#thyme-lapsed

[amphiriteaquarium]

August 17! Today we celebrate Afrocostarican culture!

i always confuse black history month because for us it's in August and for the United States is on February(?) correct me if wrong!

So today i wanted to celebrate it by sharing some data with you, note the information i'm about to display is from when i was a history student in 2022. Information may vary,have changed or anything else! Also i'm kinda bad with dates,im really sorry so im just putting like general time lapses.

Afrocostarican poblation started in Limon,the UFCO(United Fruit Company) was looking for people who could work on the heat and complicated conditions of Limon(today is very modern but back then think of it like an amazingly hot and humind jungle with tons of snakes) many were brought to work from people from the capital to immigrants from italy and China but those who stayed were the Jamaican people.

The workers were free which meant they were no longer slaves this by no means their stay here was made easy, racism and discrimation were and still are rampant angaist this poblation. It came to the point that Limon's citizen weren't recognizes as such until late 1900.Their ID starts with a 7 to signify the 7'nth province to join the republic of Costa Rica.

They have their own set of dialects Patua(Criolle Patois) is what they are most known for but if i rememeber well , english is actually the most common.

Cuisine is also greatly influenced by jamaican heritage instead of "rice and peas" we have rice and beans, which is delish is made with coconut milk,ginger,thyme and panama pepper and served normally with meat(It used to be turtle meat!). Pan bon also with ginger , Pati a savory spicy Pastry and my favorite Plantinta(abreviattion of Platain Tart) which is a sweet plantain pastry.

Music wise there is a own variation of Calypso, Limons Calypso. I'm not a music student and can not dissect this topic well but i do know reggae and jamaican ska were great inspirations for this genre of music. If you are looking to, you can listen to Walter Ferguson the emblem of Costa Rican Calypso.

And lastly a bittersweet data, from our understanding the plan wasn't to stay and make roots here, it was always was the plan to eventually return to Jamaica or for some Africa.

To which the Black Star Line was created but it never fullfield it's prooupose. It was burned in 2016 but has been rebuild to sme degree. It's closed too so sadly,no museum.

This were snippets of afrocostarican history ,this was what i learned in class and thefore not the best approach to it since im myself i'm not afrocostarican but i still tougth important and interesting to share.

[sed--non--satiata]

Excerpts from The Sacred Bee in Ancient Times and Folklore, by Hilda M. Ransome (1937)

Great, very dense book, worth looking into even if you're just interested in bee lore in a region or tradition in particular. Dated, obviously, so not a perfect method as far as anthropology goes, but an incredible amount of information condensed in three hundred pages. Excerpts chosen pretty randomly.

As in Egypt, Babylonia, and Inda, honey was used in some of the religious rites of the Hittites. On one of the tablets directions are given for a ritual to be used when administering an oath. Meal was put into the man’s hands and strewn about, then the text says ; They are given a honeycomb and sheep’s fat in their hands, it is put into a vessel, now he speak , “As this fat is melt, he who breaks his oath to the gods, he shall be pressed out like a honeycomb, melted like fat”.

In an old Persian manuscript there is a method given for making an artificial mummy : Find a ruddy, red-haired man and feed him till he is thirty years old on fruit; then drown him in a stone vessel which is filled with honey and drugs, and seal up the vessel. When it is opened after the lapse of one hundred and fifty years, the honey will have turned the body into a mummy.

Choose a small confined space, and erect in it a building with four windows, one facing each quarter, and with a tiled roof. Then take a bullock, whose second year’s horns are just curling over its brow, stop up its nostrils and mouth and beat it to death without breaking the skin. Shut the bruised body up in the closed room, strewn with thyme and cassia, and after nine days the softened bones having fermented, wondrous creatures will appear, who with buzzing wings will fly into the air - a swarm of bees. - Vergil

The “king” bees come from the spinal marrow, or better still from the brain, ordinary bees from the flesh. - Florentinus

As dead oxen breed bees, horses, wasps, and beetles rise out of the putrefaction of asses, so it is a common belief that human carcasse when some of the marrow is evaporated and it comes to a thicker consistence, produce serpents. - Plutarch

A number of nobles who disapproved of the nunnery banded together to destroy it. They surrounded the house and the nuns in their peril held a consultation as to what to do. They decided to place their hives round the nunnery, and when the nobles tried to take the place by storm the nuns overturned the hives and the bees forced the men to retreat ; since the then place was called Beyenburg.

The wax candles used in churches were considered to be the symbol of the Saviour and of the virgin body of Christ, because the bees carried the wax from the best and sweetest-smelling flowers. The wick denoted the soul and mortality of Christ, the light the divine person of the Saviour.

In several German folktales the soul comes out of the body of a sleeping person in the form of a bee (we shall find the same belief in Scotland), and in the Engadine it is believed that the souls of men leave the world in the form of bees, therefore when the head of the house dies the eldest male member of the family goes to the hive stand, knocks three times, and says: Ime, dîn här est dot, Verlott mi nit in meiner not. (Little bee, thy master is dead, leave me not in my sorrow). It is for this reason that no one likes to buy the bees of a dead man, for it is feared that they will fly away to seek their master.

In Bavaria and Bohemia the beehives were adorned with a red cloth at a wedding, so that bees and men could rejoice together. In Westphalia the following verse was recited before the newly married couple: Imen in, imen out,/Hir es de judge brut./Imen um, imen an, Har es de junge mann. Imekles, verlatt se nitt,/Wann se nu mal Kinder kritt. (Bees in, bees out,/Here is the young bride. Bees around, bees about,/Here is the young man. Little bees, desert them not.When in times the have children.)

Magic figures might be made out of dough or metal, but wax made by the sacred bees was considered the most appropriate substance. Over the wax figure, known as the Atzmann, secret words were uttered and were supposed to take effect on absent persons. The Atzmann was either hung up in the air, plunged in water, placed before the fire, or stabbed with needles and buried under the doorstep ; the person aimed at felt all the ills inflicted on the figure. 

In Oldenburg the witches carry beehives on their heads; these can be seen if you walk backward in church as far as the altar.

It was also believed that the bees could be encouraged to rob (the hives of others, of course) if a piece of the windpipe of a wild animal, like a fox or marten, was placed at the entrance hole, so that the bees flying in and out must creep through. This must be contagious magic, for we must suppose that the courage of the fox or the marten would pass to the bees, and soon make them valiant in attack.

In the Middle Ages it was believed that the bees, if they were not informed of the death of their master, flew up into the sky in order to seek him there. This is still a belief in some parts of Germany, England, and America.

In Scots witch trials there are references to bee-souls. Here it is the witch who assumes the form of a bee. A child was poisoned by its grandmother and another woman “in the shape of brown bees” ; these witch-soul bees carried poison “in cleuchs, wings, and mouths.” A woman, Janet Watson, in 1661 was visited by a big bee, which rested on the mark which Satan gave her. Other witches flew about as bees or wasps. In the trial of Elspeth Cursetter for witchcraft, she acknowledged that she was “on the bird in the likeness of a bee.”

The Creoles of Louisiana believe in the efficacy of smearing yourself over with honey from head to foot in order to drive away evil spirits, and they also say that doing so gives you an insight into the future.

If you dream of bees you should offer food to the scribes of the mosque, as bees represent the Koran. Another belief is that if you dream of bees entering your mouth and flying out again you will become a good singer; this dream is said to be a particularly trustworthy one. It reminds us of the old belief that honey or bees bestowed the gift of song. 

[urban-paradise]

Finally doing my full Gardyn review!

Here she is in her full glory:

So, at this point we had multiple types of lettuce, Swiss Chard, Tatsoi, Tomatoes, Thyme, Basil, Cilantro, Arugula and Mustard. It provided enough greens to have salad as a main course for dinner for three nights a week! Being indoors and soilless there were no pesticides used at any point. I would cut the leaves off as I made dinner, doesn’t get any fresher!

What is a Gardyn?

Gardyn is a fully automated, all in one, hydroponic gardening unit.

It starts with the base. The bottom of the unit is a tank which holds up to 6 gallons of water.

This does mean the unit is pretty heavy when it’s full, but if you’re strong or have two people it’s not too bad to move. When you receive it it is empty, so the initial set up is not too bad. Some people online do make rolling carts for them that are very nice if you struggle to move that much weight! It is a neutral color so it goes pretty nicely anywhere. I actually think it makes a nice decorative piece, especially when it is full! It also has enough space on top, maybe not if your unit is totally full, for your other seedlings/propagations!

After the base we have the lid. This is made of wood, so it looks pretty nice.

Underneath is where the pump and the drains for each tower is located. It has a small opening for refills, which I do about once or twice a week depending on how hot it is.

The columns screw into the lids. These were one of the worst parts of set up honestly. They have a rubber tube holding them together so I do recommend grabbing someone to help, maybe it was just me! Each section unscrews individually for cleaning and it holds and total of 32 plants if you use each space!

There is a bar across the back to provide support, which does have a wall mount. If you have kids or curious pets I would recommend mounting it to the wall.

In front of the columns are the lights. There are one on each side and they are labeled which side is which. This is one of the tougher things to set up with this unit.

It is incredibly bright. It does not bother me at all, I have grow lights everywhere, but it might be an issue if it’s near a place you relax.

The lights do have camera built into them. These sync with the app, where the AI can help diagnose issues and provide a time lapse of growth. This made me a bit nervous at first but the are stationary and if up against the wall that is all it will see. More on all of that below!

Here is what she looks like know. As someone with heavy depression it is nice how automatic she is. Lot of the greens survived until they bolted and we let them die naturally. If you have compost it would make a great addition. Even with little to no maintenance for a few weeks she is still blooming!

Pros

Fresh, organic produce ready at a moments notice

The ability to grow flowers as well/instead of you prefer

Soilless, which helps prevent a lot of pests

Helps freshen air indoors

Built in lights means it can go anywhere

Cons

Deep cleans recommended every six months can be intense

Plants are still susceptible to a few pests, specifically spider mites

The light is very bright

Sometimes the App just does not do what you want it to

The initial price is pretty high

Accessories from Gardyn can be expensive and come with so few

Now, the most controversial thing about this unit is the App/membership. I will start by saying, you can 100% not use the membership at all. You can purchase any accessories outside of it and find pretty much anything outside of their store that you would need if you can get creative.

