#sugarcane cultivation

[umangharyana]

गन्ने की खेती में क्रांति: नई किस्म को.लख. 16202 से होगा बंपर उत्पादन

लखनऊ: गन्ने की खेती करने वाले किसानों के लिए बड़ी खुशखबरी है। अगर आप गन्ने की बुवाई की योजना बना रहे हैं, तो भारतीय गन्ना अनुसंधान संस्थान, लखनऊ के वैज्ञानिकों द्वारा विकसित नई किस्म को.लख. 16202 को जरूर आजमाएं। यह किस्म गन्ने की खेती में न केवल बंपर उत्पादन देगी, बल्कि कम ��ागत और रोग प्रतिरोधक क्षमता के कारण किसानों को बेहतर मुनाफा दिलाएगी। को.लख. 16202: नई किस्म की खासियत गन्ने की इस नई किस्म…

[indizombie]

A handout here and there is not going to work. What Maharashtra needs is an alternative package of holistic policies and related incentives that can sow the seeds of a revitalised agriculture. After all, if just 4 per cent area under sugarcane can draw 70 per cent of the groundwater, how will the doles help to rebuild farming unless the water balance is set right? But the bigger question is who will have the political courage to even talk of phasing out the area under water-guzzling sugarcane?

Devinder Sharma, ‘Incredible India! Wilful defaulters buy properties; farmers offer to sell body organs to pay-off loans’, Bizz Buzz

[farmerstrend]

Sugarcane Farming In Kenya, its importance, challenges, and opportunities.

Sugarcane farming is an important sector of agriculture in Kenya, contributing significantly to the country’s economy. In this article, we will discuss the history of sugarcane farming in Kenya, its importance, challenges, and opportunities. History of sugarcane farming in Kenya Sugarcane farming in Kenya can be traced back to the 1920s when sugarcane was first introduced in the country. The…

[umemiyan]

𝘽𝙀𝙏𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙏𝙒𝙊 𝙇𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙎.

𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗨𝗞𝗔 𝗦𝗔𝗞𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗫 𝗛𝗔𝗝𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗨𝗠𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗬𝗔. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / threesome / implied poly relationship / inexperienced + virgin!sakura / sub!sakura / soft dom!reader + umemiya / handjob / edging / oral (f!receiving) / a lot of cum, feelings, and vulnerability / 2.9k words

The pink of Sakura’s cheeks has almost deepened to a lusty shade of crimson red, the wet sound of your hand squelching along his length causing his skin to burn as though there’s a bed of hot coals beneath it. The color even creeps down his neck and onto his chest, complementing the flushed tip of his cock that is squeezed ever so often by your hand milking the clear, salty dribbles of fluid from it.

The lovely boy of flowers has blossomed beneath your gentle touch, nurtured to a state of vulnerability that is unprecedented—unfamiliar by default—but not unwelcome. His lungs make his body rise and fall with life and desperation, hips squirming to accentuate need, but he doesn’t fight anymore. He only pleads.

“You’re such a good boy, Haruka,” you coo with a sugarcane voice, palm sliding down his sternum to soothe and feel the breath beneath it. Your thumb travels over his weeping slit and Sakura hisses, body tensing, his face growing hotter and hotter by the second.

“You’re doing an awesome job,” another voice chimes in with the rumble of a sincere, encouraging chuckle against his ear. 

The jolt of Sakura’s muscles doesn’t send him very far because he’s encased from behind by Umemiya’s larger frame, soft but hardy arms wrapped around the boy’s middle for a stabilizing hug. Hajime has sat with his bare chest pressed to Haruka’s back for some time now, anchoring him in place and continuously urging him to keep his thighs spread wide for you. 

Sakura feels as though he’s been utterly drowning in warmth and praise, suspended in a river of suffocating honey that is simultaneously so alluringly sweet, body heat encompassing him like a soft blanket. He is so unused to skin-to-skin, his flesh starved for the foreign yet deeply familiar sensation of being connected to another human in the most basic of ways, cultivating community and love. It’s why Hajime suggested that each of you strip down to the same level despite Haruka being the primary recipient of affection, because it facilitated the intertwining of everyone’s individual roots. He also couldn’t resist the way your skin glowed while pouring pleasure into someone else’s body, even if it wasn’t his own.

Sakura’s initial reaction was to shy away from the touch, to reject it like an abused animal and bite back with disgruntled words, but there was no one more equipped to tame a frightened creature with love and acceptance than Hajime and yourself, so the young man’s defenses had crumbled embarrassingly quick. He was left mewling beneath the work of your fingers, gorgeous eyes trained on your nipples and cunt when they weren’t squeezed shut in pleasure—and even when they were, his mind continued to display the image of your tits swaying with every jerk of your wrist, making him wish that he could attach his mouth to one of them…

His needy inner thoughts made his gut tighten too quickly every time, balls preparing to let go of their load before he could even choke out an explanation, but luckily (or unluckily, perhaps) you were attuned to the warning signs. Haruka’s breathing would grow harsh, his lower abdomen would flex, and his hips would instinctively chase the pleasure you offered, which is how you would know to draw your hand away before he could topple over the fated edge. 

It was borderline cruel, but the intention was to make the session last as long as possible, and to give Sakura a pocket of time filled with as much doting pleasure that you and Hajime could manage. You both figured it would do well to train him in touch and intimacy that focused on his own body before introducing him to anything else that might border on being a little too much.

You could imagine the humiliated face he might make after cumming from sliding into you for the first time, and while you would reassure him to the best of your ability, the thought leaves you feeling like Sakura’s first sexual experience might be more enjoyable if handled in a slightly different way. That’s why Hajime encases him with his arms and periodically presses gentle kisses to his neck and temples, and why you caress his thighs after denying him orgasm and offer his tummy kisses that are as sweet as Hajime’s.

Haruka grits his teeth and freezes, breaths labored like a cornered animal’s, but his muscles eventually go lax in Hajime’s arms once the coiled pleasure dissipates for the umpteenth time. A choked whimper even threatens to climb out of his throat before he stifles it, but Haruka can’t keep the hot tears that start welling in his eyes at bay no matter how hard he clenches his jaw.

Once you take notice of his wet lashes, you feel an ache in your chest.

