The animals also graze at different levels, cattle tall, sheep short, and goats climbing. A mixed flock is also healthier because each species has its own unique parasites that will not spread to members of a different species.

Silvopastoralism: grazing Livestock in Orchards and vineyards. The animals keep the grass and weeds down in the Orchards which helps keep the trees healthy. They fertilize the Orchards with their manure. Of course, as with most types of integrated farming it really helps save space for the smaller farmer or homesteaders.

Integrated rice farming is done is Asia, using a variety of animals to help benefit the production of rice. The most common being rice-duck-fish farming, where fish are farming in channels around the rice field and ducks are released into the paddies. The fish and ducks fertilize the rice and keep pests at bay, especially mosquito larvae which can easily run rampant in a swampy rice field. The ducks and fish naturally replace the need for chemical fertilizers and pesticides.

As a bonus: a lot of rice farmers use the water buffalo to plough the field, this animal is naturally at home in the swampy environment of the rice paddy. Aside from ploughing, the water buffalo is also used as a source of milk, meat and hide.

Intercropping/Companion Planting: planting different species of crops together that will have beneficial effects to each other. The most ancient intercropping is growing cereals and pulses (legumes) together, as the legumes provide lots of nitrogen that helps the grains grow. The Three Sisters is variation of this, combining maize (grain) with beans (legume) but also incorporating squash into the mix which help keeps weeds and pests like raccoons at bay with their sprawling prickly leaves. This system will work interchangeably with any grain, pulse or Marrow (the Marrows are squash, gourds, melons and Cucumbers).

Some other combinations we like to use are Root veg + Leafy green. We intercrop carrots with spinach (and beets with lettuce), the crops don't compete with another for space as one crop mainly grows up and the other grows down, the leafy greens also shade the root rows and help keep weeds down.

I think everyone's heard of the Tomato + Basil intercropping, and how the basil keeps tomato pests at bay and help flavour the tomatoes. We use this system with other nightshades (Eggplant and Peppers) as well, basil is a herb in the Mint family so we substitute basil for other herbs too (summer savory, marjoram).

[gard3nias]

01 | Love is all around

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wc: 4.23k

date: 12/04/2024

mdi // masterlist // playlist

—Now playing: La Descrizione Di Un Attimo by Tiromancino ✫

Early in September, just hours before midday. The sun is not high yet but shines light through the whole town. Like the weak and bright sunrays, Daphne's dad drove on the road, pushing through the fresh waves of the summer morning breeze. As background noise was crunching stones produced by the tyres. 

Breeze combed the hair strokes. Morning freshness caused the rise of goosebumps. Butterflies in the stomach showed how excited Daphne was about moving. Yes, moving.

Usually, they'd come to the countryside only for the summer holidays but now she would stay longer. A smile was printed on her face as she observed. She was going to like this, she thought. She was going to like this place, this new beginning. She started regretting ever complaining about moving in the first place.

Her mother was in the passenger seat explaining how the town was beautiful, her fingers pointed at random spots occasionally. Daphne wasn't even listening to her. She only thought that her mother could save her breath because she didn't need any more convincing: the view before her spoke for itself.

Daphne lowered her window and, with an arm swinging outside, she observed, she beheld the sight. The car took a turn and now they were riding up a hill along a road surrounded by beautiful houses.

It'd been long since she last came here but she couldn't tell if the place had changed or she'd just forgotten.

Women were spreading out the laundry, dusting carpets, watering flowers. Pink, yellow, red, purple flowers. They painted the street. Some kids were playing in their front yard. Dogs barked and ran to their gates as they drove by. The bottom floors housed a variety of shops and all had a little banner on the doors that said 'open'. A flower shop. Greengrocery. Ironmongery. A bakery. A butcher's shop. And many more. The people looked friendly as they greeted them. She happily greeted back, and her smile expanded.

"This place is beautiful, Mom," her words caught the respondent off-guard as she immediately looked in the backseat to agree with her daughter, glad she wasn't angry anymore. "We're almost there," the dad informed, taking another turn.

The road they were riding led away from that loving neighbourhood of flowers—fields on the left and a few farms on the right. Daphne's dark hair waved with the breeze. The smell of manure filled her nostrils but instead of feeling unpleasant, it reminded her of how lovely living in the countryside was. Horses were munching on the grass. Bells on sheep rang as she passed by the flock. The manure smell was soon replaced by the one of grass coming from the left where tractors were working on the field. The big vehicles were shaping the dried grass into big blocks reminding her of her childhood and how she used to spend her time watching the whole process.

Their destination was her grandparents' place. It was a huge white two-story building with a dark brown roof, divided into two separated yet joined houses: one for them and one for the grandparents. They were struggling financially in the city so they opted to move to the countryside since they couldn't afford to pay the rent. She didn't fully oppose their decision but living in the countryside for God knows how long scared her but now that she was there, she wasn't bothered anymore.

As mentioned before, the place wasn't completely foreign to her: she'd come here with her family for the summer holidays and she enjoyed her stay with the difference of knowing she'd go back to the city and therefore back to her friend. Yeah, her friend. Singular. She didn't have friends here if not her grandparents' neighbours' daughter, Cleo, who, though, was her complete opposite: while Daphne liked spending sunny days reading on a spread-out blanket in her garden, Cleo liked running up and down and playing. Daphne felt like Cleo was like a child whose energy you must match, or else they just drain you out.

"We're here," the dad informed as he took another turn out of the long field-side road and climbed up towards a house slightly hidden by trees. Their new home. By the gate were her grandparents happily waiting for them with two big dogs beside them.

The road leading to the house cut through a mildly thick forest. The house was directly facing the road while their neighbours' were on the sides.

Daphne's smile broadened as she hopped down the car and then into her grandparents' arms. Kisses, compliments and continuous reminders of how much she grew as they hugged her before hugging the parents. Now her attention was on the two dogs that couldn't hold back from barking, hopping left and right with wiggling tails. Loki and Luke, the first was an Australian shepherd and the second was a German shepherd. They too have grown so much and she felt it the most when they got up to greet her and reached her shoulders.

Playing with their fur, she wondered whether to help her family with the bags but they read her mind and told her to go inside and not bother. She'd normally insist further but this time she didn't stay any second longer and rushed inside the house. The two dogs ran after her.

Her parents and she would live in the house on the left while her grandparents were their next-door neighbours on the right. The front door was unlocked. She quickly left her shoes outside before going inside. 

It was just as she remembered it. Just as they had left it. Beneath her naked feet, the tiles were cold and of an umber brown that would create a mocha shade if mixed with the milk colour of the walls, a gradient colour that from the bottom starts in brown, slowly fades into caramel and finishes in a paler tone topped by the white-coloured painting ceiling. Matching was the chocolate brown curb.

The floor started with a rectangular anteroom. On the right was an umbrella rack, above it hangers for jackets and hats; on the left was space for shoes, a bench to sit on and put them on, hangers for keys and the staircase. Further in, the space was divided into three: the living room on the left, the dining room on the right and in the middle, leading to the garden, her second favourite place in the world, was a little space.

The living room was placed between two walls, the right one was covered in tall glass windows facing the garden, and the right one welcomed a door opening that led to a tiny hallway presenting two doors, one was the of the store and one of the bathroom. Cream sofa with green uniquely shaped pillows. A brown armchair on the left and a little swing chair on the right. Between the couch and the fireplace was a coffee table decorated with a vase of flowers and a cascade of books on the second layer. On the floor was a wide oval carpet. The fireplace was against a wall between two door openings leading to a study room.

The dining room was composed of a round table surrounded by four chairs. Further to the right was the kitchen, simple and traditional, light-brown in colour. The counters were covered with utensils, flower pots and miscellaneous items. On the tile-covered walls were hangers holding gloves, kitchen tools and aprons. The stove was as empty as the sink. The coffee machine on one side, the microwave on the other. Hanging by the handle of the oven was a chequered green cloth. Next to the stove was the dishwasher and in front of both, on the floor, was the kitchen mat. Pots resided in the wide drawers, plates in the cupboards. A double-door fridge finished the kitchen design.

