#the sheep lived in the paddock behind my house

[laurel-resting]

[puckrph]

“GETTING INTO KNIVES” STARTERS

taken from the 2020 album by the mountain goats. feel free to change pronouns, etc!

CORSICAN MASTIFF STRIDE

‘ at dark we rise and find our way. ’ ‘ the land we left becomes a dream. ’ ‘ the ghosts we knew, they rise like steam. they leave some trails against the sky, all but invisible to the eye. ’ ‘ call off the search party. ’ ‘ let mourners wail by the shore. ’ ‘ we’re not coming home anymore. ’ ‘ you tell your friends you’ve seen a ghost. ’ ‘ you tell them all there’s nothing here worth dying for. ’

GET FAMOUS

‘ you were born for these flashing lights. ’ ‘ you were born for these endless nights. ’ ‘ you always knew, sooner or later, you were destined for something greater. ’ ‘ you took notes on what you had to do to get the piece of the pie that belonged to you. ’ ‘ you’ve been waiting for this ever since you were young. ’ ‘ be careful not to choke on your tongue. ’ ‘ you should be famous. ’ ‘ go on and get famous. ’ ‘ i want you to be famous. ’ ‘ all these obedient sheep. they act like they know, but they’re all sound asleep. ’ ‘ you arrive on the scene like a message from god. ’ ‘ listen to the people applaud. ’ ‘ this is what you were born to do. ’ ‘ light up the sky like a comet. ’ ‘ shine like a cursed star. show everybody exactly who you are. ’ ‘ show everybody exactly who you are. ’

PICTURE OF MY DRESS

‘ we’d smoke a cigarette as the sunrise ran riot. ’ ‘ someone’s got to break the quiet. ’ ‘ what are you doing here anyway? ’ ‘ he doesn’t want to miss a thing. ’ ‘ i’m blending in with the lunchtime crowd, trying not to laugh out loud. ’ ‘ it still looks good, i only wore it once. ’ ‘ it may be a long while before the highway decides to finally set me free. ’ ‘ i’m going to have to chase down the remnants of something special that you stole from me. ’ ‘ it may be hiding in the sunset, or in distant corners of the dawn. or maybe it’s gone. ’ ‘ i’ll say some prayers above the engine, i’ll bless everything there is to bless, run out of gas in the middle of nowhere anyway. ’

AS MANY CANDLES AS POSSIBLE

‘ when stray dogs finally catch you in the alley, you don’t consider their point of view. but when the wounds are healed and the scars are shiny, sometimes then you do. ’ ‘ time is tight. ’ ‘ when you pass me on the streets of the city by day, you pretend we don’t recognize each other. ’ ‘ the lake is boiling. the fish won’t bite. ’ ‘ no one gets too much light. ’ ‘ listen for the prophecy somewhere in the static. ’ ‘ once you’ve saddled up your pony, burn down the paddock. ’

TIDAL WAVE

‘ it’s not the destination that makes the difference. ’ ‘ everything becomes a blur from six feet away. ’ ‘ get used to this. ’ ‘ every card ever turned over remains in place. ’ ‘ not every wave is a tidal wave. ’ ‘ it’s not the mutiny that gets written down in the diary. ’ ‘ even the very proud probably die on their knees. ’

PEZ DORADO

‘ echoes from a nursery rhyme hide in plain sight all the time. ’ ‘ here you come, splashing in your summer clothes. ’ ‘ can’t resist the creeping dark. ’ ‘ we’re ready to make our mark. ’ ‘ ancient blood is patient blood. ’ ‘ we were here before the flood. ’ ‘ we are weak, but they are strong. ’ ‘ take your time. we’ve got all day. ’ ‘ say what you felt when you found us here where the waters run crystal clear. ’ ‘ one summer day in my summer clothes. the day i saw several ghosts. ’

THE LAST PLACE I SAW YOU ALIVE

‘ i’m not thinking of you. ’ ‘ i haven’t driven down these streets in years. ’ ‘ i passed the last place i saw you alive. ’ ‘ i walk the narrow path these days. i can’t see going back to my old ways. ’ ‘ i call to mind sometimes that bloody, stinking mess. us worms turn into butterflies, i guess. ’ ‘ it’s changed since you were here, or else it hasn’t. ’ ‘ it was special, it was deadly. ’ ‘ it was ours and then it wasn’t. ’ ‘ it’s only now and then you come to mind. ’ ‘ there’s a trillion things you left behind. ’ ‘ nothing really to get worked up about. ’

BELL SWAMP CONNECTION

‘ i was wandering through an undeveloped tract out near the ocean. ’ ‘ let’s see what there is to see before it’s gone. ’ ‘ somebody’s always just about to put some kind of awful plan in motion. ’ ‘ my curiosity will likely always get the best of me. ’ ‘ it’s like that one thing my dad kept trying to tell me as the twilight inched its way up on his body. ’ ‘ get out! ’ ‘ i am a child. ’ ‘ i had my face toward the sky, lying there in the sun with both my eyes closed. woke up in near darkness. ’ ‘ what the hell is wrong with me? ’ ‘ i heard a voice from somewhere out beyond the free fall, like a captive soldier trying to warn his brothers: get out! ’

THE GREAT GOLD SHEEP

‘ i’m going to do what i like. ’ ‘ i’m going to live how i want. ’ ‘ i’m going to build myself a great estate with lots of statues out front. ’ ‘ i’m going to walk the pathways of the ancients. ’ ‘ i’m going to let my name be known. ’ ‘ i’m going to see the wild haunts of this world, and carve a place out, all my own. ’ ‘ heat up the iron until it glows, burn the brand so deep. ’ ‘ you and me stand somehow above the fray. ’ ‘ i’m going to write my name on everything. i’m going to leave a lasting legacy. ’ ‘ when my body’s thrown with great force from a window, the dogs will fight for whatever’s left of me. ’

RAT QUEEN

‘ meek subjects by torchlight come to pay their respects, as foretold by the ancient texts. ’ ‘ one by one, we approached the figure in the shroud. ’ ‘ i am a faceless, nameless acolyte, here tonight at your service. ’ ‘ take my visions, make them real. impose them on the world above. ’ ‘ we’re all the dead sleepwalkers who never learned how to love. ’ ‘ look how they jump when we show up, like they’ve just seen a monster. ’

WOLF COUNT

‘ live among the starvling wolves, get lost inside the pack. ’ ‘ sing to the moon until your throat’s raw. ’ ‘ he won’t be coming back from the hunt. ’ ‘ soon it’ll be my time to go, i know. ’ ‘ know who your friends are when you need them. ’ ‘ sleep soundly with the enemy. ’ ‘ remember me. ’ ‘ i was too dumb to trade my cloak for freedom. ’ ‘ run ahead, i’ll catch up when i’m able to. ’ ‘ it’s too dark to find the path. ’

HARBOR ME

‘ clear me a space on the hallway closet floor. ’ ‘ lie to the cops when they’re at your door. ’ ‘ harbor me when i’m hungry. ’ ‘ harbor me when i’m hunted. ’ ‘ i live in fear until you come back. ’ ‘ the sound of the key is like an orchestral cue. ’ ‘ thank god it’s you. ’ ‘ harbor me when i’m shaken. ’ ‘ harbor me when i’m lost. ’ ‘ every fugitive hour leaves it mark. ’ ‘ harbor me when i’m breathless. ’ ‘ harbor me when i’m choking. ’

GETTING INTO KNIVES

‘ i retraced my steps back home, but the house burned down before i got there. ’ ‘ i found myself alone. ’ ‘ i tried to keep things in perspective. ’ ‘ i’m getting into knives. ’ ‘ i came all this way for hunger. may i be worthy of my reward. ’ ‘ you can’t give me back what you’ve taken. ’ ‘ you can give me something that’s almost as good. ’

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Outside my house there was a paddock of sheep, and one of them was called Babel (pronounced bay-bell). Babel was white but really dirty covered in scars and with a patch of naked skin right behind its head. My whole family thought that it was a bad omen so we would lock the doors every night and would never go into the paddock that Babel lived in. One evening, when my brother and I were eating cereal, Babel turned up in our living room. I made eye contact with it, then woke up.

[niftynifflerfics]

They’re Not Really Gone

I was wondering if you could do a Teddy Lupin x male reader where Teddy is struggling with a cloud of depression about not growing up with his actual father and reader helps him through it. If it isn't a problem, could you make it a little angsty and fluffy. Thank you so much!

(A/N: Of course I can! I hope you like it.) 

Warnings: None

Word count: 3,150

 The Hufflepuff common room was a comfortable place for all of it's members. Sunlight streamed through circular windows, the air of light chatter and the crackling of logs in the fire made the atmosphere warm and cozy, not to mention the kitchen wasn't far so it was the perfect place to meet up for studies and snacking. The portrait of Helga Hufflepuff above the barrel shaped fireplace smiled at them all as they passed, throwing an occasional wave or concerned 'are you alright there,' when one student was looking particularly stressed or rushed. If you were up too late, seconds away from sleep with your head down in a book, she'd wake you and convince you to get to sleep. During the holiday seasons, she would hold her mug of hot butterbeer up to anyone who passed in attempts to get someone to cheers with her.  Today was one such holiday or close enough to it (she was currently trying to cheers with a third year that was much too short to reach), there were only three days left of your sixth year and while that terrified you to no end, you knew that you weren't going to be doing your final year at Hogwarts alone.  Teddy shifted, attempting to get comfortable on the opposite side of the couch. He had his face down in a book, trying to study for a test that had been sprung on you mere days before your holidays, but he kept eyeing you, something else was on his mind.  Strands of turquoise hair fell to block his view and each time it did, he would reach up and move it out of his face. It would stay there for a moment before it would move once again. You watched for a while, finding yourself distracted from your own studies and eventually growing tired of seeing it happen again and again, you reached forward and brushed the hair out of his face for him. He looked up, slightly startled and nervous before murmuring a thank you when you moved away, but his gaze lingered.