“Oh, shh shh shh, I know, baby, I know. I’m so sorry—I’m gonna give it to you soon, okay? I promise.” Your words are sincere and laced with more care than he knows what to do with, so Haruka just sobs and cries with no willpower left to contain it. He feels the sting of embarrassment penetrate his chest, but it also feels good to release like this in the arms of those who love him. You smother his face in kisses and smooth his hair back while Hajime rubs a soothing hand across his ribcage.

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” he breathes just below Haruka’s ear. “We’ve got you.”

“We just want it to feel really, really good, alright?” you add, cupping his hot, wet face in your hands and brushing the tears away with your thumbs. One of Haruka’s own hands comes up to settle on your forearm for pacification, his once restless gaze now tamed by yours and meeting it with candor. “Do you trust me to make you feel good?”

Another round of tears slip from his eyes as he absorbs your earnest expression. He nods twice.

A delighted smile overtakes your face and you lean forward to initiate a hug, pulling his head to your chest where he can hear the calming thump of your heartbeat against his eardrum in tandem with your voice. “Good boy. We love you so much.”

Haruka closes his eyes and slips into another kind of bliss entirely, one that can only be brought about by being enveloped by a love that he’s never quite had, the warmth swirling around him and ultimately penetrating his once lonesome bones. It feels as though he can simply exist against your chest and Hajime’s, hearts both beating and creating an ethereal rhythm alongside his own. He finds himself trusting wholly and fully in the bodies that hold him, and willfully relinquishes himself over to them as a demonstration of his reciprocal love. It’s almost a visible release, but one that travels on a frequency as well and resonates perfectly in tune amongst the three of you in this moment.

When you finally move to pull back, Sakura presses his lips to your chest and promptly sucks a nipple into his mouth with a groan, hazy eyes almost crossing as he nibbles at your flesh. Your back arches and you moan in response to the sudden sensation, a hand reaching up to slide between messy black and white strands at the back of his head. Hajime’s own cock twitches at the sight.

Sakura is geared up for exploring and pleasing your body to express this abundance of novel feelings, and while his eagerness is more than appreciated, you don’t want him to get too ahead of himself. You tug a bit on his hair until he comes off your tit with spit-coated lips and wanton eyes that search yours for an answer. All you can give is a smile, a chuckle, and a kiss upon his forehead for his efforts.

“Kinda hard not to wanna suck on her tits, right?” Hajime suddenly jokes, sympathizing with the young man.

“Yeah…” Haruka swallows and responds absentmindedly, half-lidded eyes intently watching your chest. He wonders what it might feel like to have one of your nipples in his mouth while you ride him…

Your eyes meet Hajime’s, and he nods at you knowingly. “You’ll get your chance,” you reply with a grin, settling back between Haruka’s thighs and trailing a finger along his twitching cock. “Just let me finish making you feel good, alright?”

He doesn’t get the opportunity to properly respond before your fist is squeezing him again, causing the pleasure to rush directly back to his swimming head as you remind him of just how sensitive and achy he truly is. 

Hajime decides to speak, helping the younger man’s pleasure climb with his words. “You’re gonna love her body. It feels incredible,” he says, recalling every sensation from his various treasured encounters with you. “Pussy’s so warm and sweet… it’ll milk you for everything you’ve got; will leave you lightheaded for hours, I swear.” It’s almost odd how jovial his voice sounds while describing such lewd things, but it makes Sakura’s stomach tense nonetheless.

“Looks prettiest with cum gushing out of it though—hers or yours.” Umemiya’s eyes trail down your body until they land on your cunt, imagining how it might look with Sakura’s seed flowing out of it (perhaps mixed with his own). He’s getting lost in his own thoughts. “She’s like an angel.”

Every word of worship that leaves Hajime’s tongue has Haruka creeping closer to the edge, the utter love and devotion placed in every breath sending him to hover above the clouds, especially given how there is no hesitation to include him in such worship, to allow him the chance to partake in such acts of love.

“Do you wanna fill her up, Sakura?” Hajime asks with sincerity. His eyes meet yours again as he kisses Haruka’s neck, his gaze now filled with intensity and desire. “I think she’d really like that.”

You keep pumping Haruka’s cock, twisting it in your fist and listening to the noises each stroke pulls from his throat. You want every ounce of both of them until your heart and body can’t possibly hold any more, love flowing in and out of you with abundance. “Mhm. I would,” you agree, pressing your forehead to Sakura’s.

“See?” Hajime says, his hard cock pressing against Sakura’s lower back, “she’s our special angel. Gotta treat her like one, okay?”

Haruka can hardly breathe at this point, his entire being threatening to burst at the seams at any moment, yet he responds with as compliant a tone as he can manage, “‘Kay.”

Hajime is pleased, his voice as velvety and paternal as ever. “Yeah. Do as she says?”

Haruka’s on his last leg— “Y-yeah…”

“Want you to cum for me, Haruka,” you interject, observing his increasingly disoriented expression, the stimulation sending him into a spiral that threatens to snatch him out of reality. “You hear me, sweetheart?”—you grab his face—“You can cum.”

Your permission falls upon his ringing ears, and he is more grateful than ever. 

A cry pierces the air. It’s the most visceral half-sob half-moan he’s ever let out in his life, the sound erupting from his chest as brilliant white spurts start pulsing from the tip of his throbbing cock. Haruka almost blacks out from the overwhelming rush of pleasure that sweeps through him, body trembling as it releases his load all over your hand, your thighs, his own thighs, his stomach, Hajime’s arms—

He paints all three of you with it, and it is the most magnificent sight to have the privilege of beholding. Not even Hajime can look away as he peers over Haruka’s shoulder to witness it, the boy’s extended release completely hypnotizing the both of you.

Aside from the sounds of heaving lungs, silence settles in the room once Sakura’s moans come to a halt and his body floats down from its epic high. He goes entirely limp in Hajime’s arms aside from the shiver that prickles his skin and makes his cock twitch one last time, every drop of cum officially released and left to start drying on your skin and the towel you had placed beneath him.

Hajime kisses his cheek while you dare to seek Haruka’s quivering lips out for a salty kiss, and although he struggles to breathe and muster the energy to reciprocate, he does his absolute best. However, once you’re finished, Hajime takes your chin and guides your mouth to his own so that he can likewise indulge in your radiance.

“That was incredible,” he breathes whilst stroking Haruka’s stomach, enamored with the two of you more than he can hope to express. “Lemme take care of you real quick, baby?”