She gently quieted the dogs and took her time to examine the room. A smile lit up her face whenever she took notice of any small details that reminded her of her childhood. She strolled through the kitchen, running her finger across the counters and was pleased to see that everything was sparkling clean. She couldn't stop grinning as she thought about how excited her grandmother must have been while cleaning the house in anticipation of their arrival. It was always heartwarming to see her grandmother filled with joy. She'd get very energetic and talkative unable to contain her happiness. Witnessing her grandmother's happiness was infectious, making her feel just as happy as her.

Daphne quickly rushed and ran upstairs, the dogs matched her vibe behind her. The walls that ran along to the top floor had a light floral print that gave the house the vintage and cosy look of a cottage.

While Loki and Luke ran around, she slowed down: in front of her was the little nook where she'd spend her time reading during rainy days while on the left, behind the railing, were four doors: her bedroom, her parents', her sister's and the bathroom. She missed her sister so dearly. They could meet only during summer break because she was studying abroad but she didn't linger on it much and proceeded to her bedroom. As she opened the door, the dogs ran inside. 

It was just as she'd left it and that had her tear up a bit. On her left was her little bookshelf, on her right was her dresser and a little farther away from it, was her bed. The bedsheets were identical and not dusty to the touch. Another sign of her grandmother's hard work.

The blanket was light. Pink floral prints. White pillows in front of which sat her plushie, an adorable teddy bear her grandmother had gifted her when she was five.

The nightstand welcomed a lamp and adorable miniature decorations she found in her grandparents' attic. Opposite the bed was the window brightening the room. In front of it was her desk and to its right, in a little nook, was her wardrobe.

After walking around the room for a few moments, she dropped herself on the bed, the softener scent filled her nostrils. She stared up at the ceiling. In the corner of her eyes, she could see the waving tails of Luke and Loki as they roamed around before walking by her legs and caressing her with their soft fur.

She was certainly going to miss her only friend in the city. Daphne had particular difficulties with making friends because she found it hard to vibe with a lot of people so finding her match was a real struggle. It took her a long time before she met Margot. The two matched like pieces of a puzzle. They vibed with each other so well. They had so much in common. To understand it better, Margot was the type of neighbour Daphne was wishing for rather than the one she had in reality because Margot was just like her. While Cleo would scrunch her face and call her boring whenever she'd say that she'd rather read all day than play, Margot would agree with her and sit down so they could read together. Margot was the type of friend who didn't feel as overwhelming. The type of friend whose simple presence was enjoyable: you didn't have to talk, play or do anything in general. Daphne and Margot brought ease to each other by simply being in the same room or space.

But Daphne also couldn't fully blame Cleo: she'd met Margot in 10th grade while she had known Cleo since when they were kids. Any child would find reading all day boring. A straight-up form of torture.

Downstairs she could hear her family rustling with stuff. One of the dogs rushed out of the room while she still lay on her back, arms spread, looking up at the white ceiling in pure bliss. She didn't budge for a few more seconds and probably wouldn't have at all for minutes if she hadn't heard an unfamiliar voice come from downstairs.

It was a voice that sounded brighter than she'd ever heard in a long time. She was sure she'd left just her grandparents and parents downstairs but the voice she was hearing was female and sounded brighter than her granny's and mom's. So she sat up. Instantly. Almost robotically.

As her, the dog sensed the presence and rushed out of the room. Daphne followed right after but she didn't go downstairs. She was about to but she noticed the dogs weren't barking up and down which meant that whoever it was knew them. They were already familiar with them. A strange feeling settled in her, a feeling that held her back from going down the stairs and simply had her stretching over the railing to see. A bit shy, you can assume.

"She's upstairs," she heard her grandmother say, leaving Daphne increasingly confused. Who could be coming up to see her? She had no idea, but from the bubbly demeanour of the person, she could tell they were happy to see her. A shy smile emerged on her face just as the person appeared on the stairs. "Hey, Daphne," the voice sang as they saw her leaning on the railing. They rushed upstairs and were now standing in front of her. "Do you remember me?" Daphne's shy smile grew. How could she forget her? Caramel brown bouncy curls, freckled cheeks, moss green eyes, and lips as reddish as her cheeks. She hadn't changed a bit. She had grown, but it was still the same Cleo. 

"Course I do," she happily answered and Cleo giggled. The bright smile that decorated her face made Daphne regret everything she was thinking about earlier. The smile behaved like a vibrant filter animating her memories. "Granny told me you were going to move here and I've never been happier. I thought we'd never meet again," she happily spoke while Daphne came out of her trance, grabbed her hands and led her to her bedroom.

As happy as the latter was, Cleo couldn't hold back from giggling all the time unaware of just how much happiness she'd put in the other girl's heart. A few moments ago, Daphne was thinking about how making friends was so hard for her only for Cleo to happily hop into her home, all happy to see her. Never would Daphne have thought that someone could be waiting for her so excitedly. It warmed her heart so much.

"How have you been?" she spoke first. Cleo's face glowed even brighter as she started talking.

Amazingly bored, she said. Amazing because she's fine, no illness nor body ache or particular border to carry. Bored because, aside from Daphne, the neighbours were younger than her and therefore felt more like kids to babysit rather than people to make actual friends with. Granny started cleaning the house a month in advance, she narrated, and she helped her out on it. Said she enjoyed cleaning while listening to Granny telling stories about Daphne. It increased her excitement and her will to help Granny. She spent days here at the house with granny and never got tired. Granny tried to tell her not to worry but Cleo was just as excited. She'd spend the day cleaning and preparing and then would head home for dinner after which she'd be crocheting little cute things for the both.

Daphne listened with a never-ending smile. All of this for her? Wow. "I have them at my place. If you wish, later I can take you there and give you them," Daphne simply nodded. Eagerly. Happily. A happiness that then spiralled into taking Cleo in for a hug. "I'm just as happy to see you. I thought I wouldn't make friends here," Cleo dramatically gasped and clutched her chest, denying all of Daphne's beliefs. "You'll never be friend-less. Not under my watch," they both laughed before they heard a slight knock on the door. "Granny is going to prepare lunch and asked if the two of you would like to join".

—Now playing: The Way Things Go by Beabadoobee ✫

"I caught enough vegetables from my farm so we could have fun," Granny spoke to the girls' happy faces. They were going to make pizza. Pizzas. Granny had already prepared the dough. They now had to set the ingredients and make unique pizzas. Cleo took on the onions while Daphne took a few zucchini to chop. In the fridge was a container of mozzarella and one of cheese. They had everything at their disposal.

They spent the following forty minutes chopping all the ingredients, blending tomatoes for the sauce, cutting the mozzarella into blocks and grating the cheese. Once done with that, Granny started working on the dough while the young girls buttered up the pans and prepared the oven. Next door Daphne's parents were unpacking and settling in.

"So, how was the city?" Cleo asked, starting a conversation. "Nice, in its way. Yeah, nice,"

"You've got friends you'll miss?"

"A friend, yeah. Margot. We met in 10th grade. She's a great person but knowing her, the distance is going to make the friendship falter," as she spoke, Granny smiled. She was listening and knew who she was talking about. Granny and Daphne's mother were more like sisters than anything else. Daphne's mom always kept her updated on her life and Daphne's so Granny knows how hard it is for Daphne to make friends. She'd suspected it since the girl was a little child because she could see how socializing wasn't on the list: Daphne could spend an eternity of time by herself and never get bored or feel lonely. It didn't bother Granny much but as Daphne grew so did her mother's worries. Whenever Daphne's mom called, she'd never forget to state how bothered she was about seeing her daughter be all reserved so you can imagine how happy she became the day Daphne asked her if she could invite a friend over. 