 He'd been acting kind of strange for a few weeks now so the look he was giving you was nothing new. There was a mix of emotions swarming in his eyes - a kind of fear and melancholy, but he wouldn't tell you what it was about, no matter how many times you tried to pry it out of him.  None of your shared friends had managed to get anything out of him either - you even wrote to Harry when he started shutting himself away from everyone but he had no clue as to what could be bothering him either. This was the first time in weeks that he'd tried to start a conversation with you. 'What's up,' you asked, shifting to sit closer to him. You waited, watching to see if you'd pushed it too far, but he didn't move away and didn't leave and rather took in a couple of nervous breaths. 'Well, my godfather - Harry, you know the one you met last summer holidays? Well, he's invited me to Christmas at the Burrow and well you know how big my family is so it's okay if you say no but if you want to, maybe you'd like to come over for the holidays too? My uh... My cousins are dying to meet you, they won't ever stop asking about when they get to meet my boyfriend.'  Without hesitation, you nodded and smiled softly, reaching your hand out to hold his. He tensed and his eyes met yours at last before he smiled too.  When you'd owled your parents and received their response, you knew you'd have a hell of a ride trying to buy Christmas presents for everyone in his family. He'd insisted you didn't need to buy anyone anything but you had to make a good impression. You used the approaching Hogsmede weekend to gather miscellaneous gifts. You knew his godfather Harry was big on Quidditch and managed to snatch him up a set of tiny Quidditch gear to play tiny Quidditch with, Hermione read more often than she breathed so you looked for some new releases at a book shop, Ron was and still is a giant supporter of the Chudley Cannons, so you found him an entire book of collectable cards that displayed each team's member and their best moves and moments. You weren't sure what Teddy's cousin's and other aunts and uncles would like so you played it safe with different types of treats from Hogsmede and vouchers for various stores in Diagon Alley.  On the last day of school, there was a giant goodbye feast for everyone who was leaving for the holidays - plump turkeys and golden roast potatoes, just as they did every year, the house elves had out done themselves. It was the perfect way to end the year, along with your outstanding marks in your end of year "preparing you for seventh year" test. It was finally over, no more exams until after the Christmas holidays, except Teddy hadn't shown up for it.  He'd spent most of the day hauled up in the dorm and none of the others entered it. One of the boys had approached you to ask if you could make sure the coast was clear before he got his pyjamas, but you were way ahead of him.  Teddy looked as if he had been asleep for hours, ruffled turquoise hair glimmering in the moonlight as he flicked through something, sitting on the edge of his four poster yellow bed with his legs dangling off of it. His head snapped up when he saw your face through a crack in the door but made no move to approach you and rather shut what looked like a photo album and slid it under his bed before you could see it.  When you had reassured him that you were here for him and asked what was up, he'd told you it was nothing and that he just wasn't feeling well but it didn't seem like the Teddy you knew at all, this wasn't just any dinner this was the end of year feast.  The ride back to platform nine and three quarters had been alright, especially once the trolley lady came past and you, Teddy and two other Hufflepuff boys stuffed yourselves with cauldron cakes. The weather was clear and sunny, warm enough to leave the house without a jacket but cold enough to wear long sleeved shirts and as the view passed by as blurs of green, you found yourself falling asleep and remaining that way until Teddy reluctantly shook you awake and the two of you left the train together.  Teddy's godfather Harry was incredibly noticeable. He stuck out like a sore thumb, even with the thick steam of the Hogwarts Express shrouding the platform. You felt bad for staring considering he got enough unwanted attention as is, but it was too late to feel bad because he noticed you and Teddy, waving and calling you over to join him where he was with his two sons, a daughter and his wife. Teddy smiled, slipping his hand in yours and wheeling his trunk behind him as the two of you approached. 'Nice to see you again Teddy,' Harry's hand moved to ruffle Teddy's bright blue hair. He grunted and laughed a little before Harry's attention moved to you. 'Hello again (Y/N), I'm glad you could join us.' 'So am I.'  You could feel the nerves creep in as the curious stares of all three Potter children bore into your back. When Hermione, Ron and their children had approached, five pairs of eyes were on you. You squeezed Teddy's hand and felt him squeeze back. Knowing he was there was the most reassuring feeling in the world.  Harry signalled for everyone to follow and you all made your way through crowds of reunited families to a very old looking muggle car. You questioned how in Merlin's name the group of you would ever fit in there, but the engorgement charm made it nearly big enough for you to move in and use it as an apartment. You and Teddy moved to the back of the car beside the Potter's middle child Albus. Albus was the most reserved of all of the Potter siblings, he was the only one who wasn’t still ogling you and instead threw you and Teddy a smile as you moved to sit next to him.  When Harry had decided that everyone was "ready to rock and roll," you set off on your way to the Burrow where Molly and Arthur Weasley lived. More paddocks filled with cows, horses, sheep and the like passed by - albeit slower than they did during the ride back to King's Cross, but again you felt a familiar type of sleepiness and serenity despite the loud chatter.  When you'd arrived at the Burrow, you apprehensively grabbed your trunk and caught up to Teddy who was lagging behind Rose, Hugo, Hermione and Ron. The whole house was so... Homey. It felt more like home than your actual house had. Maybe it was how many lives this house had housed, how much love it had seen or maybe it was the fact that there were so many people inside that it was alive with conversation - the kind of conversation you'd expect to hear in a packed theatre.  The inside was much bigger than you would've expected it to have been and when you walked in you were wrapped in the arms of a very excited looking old woman who was moving from person to person with a bright, wide smile that stretched so far beyond her eyes, she looked as if she'd just won the lottery. Her embrace wasn't expected but definitely wasn't unappreciated, she was a great hugger. 'You must be Teddy's boyfriend,' she stepped back, holding your face between her hands. Your eyes darted to Teddy, who's cheeks had grown red. Molly smiled, observing you before she nodded at Teddy. 'You've found yourself a real handsome one.'  Teddy seemed to want to scold her when he noticed the frazzled expression on your face but rather his disapproval was muffled by the material of Molly's shirt. She was too busy hugging him to hear him out.  Once everyone had been all hugged out and Molly had finished carrying out everything for lunch, you settled down in the seat next to Teddy's with an unfamiliar girl at your side. She looked the same age as you with bright platinum blonde hair and blue eyes. She seemed very refined and smiled politely at you when she noticed you. You could've sworn you knew her from somewhere, maybe she was a Hufflepuff too?  There were a couple of seconds that passed before she realised she hadn't introduced herself and quickly turned to you, sticking out her hand. ''ello, I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself, I'm Victorie, Victorie Weasley.'  You could immediately pin point her slight accent, she must be Bill and Fleur Delacour's eldest daughter. Teddy had made sure to let you know who everyone who was going to be there would be and you seemed to be doing pretty good so far. You introduced yourself too and shook hands with her. She smiled and giggled before she turned back to her plate and started working on the roast chicken in front of her.  Molly had done an incredible job with everything she made, the very smell made your mouth water violently and everything down to the roast carrots was cooked so well she could rival the Hogwarts annual Christmas feast, and that was saying a lot. It seemed that everyone was enjoying the meal just as much as you were, everyone except Teddy.  Teddy seemed uncomfortable, nudging a roasted potato with the edge of his fork and staring down at it blankly. He was distracted, so much so that when his name was called by Harry who was the head at the opposite end of the table, he didn't notice. To his credit, it was a fairly long table, but nevertheless, Harry tried to get his attention enough times for it to be concerning. You nudged him softly with your elbow, which made his head snap towards you, eyes widening. You tilted your head in the direction of Harry and Harry asked him how his last few days at Hogwarts were again - for the fourth time.  Only a few minutes passed of him talking to Harry before he suddenly stood, claiming he wasn't feeling well and making his way up to the room that had been set up for all of the boys to sleep in. It was going to be incredibly awkward now that you thought about it, you barely knew Albus, Hugo, Lewis, Fred or James - you didn't really know them well enough to feel comfortable starting a conversation with them, yet alone sharing a room with them.  You thought about the smell of the apple pie coming from the kitchen, the rich scent of apples and cinnamon was enough to fill your dreams for the next one hundred years, but there were more important things than apple pie and one of those things was Teddy. You excused yourself and thanked Molly for dinner, insisting on cleaning up after yourself and rushing up the stairs to the boys room when you were done. You knocked on the door but there was no response. Just when you were about to knock again, a quiet voice broke the silence. 'Who is it?'  It was enough for you to worry. Teddy sounded upset, more than upset - he sounded the same way he did when he had told you about his parents. The very tone of voice made your stomach lurch. 'It's (Y/N), can I come in?'  There was shuffling and a pause before the door was unlocked and Teddy opened it just a crack. He'd definitely been crying, his eyes were red and puffy, as if in the time it took you to get here, he'd sobbed enough for his tear ducts to give up. You felt guilt coarse through you, you should've been on your feet as soon as he was. 'Are you alright love?'  He pulled the door open and let it swing on it's hinges, closing it behind you as you moved into the room. He said nothing, moving to the opposite side of the room and staring out of the window and into the street bellow it.  'You know you can talk to me about anything right? You've been off for weeks and I just don't know how much longer I can take it without knowing whats up. I won't judge you for whatever it is, I promise.' You coaxed, moving to sit on the end of his bed. Teddy nodded, still avoiding your gaze and watching passing cars go by. A few more minutes passed before he sighed and sat down next to you, head falling onto your shoulder. 'Why did you choose to come with me,' Teddy started, voice scratchy and hoarse. 'You know, instead of spending Christmas with your family.'  You threw an arm around Teddy's shoulder and sighed, pushing your cheek into his thick, messy hair. 'Because I love you and I love your family.' Teddy mumbled something under his breath. 'Sorry handsome I didn't catch that.' 'They're not my family.'  You drew away from Teddy to look at him. He didn't meet your eyes, instead facing the wall his bed was pressed up against. You moved your hands to hold his cheeks. 'What do you mean?' 'They're not my family - not really. I'm just the kid they pity who doesn't have a real family to spend Christmas with.'  Teddy choked on a sob and you felt your heart twist violently in your chest. You moved his face so that he was forced to look at you and ran your finger over his cheeks where fresh tears had fallen. 'Teddy, they are your family-' 'No they're not.' 'Teddy-' 'They aren't my real family, Harry isn't my dad - not my real dad and-' 'Teddy!' Teddy paused, eyes darting to yours at your outburst. 'I'm sorry, but they don't pity you, you are their family. They may not be your parents or cousins by blood, but they care about you and that's what really matters.'  You sat in silence. Teddy choked on another sob, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He stayed like that for a while, crying and leaning into the palm of your hands. It was hard not to cry with him, the whole two years you'd been together - he'd never talked about his parents like this. You realise now that he wasn't over it, he was just holding it all in. 'I just wish I had of m-met them you know, my mum and dad.'  You nodded, moving to pull him towards your chest, he didn't fight you, instead nuzzling into you. You moved your hand to sit on the top of his head. 'They were amazing people - you remember, Harry told us about all of the stuff your dad did when he was at Hogwarts? About the map? And your mum, she used to turn into teachers for fun.' Teddy nodded, snickering slightly though it came out as more of a sniffle. 'You know, they're proud of you, I'm sure of it. I'm sure they miss you just as much as you miss them.'  Teddy nodded, hiccuping again as fresh tears spilled. 'Here's the cheesy part - they're not really gone. As long as you remember them, they're never really gone. They're here in little things like your hair, your eyes and the map. They were brave and strong and you are too Teddy, you are them and they are with you every step of the way - just like I am, just like all of your family is and always will be.'  Teddy lifted his eyes to meet yours, pulling away from your neck. 'So I guess you're my family too?' You nodded, smiling and lifting your hand to brush away tears from his face again. 'That's weird.'  Your Teddy was finally coming back. You laughed, punching him softly on the arm. Just as he had collected himself again and practically fallen onto you for cuddles, several Potters, Weasleys and a Granger-Weasley burst into the room, laughing and talking between one and other. James winked at the two of you, Albus smiling softly while Hugo, Lewis and Fred were still caught up in their strange chant that you could hear from here since it had started.  Teddy smiled fondly at them, they were his family and he hoped that one day you'd become a part of it too - for real.

[kat-lockhart]

Noblegarden at Deephaven

Playing the roles of spectators, Hannah and Jane leaned against the wooden fence surrounding the paddock. Each of them had a cup of coffee clutched between their mitten-clad hands, the steam from which rose into the early spring breeze and mingling with each giggling breath they exhaled.

“You two sure are enjoyin’ the show,” Cody quipped as he carried another squirming lamb to the cart.

“Well, there wouldn’t be a show without ya,” Kat smirked as she came up behind him, leading a ewe by her halter.