You furrow your brows. “I wanna get him cleaned up, Haji…”

“I know, me too, I just…” He’s usually so unselfish, but he can’t help himself after watching you handle Sakura like that. “Gimme a couple seconds, okay? Please?”

You find it hard to deny your lover’s request, and he’s checking in with Sakura before you even get the chance.

“Is that okay with you?” he asks, directing his attention towards the blissed out boy in his arms. “Can I make her cum really quick?” He doesn’t want to leave him high and dry without the proper aftercare following such an intense session, but he knows it won’t take long once he gets his hands on you. He simply wants to see the both of you satisfied.

Haruka nods several times, and Haji kisses his cheek with a pleased smile. “You’re a champ.”

You give the two of them enough space to maneuver, Hajime helping Haruka get situated with his head against the pillows until he appears comfortable, and then you are sought out without hesitation. Hajime pulls you in for a needy kiss and guides you onto the bed next to Sakura, working his way down your body until your thighs are over his shoulders and his tongue can lick a drop of Haruka’s cum from your skin. The visual makes you clench.

The sensation of a hot, wet tongue against your folds has you gasping for air, and as much as Hajime usually likes to take his time with you, his current goal is to see you falling apart as fast as possible. You’re already dripping with arousal from giving Haruka his pleasure, and it only makes it that much easier for Hajime’s fingers to slip into your cunt and curl up into your favorite spot, his tongue smoothing over your clit with determination.

You swear you’re seeing stars already, having been previously unaware of just how desperate your own body actually was. You reach out to take Sakura’s hand as he lies next to you and watches as you are so expertly devoured, the connection between everyone in the room palpable, and you accentuate it by turning your head to steal another kiss from him. Your moans are muffled against his lips, but he doesn’t mind in the least, happy to be filled with any evidence of your pleasure that you might offer him.

Hajime watches and doubles his efforts, cock leaking against the sheets as he sucks at your clit and massages your insides with his fingers. He maintains a steady rhythm until you’re tensing around him and squeezing Haruka’s hand for dear life, a blissful orgasm washing over you as quickly as Hajime promised.

You moan through the pleasure against Haruka’s lips, and Hajime is rising to his knees with a hand on his cock, pumping it one, two, three, times before shooting a load all over your belly while he watches the two of you with adoring eyes. Sakura catches a glimpse and is fixated on the beauty of the other man’s length spilling ropes of cum onto your skin, indulgently rubbing some of it onto your sensitive clit with his tip after the fact. Sakura wishes he could’ve watched it drip out of your hole like Umemiya had described earlier, but he supposes seeing you covered in the sticky mess is captivating in its own right. He’s actually not sure which one of you he envies more at the moment.

Hajime kisses you appreciatively before crawling over to flop down in the spot on the other side of Sakura. “You alright?” he asks after giving Haruka’s shoulder a soft squeeze, and the boy nods at him, still breathless and speechless. “You sure?” he prods further, a little concerned and suddenly feeling guilty for his brief selfish escapade. “Let’s get you cleaned up and we can talk—” 

“Not yet.” Sakura cuts Hajime off by suddenly wrapping his arms around him and burying himself against his chest, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin and refusing to let it go. Hajime is taken aback at first but chuckles and pulls him closer, and you follow suit after quickly wiping yourself clean, effectively sandwiching Haruka between your naked, breathing bodies.

He feels sticky and sleepy and admittedly needy, but Haruka needs to savor this for just a few moments longer. He’ll likely be stricken with shame come morning, once again embarrassed by this display brought on by instincts and raging hormones, but it won’t be nearly as strong as it had been before. Haruka knows now that he loves you both so much, and that it seems, for perhaps the first time in his life, someone loves him just as much in return.

[creatingblackcharacters]

This may be a dumb question but is there a difference between canerows and cornrows? Is one more correct to say, or is it literally just it depends on where you live? Just wanna make sure I say it right when describing a character's hairstyle. Thank you for all your work!

So I had a feeling that it was the same, that maybe cane would be like growing sugarcane, the way cornrows were like growing corn. And I was right! Apparently canerows is used by Black people in the Caribbean.

"Black hair culture in the Caribbean, UK, and US continues to be exploited by colonialism. Various different Black braiding styles are often lumped together in the West, and instead of knowing their individual names, they directly reference an enslaved past. Cane/cornrows are more significant of which crops the enslaved were forced to cultivate — sugar cane or corn — than the beautiful traditions of African and Black hair braiding. The symbolism in the generic use of "cane/cornrow" discourages people from accepting that Black identity and culture existed centuries before colonialism. It's impossible to move past the pain and prejudice of our ancestors until we unlearn and understand how it continues to shape our lives."

Idk if I'm gonna automatically stop calling them cornrows, but this definitely gives me a new perspective to check myself on (as well as the Yoruban term) for this hairstyle!

"As discovered in Don't Touch My Hair, the classic straight-back rows of hair braided closely to the scalp is called "kolese" in the Yoruba language, which means "a creature without legs", like a snail. "The name is one that centers the specific characteristics of Afro-textured hair and is in reference to the way our hair curls up at the nape of the neck when it is braided in this direction," writes Dabiri on Twitter. While kolese most closely resembles the classic straight back cane/cornrows, the general term for cane/cornrows in Nigeria is irun didi."

[fatehbaz]

British ships carrying plants and seeds from around the world arrived in Botany Bay on January 20 1788. This story is overshadowed by convict ships and Royal Navy vessels, but the cargo on board also had a lasting impact. Colonists, convicts and Indigenous Australians were all affected [...]. Some of these plants [...] were food sources [...]. Others were attempts to expand the British Empire. Could the new territory be exploited as a tropical plantation? In the parliamentary debate over destinations for convict transportation [considering potential locations for sending prisoners], Sir Joseph Banks and James Matra, both members of James Cook’s 1770 expedition [to the South Pacific], spruiked the potential of the new colony as an extension of the empire. Matra claimed the colony was “fitted for production” of “sugar-cane, tea, coffee, silk, cotton, indigo and tobacco”. Banks claimed Botany Bay was an “advantageous” site, with fertile soil [...].

Two plants carried by the First Fleet stand out as examples of botanical imperialism: prickly pear cactus (Opuntia) and sugarcane.