"A friend? A friend! God, yes, invite your friend over! I told her. Ooh, I'm so happy. Like, I get it. She finds solace simply in herself which is a good thing, awesome in fact, because it means that no one can hurt her because, you know, out there are monsters in human form ready to just hurt people but just one person once in a while never hurts, you get me?" she told Granny on the phone. Daphne's mom is a talkative person who's scared of miscommunication and misunderstandings so whenever she's speaking, she can't hold back from clarifying every single thing she said making her wholly sound in panic.

 Granny found that adorable, just like Daphne's dad did. But Daphne wasn't like her mom, she was like her dad and like Granny too. A person of a few words. Someone who enjoyed listening more than speaking.

"Oh, why's that?" Cleo asked. "Our friendship isn't really the type that goes on both physically and virtually. We... we don't text," Cleo nodded in acknowledgement before focusing back on transferring the dough from the board to the pan. "Thank god we're neighbours then," Cleo giggled. Her words warmed Daphne's heart who couldn't help but giggle as well. In the background, Granny struggled with holding back her smile.

"Are you still the bibliophile I used to know?" she proceeded. Another warm smile on her face as Daphne nodded, "I got tons of books at mine. I don't exactly classify myself as a bibliophile too but I do read. On special occasions, but I do"

Daphne chuckled and assured her she'd explore her bookshelf. Cleo giggled in response. She continued, "Do you have any specific thing to do these days?"

"No, not exactly. Why?"

"I was planning on giving you a town tour. A tour of my house, our neighbourhood, the neighbouring neighbourhoods, the town centre and, eventually, our school. You down?" Daphne quickly looked at her grandma in search of a nod of consent which she found and followed through with, agreeing to Cleo's plans. "We'll do all that today?"

"Oh, no. My god. If we did, it'd mean I carelessly showed you the place but that's not what it'll be. Once we've done the town tour, we'll go pre-school shopping. I know a store that sells the cutest school supplies I've ever laid eyes on".

They talked about their favourite school supplies: Daphne admitted to having a passion for decorating diaries and planners; Cleo's the same but decorates notebooks. Cleo got to know how a perfect academic performance was a priority to Daphne. She wasn't surprised. Daphne got to know that Cleo didn't change much and cherishes a good time above bending over a book and reading all day. She, as well, wasn't surprised. While Daphne is a dog person, Cleo fancies cats. Cleo adores sunny days, Daphne'd rather stay under a downpour than a burning-hot sun. Daphne's an early bird. Cleo's a night owl. 

Overall, Daphne could tell that they were two different faces of the same coin. Equally different. Cleo was going to be a hit of fresh breeze to her pretty monotone life. She's someone who loves indulging in the same routines but, in that moment, she was ready to change them all for Cleo.

Can't really blame her. You have yourself someone eagerly waiting for you despite having seen you years ago and then we talk.

—Now playing: Love Is All Around by Wet Wet Wet ✫

By noon, all the pizzas were ready, hot and sizzling delicacies. As they waited, the whole family, Cleo's included, helped with setting the table on the veranda. Eight chairs. A round wide dining table. A floral print tablecloth. A vase of fresh flowers in the centre. Scattered evenly were jars of water, fresh and sparkling. In front of each chair was a plate sided by a fork and a knife. No need for spoons. 

Birds chirped. Dogs barked. Cutlery clicked on plates. Water hit the kitchen sink whenever someone washed their hands or rinsed a utensil.

"Food's going to be up in minutes," Cleo announced and soon everyone was sat at the table. Granny and Daphne's mom came on the veranda with pizzas placed on round wooden boards. Everyone seated exclaimed in joy, complementing the cooks.

Once they've brought enough, they finally sat at the table. They said the grace before they started sharing the pizzas into slices. One helped the other and soon everyone had something on their plate, a bite between their teeth.

Cleo sat next to Daphne. They each had a slice of the pizza the other prepared and were complementing each other on the result. Smiles never faded away. Beside Cleo was her brother, Cole. He too was smiling, laughing in fact, with the adults. Beside him, his father.

Daphne had met them and had a little conversation with them. Cole had just graduated high school and would go to the University by October. He had a car of his own and was working on getting an apartment too. Daphne didn't see the mother and no one mentioned her so she didn't pry further but that didn't stop her from wondering.

Cleo's father loved dad jokes. He couldn't help but stick one every two sentences. They made people laugh for the sole reason of being hilarious, so stupid that it has you wondering how can someone even come up with them. He had a deep voice that made everything he said sound serious which made the jokes come off even funnier. Cole took after him. He too had a deep voice but he didn't make any hilarious jokes. Everything he did and said sounded very mature. Daphne assumed that he probably read a lot or had a good academic performance. He just sounded like he could be the class president, like the type of teenage student who could argue with a scumbag of a teacher pushing sixty who feels heavily entitled. 

Cleo's voice contrasted theirs. She was the bright moon on a dark and starless night. Her voice was as chirpy as her laugh. She looked like the type of person who could rock golden shades because she glowed. She glows. She looked like the type of girl you'd always want to be happy, never sad, never see cry. The type of girl whose sad face could induce the watcher into a great state of melancholy. The type of person that can make anyone empathic. 

A part of her almost reminded Daphne of her mother with the only difference that while her mother talked so much in fear of causing a misunderstanding, Cleo talked so much because she was simply made like that. Her mind was a running film strip.  A very fast one and she was always in a hurry to talk about it in every of its details.

The lunch went on like this. Laughter was the only thing you could hear. Some dad jokes here and there but all for fun. All in happiness.

Daphne in that moment thought that her past life wasn't a life. Was she dead the whole time because she started feeling alive only this day, in this instant, sitting between her mom and her old-yet-new friend, eating pizza in the wonderful atmosphere of the sunny day.

Yeah, she was probably dead the whole time. Or at least a zombie.

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[acti-veg]

Have you seen the video 'How to spin dog fur into yarn: Theo the samoyed floof'? What do you think about it from an ethicality stand point? Not that video specifically I guess, just the concept broadly?

As a broad concept I’ve no real issue with people making use of what are clearly waste products that an animal has no use for. This is strictly in cases where it is incidental production that does not harm the animal in any way, and the animal is not being exploited. This would rule out things like manure from farmed animals as well as backyard eggs, but could include things like shed hair, wool from sanctuary sheep and feathers.

However, I think as a general principle we should try to avoid finding ways to benefit from our relationships with animals, just because of how ubiquitous animal exploitation is and how easy it would be to slip into that, especially where profit is involved. For example, if Theo’s owner were selling products made from shed fur I’d have an ethical issue with that, unless the money was entirely going towards maintaining the animal or a non-profit.

Generally, it would be better if the animal community benefited from those waste products, rather than us. Fur and wool can make blankets or jumpers for rescued animals, for example. Otherwise, products being donated to homeless shelters or food banks is a good way to benefit our wider community rather than ourselves, assuming we don’t have real need of it.

[corinne-eaglebridge-sso]

Since the information in the article is conflicting, here’s some facts and tips about Camp Western!

1. You won’t loose your gold nuggets when caught by an animal, even though the article claims you will.

2. Lures, repellents and keys can be found in the wild as well! They’re a bit rarer though.

3. There are four horses each day, I don’t know why they say five later in the article.

4. The manure does seem to work as a repellent, but it doesn’t work very long, so be careful!

5. The shovel for today’s quest can be found in one of the stables, unlike an unrelated random event will claim.

6. You can get more than 10 summer tokens with gold nuggets a day, again I don’t know why the article claims you can’t. Each of those trades can only be made once a day though.

7. The article mentions items I’m not aware of being in the game yet, they might appear in the upcoming weeks of the Camp (chicken pets fall under this).

8. Don’t forget to activate the quest with Scott!

9. Try to keep a few repellents on you just in case.

10. The main roads are generally safe to travel, as is the sheep pit! There is a safe path to get to the rangers station in Firgrove close to the gates of Firgrove that won’t lead you past any wolves. (When coming out of the village, go left and keep walking straight ahead until you find the path to your left.) It’s used in one of the races too).