The eldest of the Lockhart siblings grumbled under his breath, inspiring another peal of laughter from his fiancée and mother. He couldn’t really argue with his sister, as it had been his lapse in judgment that put the sheep in the yard. The plan had been to load the cart from the barn, but in a nearly exhausted state, after a night of painting, waterproofing, and filling hundreds of paper mache eggs, he went into a sort of auto pilot during chores and let the animals out as he would any other morning. Now Gregor the Goat and Darsa the Donkey watched in undoubted amusement as the siblings chased down the excited lambs.

“I told ya I could help,” Hannah chimed in, preparing to set aside her cup of coffee and climb the fence.

Cody moved to her quickly, pressing the cup back into her hands and smiling. He stole a moment to just look at her before stealing a kiss from her cheek and shaking his head.

“That ain’t necessary. We’re almost done,” he murmured. “And I don’t expect you to be cleanin’ up my messes. Not now and not after we’re married.”

Hannah practically glowed when he brought up the wedding. Kat admired the interactions between Cody and Hannah.

At least when she knew her brother wasn’t looking.

“Well, we’re almost done loadin’ the little ones. You still gotta get in your costume,” Kat snickered.

The groan that escaped her brother was the epitome of melodramatic, but there was a broad grin still in place when he turned to regard her.

“Tell me again why I gotta be the bunny? I never was quite clear on that part.”

“Because I have to be me,” Kat stated matter-of-factly. “Besides, you love that costume, and you know it.”

With a sheepish shrug, Cody pecked Hannah’s cheek once more before returning for the last few lambs.

The children of Deephaven knew something was up when they were kept inside after lunch. The adults of the Earldom had all been asked to postpone morning chores so a small crew, comprised of Ghosts and Lockharts, could hide the eggs and set up the small petting zoo. All of the animals were going to become livestock for the island; a hearty breed of sheep, baby chickens, and rabbits. A few months ago, Kat and Cody helped establish the pastures, coops, and hutches for the animals, but the creatures themselves had been kept in Duskwood for an unveiling during the festivities.

When the last egg was safely placed, and the square was officially and modestly decorated, Kat rang the bell and watched with a broad grin as families poured out of their homes. Children screeched and howled as they raced to inspect every aspect the changes made to the square. The smile on Kat’s face spread to its limits and her anxiety melted. She had believed that the announcement should have been Darsa’s honor, but the stubborn Earl insisted she do it since he would be busy. Kat shot a glance to the bake house and grinned at the man as she caught him peeking out of his station.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Today marks a first for Deephaven,” Kat proclaimed, her nerves returning a bit. “Today we’re observing the first annual Noblegarden celebration for the island, and as this is a very special occasion, I’ve asked a very special guest to help us celebrate.”

That was Cody’s cue to emerge from a pavilion erected beside the stage. He took a deep breath before taking a few long strides up the stairs to stand on the stage. He made animated movements and waved to the children, hoping he was living up to his mother’s choreography. Fortunately, the gasps and excited squeals gave him immediate feedback.

“This fine bunny has hidden eggs on the island for ya’ll to find,” Kat continued, beaming at her brother. “He even marked off the huntin’ grounds with colorful flags, so ya’ll know where to look. The areas with green flags are for the littlest ones, one to 3 years old. The blue flags mark the area for 4 to 7 year olds. The yellow for 8 to 12 year olds. And finally the pink area is for 13 and older. Your parents will help ya find the place where you can hunt. Ain’t that right?”

Cody bobbed his head with extreme exaggeration in response, deciding his role had no speaking parts. The children were now squirming, waiting for permission to run off to hunt the eggs.

“There’s also a small petting zoo near the smithy, and some places where you can play games and get your faces painted, so ya’ll can look like bunnies, too. This evenin’ we’ll all meet back here for a special dinner. I’ll be at the pettin’ zoo if anyone needs anything, otherwise Gregor and his gang are also around to offer aid. Now, I ain’t gonna go on jackin’ my jaw any longer. Ya’ll hop to it!”

A few adults took the time to clap, but anyone with children were immediately dragged off to find eggs with their little ones.

“Make a few rounds and try to see as many kids as ya can,” Kat said softly to Cody.

The man in the bunny suit nodded with enthusiasm before hopping and skipping away. It hurt to hold back the laughter, but she weathered it knowing he was doing everything he could to be the very best Noblegarden Bunny he could be.

For her part, Kat made her way to the makeshift petting zoo while glowing softly. Her heart was filled to the point of bursting as she listened to the chorus of laughter, from children and adults alike, filling the island village. Her mind was awash with memories of community celebrations from her childhood. She remembered egg hunts and her father dressing like a bunny. She had no intentions of foisting her nostalgia on the people of Deephaven, but there was a secret part of her, one she did not yet fully recognize, which saw these people as her new community. Her roots were digging deep into the rocky soil and she was starting to call Deephaven home without realizing it. In fact, as the smithy came into view, her spirit sang a little.

It was home, even if she couldn’t admit it aloud.

@darsacarrington

[stuarttwiss2018trailride]

Day 25. Maryfield, SK to Shaunavon, SK. 352 miles.

Miles and miles of plain riding, all due West in strong winds and uncomfortable temperatures and thankfully all behind me at day's end.

After our late night, when my alarm goes at 7.00, I hit the snooze button. It's useful to have my second phone across the room but even so I am back in bed and trying to capture the essence of day 22 in this blog. 45 minutes of writing later I try to save but the app freezes and all is lost. Ouch!

The disappointing outcome gets me up and dressed and I get my bags packed and laid at the front porch.

Phil of course has been up for ages. I have the sweetest of plums with granola for breakfast and suggest to Phil that we take his side by side and look around his 640 acre farm. We top up my bike with 90 cent a litre fuel and then roll out past the gopher paddock and into the alfalfa sown meadows on which Phil keeps his 300 plus sheep.

The sheep are guarded by pyrennean mountain dogs that have been raised with pet lambs so their 'pack' is the flock. The dogs are large and powerful and long lived. Living out in the field and not tethered they mingle with the sheep who pay no attention to them.

Guard dogs are necessary because lynx, lion and coyote are still a feature of plains life as are bear, moose and white tail deer.

We have coffee and cookies in the bay window and watch the orioles and humming birds dipping into the sugar solution on their orange feeder. The farm cats tumble into the garden. A grey cat reminds me of home.

All too soon I have to move on, the miles ahead are too great for anything later than 10.30. It's been a great stay and I know that by contrast today I will be somewhat lonely.

The morning is cool and carries a smokey smell both of which Phil has put down to the fires burning in BC.

It stays cool and I need to wear my waterproof jacket to make my way to route 13, The Redcoat Trail, which I will follow as far as the light allows. There is a thick haze, the harvesters add dust to that and a crosswind shakes the bike almost as much as the thunderous lorries.

The plains are long and featureless but some images stay with me:

The silver silos of grain stores clustered together and topped with a wigwam of tubes.

A lone prairie house turning grey, it's shingles and fascias being lost to the harsh prairie weather.

A train of cowboys in pickups each pulling their string of horses in trailers behind them.

A wheeling crowd of swallows catching the same flies that are splattering my goggles and jacket.

The glassy shimmer on the distant horizon that cars and trucks seem to slide off.

Two adventure riders riding the other way give the upright hand gesture of our tribe.

Two good puns. Lawn and Order on a landscape gardner's pick up, Doctor Hook on a recovery truck.

An elderly guy walking with the help of crutches stops in the gas station forecourt on the way to his red pickup, 'Where you going?, Where you from?'. He gets his answers and shakes his head wearily. The folly of youth?

Lines of nodding donkeys methodically extracting the oil that lies below Saskatchewan. They add a faint smell of oil to the smoke.

A harvester moves over to let me by, it's driven by enormous triangles of rubber, caterpillar tracks that dwarf my bike.

The care with which drivers pass me. The long wait, the moving over, the pull in a full 50 yards ahead. Is this taught?

Counting up the numbered range roads, passing 100s in the day.

I can't keep going for the hours I need to without a break so I pick a distant town as a target and then turn off into it to mooch around for something to see or do and perhaps for somewhere to eat.

Crossroads Inn comes up trumps with a beef soup and Jack Burger as does the Splitter Inn in Ponteix, another great beef soup.

Elsewhere there are some sad and dilapidated prairie towns on the brink of collapse. Too often these towns are on the patchwork of reserves that lie across Canada.

In one reservation town a remarkable sculpture garden contains hundreds of figures made from spanners, scrap metal and rebar. They are challenging and together give some of the history of Canada from a First Nation point of view.

It stays cold up until Crossroads Inn and I cradle my soup and coffees to warm my hands yet 40 minutes later I come out to a furnace of heat.

I ride for 20 minutes until it's unbearable. In a gas station I wet my neck scarf and the cooling effect around my head keeps me refreshed. It wears off after 10 minutes but I take my cooling system further at my next stop by wetting my entire shirt as well as the scarf. It's very cold but I am more comfortable.

I am dry in half an hour and now the air temperature has dropped back down and I progressively have to add layers and waterproofs. The huge fluctuations in temperature are weird because there is no change in the sunlight or cloud cover.

At last I am 30 minutes from my lodging at Bears Den Motel. At the same time the scenery begins to change. There are small hills, scrubby sage brush and cattle ranches.

Perhaps I have made it across the great plain in the two days I had intended?

[imagineclaireandjamie]

goodnight, noises everywhere

Mod Gotham says: Here’s how I’ve processed my intense feels from 03x09...

“Now, let’s see…what do you want to read tonight?”

 Four-year-old Brianna furrowed her wee red brows, clutching her stuffed rabbit tightly, settling deeper under the thick quilt.

 “Goodnight Moon, Mama?”

 Claire tilted her head, questioning. “But we just read that one last night, love. Surely you can pick another story out of all the books in this room? What about the ones you just got for your birthday?”

 Yet Brianna shook her head, red curls still a bit damp from her bath. “George wants to hear it again.”

 Claire’s heart lurched, just a bit. For this girl’s stubbornness echoed that of someone she once knew and cared for – deeply. But to think of him now…

 She coughed, turned to Brianna’s nightstand, and retrieved the much-loved book. Cuddling right up next to her daughter, she opened the cover.

 “Can you help me start?”

 Bree moved George in the circle of her arm so that he could better see the pages. “In the great green room, there was a telephone…”

 --

 Jamie settled against the damp stone at the entrance to the cave, sipping the weak stew he’d been living on since finding three rabbits in his snares a few days before.

 The weather had turned tonight. November often brought hints of winter’s chill, tempered with the warmer winds of October. But this night felt like proper winter – the cold seeping through his rags and into his bones, settling in the ice around his heart.

 Had Claire made it safely back through the stones, and had she borne their bairn – the child would be nearly four now. He would never know, of course – and thanked God for it. For not knowing allowed him to dream.

 On nights like these, the moon reminded him of his time spent at the abbey in France, while healing from the head wound that had nearly killed him. The dark, quiet hours in the cold, cold chapel, hours spent in adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. A beacon of white – of hope – amid the shadows. A reminder that he was not quite alone.

 The Man in the Moon. He minded his own father telling him stories when he was a lad – about the man who lived up there, with his wife and family, raising white sheep and white pigs and white cows.

 Did Claire and the bairn see – and know – the same moon? Did they tell the same stories? Was it a full moon for them tonight, as it was for him?

 “Lord, that they may be safe…” he breathed, sipping from the now-cold stew.

 --

 “It was amazing, to see that today.” Claire quietly sipped her mug of oolong, legs folded on the couch. Brianna crouched by the fire, adding a few more logs.