Banks, as head of the Royal Society of London [and as a close adviser to King George, and also as a plant-collecting botanist who turned the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew in London into the world's leading botanical garden], selected these species as experiments to compete with European trade rivals. His goal was to break a Spanish monopoly in producing fabric dye and to expand British cultivation of sugar outside the West Indies.

Prickly pear cactus was imported because it is the preferred food of the cochineal insect.

Dried cochineal were crushed to make a vibrant, colourfast scarlet dye for textiles. Discovered in the New World by Spanish colonists, cochineal replaced kermes, another insect that had provided red dye since antiquity. Cochineal dye was ten times stronger than kermes or vegetable dyes.

From cardinals’ capes to British officers’ red coats, cochineal was a product for elite consumers signifying power, wealth and prestige.

New Spain, based in Mexico, had a monopoly on cochineal. Banks wanted to break the stranglehold on the scarlet dye by establishing production in New South Wales.

Plants infested with the precious insects were imported from Brazil in 1788. The project soon failed when the cochineal died, but the cacti survived. Colonists used cacti as natural fences and drought-resistant animal fodder.

Without insects to feed on them the plants spread, uncontrolled, to cover more than 60 million acres of eastern Australia by the 1920s. Poison, crushing and fire failed to stop the cactus. [...] Opuntia cacti remain an environmental hazard. [...] The roots of these early imperial projects are deeply embedded in Australian culture and history, with an enduring legacy.

---

All text above by: Garritt C. Van Dyk. "The botanical imperialism of weeds and crops: how alien plant species on the First Fleet changed Australia". The Conversation. 25 January 2024. [Some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Italicized text within brackets added by me for clarity and context.

[blackhistorystoryteller]

AFRICAN PROVERBS AND THEIR MEANINGS

This is a message to my black brothers and sisters

Learn about African proverbs and know your culture is filled with poetry

1) Only a fool tests the depth of a river with both feet.

Meaning: You don’t jump straight into a situation without thinking about it first.

2) Knowledge is like a garden: If it is not cultivated, it cannot be harvested.

Meaning: If you don’t make efforts to acquire knowledge then you would not expect to have it and if you do not put the knowledge you have to use, you cannot expect to gain anything from it.

3) Sugarcane is sweetest at its joint.

Meaning: Good and sweet things of life may appear difficult to achieve but in the end, it is worth it.

4) If you offend, ask for a pardon; if offended forgive.

Meaning: This is as simple as it sounds: If you upset someone, apologise to him or her. If someone upsets you, forgive him or her because what goes around, comes around.

5) Don’t set sail using someone else’s star.

Meaning: Avoid copying someone else. Just because someone has been successful in what he/she does should not be what will make you to do the same thing and expect to be successful.

6) The best way to eat an elephant in your path, is to cut him up into little pieces.

Meaning: The best approach to solving a problem is to take it bit by bit; one at a time.

7) A restless feet may walk into a snake pit.

Meaning: If someone is busy doing nothing or is involved in what he does not know about, it is easy for him/her to get into trouble.

8) A chick that will grow into a cock can be spotted the very day it hatches.

Meaning: You can easily foresee the future of something through the character and tell-tale signs it exhibits today.

9) After a foolish deed comes remorse.

Meaning: Feeling sorry always follows a foolish act.

10) A man who pays respect to the great paves the way for his own greatness.

Meaning: What goes around, comes around so whatever you sow, you shall reap.

11) He who does not know one thing knows another.

Meaning: No one knows everything, but everyone knows something.

12) A roaring lion kills no one.

Meaning: You cannot achieve or gain anything by mere sitting around and just talking about it.

13) Do not call the forest that shelters you a jungle.

Meaning: Do not insult someone who is taking care of your responsibility or taking care of you.

14) When a king has good counsellors, his reign is peaceful.

Meaning: What defines a man is the circumstances and people around him and if they are good, he turns out good.

15) It takes a whole village to raise a child.

Meaning: The society is responsible for the moral characters it creates and everyone in a community should be responsible for helping to train a child irrespective of who the parents are; offering correction where they are needed.

16) If a child washes his hands he could eat with kings.

Meaning: If you prepare and allow yourself to be well trained when you have the opportunity, you will achieve a lot and be favoured in due course.

17) The Rain does not fall on one roof.

Meaning: Trouble comes to everyone at one time or another.

18) Life is like a mist or a shadow; it quickly passes by.

Meaning: Life is too short, and you only live it once.

19) Wherever a man goes to dwell, his character goes with him.

Meaning: What defines a man is his character which is, inseparable from him and follows him everywhere he goes.

20) Do not look where you fell, but where you slipped.

Meaning: Don’t look at your mistakes; look at what caused your mistakes, otherwise you may repeat the same mistake again.

He who sees an old hag squatting should leave her alone; who knows how she breathes?

Meaning: You should never interfere in someone's issues, particularly when you do not know anything about them.

Anger against a brother is felt on the flesh, not in the bone. Meaning: You should forget and forgive anything your relatives did to you.

Maize bears fruits once and dies because it is not rooted in the ground. Meaning: You will never get to the top and stay prosperous without a good foundation.

He who will swallow the 'udala' seed must consider the size of his stomach. Meaning: 'Udala' seed is an apple seed. It is never digested in the stomach

[niraistyles]

沖縄の北部でとれたパイナップル。沖縄ではパイナップル、マンゴー、ドラゴンフルーツなど様々な果物が栽培されています。他にもゴーヤー（苦瓜）、サトウキビなどの栽培も盛んです。パイナップルは甘酸っぱくてビタミンたっぷりという感じです。写真は無料でダウンロードできるようにしていますので自由に利用してください。

“Pineapples harvested in the northern part of Okinawa. In Okinawa, various fruits such as pineapples, mangoes, and dragon fruits are cultivated. Additionally, the cultivation of bitter melon (goya) and sugarcane is also thriving. Pineapples are sweet and tangy, and they are packed with vitamins. The photos are available for free download, so feel free to use them.”