11. Mary’s lost animals will give you summer coins for the duration of this festival!

[silverozy]

ATP; 01 | Love is all around

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wc: 4.23k

date: 12/04/2024

mdi // masterlist // playlist

Early in September, just hours before midday. The sun is not high yet but shines light through the whole town. Like the weak and bright sunrays, Daphne's dad drove on the road, pushing through the fresh waves of the summer morning breeze. As background noise was crunching stones produced by the tyres. 

Breeze combed the hair strokes. Morning freshness caused the rise of goosebumps. Butterflies in the stomach showed how excited Daphne was about moving. Yes, moving.

Usually, they'd come to the countryside only for the summer holidays but now she would stay longer. A smile was printed on her face as she observed. She was going to like this, she thought. She was going to like this place, this new beginning. She started regretting ever complaining about moving in the first place.

Her mother was in the passenger seat explaining how the town was beautiful, her fingers pointed at random spots occasionally. Daphne wasn't even listening to her. She only thought that her mother could save her breath because she didn't need any more convincing: the view before her spoke for itself.

Daphne lowered her window and, with an arm swinging outside, she observed, she beheld the sight. The car took a turn and now they were riding up a hill along a road surrounded by beautiful houses.

It'd been long since she last came here but she couldn't tell if the place had changed or she'd just forgotten.

Women were spreading out the laundry, dusting carpets, watering flowers. Pink, yellow, red, purple flowers. They painted the street. Some kids were playing in their front yard. Dogs barked and ran to their gates as they drove by. The bottom floors housed a variety of shops and all had a little banner on the doors that said 'open'. A flower shop. Greengrocery. Ironmongery. A bakery. A butcher's shop. And many more. The people looked friendly as they greeted them. She happily greeted back, and her smile expanded.

"This place is beautiful, Mom," her words caught the respondent off-guard as she immediately looked in the backseat to agree with her daughter, glad she wasn't angry anymore. "We're almost there," the dad informed, taking another turn.

The road they were riding led away from that loving neighbourhood of flowers—fields on the left and a few farms on the right. Daphne's dark hair waved with the breeze. The smell of manure filled her nostrils but instead of feeling unpleasant, it reminded her of how lovely living in the countryside was. Horses were munching on the grass. Bells on sheep rang as she passed by the flock. The manure smell was soon replaced by the one of grass coming from the left where tractors were working on the field. The big vehicles were shaping the dried grass into big blocks reminding her of her childhood and how she used to spend her time watching the whole process.

Their destination was her grandparents' place. It was a huge white two-story building with a dark brown roof, divided into two separated yet joined houses: one for them and one for the grandparents. They were struggling financially in the city so they opted to move to the countryside since they couldn't afford to pay the rent. She didn't fully oppose their decision but living in the countryside for God knows how long scared her but now that she was there, she wasn't bothered anymore.

As mentioned before, the place wasn't completely foreign to her: she'd come here with her family for the summer holidays and she enjoyed her stay with the difference of knowing she'd go back to the city and therefore back to her friend. Yeah, her friend. Singular. She didn't have friends here if not her grandparents' neighbours' daughter, Cleo, who, though, was her complete opposite: while Daphne liked spending sunny days reading on a spread-out blanket in her garden, Cleo liked running up and down and playing. Daphne felt like Cleo was like a child whose energy you must match, or else they just drain you out.

"We're here," the dad informed as he took another turn out of the long field-side road and climbed up towards a house slightly hidden by trees. Their new home. By the gate were her grandparents happily waiting for them with two big dogs beside them.

The road leading to the house cut through a mildly thick forest. The house was directly facing the road while their neighbours' were on the sides.

Daphne's smile broadened as she hopped down the car and then into her grandparents' arms. Kisses, compliments and continuous reminders of how much she grew as they hugged her before hugging the parents. Now her attention was on the two dogs that couldn't hold back from barking, hopping left and right with wiggling tails. Loki and Luke, the first was an Australian shepherd and the second was a German shepherd. They too have grown so much and she felt it the most when they got up to greet her and reached her shoulders.

Playing with their fur, she wondered whether to help her family with the bags but they read her mind and told her to go inside and not bother. She'd normally insist further but this time she didn't stay any second longer and rushed inside the house. The two dogs ran after her.

Her parents and she would live in the house on the left while her grandparents were their next-door neighbours on the right. The front door was unlocked. She quickly left her shoes outside before going inside. 

It was just as she remembered it. Just as they had left it. Beneath her naked feet, the tiles were cold and of an umber brown that would create a mocha shade if mixed with the milk colour of the walls, a gradient colour that from the bottom starts in brown, slowly fades into caramel and finishes in a paler tone topped by the white-coloured painting ceiling. Matching was the chocolate brown curb.

The floor started with a rectangular anteroom. On the right was an umbrella rack, above it hangers for jackets and hats; on the left was space for shoes, a bench to sit on and put them on, hangers for keys and the staircase. Further in, the space was divided into three: the living room on the left, the dining room on the right and in the middle, leading to the garden, her second favourite place in the world, was a little space.

The living room was placed between two walls, the right one was covered in tall glass windows facing the garden, and the right one welcomed a door opening that led to a tiny hallway presenting two doors, one was the of the store and one of the bathroom. Cream sofa with green uniquely shaped pillows. A brown armchair on the left and a little swing chair on the right. Between the couch and the fireplace was a coffee table decorated with a vase of flowers and a cascade of books on the second layer. On the floor was a wide oval carpet. The fireplace was against a wall between two door openings leading to a study room.

The dining room was composed of a round table surrounded by four chairs. Further to the right was the kitchen, simple and traditional, light-brown in colour. The counters were covered with utensils, flower pots and miscellaneous items. On the tile-covered walls were hangers holding gloves, kitchen tools and aprons. The stove was as empty as the sink. The coffee machine on one side, the microwave on the other. Hanging by the handle of the oven was a chequered green cloth. Next to the stove was the dishwasher and in front of both, on the floor, was the kitchen mat. Pots resided in the wide drawers, plates in the cupboards. A double-door fridge finished the kitchen design.

She gently quieted the dogs and took her time to examine the room. A smile lit up her face whenever she took notice of any small details that reminded her of her childhood. She strolled through the kitchen, running her finger across the counters and was pleased to see that everything was sparkling clean. She couldn't stop grinning as she thought about how excited her grandmother must have been while cleaning the house in anticipation of their arrival. It was always heartwarming to see her grandmother filled with joy. She'd get very energetic and talkative unable to contain her happiness. Witnessing her grandmother's happiness was infectious, making her feel just as happy as her.

Daphne quickly rushed and ran upstairs, the dogs matched her vibe behind her. The walls that ran along to the top floor had a light floral print that gave the house the vintage and cosy look of a cottage.

While Loki and Luke ran around, she slowed down: in front of her was the little nook where she'd spend her time reading during rainy days while on the left, behind the railing, were four doors: her bedroom, her parents', her sister's and the bathroom. She missed her sister so dearly. They could meet only during summer break because she was studying abroad but she didn't linger on it much and proceeded to her bedroom. As she opened the door, the dogs ran inside. 

It was just as she'd left it and that had her tear up a bit. On her left was her little bookshelf, on her right was her dresser and a little farther away from it, was her bed. The bedsheets were identical and not dusty to the touch. Another sign of her grandmother's hard work.

The blanket was light. Pink floral prints. White pillows in front of which sat her plushie, an adorable teddy bear her grandmother had gifted her when she was five. The nightstand welcomed a lamp and adorable miniature decorations she found in her grandparents' attic. Opposite the bed was the window brightening the room. In front of it was her desk and to its right, in a little nook, was her wardrobe.

After walking around the room for a few moments, she dropped herself on the bed, the softener scent filled her nostrils. She stared up at the ceiling. In the corner of her eyes, she could see the waving tails of Luke and Loki as they roamed around before walking by her legs and caressing her with their soft fur.