 “The pictures looked so – so fantastic.” Roger crossed his legs in the overstuffed chair Frank had always loved, scratching thoughtfully at his beard. “I remember reading stories about such things, when I was a lad – never thought I’d live to actually *see* it.”

 Brianna stood, set the grate back in front of the fire, and crossed the room to sit between them. “I just hope we get there before the Russians do. Then perhaps all this nonsense about a ‘space race’ would be over and done with.”  

 “And live in a time of peace,” Claire breathed. “That’s what we all want, isn’t it?”

 “I thought it was beautiful how the astronauts read from the Bible,” Roger continued. “How…how awed they were at the sight.”

 Claire turned to face her daughter – and for a split second saw the naked love in Roger’s eyes, before he tore his gaze away from Brianna.

 So she would not be alone. Praise be to God.

 “Do you remember how many times we read Goodnight Moon, when you were small?”

 No – I can’t cry – I won’t cry…

 “Goodnight Moon? Is that a children’s book?”

 “It is,” Brianna smiled at Roger. “A small rabbit wishes goodnight to all the things in his room. ‘Goodnight bears, goodnight chairs, goodnight kittens, and goodnight mittens…’”

 --

 It was a long while before Claire finally spoke again. “Of course the story was easy enough for her to follow, when she was so small. Just…a litany of goodnights. And it helped that she had many of those same items in her bedroom. Made the story a bit more real for her.”

 Behind her – around her – Jamie sighed, snuffling into the side of her neck. *I’m here, with you,* his arms told her. *We are together now….we share one mind, one heart. I understand.*

 “Do bairns in that time ken about the Man in the Moon?” he whispered, chin settling on her shoulder, watching the white light dance on the waves.

 “Of course. We talk about him – but there aren’t many stories about him.” She turned to rub her nose against his. “Do you know any stories?”

 “I do. A few, from my father, mostly. I’ll tell you, one day. We have the time now.”

 In the dark she sought his lips – and he met them in a long kiss.

 “We do,” she breathed against his mouth. “Thank God. We do.”

 --

 “What do ye mean ye dinna ken the stories of the Man in the Moon?” Jamie’s voice raised theatrically in the small room. “How have ye lived all this time wi’out hearing them?”

 “We ken Goodnight Moon,” Jem offered. “Mam would read it to me and Mandy every night, at Lallybroch. But she never told us anything about the Man!” He looked across the room – red brows furrowed accusingly at his mother.

 “I read the story to them, because Mama read it to me when I was small. It helped Mandy learn to read.” Brianna settled an arm around Claire’s shoulders, seated on the foot of Mandy’s bed. Safe and secure in the children’s new room in the new Big House.

 “Can ye tell us the stories then, Grand-da?” Mandy suggested, her brown curls exploding against the pillow, clutching Esmerelda tight.

 Jamie sat at the foot of Jem’s bed, one hand extended to Claire – who quickly crossed the small room to settle into his arms. Roger took Claire’s place beside Brianna at the foot of Mandy’s bed.

 Jamie’s voice was calm, strong – but his fingers shook as they clutched Claire’s, so tight.

 He cleared his throat.

 “Weel, the Man isna up there alone, to start wi’. He has his wife, and his daughter, and grandbairns. And a whole stable full of horses and coos and a paddock full of sheep whose wool is as white as the newest snow…”

[annamariemirfin]

A wonderful weekend

I had a very nice weekend on Vancouver Island. It was luxuriously sunny. The sun really transforms the place and my mood. Glynis and I were saying how when you out the window at the view from the house on a sunny morning you can’t help but feel inspired...the ocean glitters and sparkles in the sun, the sky is a brilliant cerulean blue, the tips of the pine trees are touched with warm golden light...for me, it inspires a wonderful appreciation of the environment and makes me want to do little other than go outside to enjoy it. It makes me feel more carefree, happy and motivated, as though I’ve entered inside a perfect postcard picture sent from an island vacation, or even as though I’m living inside of a dream. I can certainly see how summer on the island would be a rather divine experience. 

On Saturday I visited Devonian Regional Park where I walked through the forest and ended up on the beach. My favourite part of the day though, was playing with the children - Julius (7) and Elizabeth (3). It’s been a long time  since I’ve just spent a few hours of the day with kids and it was such a nice thing to do. 

Sunday was amazing - it was filled with all good things. I watched the art film with Glynis and we spent quite a bit of time just sitting in the sunny lounge chatting before attempting to do a latte art demonstration with her coffee making equipment. I also went for a walk to the local beach enjoyed sitting and taking in the scene around me. Later on I went for a jog along the main road to the small township of Metchosin. It was refreshing, energizing running again and my rural surroundings were picturesque. The ocean glittered in the distance. I was very taken with the Metchosin town centre. It was super adorable! There was little other there than a community center, corner store, perhaps a school? an art gallery and a couple of cafes. I walked into the art gallery and felt inspired by what I saw. The mixed media jewelry, art pieces and home decor objects were bright, colorful, creative and quirky. I wandered into the broken paddle cafe and knew instantly that it would be a frequent of mine if I lived in the area - the walls were bright orange and hung with colourful artworks, the space was small and cosy, there was a fireplace, antique chairs, and (un)broken paddles were a thematic decoration. I very cheaply took in the atmosphere for free before moving on to the My Chosen Cafe. This was another super cute seeming cafe - a restaurant, ice cream bar and pizza shop combined in the same building, with a quaint, homey, wooden interior and endearing decorating scheme. It was clearly a local favourite, the place was buzzing with people and it felt as though there were all ages, and all kinds of relationships present in that one space- young children, elderly, adults, teenagers - families, friends, couples. The mood was lively, positive, energetic, happy.  It seemed like it was ‘the’ place to be, it was certainly a well-loved community space. Apparently people will drive all the way from Victoria just to come to the My Chosen Cafe. I tried not too seem too much like a tourist but failed miserably. I took in the scene and moment around me with wide-eyed excitement. A pleasant seeming teenaged couple who were lining up for ice cream looked at me every now and then out of the corner of their eye and smiled. 

I then went outside to the back of the cafe where there was a little petting zoo (the “Critter Corner”) which may have just about made me melt over how cute and happy the scene was. There were chickens and a whole goat family at the petting zoo. It was a very popular, busy area - children squealed with delight as they patted the baby goats, their parents laughed and enjoyed the moment, others stood around smiling, watching, perhaps like me, trying to decide which was cuter - the animals or the children. I lightly, and hesitantly patted some baby goats through the fence myself. They had such soft coats of fur. I sat at one of the outdoor tables beside the petting zoo where families milled and stopped by to enjoy their treats. Again I took in the scene around me - there were farms all around us. Behind the petting zoo was a paddock full of sheep. Everything I saw was bathed in gorgeous sunlight. 

In the evening I shared another lovely dinner in the company of Glynis, Bruce, Elodie and Valentin, and we spent time together chatting afterwards. What a wonderful day! 

[edenwinchester]

My Kingdom for a Horse -Eden Marie Series Part 7

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6

Characters: Eden Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester (mentioned), Castiel (Mentioned)

Warnings: Language, Mention of Death

Word Count: 3241

Summary: Eden is working on a case during her spring break together with Sam and Dean

Author’s Note: I’m bad at titles. Sorry.

The case was easy: Two dead horses, their hearts ripped out, found in their boxes in the stables of Benaiah Van den Berg’s ranch around 2 a.m. Their death was similar to those of Mr. Burton’s sheep, who had his farm only a mile away from Eden’s godfather’s ranch. 

Eden’s spring break had been rather boring until last night. All she did was going horseback riding in the Davy Crockett National Forest during daytime and binge watching series on Netflix at night. Only once her godfather’s new wife Polina took her to Houston for a shopping trip. Of course, that didn’t sound so bad, but now Eden that knew there was a werewolf to hunt everything appeared less exciting. Since the alarm system went off in the middle of the night, she couldn’t think of anything else but finding the monster that slaughtered two of Benaiah’s best stallions. Eden collected all the fact in a file including a map of the ranch and surrounding where she marked every house, farm or cabin in a radius of two miles, which she presented Sam and Dean after they arrived at the ranch to help Ben with his issue.

“I gotta admit I’m impressed, Eden,” Dean told his daughter.

“Yeah, you did a quite good job, Baby.” Sam agreed with him.

Eden smiled proudly. Maybe the research paid off and her dad would tag her along when they went out to hunt the werewolf. She just didn’t know when and especially how to break the news to them. 

“So what are we-” she started her question, but then she saw how her dad and her uncle raised their eyebrows, “I mean you, what are you gonna do next?”

Dean looked at his brother before he answered her, “Sam and I might check out the boxes where the horses were killed.”

“I already did, there’s nothing. No footprints, no leaf of a special tree that only grows in a certain place in the woods,” Eden said dramatically “no weird smells apart from the smell of straw, horse droppings and… blood” Her voice started to shake at the end of the sentence.

“Well, maybe you should let us take a look at it because, we-” her dad pointed with his finger at Sam, then at himself and then back to Sam, “are professionals.”

Eden groaned and shot a helpless glance at Sam, who only smirked back. “Fine, I’ll show you the boxes!”

The stables were empty, the other horses were in the paddock, only Jordan the stable boy was mucking out the boxes. Eden led the boys to the place where the two stallions got slaughtered. It took them a while to inspect every corner of the two boxes.

“You were right. Nothing.” Sam said after a few minutes.

Dean groaned. “Awesome, now we have to check out every cabin on the map to find that thing. It’s gonna take us hours!”

“Not if you two split up.” Eden suggested, “Or maybe…”

“Sam and I won’t split up, Eden. So maybe what?” her dad asked her.

“Or maybe I could go with you.” The teenager said, but it sounded more like a question than an offer. The two men snorted amusedly. “What? Didn’t I just prove that really can help you?”

“No Eden. You wanted to help and that’s great and we’ll give you all the credit you want for that, but you’re not gonna go out there and risk your life for a bunch of horses.” Dean meant, lowering his voice in case Jordan could hear them.

She gave him a pleading look. “Please Daddy, please.”

“Quit begging, Eden. I said No!” he tried to explain. “And don’t Daddy me!”

“Sammy?” Eden tried the same thing with her uncle.

“No Baby, I’m with Dean on this.”

She crossed her arms and stared away. Dean rolled his eyes before he and Sam left her alone in the stables. Of course, they’d say no. To be honest she’d never expected them to say anything other than that. Now Eden was extremely mad at herself because she spent the night researching instead of sleeping.

After storming out of the stables angrily, Eden joined her father who was checking his guns in the trunk of his car. “You’re so unfair!” she yelled, “You and Sam were already hunting before you turned thirteen! I’m almost sixteen, Dad. You can’t keep me from hunting forever, it’s in my blood. I’d be a damn good hunter if you’d just let me, you know that!”

Dean closed the trunk so quickly that he almost bruised Sam’s fingers. At the sound of the slam, Eden flinched. 

“Fine!” was all he said with his usually deep voice.

“Dude…What?” Sam protested and watched his brother getting in the Impala. Eden looked confused at her uncle. “Does that mean I can come?”

“No!” he answered her, “Dean, you can’t be serious.”

“I am being serious. If Missy thinks she can hunt I say we take her on a hunt. I don’t have the nerves for another fight with her.”

The teenager took her usual seat in the back of the car with a smugly smile on her face.