[transmutationisms]

original anon here tysm for the recs ! if the marxist frameworks was too limiting im also completely fine w general postcolonial botany readings on the topic :0

A Spiteful Campaign: Agriculture, Forests, and Administering the Environment in Imperial Singapore and Malaya (2022). Barnard, Timothy P. & Joanna W. C. Lee. Environmental History Volume: 27 Issue: 3 Pages: 467-490. DOI: 10.1086/719685

Planting Empire, Cultivating Subjects: British Malaya, 1786–1941 (2018). Lynn Hollen Lees

The Plantation Paradigm: Colonial Agronomy, African Farmers, and the Global Cocoa Boom, 1870s--1940s (2014). Ross, Corey. Journal of Global History Volume: 9 Issue: 1 Pages: 49-71. DOI: 10.1017/S1740022813000491

Cultivating “Care”: Colonial Botany and the Moral Lives of Oil Palm at the Twentieth Century’s Turn (2022). Alice Rudge. Comparative Studies in Society and History Volume: 64 Issue: 4 Pages: 878-909. DOI: 10.1017/S0010417522000354

Pacific Forests: A History of Resource Control and Contest in Solomon Islands, c. 1800-1997 (2000). Bennett, Judith A.

Thomas Potts of Canterbury: Colonist and Conservationist (2020). Star, Paul

Colonialism and Green Science: History of Colonial Scientific Forestry in South India, 1820--1920 (2012). Kumar, V. M. Ravi. Indian Journal of History of Science Volume: 47 Issue 2 Pages: 241-259

Plantation Botany: Slavery and the Infrastructure of Government Science in the St. Vincent Botanic Garden, 1765–1820 (2021). Williams, J'Nese. Berichte zur Wissenschaftsgeschichte Volume: 44 Issue: 2 Pages: 137-158. DOI: 10.1002/bewi.202100011

Angel in the House, Angel in the Scientific Empire: Women and Colonial Botany During the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries (2020). Hong, Jiang. Notes and Records: The Royal Society Journal of the History of Science Volume: 75 Issue: 3 Pages: 415-438. DOI: 10.1098/rsnr.2020.0046

From Ethnobotany to Emancipation: Slaves, Plant Knowledge, and Gardens on Eighteenth-Century Isle de France (2019). Brixius, Dorit. History of Science Volume: 58 Issue: 1 Pages: 51-75. DOI: 10.1177/0073275319835431

African Oil Palms, Colonial Socioecological Transformation and the Making of an Afro-Brazilian Landscape in Bahia, Brazil (2015). Watkins, Case. Environment and History Volume: 21 Issue: 1 Pages: 13-42. DOI: 10.3197/096734015X14183179969700

The East India Company and the Natural World (2015). Ed. Damodaran, Vinita; Winterbottom, Anna; Lester, Alan

Colonising Plants in Bihar (1760-1950): Tobacco Betwixt Indigo and Sugarcane (2014). Kerkhoff, Kathinka Sinha

Science in the Service of Colonial Agro-Industrialism: The Case of Cinchona Cultivation in the Dutch and British East Indies, 1852--1900 (2014). Hoogte, Arjo Roersch van der & Pieters, Toine. Studies in History and Philosophy of Science Part C: Studies in History and Philosophy of Biological and Biomedical Sciences Volume: 47 Issue: Part A Pages: 12-22

Trading Nature: Tahitians, Europeans, and Ecological Exchange (2010). Newell, Jennifer

The Colonial Machine: French Science and Overseas Expansion in the Old Regime (2011). McClellan, James E. & Regourd, François

Colonial Botany: Science, Commerce, and Politics in the Early Modern World (2005). Ed. Schiebinger, Londa L. & Swan, Claudia

Plants and Empire: Colonial Bioprospecting in the Atlantic World (2004). Schiebinger, Londa L.

[batterymaster01]

Shovelfolk Agriculture & Cuisine

Some common dishes in the cultures of the Shovelfolk (Astutocentaurus alluvium).

The Shovelfolk are sometimes regarded as the "inventors of agriculture" by the other native sapients. In addition to their surprisingly advanced metallurgic techniques and masonry, they have been farming for over 3 million years, countless eons before most of the other currently extant native sapients even came to be. Quite a few of the planet's most widely used crops, such as the wheat-like réhä used to make bread, are believed to have originally been invented by their people.

Shovelfolk are similar to the more cosmopolitan Fauns in that they are omnivores, eating mostly starchy vegetation supplemented by some quantity of meat, eggs, and fruit. Due to the ample supply of water and minerals offered by the Takaran River, most Shovelfolk cultures are almost obligately agricultural, relying on both the running water of the river and the fertile land on the riverbank to grow their own food. Like many Astutocentaurine cultures, there is a conspicuous lack of dairy in the diets of Shovelfolk, since none of the known animals on Athyrmagaia lactate in a mammalian fashion.

To disrupt the local ecosystem as little as possible, the majority of the crops they grow are derived from species native to the area. The most common crops in their daily regimen are réhä and hetūt, the former a grain-like species of star grass and the latter an edible root. Réhä is used in a similar manner as wheat, often being ground up and then baked to make bread, whereas hetūt is more akin to a potato or turnip and can be eaten either raw or cooked. They also use zhėgel, a more primitive, water-intensive plant vaguely similar to sugarcane, to make various simple sweet treats. In addition to terrestrial crops, they also use the mineral-rich waters of the Takara to cultivate various freshwater aquatic plants as a food source. The leaves of zhattrekekc aquaphytes are used in much the same way as the leaves of lettuce, and the seeds of secondarily aquatic hehhel plants are used as a peppercorn-like seasoning.

Although mainly farmers of locally grown produce, Shovelfolk have also been known to forage for food both near and beyond the riverbank, as well as engage in occasional trade with other cultures for more exotic ingredients. During their annual pilgrimages in search of resources, namely the metals found near volcanoes, they often either harvest (or purchase) foreign spices and herbs to bring home, including those used for medicines that cannot be found in their homeland. Those who live near the coasts often travel closer to shore to harvest sea salt as a condiment and a food preservative. When harvesting fruit, which is relatively rare in the Western Weave, they will rely on the help of allied Oliphaunts, since the only plants that bear palatable fruit in the region are enormous umbrynoids that are often too tall for the tiny Shovelfolk to scale on their own.