She was certainly going to miss her only friend in the city. Daphne had particular difficulties with making friends because she found it hard to vibe with a lot of people so finding her match was a real struggle. It took her a long time before she met Margot. The two matched like pieces of a puzzle. They vibed with each other so well. They had so much in common. To understand it better, Margot was the type of neighbour Daphne was wishing for rather than the one she had in reality because Margot was just like her. While Cleo would scrunch her face and call her boring whenever she'd say that she'd rather read all day than play, Margot would agree with her and sit down so they could read together. Margot was the type of friend who didn't feel as overwhelming. The type of friend whose simple presence was enjoyable: you didn't have to talk, play or do anything in general. Daphne and Margot brought ease to each other by simply being in the same room or space. But Daphne also couldn't fully blame Cleo: she'd met Margot in 10th grade while she had known Cleo since when they were kids. Any child would find reading all day boring. A straight-up form of torture.

Downstairs she could hear her family rustling with stuff. One of the dogs rushed out of the room while she still lay on her back, arms spread, looking up at the white ceiling in pure bliss. She didn't budge for a few more seconds and probably wouldn't have at all for minutes if she hadn't heard an unfamiliar voice come from downstairs.

It was a voice that sounded brighter than she'd ever heard in a long time. She was sure she'd left just her grandparents and parents downstairs but the voice she was hearing was female and sounded brighter than her granny's and mom's. So she sat up. Instantly. Almost robotically.

As her, the dog sensed the presence and rushed out of the room. Daphne followed right after but she didn't go downstairs. She was about to but she noticed the dogs weren't barking up and down which meant that whoever it was knew them. They were already familiar with them. A strange feeling settled in her, a feeling that held her back from going down the stairs and simply had her stretching over the railing to see. A bit shy, you can assume.

"She's upstairs," she heard her grandmother say, leaving Daphne increasingly confused. Who could be coming up to see her? She had no idea, but from the bubbly demeanour of the person, she could tell they were happy to see her. A shy smile emerged on her face just as the person appeared on the stairs. "Hey, Daphne," the voice sang as they saw her leaning on the railing. They rushed upstairs and were now standing in front of her. "Do you remember me?" Daphne's shy smile grew. How could she forget her? Caramel brown bouncy curls, freckled cheeks, moss green eyes, and lips as reddish as her cheeks. She hadn't changed a bit. She had grown, but it was still the same Cleo. 

"Course I do," she happily answered and Cleo giggled. The bright smile that decorated her face made Daphne regret everything she was thinking about earlier. The smile behaved like a vibrant filter animating her memories. "Granny told me you were going to move here and I've never been happier. I thought we'd never meet again," she happily spoke while Daphne came out of her trance, grabbed her hands and led her to her bedroom.

As happy as the latter was, Cleo couldn't hold back from giggling all the time unaware of just how much happiness she'd put in the other girl's heart. A few moments ago, Daphne was thinking about how making friends was so hard for her only for Cleo to happily hop into her home, all happy to see her. Never would Daphne have thought that someone could be waiting for her so excitedly. It warmed her heart so much.

"How have you been?" she spoke first. Cleo's face glowed even brighter as she started talking. Amazingly bored, she said. Amazing because she's fine, no illness nor body ache or particular border to carry. Bored because, aside from Daphne, the neighbours were younger than her and therefore felt more like kids to babysit rather than people to make actual friends with. Granny started cleaning the house a month in advance, she narrated, and she helped her out on it. Said she enjoyed cleaning while listening to Granny telling stories about Daphne. It increased her excitement and her will to help Granny. She spent days here at the house with granny and never got tired. Granny tried to tell her not to worry but Cleo was just as excited. She'd spend the day cleaning and preparing and then would head home for dinner after which she'd be crocheting little cute things for the both.

Daphne listened with a never-ending smile. All of this for her? Wow. "I have them at my place. If you wish, later I can take you there and give you them," Daphne simply nodded. Eagerly. Happily. A happiness that then spiralled into taking Cleo in for a hug. "I'm just as happy to see you. I thought I wouldn't make friends here," Cleo dramatically gasped and clutched her chest, denying all of Daphne's beliefs. "You'll never be friend-less. Not under my watch," they both laughed before they heard a slight knock on the door. "Granny is going to prepare lunch and asked if the two of you would like to join".

✿..｡

"I caught enough vegetables from my farm so we could have fun," Granny spoke to the girls' happy faces. They were going to make pizza. Pizzas. Granny had already prepared the dough. They now had to set the ingredients and make unique pizzas. Cleo took on the onions while Daphne took a few zucchini to chop. In the fridge was a container of mozzarella and one of cheese. They had everything at their disposal.

They spent the following forty minutes chopping all the ingredients, blending tomatoes for the sauce, cutting the mozzarella into blocks and grating the cheese. Once done with that, Granny started working on the dough while the young girls buttered up the pans and prepared the oven. Next door Daphne's parents were unpacking and settling in.

"So, how was the city?" Cleo asked, starting a conversation. "Nice, in its way. Yeah, nice,"

"You've got friends you'll miss?"

"A friend, yeah. Margot. We met in 10th grade. She's a great person but knowing her, the distance is going to make the friendship falter," as she spoke, Granny smiled. She was listening and knew who she was talking about. Granny and Daphne's mother were more like sisters than anything else. Daphne's mom always kept her updated on her life and Daphne's so Granny knows how hard it is for Daphne to make friends. She'd suspected it since the girl was a little child because she could see how socializing wasn't on the list: Daphne could spend an eternity of time by herself and never get bored or feel lonely. It didn't bother Granny much but as Daphne grew so did her mother's worries. Whenever Daphne's mom called, she'd never forget to state how bothered she was about seeing her daughter be all reserved so you can imagine how happy she became the day Daphne asked her if she could invite a friend over. 

"A friend? A friend! God, yes, invite your friend over! I told her. Ooh, I'm so happy. Like, I get it. She finds solace simply in herself which is a good thing, awesome in fact, because it means that no one can hurt her because, you know, out there are monsters in human form ready to just hurt people but just one person once in a while never hurts, you get me?" she told Granny on the phone. Daphne's mom is a talkative person who's scared of miscommunication and misunderstandings so whenever she's speaking, she can't hold back from clarifying every single thing she said making her wholly sound in panic.

 Granny found that adorable, just like Daphne's dad did. But Daphne wasn't like her mom, she was like her dad and like Granny too. A person of a few words. Someone who enjoyed listening more than speaking.

"Oh, why's that?" Cleo asked. "Our friendship isn't really the type that goes on both physically and virtually. We... we don't text," Cleo nodded in acknowledgement before focusing back on transferring the dough from the board to the pan. "Thank god we're neighbours then," Cleo giggled. Her words warmed Daphne's heart who couldn't help but giggle as well. In the background, Granny struggled with holding back her smile.

"Are you still the bibliophile I used to know?" she proceeded. Another warm smile on her face as Daphne nodded, "I got tons of books at mine. I don't exactly classify myself as a bibliophile too but I do read. On special occasions, but I do"

Daphne chuckled and assured her she'd explore her bookshelf. Cleo giggled in response. She continued, "Do you have any specific thing to do these days?"

"No, not exactly. Why?"

"I was planning on giving you a town tour. A tour of my house, our neighbourhood, the neighbouring neighbourhoods, the town centre and, eventually, our school. You down?" Daphne quickly looked at her grandma in search of a nod of consent which she found and followed through with, agreeing to Cleo's plans. "We'll do all that today?"

"Oh, no. My god. If we did, it'd mean I carelessly showed you the place but that's not what it'll be. Once we've done the town tour, we'll go pre-school shopping. I know a store that sells the cutest school supplies I've ever laid eyes on".