“Oh and you better watch your tone when you’re talking to me!” Dean reminded her, which shut down her smile quickly.

After hours of breaking into cabins and abandoned houses, the Winchesters decided to go deeper into the forest. It was already getting dark and Eden was already getting tired, but she didn’t complain, she wouldn’t give her father and uncle that kind of satisfaction. After a while, she was so tired that she doze off for a second and stumbled which caused her to fall down.

“I’m okay!” She said, feeling a little dizzy when Sam and Dean helped her up. “I’m fine." 

Dean seemed to have lost his strict father attitude because he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. "I’m sure we’re close. We j-”

He got interrupted by a gunshot echoing through the trees. 

“Was that a gun?” Sam asked looking around.

“Of course, these are hunting grounds. The wildlife service has its cabin like ten minutes back that way.” Eden said pointing at the road the just walked up.

“And you couldn’t think about telling us ten minutes ago?” Dean stared at his daughter, who seemed a little over-challenged with the whole situation.

She took a deep breath. “Well… Didn’t we already checked it out?”

Sam gave her a worried look before he turned around to his brother, “We should go.”

The boys started running and Eden had to follow them. She arrived at the cabin about two minutes later than the others. There was a conversation coming from inside between her father and some other man that Eden didn’t know. Completely out of breath she loaded her gun and walked inside. Sam and Dean, both with their backs turned to her, were pointing their guns at two other men, who also had their guns pointing at them. On the floor behind them lied a dead body. Eden stepped closer to her uncle so she could have a better look at the strangers. The smaller one turned out to be Jordan, the stable boy, so Eden figured the older and taller one, who kind of looked like him, was his father. In the very few talks, Eden and he had before he mentioned to her that he was living with his father since his parents’ divorce.

“What is going on here?” Eden asked while she lowered her gun, staring at Jordan.

“Stay back Eden,” Sam said trying to guard her.

She gave Jordan’s father a quizzing look, pointing at the corpse behind him. “Is that the werewolf?”

“Hush Eden!” Dean ordered his daughter.

“Are you guys hunters too?” Jordan’s father asked them whilst lowering his gun too.

Sam glanced at his older brother, then at Eden before he put his gun away. “Yeah, we are. I’m Sam, this is my brother Dean and my niece, Eden.” He extended his hand to the other hunter.

“My name is Ray and that’s my son Jordan,” Ray said and shook Sam’s hand.

“We’ve been looking for that werewolf for some time now. We hunted his pack down in Arkansas but he managed to escape.” Jordan explained to the Winchesters.

 After they buried the dead werewolf in the woods, Ray drove them to the place where Dean had parked his Baby. The men had decided to have a drink together and trade some stories before they’d go separate ways.

“Does your dad always takes you hunting with him?” Dean asked his arms crossed. His question got Eden to pay attention to their conversation.

The teenage boy looked at him confused. “Like most of the time he does. Why are you asking?”

“What about school? You still go there, right? I mean you can’t be older than sixteen.” Sam said, not responding to his last question.

“I’m seventeen and yeah, I still go to school.”

Before Sam and Dean could continue their cross-examination Ray came back from his van with a bottle of whiskey in his hands. “I don’t have any glasses but…”

“We’ll be fine.” Dean smiled.

Eden sighed. That was going to be a long night. After a couple of bad jokes and half a bottle whiskey later Dean was telling them the story of the Winchester Family Business with Sam commenting after every second sentence he said. Bored to death Eden sat on the hood of her dad’s car, going through her classmates snapchat story for the third time, trying to find out if Matt had a new girlfriend. Not that she cared, but when she came back from spring break she needed something to gossip about with Florence Atackley. 

“So you’re a Winchester.” Jordan interrupted her lurking. “I always thought Benaiah was your father.”

She put her phone in the pocket of her sweatshirt and looked at him. Boy, was he hot! The muscles under his shirt, his almost black eyes, his dark skin. Eden wished boys at her school would look like that. She bit her lower lip. “Huh? No No No. See, Ben’s my godfather… and my mother’s cousin, that explains why we have the same last name.”

“And you’ve been hunting with your dad and uncle since she died?”  he asked and sat down next to her. Eden noticed how her dad turned around to them for a second before he got back to his conversation.

“Well, actually I was on my first hunt today and that wasn’t really a hunt thanks to you,” Eden told him while she raised her eyebrows a little annoyed because of that.

“I’m sorry for that,” he gave a charming smile, “Maybe I can make it up to you some time.” 

She smiled back, “I’m sure you can.”

Dean, who had heard every word, turned around again and knocked on his Impalas hood twice. “And I’m sure you cannot. Get in the car, Edie. We’re going home.”

Eden rolled her eyes and said goodbye to Jordan and his father before she got on the back seat. Sam, who sat down in the shotgun, looked at her and shook his head to show her his disapproval. 

Even more annoyed Eden leaned out of the open car window and glanced over to her father who was talking to Ray alone. He spoke with lowered voice but Eden could hear what they were talking about.

“…Maybe you are too far down that road, but you have to keep your son away from it. My father, he raised Sam and me to become hunters, but we never actually had the chance to live a normal life. That’s why I’ve been trying to keep Eden from hunting. You can’t imagine the things I went through and I don’t want this to happen to her too. So, as a hunter and as a father I’m telling you to make sure Jordan doesn’t go down that path, ever.”

What Dean just said was nothing new to his daughter. She knew he had always felt that way. Eden leaned back in her seat. It may have been a stupid idea of begging him to tag her along, but she just wanted to be close to him and Sam since she only got to see them so infrequently. And now that her grandmother was back from death Eden didn’t even need to try to become their center of attention again.

“So? Do you think there is still food left from dinner?” Dean asked when he got in the car.

By asking that he made it pretty clear that he didn’t want to talk about what Eden just heard, so she just played along. “Maybe but you wouldn’t want to eat that. Since Polina moved in we always have some weird stuff for lunch and dinner. Something with celery and leek. She even made me eat a beet casserole.”

“What a cruel woman,” Sam said amused.

Suddenly Eden rubbed her eyes sleepily then looked at the rearview mirror just to realize the both men were watching her. 

“Aw, Baby is tired!” her uncle teased her and Dean laughed.

She punched his shoulder. “Yes, I am. Can’t we just go?”

Her father nodded and started the engine. For a while, they drove in silence back to Benaiah’s ranch. Eden leaned over the back of the front seat, her head between Sam’s and Dean’s shoulders. She knew how much it annoyed them but she did it anyways. 

“Are you guys already heading home tomorrow?” Eden asked them. Her dad and uncle never really liked her godfather, that’s why they never really stayed longer that they had to.

“No” Dean answered. “We’re leaving on Saturday and our coming with us, you have school on Monday, forgot?”

She shook her head, “No, I did not. But Saturday is in two days. Are you sure you want to leave Mary alone at home so long? Not that I want you to leave but… does she even know how to use the coffee maker or the microwave?” The corner of Deans mouth twitched. “It’s very kind of you that you worry about your grandmother but it’s the other way around, actually.” He said in a sad tone. “See Eden, Mom left us.”

“Uh?” Eden arched her eyebrow but then she noticed their sad looks. “Well, I’m sorry for that.”

“No need to, Champ.”

She wrapped an arm around each of them to cheer them up a little. “You have to look at the bright side of it: You still got me and I sure as hell won’t leave you!”

It didn’t really cheer them up, she knew it didn’t, but they smiled anyway. “I know you won’t,” Dean said and he sounded only half as sad as before.

Later that night, Eden was already in bed, Dean walked into her bedroom and sat down next to her.

“I think we should talk about today, Champ,” He told her and Eden moaned. 

Sam already did that for about twenty minutes, without coming to a conclusion. “Like I already said before, you did a good job investigating the case-”

“But at the end, it wasn’t really worth anything” she interrupted him, pulling her blanket up to her chin.

“No, listen to me. You did great, Champ. Sam and I could really need your help sometimes.”

Eden glanced away from the TV to her father, half surprised half worried. “I thought I was the only one who bumped her head today.”

Dean smirked and shook his head. “The thing is, if we let you investigate for us, you’ll start to hunt soon and you know I don’t like the idea of you being a hunter. But like you said, you’re a Winchester, I mean you’re also a fancy ass Van den Berg, but you’re still a Winchester and, as hard as it might be for me to admit that, it means you’re also a hunter. Believe me, I wish it was different. You don’t have the slightest idea of what’s going on in our world, you think you do but you don’t. Which is why I’m gonna show you…”

The whole speech Eden stared at her father, wondering if he was possessed or something. The Dean she knew had sent her to a fancy ass boarding school, with her godfather’s money, because he didn’t want her to be involved in the hunting life.

“… until you wish I would’ve beaten you ass after you yelled at me this afternoon instead of tagging you along!”

She sighed in relief, which confused her dad. “Look, Daddy, I’m not that into hunting and, to be honest with you, I’m not that into spankings either.” Eden joked. Her dad never laid hand on her even if he said he would a hundred times already, so that wouldn’t scare her unless it was coming out of Sam’s mouth. “I just don’t want to be alone at home the whole time. Even with Cass home, it doesn’t change, all he does is nothing except driving me to school and picking me up afterward. You guys could just take me with you more often.” She saw how Dean opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she knew what he wanted to say. “I know I have to go to school, but I’m in sophomore year and I’m fifteen. I can go to school for the next four years tops!”

Dean gasped shockingly. “That means two years extra you are going to spent with Sam and me.”

“Would you bother?”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” he said stroking her hair, “You…You are my Baby Girl.”

“I know that Daddy” Eden smiled at him. He hadn’t called her Baby Girl in years, not since John gave him his car. “You wanna join Sammy and me for a movie night?”

“A movie night? It’s after midnight, I can’t believe Sam said agreed to that.” Dean didn’t sound angry or anything, he sounded rather calm.

Right in that moment, Sam walked in holding the complete Hobbit trilogy in his hand. He made a surprised face after he saw the two of them staring at him. “What?”

“C’mon Dad. Join us!” Eden offered again, while Sam put The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey in the DVD player.

“Fine!” Dean gave in, “But as soon as you two start geeking around and comparing the book to the movies I’m out.”

“We won’t!” she promised him, shooting cheeky smirk at Sam who winked back at her. Both of them knew that Dean would be asleep in fifteen minutes. 

So Eden laid in bed between her dad and her uncle, humming the soundtrack to the movie, feeling extremely happy at the moment.

I don’t own these GIFs.

Tags:

@straightasdeanwinchester @daughters-and-winsisters

[thefionahamer]

After months of flu last year, I was very excited when Ben Hanrahan from Greening Australia offered help with planting our new Glossy Black Cockatoo area on the steep gully behind the house.

It’s been a dry year so far, with only scattered amounts of rain making the soil just moist enough for planting.  Mostly we’ve had sunny days and warm temperatures.

We’d ripped and fenced and prepared for the arrival of the mystery volunteers.  Ben didn’t say who they were, just that there were lots of them.   But as we waited for the buses to arrive, the sunny morning began to sour.  Matthew ran around putting rocks on each coir mat to keep them from flying away.  The piles of pink corflute covers heaved and flapped against the heavy weights we’d put on them.

Looking at the surging clouds, Craig, Ben and Matt began digging some “demonstration” holes, to shorten the planting process.