Unlike many other agricultural peoples, Shovelfolk do not raise livestock for meat. Their primary source of carnal cuisine is a selectively bred species of tumeofauna known locally as "mėbé." Although it is technically an animal, mėbé grows and behaves more like sessile fungi, which means it is considered a "crop" rather than a form of livestock. Mėbé is farmed underground within the warren in a special higher-humidity chamber, where it is kept fed by organic refuse. Mėbé nodes are usually either eaten raw or cooked, and are a common ingredient of more savory Shovelfolk meals. That being said, they do still make ample use of other animal products as food and resources. Their sole livestock animal, the crawpig, regularly lays infertile eggs that are often eaten as a delicacy and used to make dough, and some of their more unusual dishes are given flavor by being boiled in the animal's urine. Shovelfolk are also known to eat fish and insects, and they will often sun-dry worms to eat as a snack.

[kemetic-dreams]

What do great civilizations have in common?

"What common attributes do great civilizations share? They typically possess access to both local and global markets, the capacity to attract a diverse population eager to settle for the purposes of commerce and education, accepting influence and reflecting influence, I will use African examples, but this is true the world over.

There was a saying "To cure mange for a camel, use bitumen; to cure poverty, go to the Sudan." this was said at the time of the Wagadu or Ghana empire when great trading trains were crisscrossing the Sahara, both the Wagdau and Gao were mentioned as the richest kingdoms in the world and their Kings the most wealthiest beyond compare, this was hundreds of yrs before the now famous Mansa Musa of Mali, it’s ultimate successor.

These conceptions do not need to extend outside the continent although the more extensive the better, example.

These connections between West and West-Central Africa to the world are anathema to historical traditions in which ‘Africa” s isolation from the rest of the world, before contact began with Europeans, is assumed. But they emerge from a number of factors. As the historian Jan Vansina showed, similar techniques in wood-carving found from Yorùbá regions as far south as Loango suggest shared techniques and exchanges. Seventeenth- and eighteenth-century carvings from the Kuba kingdoms depict the playing of warri, a game found widely further north in West Africa, as well as in East Africa.

Other evidence suggests that these exchanges then interconnected with the long-distance routes linked to the Sahara – and these patterns may in turn have influenced how the Kongolese reacted when the Portuguese first arrived in the 1480s.

Kongo’s connection to long-distance trade routes is the only logical explanation for how sugarcane – long cultivated in the eastern Mediterranean and in the Arab worlds – grew in Kongo before the Portuguese arrival.

Long-distance trade can also help to explain the use of a shell currency in Kongo (the nzimbu), for the use of the nzimbu surely was not unrelated to the experience of the use of the cowrie-shell currency in West Africa and the Sahel; the Kalahari regions to the south were connected to the Indian Ocean trade by perhaps the ninth or tenth century, and cowries may have been involved in this trade – which offered a route for this influence to spread to Kongo addition, there seems to have been an important spiritual dimension that connected the forest Kingdom of Kongo with that of Benin to the north, for it is noteworthy that both Edo and Kongo peoples (and, indeed, peoples of the Kingdom of Ndongo in northern Angola) used diamond-shaped crosses as a religious symbol prior to the arrival of the Portuguese. In Kongo, the ‘cosmogram’ connected the worlds of the living and the dead, and was used widely on textiles and bowls used for daily life, as well as later in Christian art.

The use of the cross as a religious symbol among the Edo also suggests some cultural and perhaps commercial connection between Edo and Kongo peoples, as does the shared use of shell currencies, similar wood-carving techniques and the presence of sugarcane in Kongo, since all had likewise existed in Benin prior to the Portuguese arrival.

Yet how did these connections develop, in a region famous for its thick forests and swamps? As we have seen in other parts of the continent, rivers and seaways were roads. Many peoples along the coasts of West-Central Africa were good boat-builders, with the Vili of Loango remarked upon as such by the Portuguese in the sixteenth century. There were fishing groups to be found everywhere, and their skill in making seagoing ships is shown by the presence of Bubi peoples on the Island of Bioko by the time the Portuguese arrived in the fifteenth century.

But The idea that Europeans ‘brought’ seafaring to Africa must also, therefore, be challenged. Thus, it was most likely through African navigators that related religious and aesthetic practices grew up; and when the manikongo Afonso I wrote in 1526 of a number of traders from Benin resident in the Kongolese port of Mpinda, it is possible that they found their way there in local embarkations rather than through Portuguese networks.

The Kongo ‘cosmogram’ Kongo may not, therefore, have been as isolated from other parts of West Africa as has hitherto been supposed.

From the book A Fist Full Of Shells, By Toby Green 

[stephensmithuk]

The Three Gables

The lack of posts on this one is a clear demonstration of the clear rejection of the racism running through this story.

I can't say that I'm particularly enthusiastic about doing this one, but I can't pretend this one doesn't exist.

Here we go then:

First published in 1926, the Americans again got this one first.

Boxing for money was heavily regulated to the point of outright bans in much of the United States; illegal fights would frequently end as "no contest" when the police turned up.

The Bull Ring in Birmingham is a major shopping area that goes back to a market established in 1154 under royal approval. The area is named for a ring of iron that bulls were tied to for the purposes of bull-baiting, a 'sport' banned in 1835.

The area was redeveloped in the 1960s into an enclosed shopping centre considered an epitome of Brutalist architecture and which became more unpopular over time. It was replaced in 2003 by a more modern centre, branded "Bullring" that is just as controversial.

Harrow Weald is a suburban area of what is now Greater London. It still contains a large amount of ancient woodland despite major development in the early 1930s, such as Harrow Weald Common.

One highly notable resident of the area was W.S. Gilbert of operetta fame, who lived at a house called Grim's Dyke and died of a heart attack in the lake in 1911 while saving a 17-year-old girl from drowning during a swimming lesson. The lake was mostly drained after that and what is left was filled with algae during my visit to the area early this year - the London Loop footpath goes through the area.

The "Weald Station" is probably, as per Bernard Davies, Harrow & Wealdstone station. This is today the northern terminus of the Bakerloo Line, which reached there in 1917 when services were extended on the newly electrified lines to Watford Junction; London Overground services call there on their way to the latter destination. LNWR and Southern services also are available, while Avanti West Coast and Caledonian Sleeper trains go through without stopping on platforms generally closed unless a train is calling there.

The station was also the site of the worst peacetime rail disaster in British history in 1952 (only the 1915 Quintinshill rail disaster has a higher death toll) - an express train collided with the rear of a local train in fog and then another express train hit the wreckage. 112 people died and 340 were injured. Since the crew of the express train died in the crash, the precise reason why they failed to respond to two signals was impossible to establish. The result of the report was a faster introduction into service of the Automatic Warning System or AWS that gives a driver an in-cab indication of the state of a signal by visual and auditory means.