The app and and internet connection however is required. This is how the unit syncs to the time and you set the light/watering schedule. So without both an internet connection and working smart phone this isn’t really a good option

Despite the fact you do not need a membership, I do love and recommend it. Currently the membership is $40 pre month. This gives you a lot more options in the app, but you also get credits which allow for up to 10 seed cubes with free shipping every month. That basically pays for it alone!

All in all, if you can afford it and are looking for something like this, I can recommend this enough. This post is not sponsored, but as a member I do have a discount code which will get you $125 off the unit if you’re buying anyway!

https://mygardyn.com/?coupon-code=rfchristopher08105&utm_source=appreferralgeneral

[seventfics]

Blind Owl

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

Prompt: Temporary or permanent blindness Relationships: Triss Merigold/Philippa Eilhart Rating: M Content Warnings: None (Mild Gore, Blood and Injury) Summary: It's hard, but Triss finds a way to help Philippa.

Read on AO3

* * *

“Philippa.”

At the mention of her name the sorceress turns, her head held high. Too high, Triss notes, to be facing her directly.

The edges of the blindfold over Philippa’s eyes are stained red.

“Triss. I must say, of all the things that have happened today? I didn’t expect to meet you.”

Triss quirks a smile at her. “Disappointed?”

“No, never,” she says with a graceful wave of her dirtied hand. “Surprised. I overheard that all the mages had dipped from Novigrad. I should have known you would stay behind.”

“I wasn’t going to, to be honest. Geralt convinced me.”

“Yes, he’s good at that, isn’t he?”

Triss’ portal had taken them from Sigi Reuven’s bathhouse to her small room at the Rosemary and Thyme. It’s not her room, really, but a kindness of Geralt’s friends, and one she immediately took up. Better than the Bits, where she lived in tight quarters on a lopsided building. Now she has actual furniture she picked herself, a full bed that can support her weight without sinking, and a lock on her door. It is much more to her liking.

Philippa would hate her decor, if she could see it. They’ve always had different taste in furniture.

“Circumstances aside…I’m glad you’re with us, Phil.”

Philippa hums. She walks the room carefully, a hand tense with magic held forward to sense for objects. “And what are the circumstances, exactly?”

From her pocket, Triss brings out an agate.

“Geralt stumbled upon this, some time ago.” The stone glimmers from old traces of Philippa’s magic. “You want the Lodge back together. Well, so do we.”

“Ah. Our interests align.”

Though she is blind, Philippa props herself neatly on the lone bed’s edge as Triss explains the looming threat of the Wild Hunt. In all things she is flawless artistry. Her hands cross over a hip, as she lifts her legs to lounge over Triss’ bed—and oh, how familiar, the sight of her like that. It distracts her mid-speech more than once.

“In my state,” she drawls, gesturing to her blindfold, “I am not much help.”

Triss is less artful, but just as coquette with her lilting voice. “You are, Philippa,” and more seriously, she adds, “You were the best of us.”

“Quite. You understand that this is a matter most crucial for the survival of magic.”

After a moment’s pause, Philippa sits upright against the half a dozen pillows Triss hoards at the back. She presses a hand to her temples, sighing as if displeased by something.

It is the closest sign she’s going to give to her exhaustion. Her pain.

Triss’ heart aches to help. But Philippa is proud. She is strong on her own, and protective of that right. She would not accept an ounce of pity nor mercy, no matter how well-intended.

Years of her acquaintance have taught Triss how to work around that.

“We need you at your best. Phil,” she says, sitting by the weary sorceress to take one of her hands between her own.

Philippa tilts her head up then. Again, too high, and slightly left of Triss’ ear.

“Tell me what I can do.”

* * *

The wet stones under her fingertips harbor the cells of Philippa’s experiment. It’s grotesque, she knows. Some sections have grown beyond control, eye-masses with mutated pupils, multiple irises, some even larger than a megascope’s crystal. But as Philippa does her best rebuilding the Lodge, reforming allyships, and planning the Wild Hunt’s defeat, Triss must do this unpleasant work. For Philippa.

She nearly slips and falls down to her doom twice. The stones are at such a precarious altitude, at a precise distance from the cavern waterfall to promote cell growth without washing off the results. What was Philippa thinking? Growing eyes in such a dangerous place?  

But here she is, carefully extracting the cells from the stone with her magic. She suspends them in a sterile magic seal, to store in her purse. For some reason, that makes her laugh, a sound that echoes back to her ears three times. She has Philippa’s eyes in her bag. Philippa’s beautiful eyes that had been gouged out by an angry and paranoid king. The amber of them is now indistinguishable from moss.

There is no time to rest between quests, and yet, once she is finished gathering the most that she can, Triss climbs to safer ground on shaky hands and knees, needing a second to breathe. Just a second. She cannot spare more than that to mourn, or cry, or remember how Phil used to tease her with just a stare and a raised brow.

It will be fine.

She will have new eyes. They won’t be the same, but Philippa won’t care. It’s just Triss who needs a second.

Back when they were a powerful Lodge of Sorceresses, and not the tattered survivors of imprisonment and war, Triss had mooned over the proud advisor to the crown of Redania. She didn’t make her attention obvious, but nothing goes under Philippa’s notice. The woman had made herself friends among spies and, like in all things, absorbed some of their skills.

They spent many nights in each other’s company. Sometimes, it was just to forget the cruelty of war, the greedy men who broke what they could not claim. Triss was lucky to be considered important. A sorceress has more worth as a power to be wielded than a woman to be abused.

And after the Battle on Sodden Hill, Triss had little trust in men.

Maybe that’s why she started this...liaison. And maybe it had been a shallow, poor excuse at first, but. Somewhere between disillusionment and distraction, her heart stole away in the owl’s nest of Philippa’s making.

“Do you think one day we could be happy?”

With a single candle to illuminate the room, Triss braves the words. This world is not made for them to find happiness, but they are powerful. They could make it so.

Philippa doesn’t move from her limp, careless spread over silk red sheets. The dim firelight paints her skin bronze. Nothing covers her, and it is beautiful.

“Happiness has never been my dream,” she says, her back to Triss. “My vision remains on the future of the Northern Kingdoms and the conservation of magic. A sorceress’ dream.”

That is Philippa. Sturdy. Focused. Her hedonist streak is a sparse creature, easily ignored.

Still, Triss hopes. That is who she is.

A long pause ebbs the nervousness buried in Triss’ chest. No one disturbs them, which is rare. No megascope call. No xenovox. No letter from either of the kings they serve.

Triss nearly dozes off, warm and content with things, when she hears a quiet, “Do you see me, in your dream of peace and leisure?”

“I do.”

She opens her eyes to the jostle of movement. Philippa has finally turned around to stare at her, her dark hair a wild fan over her shoulders and breast.

“Perhaps,” she says as she brings up fingers to play with the loose fire-red strands over Triss’ ear, “perhaps one of us should keep that possibility in our mind.”

* * *

“Ah, you’ve returned.”

The surprise lilt in Philippa’s voice tells her that she did not expect Triss so soon. She understood the hard undertaking of retrieving her growing eye cells from the deepest caves of her most secret hideout.

But where Philippa is clever, Triss is eager. Of course she would go as quickly as possible. The Wild Hunt does not wait. The witch hunters of Novigrad will not cease their chase. There is no time to be dallying.

“Well darling, hand them here," Philippa starts, her palms opened to receive Triss' hard-earned work, "so I can get to the matter of fusing them in.”

“Let me.”

She pauses at the plea. If she had eyes, Triss imagines she would have blinked.

But it’s only a short lapse in time, her mind running through a million scenarios.

Eventually, she nods, deeming the offer acceptable. “If you insist. But do not take too long, I hear our brave witcher is to return soon with our esteemed Cirilla, and I have much to talk with her about the future of our Lodge.”

Slowly, Philippa undoes her blindfold, unknowingly as Triss goes to kneel in front of her.

She does flinch at the sight. It is a nasty healing wound, dark and sunken where eyes should be. The skin around the sockets is black. But her own chest, glamored to hide snarled skin, bares worse scars from battle.

The cells take time to transfer from her purse, and they are not yet fully nurtured. They will have to grow into place. With Philippa’s magic to amplify sight, it would be enough to maneuver buildings and streets on her own. It is not by any means a perfect resolve.

Triss puts great care in choosing the healthiest cells. She tries not to cause too much discomfort—any sort of magical procedure that modifies the body would be painful, at the very least uncomfortable—but if it is unbearable, Philippa bears it.

When the last sliver of magic dissipates, Philippa voices a tense but honest, “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

There, still knelt between pale thighs and gazing up at the newly-healed flesh around mossy eyes, Philippa kisses her.

A wound Triss did not know she still had in her heart opens. Fresh blood pounds through her body like a blaze set free on a forest. It burns, the kiss like a match against her lips, and the world narrows down to them, now, together after everything. Her arms cannot hold onto Phil any harder as she kisses back with all her being. All her fire and pain and love that never waned.

When they separate, Phil whispers, “Do you still see me in your dream of the future?” like a secret that should not be named in fear of shattering it.

“I do.” They don’t have time to second-guess their dreams or the choices that got them closer to achieving them. Just a second is all they can spare, to doubt.

One day, Triss hopes they can finally stop running, stop fighting, scheming, surviving, and simply be.

It will be fine.

They stay in each other’s arms, breathing each other’s air. Philippa’s fingertip lingers above Triss’ lip, almost playful in its upwards tug. This time, when Triss stands up and Phil raises her head, it feels like she is looking at her.

“Well, then we better stop this world-ending business first.”

Triss gives her a smile through her eyes.

One day.

[samkuchingdraws]

#OctoberDechART Day 19 Herbs Acrylic on paper 17cm x 11cm

And we’ll all go together to pull wild mountain thyme all around the bloomin’ heather. Will ye go, lassie, go?