They talked about their favourite school supplies: Daphne admitted to having a passion for decorating diaries and planners; Cleo's the same but decorates notebooks. Cleo got to know how a perfect academic performance was a priority to Daphne. She wasn't surprised. Daphne got to know that Cleo didn't change much and cherishes a good time above bending over a book and reading all day. She, as well, wasn't surprised. While Daphne is a dog person, Cleo fancies cats. Cleo adores sunny days, Daphne'd rather stay under a downpour than a burning-hot sun. Daphne's an early bird. Cleo's a night owl. 

Overall, Daphne could tell that they were two different faces of the same coin. Equally different. Cleo was going to be a hit of fresh breeze to her pretty monotone life. She's someone who loves indulging in the same routines but, in that moment, she was ready to change them all for Cleo.

Can't really blame her. You have yourself someone eagerly waiting for you despite having seen you years ago and then we talk.

✿..｡

By noon, all the pizzas were ready, hot and sizzling delicacies. As they waited, the whole family, Cleo's included, helped with setting the table on the veranda. Eight chairs. A round wide dining table. A floral print tablecloth. A vase of fresh flowers in the centre. Scattered evenly were jars of water, fresh and sparkling. In front of each chair was a plate sided by a fork and a knife. No need for spoons. 

Birds chirped. Dogs barked. Cutlery clicked on plates. Water hit the kitchen sink whenever someone washed their hands or rinsed a utensil.

"Food's going to be up in minutes," Cleo announced and soon everyone was sat at the table. Granny and Daphne's mom came on the veranda with pizzas placed on round wooden boards. Everyone seated exclaimed in joy, complementing the cooks.

Once they've brought enough, they finally sat at the table. They said the grace before they started sharing the pizzas into slices. One helped the other and soon everyone had something on their plate, a bite between their teeth.

Cleo sat next to Daphne. They each had a slice of the pizza the other prepared and were complementing each other on the result. Smiles never faded away. Beside Cleo was her brother, Cole. He too was smiling, laughing in fact, with the adults. Beside him, his father.

Daphne had met them and had a little conversation with them. Cole had just graduated high school and would go to the University by October. He had a car of his own and was working on getting an apartment too. Daphne didn't see the mother and no one mentioned her so she didn't pry further but that didn't stop her from wondering.

Cleo's father loved dad jokes. He couldn't help but stick one every two sentences. They made people laugh for the sole reason of being hilarious, so stupid that it has you wondering how can someone even come up with them. He had a deep voice that made everything he said sound serious which made the jokes come off even funnier. Cole took after him. He too had a deep voice but he didn't make any hilarious jokes. Everything he did and said sounded very mature. Daphne assumed that he probably read a lot or had a good academic performance. He just sounded like he could be the class president, like the type of teenage student who could argue with a scumbag of a teacher pushing sixty who feels heavily entitled. 

Cleo's voice contrasted theirs. She was the bright moon on a dark and starless night. Her voice was as chirpy as her laugh. She looked like the type of person who could rock golden shades because she glowed. She glows. She looked like the type of girl you'd always want to be happy, never sad, never see cry. The type of girl whose sad face could induce the watcher into a great state of melancholy. The type of person that can make anyone empathic. 

A part of her almost reminded Daphne of her mother with the only difference that while her mother talked so much in fear of causing a misunderstanding, Cleo talked so much because she was simply made like that. Her mind was a running film strip.  A very fast one and she was always in a hurry to talk about it in every of its details.

The lunch went on like this. Laughter was the only thing you could hear. Some dad jokes here and there but all for fun. All in happiness.

Daphne in that moment thought that her past life wasn't a life. Was she dead the whole time because she started feeling alive only this day, in this instant, sitting between her mom and her old-yet-new friend, eating pizza in the wonderful atmosphere of the sunny day.

Yeah, she was probably dead the whole time. Or at least a zombie.

⤎ previous page | ❃ | next page ⤏

[happyllamaglama]

Llamas are members of the camelid family meaning they're pretty closely related to vicuñas and camels.

Camelids first appeared on the Central Plains of North America about 40 million years ago. About 3 million years ago, llamas' ancestors migrated to South America.

During the last ice age (10,000-12,000 years ago) camelids went extinct in North America. Now there are around 160,000 llamas and 100,000 alpacas in the United States and Canada.

Llamas were first domesticated and used as pack animals 4,000 to 5,000 years ago in the Peruvian highlands.

Llamas can grow as much as 6 feet tall though the average llama between 5 feet 6 inches and 5 feet 9 inches tall.

Llamas weigh between 280 and 450 pounds and can carry 25 to 30 percent of their body weight, so a 400-pound male llama can carry about 100 to 120 pounds on a trek of 10 to 12 miles with no problem.

Llamas know their own limits. If you try to overload a llama with too much weight, the llama is likely to lie down or simply refuse to move.

In the Andes Mountains of Peru, llama fleece has been shorn and used in textiles for about 6,000 years. Llama wool is light, warm, water-repellent, and free of lanolin.

Llamas are hardy and well suited to harsh environments. They are quite sure-footed, easily navigating rocky terrain at high altitudes.

Llamas are smart and easy to train.

Llamas have been used as guard animals for livestock like sheep or even alpacas in North America since the '80s. They require almost no training to be an effective guard.

Llamas don't bite. They spit when they're agitated, but that's mostly at each other. Llamas also kick and neck wrestle each other when agitated.

Llamas are vegetarians and have very efficient digestive systems.

A llama's stomach has three compartments. They are called the rumen, omasum, and abomasum. A cow's stomach has four compartments. Like cows, llamas must regurgitate and re-chew their food to digest it completely.

Llama poop has almost no odor. Llama farmers refer to llama manure as "llama beans." It makes for a great, eco-friendly fertilizer. Historically, the Incas in Peru burned dried llama poop for fuel.

Llamas live to be about 20 years old. Though some only live for 15 years and others live to be 30 years old.

A baby llama is called a "cria" which is Spanish for baby. It's pronounced KREE-uh. Baby alpacas, vicuñas, and guanacos are also called crias. Mama llamas usually only have one baby at a time and llama twins are incredibly rare. Pregnancy lasts for about 350 days, nearly a full year. Crias weigh 20 to 35 pounds at birth.

Llamas come in a range of solid and spotted colors including black, gray, beige, brown, red, and white.

Llamas are social animals and prefer to live with other llamas or herd animals. The social structure of llamas changes frequently and a male llama can move up the social ladder by picking, and winning, small fights with the leader of the group.

A group of llamas is called a herd.

Llamas have two wild "cousins" that have never been domesticated: the vicuña and the guanaco. The Guanaco is closely related to the llama. Vicuñas are thought to be the ancestors of alpacas.

The current population of llamas and alpacas in South America is estimated to be more than 7 million.

Yarn made from llama fiber is soft and lightweight, yet remarkably warm. The soft, undercoat is used for garments and handicrafts while the coarse, outer coat is frequently used for rugs and ropes.

Trying to tell the difference between a llama and an alpaca? Two obvious things to look for: Llamas are generally about twice the size of alpacas, and alpacas have short, pointy ears, whereas llamas have much longer ears that stand straight up and give them an alert look.

thoughtco.com/fun-facts-about-llamas-3880940.

[lionessfeather]

More musings on Dutch/Low Countries breeds

So in this post I mused about Dutch history, strategy, and dragon breeds. I had some more thoughts about them, so here we go:

Fryske Grutskens have some aquatic adaptations. They are squarely in the middleweight category, and they are white and blue, with red splotches. Splotches in the shape of pompeblêden are especially prized (like the Frysian flag)

Brabants Blauwtje are on the big side for a middleweight, and often straddle the line between middle and heavy (18 tons), despite "blauwtje" implying they are small blue dragons. Their colour varies along pretty much all shades of blue, though the darker blues are prized highly.

Zwarte van Gelre actually tend to be charcoal grey at best, rather than black. A fairly standard middleweight.

The Flemish heavyweight has two names. It has an official French name, bestowed on it by the Counts of Flanders, and everyone else uses a much more plain Flemish name.

There is also a lightweight Flemish breed, which definitely only has a Flemish name. Specifically, Rode Duivels.