A two-station branch line to Stanmore Village closed in 1964 as part of the Beeching cuts.

Paregoric is a 4% tincture of opium, then available over the counter without prescription. Its main uses would be for treating diarrhoea, treating teething pains in children and as a cough medicine. It is today a Schedule III controlled substance in the US i.e. prescription only.

Crown Derby refers to Royal Crown Derby, a porcelain company founded c.1750 and still going today; it may be the oldest still active company in that field in England.

Langdale Pike is clearly a pseudonym, referring to a series of peaks in the Lake District.

This is, fortunately, the only time we have the n-word being used in the canon. It was considered a crude term even then.

Pernambuco is a state in NE Brazil, then a centre of sugarcane cultivation, still a major part of its economy. It was historically Portuguese, not Spanish.

Yes, let's stereotype Latina women, shall we, Mr. Doyle? I'm not calling you Sir Arthur in this discussion; you're not acting like a knight.

This whole thing leaves a rather ugly taste and if I could strike a story from the canon, I would do it for this one.

[katiajewelbox]

Women’s History Month March 2024

Discover a bouquet of women botanists and plant scientists from history!

Barbara McClintock

Why does Native American flint corn (Zea mays) often have a multicoloured mosaic pattern of kernel colours? The biological answer is transposons or “jumping genes”! Dr. Barbara McClintock (June 16, 1902 – September 2, 1992) was the American cytogeneticist who discovered that certain genetic loci can change position on chromosomes, a phenomenon called “transposition”, using multicoloured corn as the model organism between 1948 and 1950. McClintock courageously pursued her calling as a biologist despite societal attitudes discriminating against women in scientific careers. She went on to win the 1983 Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine for her work on transposons.

Janaki Ammal

The first woman to earn a PhD in botany at a university in the USA was actually from India! Janaki Ammal (4 November 1897 – 7 February 1984) was born in Kerala, India, to a family of civil servants. She travelled to the USA via scholarships for Asian students and earned both a Masters degree and PhD from the University of Michigan by 1931. At the John Innes Centre in the UK, she co-authored the Chromosome Atlas of Cultivated Plants (1945). Later in her career she worked on breeding superior varieties of sugarcane and eggplant in her home country.

Estelle Leopold

A botanist interested in both the past and the future of plant life, Estelle Leopold (January 8, 1927 – February 25, 2024) pioneered the use of fossilised pollen and spores to document environmental changes over vast time periods. Her research uncovered connections between climate change and evolution plus extinction of plant species, including trends of the central regions of continents experiencing more species turnover than coastal areas. Her work as a conservationist led to the protection of the Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument in Colorado, and she also helped prevent the building of dams in the Grand Canyon as well as oil shale development and the transport of nuclear waste in the Pacific Northwest.

#womeninscience#womenshistorymonth#plantscience#botany#barbaramcclintock#scientist#womenscientists#botanists#janakiammal#estelleleopold#history#inspiringwomen#WomenInSTEM#womeninplantscience#PlantBiology

[xlr8nrg]

These are lost babies of Leopard in the sugarcane farm. The reason is, harvesting season of the sugarcane and birthing season of the leopard occur concurrently. After giving birth mothers leaves in search of some food but they can't find their way back to the cubs due to loftiness and density of sugarcane crop in the field.

These fields were originally a forest which belongs to the Leopard family but intensive cultivation has turned them into farm.

Moreover harvesting season of the sugarcane and birthing season of the leopard occur concurrently.

[nitrosplicer]

“As Sidney Mintz has argued, sugarcane plantations were the model for factories during industrialization; factories built plantation-style alienation into their plans. The success of expansion through scalability shaped capitalist modernization. By envisioning more and more of the world through the lens of the plantation, investors devised all kinds of new commodities. Eventually, they posited that everything on earth-and beyond might be scalable, and thus exchangeable at market values. This was utilitarianism, which eventually congealed as modern economics and contributed to forging more scalability or at least its appearance.

Contrast the matsutake forest: unlike sugarcane clones, matsutake make it evident that they cannot live without transformative relations with other species. Matsutake mushrooms are the fruiting bodies of an underground fungus associated with certain forest trees. The fungus gets its carbohydrates from mutualistic relations with the roots of its host trees, for whom it also forages. Matsutake make it possible for host trees to live in poor soils, without fertile humus. In turn, they are nourished by the trees. This transformative mutualism has made it impossible for humans to cultivate matsutake. Japanese research institutions have thrown millions of yen into making matsutake cultivation possible, but so far without success. Matsutake resist the conditions of the plantation. They require the dynamic multispecies diversity of the forest- with its contaminating relationality.

Furthermore, matsutake foragers are far from the disciplined, interchangeable laborers of the cane fields. Without disciplined alienation, no scalable corporations form in the forest. In the U.S. Pacific North-west, foragers flock to the forest following "mushroom fever." They are independent, finding their way without formal employment.”

- The Mushroom at the End of the World: On The Possibility of Life in Capitalist Ruins by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing, p. 40

[bluiex]

I have come with more hurt/comfort 3l!desert duo!!!! This fic has taken over my brain (so has those two tragic drama queens) and I have written a kiss scene for the first time. pls no judgy...

--

“Scar?” A rough voice called. 

Scar froze. Did he wake up Grian? He turned his head slightly to the entrance of the kitchen, not too much so that it required all of his lasting energy, but enough to see one macaw wing stretching out. Grian sat down and inspected him, arms crossed against the table. Scar barely moved. 

“What are you doing, sitting there, looking into nothingness?” Grian’s face lightened up a bit, slightly amused. 

Now that Scar thought about it, it was kind of silly sitting here, doing nothing. But he did not appreciate the lighthearted remark when he was hungry, frustrated, thirsty, boiling, and cursing at his body for making his life ten times more complicated. 

He simply sighed in reply, looking at the table instead of those black irises. Grian hummed and stood up.

“You hungry?”

Scar hummed. He wasn’t sure if he simply didn’t have the energy to form words or if the morning dryness in his throat clogged the words in it. He did cry, it might’ve contributed. He heard Grian rummaging in their food barrel. 

“What do you want?”

Scar did not reply. He was simply hungry. He would eat anything at this point. He was mostly thinking how to relieve this ache, this soreness in his muscles. It was slowly beginning to hurt and he did not want to deal with that. 