Time-lapse video below: 

[ellebi-studies]

Hi guys,

Today I am going to tell you about how I studied for my chemistry exam👩‍🔬

It was the first big exam I had to prepare during my university career, so I took some times to understand how to study, but I am proud of how I coped with this exam.

It was a written test, with some exercises and some theoretical questions.

My study was a bit different for organic and inorganic chemistry, but I organized it in three parts, for both of them.

1- During lessons:

Inorganic chemistry:

I took notes trying to understand the concept.

Then I printed my notes and read them after the lesson.

I didn't use the book that much: I only used it when I didn't understand something.

I also had some fundamental exercise lessons. I took notes and tried to follow the professor, making many questions. I had to be sure that, ad the end, I had no doubts. Indeed, you are uneasy to understand the following topic if you haven't understood the previous.

When I went home, I tried to do again the exercise that we did during the lessons. Also, I did some extra tests to check if I was able to solve them even if I had never seen them before.

Organic chemistry:

I took notes, and then I printed them. For this part, I used the book a lot to add supplementary material.

I had only a few exercise lessons, which I faced as I did for the inorganic chemistry's ones.

2- During exam session:

I made a study plan, including some "recovery days". Indeed, it was my first exam, so I didn't know how much I would have studied each day. Having some days more helped me deal with my anxiety (which is a lot).

Also, I made some little mind maps to have a general view of the topics that I had to study. Indeed, the material was a lot, and I didn't always have a clear division into paragraphs of my notes.

Then, I started studying.

Inorganic chemistry:

I studied my notes and tried to explain the concept out loud.

Then I tested myself. I did the exercises we made in class, we extra ones that were given by the professor, the ones on the book, the ones from previous years examination and also some more exercises that I found on the internet.

For inorganic chemistry, the practical part is more important than theory, so I didn't focus a lot on knowing notions, but more on being able to solve exercises. Anyways, you have also to be familiar with the theoretical part, to be able to explain how you solved them.

Organic chemistry:

I studied my notes using mnemonic techniques. Indeed, organic chemistry is also mnemonic and having little nursery thymes of acronyms helps fasten your study. Plus, these methods are useful to deal with anxiety too. Indeed, if, during the test, you have a memory lapse, you can recover the information you need thinking about the logic that made you create a mnemonic story or sentence.

I rehearsed everything many times to be sure I had truly learned the material.

3-Some days before the exam:

I rehearsed the theoretical part of inorganic chemistry and the part of organic chemistry many times. I did this alone but also with a friend, to be sure I had understood the concept.

Then, I did some more extra exercises to be sure I could handle every topic.

Finally, I didn't study at all the day before the exam. I was very anxious since it was my first exam, so the temptation of studying was high, but I forced myself to relax and take my deserved day off.

And this is how I dealt with my first university exam. I hope this was helpful. Let me know if you would have changed something 😘

[rcguna-archived]

@primomade​ sent:  This is... what, the thirteenth time in two weeks that Noelle's stopped by this Home Depot? Goodness, the conflicting schedule of her workdays and Raguna's must have made the endeavor all the more harder, but finally, today's the day! He's spotted tending to some of the store's merchandise, and almost immediately, her heart beams in excitement. "Raguna!" She bounces over to him -- pauses. She hadn't come with anything in mind. This is the first time she's found him since she's started looking...

But that's okay.. ! She just has to think of something to say! ... Quickly! ... before the silent awkwardness following the 'oh, hey miss Noelle! How are you?' draws out for too long. Was she sweating? Was it hot in here? Oh, darn it!! Why didn't she come prepared!? " Would-- " That smile falters only slightly, before it's forced to be just a little bit wider so it didn't seem like she was panicking. "--- you like to help me with a -- garden!? " Gosh.

A coworker had just left for another department after helping Raguna open up a few pallets of fertilizer. A somewhat frustrating ordeal for him, if only because they were only an hour into what was a pretty short shift compared to usual, and they had already started their complaining. Was it really weird that Raguna enjoyed this work? Some would say so, but they were focusing on the bad encounters and arguments with customers that multiplied lapses in passive productivity. Raguna thinks instead on the people he’s been able to help and the things he’s been able to learn. Tending to the plants at the garden section and befriending far more people than one would expect of a retail worker.

...how many old ladies said they wished they had a grandson like him? Aha, probably too many to count at this point. And yet each time the young man couldn’t manage a proper response besides a fluster that brought even further cheer to the elders. S...sometimes he thinks they may have playfully flirted with him. That was always odd.

Best keep those thoughts outside of his head. There’s only one person he had an interest in after all, yet he had no idea how to go about pursuing it. Other coworkers had heard mention of the girl who had caught his fancy, and this unfortunately lead to Raguna being teased that his reluctance to make a move was surely to lead to her getting with someone else. He needed to man up. He needed to be aggressive. . . but that really wasn’t his thing! Also wouldn’t that mean being rude to Noelle?

“I can’t do th--” And that’s when she shows up. Here. At his work. She knew where he worked of course. That was only fair seeing as how often he saw her at hers. So her showing up to here shouldn’t be weird at all. And yet he’s totally thrown off thanks to the ironic meanderings of his mind just a minute before. He jumps up at the sound of her voice, a brisk patting of his apron and knees before offering the best customer service smile he can do. But she’s wearing a cute outfit and--

FOCUS.

“Oh hey, Miss Noelle! How are you? Did you need something?” That was pretty likely of course. She just trusts his input on things or maybe she needed some more assistance with her grandparents home. It wouldn’t be the first time after all. He wants for a moment, she looks nervous... what is she--

“Would-- you like to help me with a-- ..garden?!”

“Oh. A garden. Well... uh, yeah! Sure!” For some reason he felt some sort of relief? He can’t put his finger on why, but it was much easier to talk on this work related topic compared to other things. Quickly his thoughts are collected, and after a tap of a finger to his chin he starts rattling off thoughts.

“Actually, this is a really great time to get started with gardening now that we’re moving into spring! What were you looking to grow? Herb gardens are the most common, and the easiest to get going if you’re just looking for fresh ingredients for cooking. There’s a nice authenticity of using your own compared to what you get at the store. I grow a lot of rosemary, thyme, and oregano myself. I think I told you about my huge green onion that refuses to die as well, aha. Ha. Ehem.”

This is where someone would typically pause for input, but Raguna keeps going, more suggestions and thoughts springing to mind that mix in with his enthusiasm and excitement to be talking about something he was passionate about with the young woman. Is he trying to impress her? Well... maybe a little bit. By the time he realizes what he’s doing he’s already laid out tips for vegetables and fruit as well as shown her where the seeds and soil and tools could be found.

Then he pauses and turns to look at her. His ears just about turn red.

“A-Ah, sorry, I think I got a little bit carried away there. I didn’t even think about the flowers! ....did you mention what kind of garden you wanted to start, come to think of it?”

[fifielady]

Come To Sea, Come Home, Come Adventure

Day 4 of @usukweek​ || Free Day | Nautical AU

Note/s: This fic is also inspired and based on this song. ((My aunt’s karaoke is so loud and I’m a bit sorry that this is a bit rushed as well. I hope you enjoy it though!))

The far horizon was golden in the last minutes of the day's daylight. A distinct difference to the fierce red of the morning when Alfred went out to chop wood as soon as he woke up. He had been expecting a shower of rain the whole day but not even a drop fell from the sky; even though the clouds in the east were plentiful. Alfred stalled for a while, admiring the red of the sky reflected in the calm waters of the little port town he grew up in. A gust of wind blew, shaking the hilltop trees beside him and down and over to the sails of the ships docked by the bay of the port. 

 The town's lights were burning brilliantly against the dark backdrop of the star-kissed night sky. Cheers and peals of laughter were echoing away from the heart of the port and to where Alfred stood-- at the crown of the third hill of the island. The yearly festival of the town was pulsing with life.

 The young man couldn't resist a carefree grin curving his lips. There were lots of ships resting from their adventures tonight. Big, beautiful ships from her numerous voyages with her roughed-up, handsome sailors. Not that the other people his age in their little port weren't pretty, Alfred just thinks they lack the... uh, appeal... to captivate him like how the people crossing the seas ever did. Was it their experience? Yes, that aspect probably played a part in his attraction to others. But it was mostly because he could travel along the seas with them if he ever ensnared a sailor. 

So far, Alfred ensnared no one (Except for that one time with a local bard due to a small lapse of his judgment).

 Fastening his grip on his full satchel, Alfred took a deep breath and turned around gave the last, possibly, good-bye to the cottage he called his home for the last nineteen years of his boring life. Bang! One of the windows suddenly opened, revealing his disgruntled older brother shaking his fist.

 "It's been three years, Al! And you already have a match, for how long are you going to keep this up?!" Matthew yelled, his voice reverberated down on the hill and to Alfred.

 Alfred formed a cone around his mouth with his hands. "Until I finally get on a ship and physically drag him back!" 

 Even with the distance, he saw his brother's disappointing frown. Matthew never understood him. No one in town ever did. Alfred whirled around, having enough of the daily reprimands his brother gives him every time he ventures down to the port. Don't get him wrong, he appreciates his brother's worry for him but Matthew will never understand his will to find that annoying best friend and lover of his. That guy was probably frolicking with some busty lady with rum and jewels surrounding him. Alfred clicked his tongue unconsciously, the mere thought of him made him both annoyed and more encouraged as ever.

 "Oi, Al, don't forget to pick up some thyme when you've had enough of the sailors!" Matthew bellowed for the last time before Alfred sprinted down the path of the hill. Gah! Alfred's had enough of his life in town and he'd die from crushing herbs and selling medicine for the rest of his life. An exaggeration. He hopes no one would toss him off the deck since he was an expert in herbal medicine.

 At least that would never happen if he fails to find a ship tonight. And he'd never considered stowing away, so that's off the list. Alfred knows too much what happens to a stowaway. A shiver ran up his spine as he continued to run with the salty wind. With all dangers of sea travel in his mind, he prayed again that night that he'd never meet a scoundrel. Or worse-- a pirate.