Then the rain came down, just as the two big buses arrived.  The lovely volunteers from ThinkPlace were instantly soaked despite raincoats and plastic ponchos, but gamely set about transporting food and drinks up to the verandah of the house.  All concept of having lunch out in the paddock was abandoned, but the crew was lively and willing to give some planting a go.

Ben explained the Glossy Black Cockatoo program, where allocasuarina verticillata (drooping sheoak) that have gone missing from the landscape are being replanted to allow these small black cockatoos to move around the landscape again.   I gave a short explanation of what we’re trying to do at Esdale and Adnamira, including encouraging biodiversity and resilience in the landscape while still maintaining a productive sheep farm.

I also really want to protect and preserve the big remnant trees we do have, some of which could be up to five hundred years old.  They desperately need understorey plants that will protect the birds that then eat the insects that destroy the trees.   One of our most beautiful trees is in the area we were planting.

Having cowered under shelter through what we hoped was the worst of the weather, we all headed up to the gully for planting demonstrations (almost drowned out by the flapping noise of plastic ponchos), and then let the volunteers loose.  The rain returned, with more wind, covers flying across the hill and having to be chased down, mattocks swinging energetically as more holes were dug, each plant gently separated from it’s tube, planted and protected.

I took to making covers, keeping my foot on the pile while shoving stakes through the holes.  They wrestled in the gusts, occasionally flying back to spreadeagle against the fence.   Usually, that’s the easy job.

When the sleet began, the amazing crew was already two thirds of the way across the hillside.  I worried that if we went on, we’d lose people to hypothermia, but they had their heads down and fought up the other side of the gully toward the fence.

After another twenty minutes or so, Ben decided things were getting too dangerous, and we went back to the house to eat the lunch (out of the rain).    At that point most people were chilled and willingly headed back to the buses to go home, but a small crew went back and finished the last dozen when the rain let up slightly.

I was frankly amazed that we got 240 trees planted on steep, rocky ground under those circumstances.   Thank you ThinkPlace (and Greening Australia) for dealing so well with our unthinkable weather.   

  UNTHINKABLE WEATHER After months of flu last year, I was very excited when Ben Hanrahan from Greening Australia…

[josephkitchen0]

Sheep Gestation and Slumber Parties: It’s Lambing Season At Owens Farm

By Caroline Owens – Lambing-time preparations on our farm have a unique twist. We do stock up on the traditional sheep gestation support products such as milk replacer, calcium gluconate, CDT vaccine, etc., for our flock of 100 ewes. But gallons of spaghetti sauce and pounds of pancake powder also pile into our shopping cart, along with massive quantities of human support essentials like coffee and hot chocolate.

That’s because lambing season on Owens Farm also means Lambing-Time Slumber Parties: Groups of adventurous guests aged seven to 70 will join us during that magical time of year when sheep gestation ends and lambs are popping out left and right.

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A lambing-time slumber party is an overnight event for groups of 10 to 16 people. The guests arrive in time for evening chores on the first day. We start right in the lambing barn, processing newborns. The guests help weigh, ear-tag, give BoSe shots, check teeth and eyelids and determine the sex of the new lambs.

Asked to guess the weight of this lamb, the kids’ suggestions ranged from one pound to one hundred.

We tour the lambing pens, pointing out which ewes and lambs are doing fine, and which need assistance. Sheep gestation, nursing behavior, temperature, colostrum, mothering instinct: These topics are discussed in depth.

We walk through the paddock containing the older lambs and still-pregnant ewes, stressing the importance of quiet voices and calm movements.

The guests learn that we keep two breeds of sheep: Coopworths and Katahdins, under different sheep gestation management protocols. The Coopworths lamb in a paddock adjacent to a central barn with access to traditional lambing pens. The Katahdins are in more of a pasture-based situation, with shelter and restraint as needed.

Then it’s time to meet the rest of the animals.

Besides sheep, we also raise Tamworth pigs, maintain a flock of laying hens, and keep several riding horses. The border collies and barn cats are also part of the scene.

With the animals taken care of and dinner underway, the guests bring in their luggage and get settled. They stay in a carpeted and heated overnight lodging facility just steps away from the lambing barn. By the time everyone has laid out their sleeping bags and checked their e-mail, a hearty spaghetti dinner is on the table.

With dessert comes a discussion of “What to Expect When Your Sheep is Expecting.” We study posters of lambing problems like dystocia and how we would save the lamb. We paw through the lambing equipment box and explain the purpose of every item from iodine dip to shoulder-length gloves. The number of emergency supplies really drives home the point of why it’s important to pay close attention at lambing. The last step before bedtime is, of course, to check the barn again. The group is a bit more serious at this point, having a deeper understanding of what can go wrong with sheep giving birth.

The evening entertainment is “Shaun the Sheep,” those clever “claymation” movie shorts that cross all generation gaps. I excuse myself at that point to grab some sleep, with promises to wake everyone in the middle of the night.

There’s a dreamlike quality to the midnight barn check. I flick on the lights, and the guests follow me sleepily downstairs. Boots and coats are pulled on over pajamas and we head out the door. I ask the group to follow me quietly and in single file among the sleeping sheep.

Sleepy smiles at the beginning of what became an “eighteen lamb night.”

We beam our flashlights on hidden corners and behind hayracks, where ewes may be in labor or in trouble. Lambs or no lambs, it’s an unforgettable experience to crunch through the snow, under a veil of stars and a bright winter moon, watching the ewes and lambs snuggle together in contented coziness.

First light finds us back in the barn. Dawn is my flock’s favorite time to drop lambs, so we often see newborns. Once all time-sensitive tasks are taken care of, we enjoy a pancake breakfast and swap stories. The last step for the guests is processing any new lambs, and feeding the other livestock.

Adventure-Seekers Ages 7 To 70

We offer two sheep gestation Slumber Party formats: Public and Private.

The public events are set dates, for which guests can sign up individually. A private date requires a minimum of 10 people. The ages and interests vary widely.

For the Adopt-A-Sheep families (a subject to be covered in a future issue of Sheep!), lambing is the highlight of their “Sheep Year.”

Home-school families use the lambing experience as a rich unit study on Sheep Gestation and Farming, Reproductive Physiology, and Animal Science career exploration.

We often also host adults who plan to raise sheep in the future and want the full experience.

A Lambing Slumber Party also makes a great trip for Girl Scouts and Cub/Boy Scouts.

We have had church youth groups focus the entire event around Psalm 23. One year, we were honored to be the chosen destination of an adult group that specializes in finding unusual adventures.

In The Beginning

It was our Adopt-A-Sheep families who gave us the idea for the Slumber Parties.

Through letters and e-mails, they experienced the preparations for sheep gestation and lambing: They read our stories of lives lost, lives saved, lucky breaks and silly sheep behavior. They saw photos of 150 young lambs playing together.

“We wish we could see this,” they sighed. “We wish we could go on those midnight barn checks.”

It finally dawned on us that this might be one of those crazy ideas worth running up the flagpole.

Hosting an event was familiar ground for us. We are well known for our summer Sheep Camp for Kids. We also hold educational programs for farmers and consumer events to showcase our meats. Reaching potential customers is easy with our website and e-mail newsletters.

The Lambing-Time Slumber Parties were an instant hit. We gave our Adopt-A-Sheep families a priority registration period, then opened it up to the general public. Every date sold out, and requests poured in for private dates. Needless to say, these events are now a standard offering on our calendar and somewhat of a cult among our customer base.

Unplanned Excitement

There is one factor that sets the Lambing Slumber Party apart from any other event: I can’t plan every detail. And that’s exactly what lends unparalleled authenticity to this program. Cold lambs are revived and fed. Tangled triplets are sorted out and pulled. The apparently lifeless lamb is rubbed and swung until it sneezes and “baas.” (And the children cheer!) And yes, occasionally there is death.

I have found that if we’re honest and transparent about the sheep gestation losses, the guests take it in stride. They understand that we’re doing our best to keep everyone alive, but sometimes our best is simply not good enough.

We’ve certainly shared dramatic events over the years.

I remember leading the midnight check one frigid night, with sleepy children asking what we were looking for.

As we swung a flashlight beam across the barnyard, something struck me as odd: A set of eyes was in the wrong place.

It turned out to be a laboring ewe stuck on her back. With one guest holding her head and another handing me towels, we rolled her over and delivered a set of triplets.

No one asked again why we braved the midnight cold.

Saving Timmy: This lamb was revived from a “lamb popsicle” (too cold to register on a thermometer) to a vigorous bottle baby during a Slumber Party.

Another unforgettable night was the bedtime convoy to the vet.

A laboring ewe had a problem I couldn’t solve. I am blessed to have a vet who lives just six miles away and raises sheep herself. I drove the ewe to Jackie’s house, followed by three mini-vans. The ewe turned out to have a dead lamb tangled up with a live one and a cervix needing manual dilation. Jackie allowed interested children to don a glove, feel the lambs, and help maintain the pressure on the cervix until it was time for delivery.

Frequently Asked Questions

There are five questions that always come up when I speak to other producers about these events:

What about insurance? We are already insured up to the eyeballs because of our many farm enterprises which involve people and food.

Is it profitable? Yes. The $35 per head fee is calculated to cover expenses while contributing to farm profitability.

How can you focus on the sheep while supervising children? It’s clearly understood that my priority is the livestock. Guests are required to have at least one supervising adult for every three children and are completely responsible for them. I will disappear at a moment’s notice if I must.

What are the guests like? Without exception, our guests have been courteous, respectful, flexible, and appreciative of the opportunity.

How can you stand having additional responsibilities during lambing? That has been the greatest surprise of all: The energy and enthusiasm of our guests actually makes sheep gestation and lambing time more fun. There is nothing more rewarding than seeing a child’s eyes light up with the experiences that we shepherds tend to take for granted: Holding a lamb, saving a life, watching a ewe help her newborn to its feet. Our guests help my family appreciate how lucky we are to live on a farm and raise sheep.

  Caroline and David Owens raise Coopworth and Katahdin sheep in Sunbury, Pennsylvania. Their sheep support the farm through traditional means (such as freezer lambs, breeding stock, and fleeces) but also through educational programs like Sheep Camp, Adopt-A-Sheep, and Lambing-Time Slumber Parties. For more about Owens Farm, visit www.owensfarm.com

Originally published in Sheep! May/June 2016 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

Sheep Gestation and Slumber Parties: It’s Lambing Season At Owens Farm was originally posted by All About Chickens

[alison-egan-photography-blog]

An unexpected farmer’s journey

Intended publication: Tuesday’s farming supplement in the Irish Independent

Hazel Carter from Clane, Co. Kildare, never thought she would live the farming lifestyle again, once she moved out of her family home at age 18. However, when her father past away 15 years ago, she suddenly found herself in the possession of acres of farming land.

“ I didn’t know what I wanted to do with it, but at the time my husband and I were looking for somewhere for our family to move to in Co. Kildare from Dublin….Logically moving into my old family home which was now vacant and technically mine, seemed like the right thing to do, so that’s what we did,” Hazel explains.

Hazel was a stay-at-home mum, caring for her three daughters, Sophie, Holly and Jessica when she inherited her father’s farm. Once the family moved into Hazel’s old family home in Kildare, she found herself drawn to the farming lifestyle she grew up with.