“I’m making applesauce, the apples are getting bad.”

Scar concentrated on the noises Grian made around the kitchen. The pots and pants clanking together, the harsh chopping noise, the swish sound the knife made against the peel, the bubbles of the boiling water, anything to distract him from the muscles spasms and the weight on his shoulder, the tension around his neck. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, listening, picking at his nails, while Grian made them food. His head perked up when the bowl clanked against the table. Grian sat down and started eating, eyeing Scar. Scar tried to pick up the spoon, he really tried. His upper arm didn’t stop spasming, he couldn’t control his movement, so he kept his arm close to his side, letting it pass. He looked at the applesauce and just wished his body could fulfill its own needs without throwing a fit. 

Grian stood up, placed his chair next to Scar’s, and sat down with a big thunk, making Scar jump in surprise. Grian took his bowl and almost shoved the spoon in his mouth. He moved back, a grunt bubbling in his throat and his muscles whining at the sudden movement. Grian rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Scar, you need help and I am offering said help.”

Scar glared at the spoon in Grian’s hand, wishing all the deadly curses at it.  Grian huffed, frustrated.

“Sometimes you just need a break and there’s nothing wrong with that. Look, nobody is gonna come bother us if you don’t want to see people. Heck, I’m sure if I explained the situation to the others, they would totally understand.” Grian’s shoulders slumped, and Scar wondered if that’s how puppy eyes looked. “Please, Scar?”

Scar hesitated. He was hungry, but he really didn’t want Grian to actually be his servant. It was a fun concept, at first. He really hoped Grian was doing this out of the goodness of his heart. He cleared his throat.

“Not part of the debt,” he murmured, making sure to look deep into those obsidian eyes, even if they intimidated him. 

Grian blinked at him owlishly. “Of course not! You’re not well, let me help.”

Scar shifted his gaze to the bowl and nodded. Grian fed him, making sure he wouldn’t choke on the applesauce. It was quite good for smashed boiled apples. He could taste some of the sugarcane they started cultivating close to the edge of the roof of the mountain. It sweetened the aftertaste of the acidic flavor the apples left. Scar was quite impressed, and it did fill a hole in his stomach. 

After being satiated, Grian moved behind Scar, rolled up the sleeves of his red sweater and dug his thumbs on Scar’s lower neck. Scar winced and inhaled through his teeth, making Grian stutter in his movements.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

The movement became gentler, rolling his thumbs against the tense part of Scar’s neck. It was quite relaxing, but a lingering pain made the gesture quite uncomfortable, as if someone was applying pressure to a fresh wound. Scar didn’t complain, though, he appreciated the physical touch and was glad to know Grian became comfortable enough with him to touch him like this. He hummed in pleasure when Grian’s thumbs massaged his shoulders and traveled against his biceps, feeling the tension loosen up. Grian let out a chuckle.

“Geez, Scar, are you stressed or something?”

Scar tensed, immediately thinking of his nightmare. The thumbs stopped circling his deltoid, and Grian’s long nose appeared in his peripheral vision. 

“What are you worried about?”

Scar sighed and looked up at the ceiling. One hand left his right shoulder while the other rounded his shoulder before squeezing it reassuringly. His gaze landed on wide obsidian eyes, on a slightly freckled nose that almost looked like a beak  without looking crooked, on rosy cheeks, on dark blond curls that frame a concerned face. Scar never realized how majestic Grian looked.

“Scar?” Grian inquired.

Scar put his hand on the one holding his shoulder, to touch where he was permitted to. 

“Pizza,” he let out. Grian quirked his eyebrow. “Had a nightmare about her death,” he confessed, closing his eyes and rubbing his thumb against Grian’s knuckles. 

“Oh, Scar.” A warmed hand wormed itself close to the base of his hair. He shuddered.

“I miss her, G.”

“I know.” The hand nested itself in his hair, bringing his head to Grian’s shoulder. He stuttered a breath.

“Why did they take her away, G? She didn’t do anything, she didn’t deserve that.”

Scar let out a sob, his body slack from relieving tension with his crying. Grian shushed him, playing with his hair, scrubbing his scalp. It felt amazing, even if the tension in his neck was back. He grabbed the hand that was playing with his hair, stood straighter on his seat, and brought the hand closer to his chest, letting the other that was holding Grian’s hand on his shoulder (it was slowly rubbing circles now—Scar couldn’t be more glad to receive physical touch) fall and grasp Grian’s thigh. 

Grian shushed him again, whispering “I know” over and over, reassuring Scar that Pizza was alive, that she probably got lost. He took his hand out of Scar’s grasp and brought it to his cheek, whipping the tears away as they came. He leaned in closer and Scar could smell the faint applesauce in his breath.

“I’m so proud of you, Scar,” Grian murmured, landing his forehead against Scar’s. Scar did a whole body shiver at the praise, not realizing his cheeks got warmer with the already warm room. Obsidian eyes locked on his, barely an inch between their faces. “Can I kiss you?”

It was so quiet, but it echoed in Scar’s ears. He slowly nodded, not knowing what to expect. Grian wiped dry his cheeks and leaned his lips slowly against Scar’s. When their lips met, Scar wasn’t sure how to respond, what he was supposed to do. Grian’s lips were warm, chapped by the dryness of the desert, and were pressing harder. In order to not lose balance, Scar pushed back and wondered what was the purpose of this action.

Grian pulled back and surveyed Scar’s face. He smiled, placed his hands on his hips and hair, and hugged Scar, face buried against his neck. Scar was taken by surprise and placed one hand on Grian’s waist, while the other rested on his shoulder blade, not sure how far or how close his hand should be to the wings. 

“We’ll find her, Scar. We’ll find her and prove to everyone to never mess with us, and that’s a promise.”

Scar sniffed and let out a choke sob, circling his arms around Grian’s waist and muffling his cries of joy in Grian’s sweater. Grian petted his hair once more and they stayed there in a long silence, sometimes interrupted by Scar’s sniffles and Grian’s reassurance and praise. 

-- Bloop anon

BLOOP

I am on the floor in a puddle of my own tears. THEY SO IN LOVE IT HURTS- but ykno..death games an all... WAAAAH IT WAS SO GOOD- YOU'RE WRITING IS SO *chefs kiss*