 But the chances of meeting one are slim in a nameless island port town in the outskirts of a kingdom.

  The music of the flutes and guitars was loud and lively, people in the town plaza were dancing and whooping with laughter and joy. Lights from the hanging lanterns glowed like honey under the night sky and warmed the merry townsfolk and sailors. Alfred struggled to pave a way through the dancing people and to the tavern at the end of the plaza. He mussed up his wheat hair, desperately trying not to be noticed by the celebrators lest they drag him into dancing with them. Or call for Natalia.

 Alfred scanned left and right, still in the crowd being pushed everywhere by the others and the melodies. He saw no sign of a mop of blonde hair lighter than his. He couldn't help relief from heaving a sigh out of his lips. And for a while, space loosened amidst the crowd and Alfred wriggled his way out of the bunch and into the open doors of the tavern.

 The cheers and the chattering in the tavern were less noisy than the festivities outside, though still as rowdy. Most of the ones inside were drunken sailors and sailors who were failing in seducing the barmaids. Alfred proceeded to the counter and sat on the last stool on the end, straining his ears to hear the dialogue of the men behind him. 

 A glass of grape rum propped up in front of him. "You really should stop this past-time of yours, Al," the barkeep chided him, though she said that with a wry grin on her face, "But if you make them stay a bit longer and make their pockets loose and generous, who am I to stop you?"

 He only shook his head and picked up his glass. Alfred studied the drinking, the drunks, and the miraculously sober in the tavern. Tables were full of sailors, their drinks, and pie. He sipped the given drink slowly and asked the barkeep, "Are there any captains getting shit-faced, around? With the drinks you're serving tonight, it's so much easier to try and convince them."

 "Natalia would have your head if you tried to bed one of them again."

 Alfred chuckled, "Not if she wants to go through the trouble of getting an 'adequate' husband again." Head resting on the palm of his hand, he continued, "The only other herbalist in town is my brother and he's gonna marry her cousin this summer. It'll at least take her another few years to find someone like me, you know!"

 The barkeep scoffed playfully at his words, "Nobody is as brash as you around here, Alfred Jones. But..." She had a smug look as she took out a pie from one of the ovens. Alfred raised a brow and gestured with his free hand to prompt her as he chugged down the rest of the drink. "There was some guy who almost mauled his 'first mate' because of a snide comment a few moments before you walked in."

 He almost spat out the rum in his mouth, but his eyes went comically wide. 'His first mate'?! There was a ship captain out and about instead of inspecting their ships! Alfred gulped down the drink, it burned his throat and made his blood warm. "Is he still here?!"

 She only smiled in response, her green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Alfred, be a dear and deliver this pie to that table near the sea-facing window."

 Alfred gave her a look but he still took the tray with the dessert. "You're as pretty as you are guileful, Liz." She turned to prepare another batch of drinks, her long brown hair almost slapping Alfred across his face.

 "Why, thank you."

 He huffed. So the drink wasn't free, then. Even when he entertains her customers and made them stay until morning. Alfred sauntered to the aforementioned table and placed the tray gently (You can't just put a pie down haphazardly, that's asking for a fight!). He looked up to see a raven-haired man, brunnet, an anxious blond man. The blond guy had a swollen cheek on his exasperated face. 

 "Uhh, you're the ones who ordered this pie, right?"

 The three men stayed silent. They had such gloomy expressions it made Alfred feel bad doing his nightly conquests. But his self-righteous quest like searching for his lover was a great deal heavier than consoling three men who ordered a pie. Alfred should probably not try anything on these three; they really looked like they killed a person's hopes and dreams and lived to bear it. Just as he was about to excuse himself from such a depressed trio, the blond guy suddenly slammed his fist on the table.

 "H-hey, are you--"

 The guy's swollen face whirled around and came close to his; Alfred took a step back. "I'm tired of it! I'm tired of him being such a young master! Ah, I want him to drown in his rum and! And...!" The strange man bawled and caressed the edges of the pie, "Even so...for a captain, he's so pitiful...! You agree, right?"

 "What are--"

 "Here!" The injured blond shoved the pie to him, "You bring it to the captain in the barn. I can't handle him right now!" Then he continued sobbing on the table, softly punching it with his fist. Alfred could only gape at the other two men that refused to look at him and instead stared outside the window with deadpan expressions. 

 Just what did he get into?

 Alfred sighed and went out with a freshly-baked pie in his hands to the little barn on the other side of the tavern. The festivities in the plaza were still going on but the tavern's barn was always empty and dark. And cold. But if Alfred were to personally deliver this to the injured man's captain, he could hitch a ride to the next step of finding his lover. Maybe. If the captain wasn't a blacked-out drunk already and making the cow and chickens his roommates. Ah, the animals were transferred to a new barn so maybe not.

 Clink! Clonk! The rhythmic sound of metal against the stoned pathways of the town plaza resounded loudly even with the loud voices in the festival in the center. Oh, no. NO! Alfred felt the warmth of the rum leave his body and early winter settled in his bone. The sound of armored boots stepping on the stone can only mean one and only one thing-- Natalia is here!

 To say Alfred wasn't scared shitless of his fiancee was a big, fat lie. She was so stubborn in making him her husband because he was the only herbalist who wasn't married yet. Alfred was equally as stubborn as to chase after someone who hasn't even stepped on their home island for three years. So, of course, it was a problem for both of them!

 He hurried his steps to the barn, taking extra precaution with the pie, and locked the doors shut as soon as he entered it. Cold sweat ran down from his neck and down his spine. If Natalia caught him flirting in Elizabeta's tavern again, she'd torture him rather than killing him to end his misery. 

 The clanging metal slowly went away. Alfred slumped his body against the wooden doors, sliding down and sitting on the hay-infested floor of the barn. He sighed, the beating of his heart was loud in his ears. Alfred stared into the semi-darkness inside the barn. Slivers of light went through the spaces between the wooden walls. The outside noise was muted and far away. 

 Yeah, he can still do this. If his lover with his smaller frame craved for adventure, then Alfred could do the same. All in the name of love...

 Alfred stared at the pie in his hands. Minced pie, it was a favorite of--

 "Nggh..." Someone groaned in the darkness. Right. Alfred still had to give the pie to the trio's captain.

 He stood up and walked over to the direction of the sound. The young man was blindly reaching out in the darkness using his other hand. He spotted a hunched figure, a large but faint stripe of yellow light on the man. He finally got close and shook the man's shoulder. The man groaned, still face-first as he lay on the pile on hay. Oof, that's gonna itch in the morning. Alfred shook the captain more roughly this time. He heard a faint 'Wasssit' from the man but the guy still hadn't moved an inch. Alfred resisted pulling on the captain's tied back messy, yellow hair. "Hey, man, you gotta get up if you want to eat."

 "... Wha.. ha?" The captain finally, at a slow pace, lifted his face to face the annoyed expression on Alfred. Bleary emeralds so familiar ogled him, with drool on the edge on the man's mouth. That... that face! Alfred stared in shock as the brows of the man drew together. Those eyebrows! He'd never forget someone with eyebrows like that! And the only one who had eyebrows like that was his lover with the name of--

 "Arthur?!"

 Arthur sobered up instantly, recognition and awe and shock all over his half-drunk face. "What in the-- Alfred! What are you doing here?"

 "I should be asking you that! What're you doing here of all places?" Alfred shook his head, his grip tightened on the pie, "Nevermind that, why didn't you come to see me first?!" Questions, he had so many questions. Was this why Liz had that smile on her when he came in? Because this guy was back?! Alfred was so going to kill him.

 "Wait--Wait! Let me-- let me explain!"

 "You better explain! What were you thinking, leaving this island without me and coming back some three years later?"

 Alfred's heart was beating with happiness and curiosity and a faint trace of hurt in the back of his heart. Arthur was here! After three years-- Wait, he shouldn't get ahead of himself. His lover left him for three years! Three! Were they still even lovers? Alfred placed the pie on the ground and latched his hands on the shoulders of the other man. Arthur had a dumb look on his face, the same one he had when every time he woke up from a nap years ago. Alfred felt his chest tighten from just this...

 "Arthur. You are going to tell me everything."

 And his found lover did. In his drunk and sleep-addled voice that Alfred missed. In the semi-darkness of the barn, the old lovers spoke and ate mince pie throughout the night. The celebration and its noise outside never stopped them from exchanging words of love and embraces full of affection.

 "I thought you said you'd never come back." Alfred and Arthur were on their sides facing each other on the pile of hay. It was a bit itchy but Alfred found it comfortable with Arthur in his arms.

 "Well, I'm here now." Arthur looked at him in the eyes, the truth in his new never disappearing for even a moment. "But I'm not coming back ever again."

 "...Even for me?" His grip around his lover's waist tensing, "Arthur, why did you come back to this backwater island?"

 Arthur's green eyes softened, misting in the edges. "I came back for you. You were always in my mind and every time I think of you and your smile, it makes my heartache. You were so far away. But not any more so..." he took Alfred's hands in his, " So come with me, Alfred. Let's look for adventure. Together."

 The only thing in Alfred's mind was how he loved Arthur so much and the warmth of Arthur's hand on his. He'd never let that hand go again.

 "Together?"

 "Yes."

 Alfred already had his satchel ready for the last three years.

    Extra:

 "This ship looks like she's been through too many fights... too many scars on the floorboard."

 "Er, yes..."

 "Wait a minute, why does this ship have the kingdom's insignia all scratched up? Merchant ships have to have clear insignias!"

 "Well, uh--"

 "Arthur, is there something you're not telling me?"

 "..."

  "This is a pirate ship, isn't it? Really, Art?"

[altphilcmena]

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝟎𝟎𝟑 ;; a collection of writings.

implications of trauma, death, murder, gun violence, mental illness / rehabilitation, general violence. 