“We always had animals on the farm growing up and I remember helping my dad bottle feed the lambs or milking the cows and that is the sort of thing I missed really…. One day I was looking out onto the empty fields from the kitchen window and imagined how they’d look with sheep on them, grazing away as their little lambs followed after them,” she said

Hazel went on to explain how it wasn’t long after they moved into their new home until there were sheep in the paddock behind the house and corn growing in the next field over. Farming was something that slowly took form in Hazel’s life until it finally reached a point where it had become a full-time job.

She spoke about the early mornings and late nights, and even the days she questioned why she was doing this. “There has been many a day where I’ve had to get up at 5 in the morning after not getting to bed until after 12 the night before to nurse a sick lamb or something, where I’ve definitely thought about giving it up, definitely. But then I have to think of the benefits too. Like  it’s a source of constant income….and now that the kids are grown up I would have had to get a job anyway to keep me from sitting at home alone on the couch all day,” Hazel said.

According to Hazel farming nowadays comes with a lot more paperwork than it used to. She remarks how any woman can “get into farming” because they can do the paperwork and farm accounts “as good as anybody”. Hazel spends an hour or two each night going over the farm accounts and dealing with the paperwork that accompanies them. She says it’s “a tedious task, but it has to be done”.

When I asked Hazel what is the most rewarding part of it all, she replied, “when I look out at it all and think, ‘I made that’, ‘look what I’ve grown’. Whether it be a herd of sheep or a field of corn, it’s just nice to look at something physical that I created”.

[xottzot]

2017-4(APR)-14 onwards (long easter Wekend here). (Thursday, Friday,....)

2017-4(APR)-14 onwards (long easter Wekend here). (Thursday, Friday,....)

The abo's were out on interminable wanders about the streets.

Abo kid boy criminals were wandering on school grounds and one was going to cross Clayton Street. He hesitated, paused, then ran acoss onto the next road, of Kalara Way and stood there on the street. He madly waved and louldy shouted behind him as a signal. Despite there nobody being in sight. Nobody came.

A police car passed by on Clayton Street, coming into this hellhole area. On a patrol or whatever. They didn't bother at all or bat an eye at the abo kid. Standard operating procedure they've been told.

Police gone, the kid then madly starts (literally), manically, 'dancing' ON the street, waving his arms all about and turning about. He was triumphant yet again over the Police.

He kept up his manic behaviour, walked along ON the street and walked straight into the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD.

Within a minute, another criminal boy aboriginal appeared and crossed Clayton Street from also having been on Koongamia School Property. This one carried his shoes in his hands and was twirling about and extremely slowly making his way along walking ON the streets. He seemed reluctant. But he too walked into the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD.

All of that may seem innocent and normal to the itinerant observer with no knowledge of these shits.

All of Friday there was aboriginals walking up and down the streets and all aimlessly about.

Later on in the afternoon, an illegal unlicensed offroad motorbike, a small one, came tearing out of the criminals pedestrian walkway at the end of Kalara Road, Went along Kalara Road ON THE ROAD AS ALWAYS BECAUSE THERE ARE NO LAWS IN KOONGAMIA THAT APPLIES TO THOSE RESPONSIBLE, it went thru the interseection of Kalara Way street and Kalara Road streets, then it rode down the middle of Kalara Way past the the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD, crossed Clayton Street, and went straight onto Koongamia School prorerty, all of which is 'owned' by the criminals.

Later in the afternoon, even more aboriginals from other outposts came along walking ON the streets. One lot met at the Kalar intersections on the road, then as part of them went to the Koongamia shops area, another woman went straight to the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD. - I guess a new shipment of stuff had arrived for them from the many cars that had been going in and out of there. A small aboriginal kid was dumped at the road intersection and he sat in the verge dry, dusty, dirt waiting. -- Business as usual.

Another West Australian Police car sedan came into the area around 3pm.

All during the day aboriginals came and went all over the place.

Sometimes it was cars going in to the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD, or the now aboriginal) house next door, or they were on foot walking to and from and all about. Busy, busy, busy.......

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Friday, an offroad unlicensed motorbike (as usual) comes out of the criminals owned pedstrian walkway, and goes at speed along Kalara Road and away into Koongamia.

Whatever other shit that went on, has been wiped from my memory.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saturday........

At 11:43a, a small 4-stroke 4-wheled offroad unlicensed white 'quad-bike' came tearing out of the criminals pedestrian walkway at the end of Kalara Road, and it rode speedily along Kalara Road eastwards, past the shops area and away.

And of course it was ON THE ROAD AS ALWAYS BECAUSE THERE ARE NO LAWS IN KOONGAMIA THAT APPLIES TO THOSE RESPONSIBLE.

No Police chased it. No Police were at all around.

That was as if it was the signal for aboriginals everywhere to come out. No sign of Police, no reactions from any Police or undercover Police vehicles at the 4-wheeled quad motorbike, even after it raced past the Koongamia shops, and seen by lots of innocent people.

So, out come some aboriginals from the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD. They go to the corner house that has had it'e fenced long since destroyed by aboriginals (and aborignals from the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD), they go in there whilst barefoot older one stands in the middle of the intersection using a mobile phone, tapping away and sending messages all about. (ie. the coast is clear)

The aboriginals shortly come out of the house, followed by the woman who lives at that house and rents it (along with her two boys), she joins them all, and all 4 of them now ALL walk back to the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD. All just one big happy 'family'......

Lots more aboriginals began walking about the roads. ON THE ROADS. All day.

Lots more cars 'visiting' the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD, and the aboriginal one next door to it.

Just another quiet day in this hellhole.

Later in the day, in the afternoon, a red car comes along Kalara Road and beeping its horn for attention as it travels. (There's nobody visibly about.), and both the driver and front passenger are madly waving their hands in the air out the windows as they go thru the intersection and down Kalara Way street. It upsets and makes all the neighborhood dogs barking, and they continue to bark, long after the car has driven down Kalara Way, wildly gone past the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD, and turned wildly left onto Clayton Street and away. And of course here was no vehicle indicators at all used completely. Such things are for silly innocent people who obey laws.

On a street corner outside the Koongamia shops is a shopping trolley abandoned or left there as a signal. Nobody's going to touch it. (Except aboriginal kids of course.) - Nobody dares to touch or remove it. The small Koongamia shops don't have or use shopping trolleys. It has been brought into the area. It's happened MANY times before. Watch it multiply in the ghetto as has happened so many times before. And I've seen appearing in other ghetto-areas where aboriginals try to make them.

At 14:04 (2:04pm), back along ON Kalara Road, past the shops, rapidly comes the small 4-stroke 4-wheled offroad unlicensed white 'quad-bike' and it goes back thru the criminals pedestrian walkway at the end of Kalara Road and is away into the nextwork of other criminals pedestrian walkways and criminals houses in Bellevue in the large place (made from of sheep paddocks) that was once sold as "CLayton Estate" and which I still know and refer to it as until I am dead. I grew up as a kid seeing and listening to sheep baa-ing in those fields, where all there now is houses, and criminals walkways crime conduits, and wandering criminals making life a hell for everyone.

And of course the guy on that quiad bike isn't wearing a helmet. They no longer even have to bother with disguising themselves that way.

I've forgotten now....is this the 5th month STRAIGHT of EVERYDAY illegal motorbikes llegally going thru the streets of this helhole night and day? It's been going on for so long now that I've long since lost count. West Australian Police can NOT stop them. And if they at all dare catch them, the culprits will just shrug it all off as they have been doing so. Maybe they'll demand compensation (and get it). Maybe they can get 'compensation' in the form of drugs and alcohol. Nothing will have change. And nothing ever changes.

And (Ms New Age) the inncent gentle woman who owns the corner house, the one she owns and kindly rents out and which has had its fence smashed by criminal aboriginals, she would no doubt be shocked. -- Everything in this hellhole has changed for the worst, and it keeps getting worse and worse each day.

The aboriginal drug dealer house is STILL security fenced-in, but it doesn't matter now because aboriginals moved into the house next door to the aboriginal CRIMINAL HOUSEHOLD, and they can make the criminals feel right at home once more as they control the streets just as 'Fatguts' the drug dealer did for over a decade.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Every day has been HOT.

Every evening is HOT after sunset, epsecially inside this hovel that has to have all doors and windows eternally shut to keep out the heat and criminals constantly roamaing about, the ones who think nothing of fences or of anyones property.

Official weather forecasts, especially for temperatures, do not apply here. But authorities declare that they MUST apply, and so that goes down on records. Reality doesn't exist here.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

P@14:36---going to lay down now in pain and sweat and despair. -- I love you Fliss and want to be away with you. Sam and Max are in despair as am I.

[alexdunkin]

First Draft Series: Unto Him

The tractor engine cuts out. Travis sighs at the silence humming across the yard, the lingering mechanical buzz still echoing in his head. Travis lowers his aching legs down from the tractor and strolls across to the house. Greasy sweat clings to his shirt and seep into the rim of his hat. The remnants of daylight sear out through the gaps of the tree line that guards the driveway. Deep satisfaction fills Travis’ swollen knees. The wheat growing in the top paddock is rising in promising rows. The bullying drought of the previous years once again fail its attempt to kick Travis off his land.

Sticky odour rises out of Travis’ shirt. He undoes the row of buttons to air the singlet underneath. Across the gravel road he spots Justin lingering on the top step of the veranda. Travis smiles. Justin’s neat shirt and jeans press tightly against his strong chest. The tidy house frames Justin as a beckon of order amongst the dust drifting up around the farm.

Travis’ smile quickly fades. A dark shadow casts across Justin’s face. Worry creases across Justin’s brow. Justin shifts his weight between his feet. The boards creak under the persistent movement.

“What is it?” Travis asks. He steps up Justin’s eye level. Moisture fills Justin’s sight. Travis holds Justin’s shoulders and presses a soft kiss on his lips.

“It’s—um, it’s your dad,” Justin mumbles. “He’s here. He says he’s staying for a while.”

Travis’ sweat freezes across his body. His feet twitch. The hair on his neck shivers erect.

“Damn it. What does he want?” Travis says.

“I don’t know. He didn’t say much. He’s been in the kitchen drinking tea and reading.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with him. If I knew he was here I would have been in much early.”

“It’s fine. Just can you do something about him now?”

Travis nods and removes his boots before stepping inside. The blast of sickly frangipani spray smacks Travis when he enters the house. The usual pleasantness of the aroma evaporates around him. A familiar shadow hunches over at the end the hallway. The silhouette of Travis’ father crouches over, a thick book in one hand, a steaming cup in the other. He leans against the window sill to balance his bulky frame.

“Dad,” Travis croaks. His father snaps his head up. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

“Well hello Travis,” his father responds confidently. He steps out of his own shadow. Slick grey hair creates a helmet on his head. He tucks his dangling crucifix under his woollen vest. “That wasn’t the sort of welcome I was expecting. It’s been years.”

Travis freezes on the spot. His father limps over and stretches his arms around Travis for a matey embrace. Travis swallows down his urge to run. His blood flees into his body and away from the touch of the old man.

“It has been a while,” Travis says. “Justin has been taking care of you?”

“Dean helped himself to everything,” Justin mutters before ducking across to the oven to work on dinner.

“I assumed I would be less of a hassle if I just whipped up my own tea. I didn’t want to put you guys out.” Dean’s smile reveals the crumbling remains of his false teeth. His cheeks fold upwards toward the thick cord of his hearing aids, and emphases the span of his enormous ears.

“Justin told me you thought you were staying?”

“Yes, just for a while. I thought it would be good to see my family again,” Dean nods.