Hollands Glorie is the coastal breed favoured by the County of Holland. Again, it has some aquatic adaptations (don't ask me what), and is raised to eat a lot of fish. These are the most commonly seen by most people. They aren't more common, but most of the trade is concentrated in Holland (and Flanders), so these are the dragons most commonly used by traders. Probably on the light-to-medium weight range for middleweights. The smaller among them can probably be taken along on a ship that is not a dragon transport, though only barely.

The poor soils in the north-east of the country are enriched with dragon manure instead of purely sheep manure, but they are still fairly poor. I think they likely wouldn't be able to feed more than a lightweight (a very belligerent one though). They are purple, like heather, and they can sort of hover, thanks to the boggy lands they evolved in.

Utrecht, a prince-bishopric, has a brightly coloured breed. Purplish red, for the church. Likely some Italian influences, since the pope would probably have a representative there.

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @lazysaturdayonthebeach based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Rating TBC.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Christmas Pageant Omens

—

In a little cabin next to a little river outside a little village, two dwarves sat with their little white cat.

The dark-haired dwarf, Kili, watched Good Omens for the fifth time.  The light-haired dwarf, Fili, read the script for the annual village nativity pageant.  He was cast to play the Angel this particular year and anxiously awaited the end of the episode so Kili could help him try on his recently finished wings.

They were spectacular wings.  Created from an old chest holster, heavy wire, plastic wrap, liquid latex, and half a mattress worth of downy white feathers, the wings extended above his head and reached almost to his feet.  Even if he completely forgot his lines, no one would remember anything but the wings.

Unbeknownst to the blond angel, his spouse had secretly constructed another pair of wings.  Much smaller and black, these wings were designed like a pair of demon wings.  Ever since Fili was cast as the angel, Kili had been mildly obsessed with kissing his own ineffable husband in Good Omens style. 

There was no lack of kissing in their relationship.  It was just a fantasy that Kili wanted to indulge.

On the night of the big show, once Fili was winged and safely harnessed to his wire rig, there was nothing to do but wait.  Kili excused himself to use the restroom because he was nervous.  He stopped on his way to say hello to Bilbo and Thorin.  He fully expected to don his wings and get his kiss while Fili sat on his stool behind the stable.

Unfortunately, Bilbo wanted to talk about Christmas dinner the next day.  He even managed to keep Kili entangled in the conversation while helping Thorin find his glasses.  Only when the lights dimmed twice did Bilbo realize how late it was and shooed Kili back to help Fili.

Kili ran, and almost abandoned his fantasy. But he had practiced during the dress rehearsal and really thought he had time to get the wings from the trunk of their car, put them on, and get backstage for his kiss.

Kili snuck into the periphery of the scene and stopped.  Someone had rearranged the scenery.  The shepherds, Ori and Bifur, were struggling to reach the stable.  Bifur pretended to step in manure to cover their difficulties.  That caused some murmuring and quiet laughter, but Kili was still sure no one noticed him, all in black, quietly sneaking amongst the sheep, pigs, and camels.  Several animals were actually touching the rear curtain, cutting off his path.  He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled under the cow to get through.

At length he made it to his spot amongst the stable supports where he could guide Fili safely down when the time came.  He was unable to profess his love, call him Aziraphale, and plant a big kiss on his lips before the big ascension, however.  Fili was already rising.  He decided that as long as his angel was safe, he really didn’t care.  He hoped the stable would hide a kiss from the audience when Fili came back down.

Whoever had shifted the animals on the right had also shifted the star and hay on the left.  Kili could hear Balin, the director, and Dwalin, the stage manager, hissing at each other behind him. Both blamed the other for the complications and confusion.  There had been no problem with Fili going up, but they were worried about him coming down without his wings catching on the rear curtain.

It was too much.  Kili’s one job was to keep Fili safe while he dangled helplessly above the stage.  He climbed up on the stool and grabbed the white robe to guide his angel safely away from the curtain and scenery.  As he did so, his head and wings were visible above the roof of the stable.

He wasn’t the only fan of Good Omens in the village.

Bilbo gasped.  Thorin took off his glasses so he couldn’t see his nephew and thus have plausible mayoral deniability.  Bofur fell out of his chair laughing.

Eventually, Fili was safely on the ground and Kili did kiss him, fulfilling his fantasy.

At Christmas dinner, most talk was about the pageant.  Fili had not forgotten his lines, but still, no one remembered anything but the manure maneuver and Crowley’s mysterious appearance.

[tsaiko]

By the end of the month, I am on track to double the number of words I had written for this story. I had forgotten 1) how much I love the format of this (where I'm telling the backstory in one section, and then the current story in the next) and 2) how much I much Ritter is having a not good time in the current story.

---

There was a dragon that had moved into the old gnome warren in the Trumpeter Peaks. The villagers of Applebe weren't really surprised. This would be the third dragon that had taken up residence since the village was founded nearly 200 years ago. All in all, this one had to be the best. It stuck to eating deer and rabbits on the forested slopes, and only occasionally snitched a lamb or two in the spring. Even those sheep could have been lost to wolves and not the dragon.

Maybe.

Still, a dragon was a dragon, and if left alone for years they would only grow bolder. And bigger. Big dragons were a real problem because they could carry off bullocks, horses, and virgins. Bullocks could feed an entire family for a winter. Horses were worth their weight in gold in the farming valleys. Virgins were in short supply as it was in the mountain village. Better to nip this in the bud.

The last time a dragon had appeared, well over a four decades ago, the town had put in a request to the crown to have a knight sent out to take care of the problem. Things had changed, progress had been made. Nowadays towns could contract with a dragon slayer directly instead of waiting months for the crown to deign to acknowledge that there was a problem that they needed to solve.

Luckily for the town of Applebe, one of the most famous dragon slayers hailed from their town. In fact, he lived there now. Unluckily for them, it had been over four years since he'd slain a dragon. Now he lived with his parents once more and helped around their farm.

Sure, he’d sworn off dragon slaying. No one even knew if he’d kept his armor and weapons, but surely something could be improvised. And yes, the king had taken away his knighthood. That didn’t mean his skills in dragon slaying weren’t still there, it a little rusty. He now spent most of his nights getting drunk, but everyone needed a hobby. He also fooled around. A lot.

This is important.

---

"I am not going to marry you."

"What?" Ritter asked as he propped the pitchfork he'd been using to shovel manure against the wall. The air was filled with the scent of horse and shit in the confines of the barn. "The wedding is less than four days from now."

"There's not going to be a wedding," Alysa said. "I'm not marrying you."

"Really? And have you told your parents this?" Alysa had ringlets. Very tight brown ringlets that probably took hours with a hot iron to make every morning. Her family wasn't rich any more, but they had been back when ringlets were in fashion in the capital. Five years ago.

"No, but I'm sure they will agree that I cannot marry you." Alysa held a handkerchief over her nose to block the smell.

"Your parents have already paid for everything. It's not like they have money to just throw around anymore," Ritter said.

If he had had enough sleep, Ritter would have thought before he opened his mouth. He'd spent the night tossing and turning, too hot to sleep. It was the middle of summer. Heat and humidity hung in the valleys. He'd been trained to be polite and courteous in all situations because he was a representative of the court when he was on a quest. But Ritter hadn't slept well the night before and he'd promised to muck the stables this morning, which was why the sun had barely risen and he was ankle deep in muck.

It was really hard to be diplomatic when you were standing in horseshit.

"That's why I'm not marrying you!" Alysa shrieked. One of the dogs started howling outside, and more than one horse snorted and stomped at the sudden sound. Ritter had forgotten how loud females could be when they were truly offended. Like harpies. "You are supposed to be courteous and noble and genteel and... and... you are not! How can you call yourself a knight?"

"I'm not a knight. Not any more. Just like you are no longer a lady." The slap was not totally unexpected.