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒊 𝒔𝒂𝒘 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚 ;; dated october 23rd, 2013. written in a moleskin journal.

the birds chirping

a broken wind chime

daisies in the windowsill

lysander and his boyfriend

elektra and her guitar

juno, alone

the setting sun

𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏 ;; dated september 29th, 2015. written on yellow notepad paper, lost behind the vanity.

     mother, father, lysander, juno, orion, valora, and whoever else it may concern -

this is not goodbye, and it is not forever. explicitly, i am leaving home for an undetermined amount of time. i have respectfully decided to follow elektra in her pursuits - they are of passion, and of yearning, and i have felt this way for quite some time now. this is not a life of fulfillment, at least not one for me. i wish to experience more. i want to know more. i want to feel cultured beyond the texts of ancient greek and latin. i want to feel what elektra feels, and if she goes, i will be void of it. i have to go, but it is not forever. this is not goodbye. to lysander, i send my best regards. he will say yes. juno, i’m sorry. i am forever sorry. orion, valora - i will think of you both, everyday, and the people you become. mother, father - our intelligence is not yet aligned, but one day it will be. you will be proud, as you always are. you are admirable, and so will i. water the garden, take care of the stable, stay out of the woods.

                                                       evermore,                                                                            𝒑𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒂

𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒂 ;; dated may 6th, 2019. written on a napkin, and burnt with a lighter.

i have potentially done something terrible, today. we’re leaving in the morning, and i doubt we’ll ever return. some laws are stupid. i did not hurt anyone. i will never hurt anyone. i simply gave a warning shot.

𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒍 ;; dated may 30th, 2019. written on stationery, adorned with mushrooms. sent to the carmichael residence at woodside, california.

florence broke down in connecticut today. the sign says lovell. the streets are busy, in that small town way. it’s a small town - mostly college students. we are fine, please do not send money. it is always burned. i believe i may enroll at the university here, radcliffe. there is a floral shop that always smells sweet, and the boy behind the register always smiles at me. there are rumors of ghosts and misfortune that haunt radcliffe - but do not fret, i will not open unearthed boxes. i have learnt my lesson. i’m careful, now. more careful than i had been before. i’m smarter, too. i suppose i have you to thank for that. so, thank you. i am running out of space to write. with best wishes, philo

𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚'𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒌𝒆 ;; dated july 12th, 2010. written on construction paper, later torn and folded to make paper stars for a fancy paper stars jar.

i don’t like the police, they ask very many questions. they came to our house and asked us about our hike today. juno’s and i’s, to be very specific. it was only the two of us. but we are very smart. they asked what we saw. i saw many birds. blackbirds and bluebirds and a cardinal, too - those are red. sparrows and wrens. finches. i saw poison oak, but because i am very smart i did not touch the poison oak. i saw wildflowers. i saw a red scarf, and it was very odd. we went down a different path than usual, but there are no scarves in the woods besides on this path. it was a very dirty scarf, but my eyes are very good and i can see color very well. juno didn’t like the scarf, though. she hated the scarf. she liked it at first, but then she hated it after she touched it. the fabric must not be very nice. i don’t blame the scarf, however, for how it was made. it is just a scarf. but she screamed and screamed and screamed and the park ranger was called. he’s very nice, the park ranger. he called mom and dad. juno couldn’t, but i don’t know why. we’re home now, and the cops are gone, but juno has been very quiet. i hope she is okay. it was just a scarf. i hope we go on another hike soon. i miss the trees. they have things to tell me.

𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 ;; dated november 5th, 2019. written in a tiny notebook with crayon.

brown sugar

almond milk

cat litter

bleach

bedazzling kit

eggs, brown

oranges

strawberries

blackberries

earl grey tea

hair ties

get well soon card

bandaids

𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ;; dated april 17th, 2018. written on the window in dry erase.

dive for scraps at junkyard

weld

fast food breakfast

hang upside down to test blood flow

fish

fast food lunch

library

class :o(

meet elektra at bridge

diner dinner

moonlit walk across town

stargaze

𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒔 ;; dated april 28th, 2020. written in a notebook, later discarded.

leopold is a good person. leopold kristoff fowler is a good person. leopold fowler is a good person. leo fowler is a good person. i can testify this, because he is kind to me because i see him everyday, and he does not have a history of unwarranted violence. i believe that what you saw on that day was a fluke, a lapse in judgement power thought (come back to this) leo fowler is of noble character. i know this for fact. it is not disputable. i would trust my life in his hands. i do trust my life in his hands. trust holds more value above all else. my life has been in his hands before, matter of fact. i believe leo fowler saved my life, in fact (repetitive), after a very terrible accident in which i fell from several heights. it was one of the scariest things i have ever experienced. he was there as it happened, and took immediate action to insure i was properly taken care of. i fear that if it hadn’t been for him, i would be under very different circumstances. (handwriting becomes illegible, as if the rest had been scribbled away)

𝒕𝒐 𝒋𝒖𝒏𝒐 ;; dated feburary 1st, 2017. written on floral stationary and sent in an envelope (lost in the mail and never delivered).

     to juno, my dearly estranged sister,

it’s been some years now since we’ve last spoke, and i hope you are well. truly well. elektra and i are fine, as we always are. we are surviving, and i hope you are too. you’re one of the bravest people i know, maybe even more so than elektra (do not tell her that i said this, please) and i know i have hurt you in more ways than can be said, or imagined. i will not excuse my selfishness, but i urge you to see from my perspective. i am not dumb, nor have i ever. i have ears and eyes and very keen senses. i knew you were being sent away, and so did elektra. come to think of it, you are the only one who was left unaware. i can’t tell you if it was selfish, or if it was in their best interest for you. i’m afraid i’m biased, and i still cannot yet see from your perspective. clearly, at least. i wish i can, someday, and i wish to hear from you soon. i’m sorry that we left as we did. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you my plans. i’m sorry for abandoning you. i know we both don’t care for empty homes, that’s why i left when i did. i thought you’d be gone, longer, too. sometimes i have very poor judgment and i’m not ashamed to admit it. i am, however, ashamed to admit that i have misjudged you. you’re far more complex than i knew of, and i can only blame the ignorance of youth. it’s only been two years, but i’m far wiser now. please believe me. i wouldn’t leave you now, if i were the age i am now than i was then. one day when the cycle repeats, i hope i remember to do better by you. congratulations on your acceptance to columbia.

                                                      evermore,                                                                          𝒑𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒂

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒊 𝒔𝒂𝒘 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚 ;; dated may 12th, 2020. written in a moleskin journal.

the rising sun

pail sleeping on a pile of blankets

rosemary and basil and mint and thyme

my reflection

elektra, and her guitar

leo :o)

a murder of crows

my favorite tree

songbirds

the stars, far earlier than night

[bs-botany]

Seed Starting Is Done!

It took a little longer than I had anticipated, but I officially have all of my seeds planted! At least the ones that I’m starting indoors. The grand total comes to 262 seeds. I have 26 slots available still, but I’m not going to fill those with any of the seeds I have now. I think I will leave those open in case I collect more seeds along the way.

I officially started most of the seeds in January, but I had ordered a few that were on back order. I just received those and planted them today, but since some time has lapsed since I started those original seeds, most of the original set have germinated.

So, are you ready for the final roster? Below is the final count, and there’s a J for Jung Seed or B for Burpee to differentiate where the seeds came from.

24 lorz Italian garlic cloves (B)

2 dwarf french marigolds (these were a gift)

12 sweet leaf stevia (B)

6 orion fennel (B)

6 lime basil (B)

6 krausa parsley (B)

6 spearmint mint (B)

6 Greek oregano (B)

6 mammoth dill (B)

6 rosemary (B)

6 lemon balm (B)

5 borage (B)

5 za’atar marjoram (B)

3 curled chervil (B)

5 thyme (B)

5 sage (B)

2 licorice sweet marigolds (B)

5 German chamomille (B)

5 white corona cauliflower (B)

5 green gem brussel sprouts (B)

5 candy apple sweet bell peppers (B)

5 sun king broccoli (B)

6 sandwich tomatoes (B)

4 solitaire watermelons (J)

4 baby boomer tomatoes (B)

5 born to be mild peppers (B)

6 mini piccolo watermelons (B)

6 honey bun cantaloupe (B)

4 sugar crunch cucumbers (B)

4 creole red onions (B)

4 granex yellow onions (B)

5 evergreen long white bunching onions (B)

6 steakhouse tomatoes (B)

6 real deal hot peppers (B)

6 mangoes (B)

4 lemon cucumbers (B)

4 Mexican sour gherkin cucumbers (B)

10 Mary Washington asparagus (B)

6 heavy weight sweet bell peppers (J)

12 carnival blend sweet bell peppers (B)

6 honey dew melons (B)

6 depurple cauliflowers (B)

6 whatamelons (B)

6 dawn giant leeks (B)

Did I mention that my garden is going to be HUGE this year? And this list is only for the seeds I’ve started indoors - I have several more that can only be started outside.

My next step is to transplant some of the seedlings that have grown larger than the seed starting cells can handle. Right now, that’s ALL of the garlic cloves I planted, but I’m out of potting soil currently (imagine that!). They will have to wait until I can get some more.

I have to say, it’s so crazy how pungent the garlic is - the minute you open the door to the room where it’s located, the smells just smacks you right in the face. I’m just as ready to get those planted outside as they are to be outside!

Right now it looks as if everything has germinated. Today I just planted the last 6 items on the list above (heavy weight bell peppers, carnival blend peppers, honey dew, depurple cauliflower, whatamelons, leeks). These are some extra special varieties that I wanted to talk a little bit about.

The heavy weight bell peppers are supposed to produce some of the LARGEST peppers on the market. The carnival blend consists of various colors of bell peppers - including white and purple! The honey dew melons are normal, but I’ve never grown those before. The depurple cauliflower is literally purple cauliflower. The whatamelons are a crazy variety from Burpee - the melons originate from Turkey! I’m really excited to taste test them. I have also never grown leeks before, and these are supposed to be a large variety.

That’s all for now. I will keep you updated as my garden for 2020 progresses.

[no6secretsanta]

Happy Holidays @jefferytheghost​! I hope you enjoy your gift!

- @silver-eyes-hair-ties

The holidays were coming up.