“Right, well. We’ll deal with this over dinner. I need to shower and get out of these clothes.”

“Good idea,” Dean says. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell you but the stench you brought into the house is horrendous.”

Dean turns back to the window and opens his book. Justin shakes his head across the room to Travis. Travis shrugs and creeps down the hall to the bathroom.

The hot water from the shower fails to warm Travis’ skin. He rushes through the task of cleaning and returns to the kitchen in fresh clothes to find Dean sitting at the head of the table, eyes closed and lips moving. Justin glares coldly from the other end. Three plates of steak and vegetables sit cooling on the table. Travis hugs into himself. His arms compress his ribs.

“Thank you darling,” Travis kisses Justin on the cheek. The heat in Justin’s skin leaves a tingling burn on Travis’ lips. “It looks amazing. I’m starving. I spent most the day up the top. A couple sheep got out and a bit frisky in some of the crops. No real damage though. I think they mostly got into the weeds around the edges.”

Travis and Justin take their seats. They lift their cutlery ready to pierce their food.

“Just a moment,” Dean interrupts their temporary silence. “We need to finish saying grace before we eat.”

Justin visibly shivers. The vibrations of his discomfort shake across the table.

“You can say grace,” Travis says with a gulp. “But we don’t. We will begin eating straight away.”

Dean purses his lips. A sly grin eases out the corner of Justin’s mouth. Justin slices noisily through his meat. The grating of the knife against the ceramic pulsates through the air.

“We thank our Lord for this bounty we are about to share,” Dean pontificates. Justin chews through the steak. Drips of salty juice squeeze out through his teeth. Travis’ eyes widen and glare down at Justin. Justin shrugs and continues eating with his mouth open for the others to see the sauce laden food churn inside. “We thank you for letting us be together today after all this time. We pray that you bless this food we are about to eat. I ask that you bless my son Travis who has abandoned me for so long to pursue his sinful ways—“

“Right,” Justin snaps. “I can barely tolerate you being in this house but if you’re going to bring that hateful shit into my home I’ll have to kick you out.”

“Justin,” Travis hisses.

“What?” Justin fires back. He points the tip of his knife at Dean. “I don’t care if he’s your dad. That crap is not on.”

“Forgive them,” Dean continues. “They have lost their path. They no longer respect the father. Bless us with your all your glory. Amen.”

Dean unclasps his hands and picks up his cutlery. His rickety fingers grip intently on his knife and fork. His bottom lips spasms with each delicate slice across the steak’s fat. Justin stares down at Dean. The struggling speed in Dean’s movements draws Justin to almost a complete stop. He watches Dean’s shakes rip the last remaining fibres holding the steak to its whole. The fork and pitiful cut meat aim for Dean’s white-crusted lips. Justin bites into top lip. Pain dulls the irritation brewing inside him.

“So, Travis,” Dean says, his jaw clicking with each chomp. “How have you been? How’s the farm going? A few stray sheep about I recall you saying earlier.”

“Things are fine. It was nothing. Easy to take care of,” Travis answers drily.

“No big news? I haven’t seen you since your mother’s funeral. I’m sure something has happened.”

“Yes dad. A lot has happened.” Travis sighs. A sudden exhaustion drags the remaining energy out of Travis. “Why are you here dad?”

“What do you mean? I came here to see my son. Can’t a father do that?”

“You never talk to me unless you want something. What is it?”

“I want to stay for a little while,” Dean confesses. “I don’t have anywhere else to go, not since…”

“Not since what dad? Since your diagnosis?” Travis shakes his head.

“You’ve been talking to your sister,” Dean lowers his eyes. Tears well and haze over his vision.

“Of course I have dad. We all still talk to each other. Just because you hate the fact that I’m gay and married Justin and avoid me doesn’t mean that anyone else does.” Justin’s heart sinks. The gloat he had been fuelling disappears. “I know it’s terminal. I know you don’t want to stay in a nursing home but that’s what you will have to do. You can’t stay here.”

“You’re kicking me out already,” Dean spits. He shovels a loose fork of peas into his mouth. The tears dry against his eye lashes. “I’ve only just arrived and you’re shoving me off to that nursing home to rot, just like everyone else.”

Travis shakes his head. The crumbling mess of a man in front of him shrinks into unrecognisability.

“Dad, you can’t stay here. We live too far out of town and we’re too busy to care for you. The farm, the livestock, it’s a lot to deal with already. We aren’t nurses. What happens if you fall again, but here? We aren’t around the house for sometimes twelve to sixteen hours. What will happen to you?”

“I knew I wouldn’t be welcome here,” Dean drops his fork onto his plate. His hand plays against the fabric of his vest. A stray finger outlines the cross hiding behind the material.

“Look, dad, despite everything, you are still my father. I’m your son. We can’t change who we are. Just like you can’t change the fact that you’re sick. Not even God can fix that. Wouldn’t you be better in a place with all your friends and where professional staff can take care of you.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“Yes you do,” Justin cuts in. Travis leans back in his seat resigned. “We don’t have anything here you need. We don’t keep the medicine that will keep you comfortable.”

“Listen you little faggot, this is a conversation between a father and son, you stay out if it,” Dean curses.

Justin and Travis shoot to their feet. The chairs scrape across the floorboards.

“Justin, leave it,” Travis holds his hands up. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You better,” Justin mumbles. “I’m going to bed. When I get up tomorrow he can’t be here.” Travis nods.

“Dad,” Travis breathes deeply. “You can’t say those sorts of things anymore. I’m used to them from you but they hurt other people.”

“What does the little poof care? He’s corrupted you.” Dean hunches over his plate, continuing to push food into his mouth.

“Dad. That’s enough. You can stay the night but in the morning I’ll drive you back into town.”

“Fine,” Dean grumbles. He dabs his lips with the back of his hands. “If we’re done here I’m going to wash my face, say my prayers and go to bed. Goodnight.”

Dean lurches from the room. A single floorboard whispers under the weight of Dean’s steps. His socked feet shuffle quietly into the darkness of the guest room.

Travis exhales heavily. The muscles in his neck pull at the back of his skull. A dull ache creeps across his forehead.

Justin is sitting in bed with his arms crossed when Travis enters the room. His bedside light flickers brightly behind a makeshift shade.

“Well, is he going?” Justin asks.

Travis slides out of his pants and shirt. The stale air in the room latches onto his exposed skin. The tension in his back releases as he drops himself onto the bed.

“Yeah, I’ll drive him into town tomorrow before breakfast,” Travis shuts his eyes.

“Thank you,” Justin sneaks a heavy kiss onto Travis. Their stubble scratches heavily against each other’s lips. “I don’t know how you dealt with all that growing up.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Travis says. “I was closeted for most of it so safe from his real torment. I just had to keep going to church when he wanted.”

“It wasn’t too bad?” Justin laughs. “I’m surprised you came out alive. It’s some thick skin you’ve got.”

“Can we talk about it another time? I’m wrecked. I really need some sleep.”

Justin smiles, presses another kiss against Travis’ cheek and switches the light off.

A heavy bump in the bed belts Travis out of his deep sleep. His eyes strain against to see through the gloom. His muscles jerk and relax as he tries to rouse further. A second thud and a sickening crunch next to him jolts his nerves. Travis grabs through the dark for a cord. He finds the knob and switches his light on. The blast of the globe blinds the room and tears stream out of Travis’ eyes in rejection of the sudden brightness.

“Justin, what’s going on?” Travis struggles through the blaring light.

Travis blinks his vision clear. Justin lies next to him, his arm twitching. A red indentation is punched into Justin’s skull. Small trickles of blood weep out of the broken skin.

“Justin!” Travis cries.

Travis extends a shaking hand. Heat rises off Justin’s body. Travis’ skin turns cold. The bed trembles with his last spasms. Travis snaps his head around the room. Dean stands pressed against the curtains on Justin’s side of the bed. Dean’s neck stands directly upwards, his hunch no more than a memory. A hefty stone hangs from his right hand, anchoring him to the spot. Dean’s left hand clutches onto the his rosary beads. A small wooden cross hangs from his hand.

“What did you do?” Travis yells.

“I have freed him from his sins. I’ve done God’s work,” Dean mutters, his eyes staring over Travis’ head.

“You’ve killed him! You monster!” Travis clenches onto Justin’s arm pleading fruitlessly.

“God is great, God is pure. Anything done in his glory cannot be sin. God is great.”

Dean steps around the bed. His eyes glaze over. His movements ease through the room in steady precision.

“My son has failed me. He has fallen to the darkness,” Dean prays. “Please accept my son as offering for the sins committed by others—“

“What the fuck are you talking about?! You killed Justin,” Travis bellows.

“Jesus died for our sins. God sacrificed his son to save us all.”

Dean hoists the stone above his head. Travis gapes up at the rock swaying an arm’s length away. He kicks the sheets off his legs. He jumps out of bed and shoves Dean with the strength his rage can muster. Dean crashes across the room and onto the floor. The stone tumbles from his hand to the floor.

Travis’ fingers register the smooth chill of the rock. His arm lashes out, crushing the stone against his father. The trickling heat of moisture splatters across his seething façade. Burbles of prayers seep out of Dean’s lips. The rock pounds harder against Dean’s skull. The crackling of bone gives way to the bashing echo of the floorboards.

Travis’ arm aches. His breaths choke in his throat. The rosary falls out of Dean’s hand. Travis stands, the room silent of human noise, the slow drips of flesh and blood release from the new point of the stone, echoing each smack on the wooden floor out to the lifelessness in the hallway.

[elisemizzi]

Electricity

There’s been some freak storms and overall weird weather going on in Sydney lately. 

One of the big things that you don’t really get to experience when you live in a city is a storm. 

You might think you do, because you might get these freak storms with all this wind and rain and hail and all the damage is on the news and the insurance bills and all that, but you don’t.

When I was growing up, when there were big electrical storms we used to drive up to the hill behind our house and watch them out over the ocean. It was even better when they were really close to the house and it was like you seeing the Gods throw massive tridents out over the paddocks. There’s no photos of this that I know of, it’s just pure, vivid memories of watching this unregulated power in all its natural glory.

(I mean, the sheep and the dogs were scared, but we found it hugely thrilling!)

Then, the year when I was working out at Mileura (630km north-east of Perth), there was this fantastic storm that rolled in. I’d never experienced anything like it in my life before, but it became one of the most powerful experiences of my life. 

My 12 hour cleaning shift had finished at 10pm after I’d cleaned up after dinner in the mess and set out the crib for the night shift guys who would start filing in about 1:30am. After that, I made a cuppa and went to sit outside the mess with the camp manager for a general yarn before eventually calling it a night. 

As I came outside, a bunch of the nightshift guys were already clustered around the camp, watching as these incredible storm clouds slowly moved toward us. We couldn’t believe what we were seeing, and it was electrifying to be out there in that unbridled energy.

With my cuppa in hand, I walked away from the camp and out into the open scrub toward the storm. Aside from the small camp about 800m away with its light from the laundry block and the mess hall, there was nothing out there but me, some red dirt, a bit of scrub, and a mother of a storm cloud. 

The lightning lit up the sky - and out there in the middle of nowhere, where light pollution isn’t even a real concept, you have never seen anything more vibrant.

Eventually common sense forced me back to the camp to watch the storm from my donga doorstep, but I’ll never forget that night and how it forced me to consider how powerful nature is, and how often we forget that and take it for granted.

I miss being thrilled by beautiful storms.