"How dare you! I am still a lady." Ritter managed to stop himself from correcting her just in time. Given the number of times they'd tossed the sheets when Alysa's parents weren't home, Ritter knew for a fact that his betrothed was no lady. Hell, it wasn't like he was even her first.

Tiredness caught up with him and he stifled a yawn. That only seemed to infuriate Alysa even more. "Cur. Swine. Oathbreaker."

Ritter watched Alysa storm out of the barn, her head held high and her skirts gathered to avoid soiling the edge. He shouldn't get mad. It was the truth at least as far as everyone was concerned. Besides it wasn't like Alysa didn't blow hot and cold by turns all the time. She'd come around in an hour and beg him to take her back.

She didn't. It seemed Ritter was, indeed, not getting married.

[generalstrikefarm]

One of my favorite Earthlings, Muu, is demonstrating what we mean by "utilizing animals' natural behaviors to our mutual benefit." He wants to root up and eat blackberry root balls and doesn't particularly care about where he does so as long as his other needs are being met. We just make sure that he's doing so in a place where we need to get rid of them.

We have a few places on our land where previous occupants just threw their trash bags into the brush. We're using our remaining chickens to scratch as much of it out of the dirt and grass as they can so it's much easier for us to pick up. They also help control insect populations, and to a lesser extent mice, too.

Our ducks do much the same things, though they don't scratch so much as root, but they also turn their pond water into a good liquid fertilizer that can be used immediately. Chicken manure needs to be aged for a while first. The ducks' used bedding provides a good enriched mulch that also doesn't have to age before use. Plus, they're just a lot of fun to watch.

Our geese graze (and maybe we'll get a few sheep someday) so they'd be more appropriate for things like orchard "mowing." I have some bat houses to put up and I'll be adding guano catching basins beneath them for a supply of gardening phosphorus. The bats will also help control the mosquito population.

Now that your eyes are thoroughly glazed over I'll just say that I'm sure you got the picture a couple of paragraphs ago. Anyway, here's one of my favorite Earthlings doing what he loves, not knowing or even caring how much his normal daily life contributes to the quality of the orchard and garden trim that he gets as treats. He's just contentedly munching blackberry roots in the plum tree's shade.

[think-sims-yt]

Are your Sims Ranch Ready?

Horse Ranch Ready Lookbook

Hi Sim-ians, say hello to Roan Colt. Roan just loves horses. She can’t wait for the day when she moves to Chestnut Ridge and she’s up to her eyes in Prairie Grass & Horse Manure. Not to mention the mini Goats and Sheep!!!

Using outfits from a few sims packs she’s now Ranch Ready … are you?...

Aspiration

Friend of the Animals

Traits

Animal Enthusiast

Clumsy

Loves Outdoors

[ D O W N L O A D ]   

You can download Roan from the Gallery  and now on Curseforge

If you prefer, the tray files are available from Sims File Share

Please check out my YouTube Channel - For Lookbooks & Stop Motion Speed Builds.

Please subscribe and follow me on Instagram & Tumblr too!!

Take care of yourself

Sally 💋

[ P A C K S   U S E D ]

Expansion Packs:

Eco Lifestyle

Cottage Living

High School Years

Game Packs:

Outdoor Retreat

Strangerville

Journey to Batu

Dream Home Decorator

My Wedding Stories

Stuff Packs:

None

Kit Packs:

None

[ F A V O U R I T E   M O D S  &  C U S T O M   C O N T E N T ]

Better Build Buy and T.O.O.L by TwistedMexi https://www.curseforge.com/sims4/mods/better-buildbuy-organized-debug

Season Tuner by Carls Sim Guide - https://www.patreon.com/posts/60164381

CAS Background – Sonya Sims - https://modthesims.info/download.php?t=643480

No Fade by Mizore_Yuki - https://www.patreon.com/posts/mod-no-fade-on-30416620

OMSP Shelf by Amoebae - https://www.patreon.com/posts/41856381

Eyelashes – Kijiko * - https://kijiko-catfood.com/3d-lashes-version2/

Make-up – Urban Sims * http://www.xurbansimsx.com/p/downloads_9.html[SL1] 

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The Sims, however, may include the *CC above.

[ P O S E S ]

Katverse- https://katverse.com/category/custom-content/poses/

Cassandra Grussel - https://www.patreon.com/CassandraGrusel

Simmer Berlin - https://simmerberlin.tumblr.com/

Spirirock - https://spirirock.tumblr.com/

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Jupo45 - https://juupo45.tumblr.com/

[anniekoh]

I read these two books back to back, an unplanned diptych on agriculture and impending drought, one set in the Great Plains of the U.S. and the other in the grasslands (I am suspect this is the wrong term but I am in a rush to close out this post) of Australia. I think about soil more frequently than one might suspect for someone who lives in an apartment without access to any dirt beyond a few pots. I also think about composting toilets ALL THE TIME (see the managing manure book linked below the other book descriptions).

I really loved the Bessire book, I've checked it out as an ebook and an audiobook from the public library. But there is a story from Chapter 3 of the Massy book that has lingered for weeks now. It is a story in the archives, from a 19th century sheep farmer in Australia who lamented that the great grassland sheep station he had taken over in 1840 had deteriorated to barren ruts by 1853. The farmer sold the land and moved away. In thirteen years, extractivism had stripped the earth. Later in the book, Massy writes about landscape dyslexia, how most of we can no longer read the land. I wonder about those first settlers, marveling at the fertility of the land, and how badly they misread the landscape.

Running Out: In Search of Water on the High Plains by Lucas Bessire (2021)

The Ogallala aquifer has nourished life on the American Great Plains for millennia. But less than a century of unsustainable irrigation farming has taxed much of the aquifer beyond repair. The imminent depletion of the Ogallala and other aquifers around the world is a defining planetary crisis of our times. Running Out offers a uniquely personal account of aquifer depletion and the deeper layers through which it gains meaning and force. Anthropologist Lucas Bessire journeyed back to western Kansas, where five generations of his family lived as irrigation farmers and ranchers, to try to make sense of this vital resource and its loss. His search for water across the drying High Plains brings the reader face to face with the stark realities of industrial agriculture, eroding democratic norms, and surreal interpretations of a looming disaster. Yet the destination is far from predictable, as the book seeks to move beyond the words and genres through which destruction is often known. Instead, this journey into the morass of eradication offers a series of unexpected discoveries about what it means to inherit the troubled legacies of the past and how we can take responsibility for a more inclusive, sustainable future. An urgent and unsettling meditation on environmental change, Running Out is a revelatory account of family, complicity, loss, and what it means to find your way back home.

Call of the Reed Warbler: A New Agriculture, A New Earth by Charles Massy (2017): 

In Call of the Reed Warbler, Charles Massy explores regenerative agriculture and the vital connection between our soil and our health. It is the story of how a grassroots revolution—a true underground insurgency—can save the planet, help reduce and reverse climate change, and build healthy people and healthy communities, pivoting significantly on our relationship with growing and consuming food. Using his personal experience as a touchstone—from an unknowing, chemical-using farmer with dead soils to a radical ecologist farmer carefully regenerating a 2000-hectare property to a state of natural health—Massy tells the real story behind industrial agriculture and the global profit-obsessed corporations driving it. With evocative stories, he shows how other innovative and courageous farmers are finding a new way. At stake is not only a revolution in human health and in our communities, but the very survival of the planet. For farmers, backyard gardeners, food buyers, health workers, policy makers, and public leaders alike, Call of the Reed Warbler offers a tangible path forward and a powerful and moving paean of hope.

Holy Shit: Managing Manure to Save Mankind by Gene Logsdon (2010).

A review: "He begins by lamenting a modern society that not only throws away both animal and human manure, worth billions of dollars in fertilizer value, but that spends a staggering amount of money to do so. This wastefulness makes even less sense as the supply of mined or chemically synthesized fertilizers dwindles and their cost skyrockets. In fact, he argues, if we do not learn how to turn our manures into fertilizer to keep food production in line with the increasing population, our civilization, like so many that went before it, will inevitably decline."