Shion knew by watching the snow storms roll in; Inukashi had him washing the dogs indoors to keep them from freezing in the cold before they could air-dry.  The day’s work was done shortly after dusk, and Shion felt the telltale scratching of hunger beginning in his gut.

“I’ll bring one of the dogs for you soon, Shion,” Inukashi called from the worn staircase as they tossed a small bag of coins his way. A medium-sized brown dog sidled up to Shion and nudged his hand for pets. “Take that one with you, it’s dark and I don’t want Nezumi on my case about keeping your airheaded ass out of trouble.”

Shion smiled and waved on his way out the door, pocketing the coins and attempting to muffle their jingling with his hand wrapped around them.  

The wind was crisp and chilled him to the bone on his walk back to their little underground room.  The barren landscape, devoid of trees or plants or even abandoned buildings, allowed the gusts to build to a steady stream, buffeting his chapped cheeks.

“What do you think, huh, buddy?” he asked the dog padding at his side. He absently scratched at the spot where the parasitic bee’s chrysalis had been and counted the days til spring.  Soon. Too soon.

He didn’t even know if people in the West Block celebrated Christmas–the center of town looked the same as always, full of sights and sound but devoid of sparkling tinsel garland or twinkling lights.  He had to remind himself sometimes that people here were more focused on survival than the wasteful excess of holiday celebrations.

He took the stone steps carefully down to their secluded rooms and found that the door was open.  Nezumi was standing carefully over the stove, watching a pot of something come to a simmer over the burner.  He didn’t even turn when Shion entered, opting instead for a noncommittal “hm.”

“All the dogs are clean and dry,” Shion pulled his coat and boots off at the door and peered into the pot Nezumi was tending.  “Hopefully Inukashi’s customers will appreciate having them clean for the holidays.”

Nezumi chuckled. “Not that they’d notice, what with their own stink,”  He stirred the thick stew, coaxing a few chunks of meat to the top to test their firmness.  Before Shion could protest his sour attitude toward Inukashi’s customers, Nezumi took the stew off the burner and moved it to the table.

He made a sweeping gesture with his arms, announcing: “Your meal is served, Your Majesty.” with a little smirk.

Shion enjoyed his theatrics, especially in these mundane moments when he was tempted to remember people and times long ago, where he was safer, noticeably warmer and enjoying his Mama’s cooking.  Sometimes, if Nezumi happened to add certain ingredients, he could close his eyes and imagine he was back in Chronos, no, Lost Town, with his mother and their little shop and his simple job and his simple life–

“Hey,” Nezumi barked, clapping his hands together.  “Earth to Shion! This stew won’t stay warm forever and I think you’ll enjoy it more before it cools.”  

Nezumi scooped a large portion into a bowl and offered it to Shion with a puzzled look in his eyes.

“Th-thanks,” Shion stumbled over his words–he wanted to cover up his temporary lapse into nostalgia, to keep it from Nezumi before he perceived the change and began berating him for his innocence and–

Nezumi pulled him down onto the sofa beside him.  For a few moments, he blew on his own bowl, not even opting for a spoon and tilting the bowl to his mouth to catch the gravy on the lip.  Shion didn’t understand him sometimes–he was so focused on the rhyme and meter and precision of a Shakespearean sonnet, but he also liked to lick his bowl clean.  His reasoning and his whims were lost to Shion, and while he was coming to know him, slowly, he felt more than ever that he’d never know the real man beside him.

Nezumi’s soft voice brought him back.  “What has you so serious tonight?”

Shion took a mouthful of stew to give himself some time.  He always seemed to make a fool of himself in front of Nezumi.  The rich flavor of beef, garlic, and thyme met his tongue and he sighed, knowing that Nezumi must have had a good day at work, or had saved for something like this.  His chest warmed. Why was he so worried?

Shion pulled his socked feet up underneath him on the sofa and settled in, coincidentally leaning his shoulder against Nezumi’s own.  The touch didn’t seem to bother him.

“It’s getting close to Christmas,” Shion murmured.  He looked at the grain of the table, the carrots sitting atop the pile in his bowl, allowing Nezumi the time to question him.  He didn’t.

“Do you celebrate Christmas, Nezumi?”

The other man shook his head.  “I haven’t really had a reason to, not since I was young, and I don’t remember those times as much as I’d like.”  Nezumi watched Shion’s shoulders sag.

“I guess it wouldn’t really make sense, around here, huh?  People have a hard enough time just living.” Shion sighed and took another bite.

For a few moments, neither said a word.  The rats scurried to the foot of the table to ask for scraps and bits, and Nezumi picked a carrot and a potato out of his bowl to offer to them.  Shion watched them nibble on the pieces, almost too big for their little hands.

“Tell me what it was like.”

“What?” Shion asked.  Nezumi’s eyes were trained on him, and a fond smile was pulling at his lips.

“How did you celebrate Christmas, with your Mama in No.6?”

Shion couldn’t form words.  Normally, Nezumi couldn’t even mention the city without a sneer and a snarl, but now he was waiting patiently for Shion, his chin resting in his hand.  Shion set his bowl down.

“Well…” he began.  He could feel Nezumi’s ever-sharp eyes boring into him, but not with their usual intensity.  It was… interest? Curiosity?

“We had this little tree, barely taller than me, that fit in the upstairs room at our shop in Lost Town.  It was a little thin on branches, but we had a box of ornaments from before the war that Mama let me put up.  Some were mirror glass in different shapes, some were handmade out of clay or wood or pinecones…” Shion giggled.  “There was a day at school where we painted pinecone ornaments in the shape of flowers by pulling some of the scales away, and I made so many that we gave them away as presents that year.”

Nezumi grinned.  “That definitely sounds like you.”

“On Christmas Eve, we’d be so busy making doughs and pastry fillings fresh for Christmas that we usually ate as we went.  My Mama made a spiced cinnamon bread, just for the holidays, that tasted the best straight from the oven.” Shion gestured with his hands. “They were shaped like wreaths, braided and topped with cinnamon sugar. They were essentially dessert, but it didn’t really matter what dinner was during the holidays, you know?”

Nezumi looked thoughtful for a moment.  “…Were there little lines carved into the dough, like leaves?”

Shion pulled back to look at him, confused.  “Yeah, how would you know that?”

“I think I had some.”  Nezumi met Shion’s eyes and pressed forward.  “It was two years ago, a few days after Christmas.  Some of the stalls in town, they sometimes sell food smuggled from No.6’s trash.  It’s almost always baked goods and sometimes day-old produce, you know, things that don’t really go bad and are easy to pilfer.  Well, I passed by a stall and paid a few copper for a piece of bread, and when I bit into it, it tasted like cinnamon and cloves…”

Shion’s mouth hung open.  “…You… You tasted my Mama’s bread?”

Nezumi nodded.  “It was a hunk, about a quarter of the wreath left and a little stale, but I remember the cinnamon and sugar.  It was… Really good. It was all the food I had that day, but it was worth it.”

A weight settled in Shion’s chest.  He could feel his eyes misting over.  

“Nezumi, that’s… That’s unbelievable.  That something of mine made it past the wall, to you.  That we shared something, even though we didn’t know it…”

Nezumi wrapped an arm around Shion’s shoulders, pressing his face into his hair.  He knew that Shion needed this moment to think and to reflect, to remember the things he missed so much.  

After a few minutes passed and Nezumi ignored the few tears trailing down Shion’s smiling face, he decided it was okay to continue.  

“What else?”

Shion sniffled.  “Christmas mornings were always nice.  Mama and I would make the coffee, then start the ovens so we could get all the cases in the window filled early.  Then we’d open our gifts from each other and just… Enjoy the day. Every once and a while we’d have a line of customers, but most of the time we just chatted and remembered other Christmases.  Sometimes we got gifts from regular customers, like casseroles or homemade blankets. Lilly’s mom always made us each a pair of cozy socks, and they always managed to last all year.”

Nezumi gathered the empty bowls and set them inside the empty pot, choosing to ignore the dishes for now.  Nezumi was leaning back against the arm of the couch with Shion’s head resting comfortably on his chest. He only hoped Shion was too focused on Christmas memories to listen too close to his heartbeat.

Shion felt Nezumi’s fingers carding gently through his hair.  “So, what would you like to do this Christmas, then, Your Majesty?” he murmured.  Shion looked up to him, curious and a little baffled.

“We’re going to celebrate it… here?”

Nezumi chuckled.  “Unless you’d rather we let it pass by unannounced.”

Shion thought for a moment, then placed his hand on Nezumi’s chest.  

“Do you…know any carols, Nezumi?”

“I don’t know any, but I’m sure there’s a few books that might be helpful, if we look.”

Shion smiled.  “I’d like it if we invited Inukashi and Rikiga, maybe even Karan, Rico, and their mother.  Make a real celebration; sing songs, share food, read stories.”

Nezumi could feel Shion’s excitement–it was like a current against his skin.  “As long as we don’t invite the whole West Block, I suppose.” he allowed.

The relaxation in Shion’s shoulders was growing steadily with Nezumi’s fingers in his hair and their breaths matching in the cool night, and Shion could feel Nezumi beginning to relax, as rare an occurrence as that may be.  He treasured these gentle moments, precious as they were.

“Nezumi?”

“Mm?”

“Could I ask one more favor?”

“Ask and ye shall receive, Your Majesty.”

“I’d like to send a letter to my Mama, if the rats can manage it.”

“… Let her know we both miss her bread.”

[iambwhatiamb]

Voiceless

He wouldn't speak.

He could, but he wouldn't. What point was there to mindless chatter when he had no one to speak to but the wind and the walls? He could scream if he so wished, but he knew no one would hear him. And so he did not scream. He kept his eyes on the floor and his hands in his lap and lived in a silence that had swallowed him whole.

When he was younger he hated the quiet. He would speak to the trees and the stones and each blade of grass in the Garden. As time passed and neither the trees, nor the stones, nor a single blade of grass responded to his words, he’d lapsed into silence and no longer sought to fill the void left by the lack of a voice.

He never deviated from his daily routine. He departed from his home, a leftover shack from days long past, and walked his six thousand, four hundred and eighty-two steps to the Garden. Tending to the Garden was his responsibility; he knew that like he knew his own name. It was an obligation assigned to him years ago by his mentor, whose gentle hands were all that remained in his memory.

It was his mentor who had trained him in the ways of the Garden, who taught him to listen to the leaves and hear their cries. The plants craved water; such a craving was universal, and he took care to bathe each plant with the precious liquid it so desired. There were hundreds of lives contained in the Garden: every fruit, vegetable, and herb which he knew to exist could be found within the dozens of ordered rows.

He started home at the end of his workday, his tired limbs making the six thousand, four hundred and eighty-two steps feel eternal. He was pleased despite his exhaustion. The fatigue he felt at the end of every day was merely physical– he loved his work, loved each planting cycle, loved the rewarding harvests. The Garden was his domain, and around it he could make his way blindfolded.

On arriving home he prepared and ate his evening meal before settling into bed. His eyes closed and he fell asleep within seconds, a process which to him was as natural as breathing.

He awoke at the hour of six exactly, having slept deeply and well. He hadn't dreamed. He had stopped dreaming years ago after he’d realized that dreams created within him an uncomfortable longing.

He ate his morning meal and dressed quickly. He was readying himself for another day in the Garden when he spotted movement through his window.

Movement? Nothing moved anymore, save for the insects in the Garden and the terrain of the Sand Dunes during a windy day.

He was startled at the disturbance to his routine. When he swung open the heavy wooden door, there was someone standing in his doorway. A person –a girl– older than him? Younger? He couldn't tell. Deep within himself  he sensed a hint of shock, and of panic, for this was a scenario which had never occurred to him. He cocked his head, studying her. She mirrored his movement silently.

He turned his back to the girl, deep in thought. Was this a dream? No. It felt all too real, and more frightening than any dream he could remember. He faced the doorway once more and found that she was still there. He stared at her.

She waved.

He did not wave back, nor did he shift his expression. He'd never needed to emote before, never needed to worry about anything other than plant life, and he was at a loss for how to respond. As it was, he could barely disguise his bewilderment.

The girl wasn’t moving, her body blocking the path to his livelihood, and that was the thought which brought him back to his senses. What mattered was the Garden, and for the Garden he could delay his routine no further. He pulled the girl from the doorway to the lone chair in the center of his home. She surrendered immediately to his grasp, as though she were a doll. The girl sat down and began fidgeting intently with the hem of her tunic while she glanced around the room with large brown eyes that made him feel as though she could see straight through him if she so desired.

He shook his head. He would deal with her later. He motioned that the door was open if she wanted to leave. Her existence didn’t benefit him, not when all he’d ever needed was the Garden. He began his walk across the desolate landscape, far more preoccupied than he would have preferred, hoping that by the time he got back the girl would be gone. He certainly wanted her to leave, right?

He arrived at the Garden, grateful for the focus his daily work required. He tended to the lemon trees, caressing each underripe fruit as he would a lover. Later, the avocados required attention and after that he needed to weed the thyme, and his day went on as every day went on, only his thoughts wouldn't stop whirling about, they just wouldn't, he didn't know what to do, there was a person, an actual person, in his house and that had never happened before, he didn't think there was anyone else, not anymore. All he knew of his mentor were those guiding hands, a voice that soothed and encouraged him...and then it was gone. He had planted a tree for the person that had taught him all he knew, whose face and voice he could not remember. After he had lost his mentor he had been alone, for years and years and years.

But now he wasn't alone. He had convinced himself that he didn't want the girl there, that the company of another would only distract him from his real responsibilities. What would he do if she was still there when he arrived home?

No. No. No. He was not to think of it. Of her. He put the girl out of his mind and went to work on harvesting the zucchinis, whose colors had deepened to that of an intense emerald.

As much as he wished to delay his return, he could not. The schedule which he followed day in and day out was not something to be taken lightly. And so, with all the apprehension in the world, he made his way home.

Arriving, he saw the door was open. Was she gone? He felt a pang of disappointment and then scolded himself, for wasn't that exactly what he had desired? Knowing that there were other people– it would overcomplicate his life. He didn't want to know that there was anyone else, for what if he felt the desire to leave, to find others? He couldn't betray the Garden, which had sustained him for so long.

He entered his home to find it indeed empty: The girl seemed to have made off with a large sack of celery, for he counted two bunches missing from his stores along with a sturdy waterskin.

It was over, he supposed, the brief excitement. He knew now that there was in fact one more person in the world. He was unsure on how he felt about her existence. Interested, certainly. Wishful, perhaps.

He grit his teeth. Whatever he had felt mattered not; he knew she wouldn't be coming back. Celery was a fibrous vegetable which could carry a large amount of water– it was probable that the girl would try to cross the Sand Dunes, numerous kilometers to the north, if she took such a large supply of the produce. He had ventured to the edge of the Dunes many times during his childhood, but never attempted to forge a path across. He knew that the journey was dangerous, even at dusk. His mentor had taught him that, and so of such a fact he was certain: The supplies the girl had taken would do her no good in the unrelenting heat of the Sand Dunes. If she attempted to cross with nothing but a bit of celery and a skin of water, the desert would surely swallow her whole and snuff out her life within a few hundred meters.

He became alarmed before forcing himself to calm down. She was not his problem. As far as his involvement went… Well, he would not blink an eye if her life ended in an attempt to cross the Dunes. He would not care, he managed to convince himself as he went about preparing his evening meal. Just as he sat down to eat he found himself wondering if it really would be so bad to have another set of hands, if only to help in the Garden.

He ground his teeth in frustration. The girl was nothing to him. He had never needed anyone else. Why now, then, did he feel the urge to go after her?

He wouldn't. What point was there to chasing after the dead? He put the girl out of his mind, albeit with some difficulty, and went to bed.

He awoke to the alien darkness, breathing hard– he had dreamed. The girl, this girl was crying out to him with a voice he couldn’t hear, pleading for him, and he couldn’t reach her. He had to reach her. He sat up with every intention of following her out.

No. What was he doing? She meant nothing– not to him, nor to anyone.

He would not rise from his bed, he would not fill several skins with water, he would not pack two days' worth of food in his bag, and he would not leave his home in the direction of the Sand Dunes.

He rose from his bed, filled several skins with water, packed two days' worth of food in his bag, and left his home in the direction of the Sand Dunes.

Only, he convinced himself, only to give the girl more food. If she had more supplies, she might stand a chance. He would give her food to improve her chances of survival, he would see her off, he would turn around, and he would not look back.

Walking quickly with legs made strong from work, he arrived at the edge of the scorching desert and barely made out a figure walking slowly. Even at night, there was never enough darkness to swallow the Dunes.

It was the girl, he was sure, and she walked so very slowly that he would catch up in no time at all, for she was only a few hundred meters into the Dunes.

He began hurrying, his walk becoming a jog becoming a run becoming a sprint and then he was there, at her side, and she noticed him, took a shaky breath, and opened her mouth.

"Hello."

And her voice was beautiful, the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard, and she was looking up at him with her soulful brown eyes, eyes that kept looking up, so far up that they rolled back in her head and she fell to the ground with not another sound. He caught her, befuddled. In a desert that made hell itself feel frozen, why was her skin cool to the touch and losing more warmth by the second?

He knelt beside her, the realization sinking in as he cradled her fragile form. He wanted to scream his pain to the sky, his fury, his inexplicable grief, but he knew no one would hear him, not anymore. And so he did not scream. Instead he stood, dusted off his pants, and returned home, where he ate his evening meal and went to bed.

The next morning, he woke up at exactly six, ate his morning meal, and walked the six thousand, four hundred and eighty-two steps to the Garden. Rather than tend to the rice like he'd planned, however, he dug a hole next to his mentor's tree and carefully, carefully transplanted a sapling to its new home.

He stood there for a few minutes, or perhaps a few days, his heart full of emotions he couldn’t understand, let alone express. Not without words.

And so he opened his mouth and his own voice, rough as sandpaper, filled his ears as he timidly offered all he could think to give.

“Hello.”

[jinifoodblog]

GNOCCHI IN BOLOGNESE SAUCE

How to make potato Gnocchi and Bolognese sauce from scratch?

Here's my recipe for Potato Gnocchi

4 Pcs Boiled and Mashed Potato

1/4 AP Flour

1 Egg

Salt, Pepper and a pinch of nutmeg

Procedure:

You have to combine the AP Flour and Mashed Potato

Once combined, add the egg at the center with the salt, pepper and nutmeg

Combine everything and kneed until a dough forms

To make sure that your dough is ready, it should not stick in your hands. Add more flour if it does feel sticky.

Form small log shapes

Cut the log into pillow shapes

Use fork to press the gnocchi at the center to create the shape

Prepare the boiling water with a lot of salt

Drop the gnocchi one by one

Scoop the gnocchi out once it floats. It is now ready :)

This is a time-lapse video of how I did it

NOW, TO MAKE THE BOLOGNESE SAUCE...

RECIPE FOR BOLOGNESE SAUCE FROM SCRATCH

Ingredients:

Iced Water

1kg tomato

1/4 ground beef

Italian herbs (I used Thyme, Basil Leaves, Oregano)

Olive oil

1T Tomato paste

1 stalk celery

1 small carrots

1 can sliced mushrooms

Parmesan Cheese

PROCEDURE FOR BLANCHING THE TOMATOES

Prepare the Tomatoes by removing the heads

Boil the water

Drop the tomatoes and wait for 35 secs

Scoop out the tomatoes then drop them in iced cold water to stop the cooking process

Peel the tomatoes

Cut them in half then take out the seeds while using strainer gathering the juice

Diced the tomatoes then combine with the juice

PROCEDURE FOR BOLOGNESE SAUCE

Heat the pan add the oil

Saute the onion

Add the celery and carrot then saute

Add the ground beef and seasonings. Saute until brown

Add the tomato paste and stir

Add the tomato juice that we previously made

Stir all of this together then add the sliced mushroom

Let it simmer and can now be enjoyed with our gnocchi

HERE's THE VIDEO OF HOW I DID IT

THANK YOU FOR READING :)

[dancinglan25]

DAY 8: REISHI Witch with her RABBIT 🐇 familiar and THYME in the background. . Time lapse video ➡️ #wip ➡️➡️ . . Prompt lists: #botanicalwitches #leafytober #witchesandfamiliars #raqueltraveinktober . . #inktober #inktober2018 #digitalart #digital #procreate #drawings #drawing #doodle #doodles #doodlediary #dancinglandoodles #illustration #artistsoninstagram #drawingchallenge https://www.instagram.com/p/BosqMc2B_R-/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=x5hj41fcbc2y

[livingcorner]

Your Step-by-Step Guide to Creating an Indoor Garden

Whether you’re been wanting to save yourself trips to the grocery store for fresh produce or the latest pandemic is making you long for a taste of nature, starting a garden seems like the most logical answer to your troubles. But if you’re a city dweller without a backyard space or you constantly deal with inclement weather, it’s not the most feasible option. One solution: Bring the outdoors—and all its luscious greenery, dirt, and smells—inside with an indoor garden.

Not only does gardening in your humble abode count as a fun new quarantine hobby, it can also have profound health benefits, according to research. Studies have shown that gardening (in or outdoors) is linked to an increase in life satisfaction, psychological well-being, and cognitive function, as well as reductions in stress, anger, fatigue, and depression and anxiety symptoms.

You're reading: Your Step-by-Step Guide to Creating an Indoor Garden

“Plants make me smile and do exactly what the research has found—lower my stress and elevate my mood,” says Melinda Myers, gardening expert and host of the Great Courses’ How to Grow Anything DVD series. “Tending plants, watching them grow, and continually learning as I try new plants and techniques keeps me excited and interested in trying more and sharing what I have learned with others.”

And you don’t need to be a plant master to successfully start an indoor garden. To Julie Bawden-Davis, founder of HealthyHouseplants.com and author of Indoor Gardening the Organic Way, the special touch needed to tend to an indoor garden isn’t necessarily something you’re born with. “I would say that everyone can develop a green thumb,” she says. “It’s like anything else—you need to practice. The more you practice, the greener your thumb will become.

Ready to give indoor gardening the old college try? Follow this step-by-step guide to starting an indoor vegetable garden or herb garden and setting it up for success.

Step 1: Decide which herbs and vegetables you want—and are able—to grow.

Before you dump some soil, seeds, and water in a pot and call it a day, you need to carefully plan out your indoor garden. Ask yourself: “How much room do you have to garden indoors? Will you use artificial light to expand planting options? And what herbs and vegetables do you eat and use when preparing your meals?” says Myers. These questions will help you figure out which herbs and veggies—and how many of each—you’re able to maintain in your growing conditions. If you’re planning on using only natural light in your slightly shady apartment, for example, you wouldn’t want to grow peppers. And if you only have one tiny sunny area of your living space, you probably won’t be able to grow dozens of plants. 

The Best Vegetables for an Indoor Garden

Since natural light can be a challenge while growing indoors, Myers recommends choosing plants that can tolerate a bit of shade, such as leaf lettuce, spinach, arugula, and kale. These greens take around 45 days to reach maturity—meaning you can have a fresh salad in a month and a half. As for veggies outside of the greens-realm, Myers suggests choosing radishes, beets, and carrots, which can hold up against some shade, for indoor gardens. If patience is not a virtue you’re known for, microgreens are the best bet—these small but nutritionally mighty greens can be harvested just 10 days after planting the seeds, she says.

If you’re hoping for fresh homegrown cherry tomatoes, eggplant, or peppers, you’ll have to put in a bit more effort. These plants need the most sunlight and grow flowers that need to be pollinated in order to create fruit. Unlike leafy greens, root crops, and tubers, which self-pollinate, these plants typically rely on bumble bees and wind to move pollen from the male to the female reproductive structures, according to the Gardening in Michigan extension at Michigan State University. Since there aren’t any bees around your indoor garden to help with that organically, you’ll have to do the work yourself by using something such as kids’ watercolor paintbrush to transfer pollen from one flower to another, says Myers. Depending on the variety, it’ll take anywhere from 65 to 110 days for the plant to start producing edible goodness, she says.

The veggies you’ll probably want to avoid growing in an indoor garden: Pumpkins, watermelon, and squash—and not just for the obvious size issues. These plants tend to climb, sprawl, and overall take up a lot of space, says Bawden-Davis. Beans and peas aren’t the easiest to grow inside either, as they grow on spreading vines, she adds. 

Read more: How to Build a Vertical Garden Frame? | Slick Garden

The Best Herbs for an Indoor Garden

For indoor herb gardens, choose basil, chives, mint, oregano, parsley, sage, and thyme—flavor boosters that often thrive indoors and under most gardeners’ care, says Myers. Rosemary and bay leaves can be a bit more challenging to maintain, while cilantro likes cooler temperatures and requires several plantings to build up enough supply to actually use in your cooking, she adds. 

Using Food Scraps for an Indoor Garden

While you’ve probably seen those Facebook videos that show someone loading up a pepper with soil, followed by a time-lapse of a stem growing straight out of the veggie, growing with any food scraps you have lying around the kitchen isn’t that easy. It’s not always the most productive way to grow vegetables, but it can be done, says Myers. Potatoes, sweet potatoes, celery, and onions tend to work best with this method.

Starting peppers and tomatoes from seeds left from last night’s dinner takes a lot of time, and you might end up with something that tastes and looks very different from the vegetable you collected seeds from, says Myers. The reason: The types of veggies you get at the grocery store are hybrid plants, meaning it was created by crossing plants from two different “pure lines,” or lineages of plants that have been inbred. Since this hybrid plant contains genes from two distinct family lines, its offspring will have a random mixture of genes from the original pure lines, giving you both desired and unwanted characteristics, according to South Dakota State University.

Step 2: Choose between a soil-based or hydroponic indoor garden.

Using pots filled with soil is the most common way to grow herbs and veggies indoors, but it’s not the only way. In indoor gardens, potting soil helps anchor the plants, provides air space for oxygen to get to the roots, and serves as a reservoir for water and nutrients, says Myers.  

However, hydroponic gardens, which involve growing plants directly in water sin soil, are becoming more popular. In this growing system, freshwater helps provide oxygen to the roots, and liquid fertilizer is added to the water to give plants the necessary nutrients typically found in soil. “Hydroponic growing takes knowing the correct mix of nutrients to put in the water, so it can be a little more complicated than planting in the soil,” says Bawden-Davis. “However, there are hydroponic growing systems like Aerogarden that make it easy to do.” 

Deciding whether to use a hydroponic system such as an Aerogarden (Buy It, $169, amazon.com) or pots with soil all comes down to your price point and growing space, says Myers; hydroponic gardens tend to have a high price tag, but they often come with artificial lighting so you can grow anywhere. 

Step 3. Figure out your indoor garden location.

In general, the best location for an indoor garden is the area with the best light, says Bawden-Davis. Putting your plants up against a window is A-OK—under the right conditions. If you have northern-facing windows, plants can sit directly on the sill, as the light isn’t so intense and hot that it will harm them. Western-facing windows, however, may be too hot, and plants will need to be placed two to three feet away from the windows, says Bawden-Davis. Your local climate matters, too: Gardeners in the North may need to back their gardens away from cold windows in the winter, says Myers. You should also avoid placing your indoor garden where it could receive drafts of hot air (think: heating vents) or cold air (like the air conditioner), which can damage plants, she adds. (Related: How One Woman Turned a Passion for Farming Into Her Life’s Work)

If your only available indoor garden space has zero sunlight, you’ll need artificial lighting. This full-spectrum artificial light (Buy It, $15, amazon.com) simulates daylight and is available in various types of bulbs, including ones you can screw into light fixtures you already have in your homes, says Bawden-Davis. Just make sure to position these grow lights directly over the planters for the best results, notes Myers. To give your indoor garden an extra boost of sunshine, consider placing pots on a reflective or white surface, which will bounce light back into the plants from below, she adds.

Step 4: Choose containers to grow your produce in.

If your indoor garden is going to be soil-based, pick up containers that are suited to the plants you’re growing. Tomatoes and peppers need at least a one- to two-gallon pot for smaller varieties, and a three- to five-gallon pot for larger, while greens can grow in most sizes of containers, says Myers. To ensure each plant’s roots have enough room to grow (important for giving the plant enough energy to produce veggies), use separate containers for each large vegetable plant, though multiple plantings of small greens and root crops can be grown in the same container if there’s enough room for them to reach their full size, she says. 

Along with the size of the pot, the features of the container itself can make or break your indoor garden. Opt for plastic containers, which are lightweight and hold moisture longer, and those that have drainage holes to prevent the soil from becoming overly saturated, says Myers. “I like to place my containers on trays or saucers filled with pebbles,” she says. “The excess water collects in the pebbles and the pot is elevated above the excess water to avoid root rot. It also saves time pouring off the excess water each time I water my plants.” 

If you’re more of a “set it and forget it” person, consider buying a self-watering container—a style of pot featuring a water storage tank underneath the plant. Much like a dry sponge quickly absorbing any liquid it comes in contact with, parched soil will pull water up from the reservoir when it needs it. The result: Instead of watering a few times a week based on your intuition—running the risk of overwatering or under-watering—you only need to fill the water reservoir when it’s running empty. This extends the time between watering and helps those who tend to neglect their plants or don’t know when to water, says Myers. She recommends a self-watering planter with the TruDrop System (Buy It, $139, amazon.com)

Step 5: Load it with soil.

Whatever you do, don’t dig up some soil from your backyard or neighbor’s outdoor garden and pour it into your pot. Instead, use a quality potting mix, says Myers. Potting mixes have a balanced mixture of peat, compost, or coir (the fuzzy fibers of a coconut shell) to hold moisture, as well as vermiculite, perlite, or rice hulls to promote proper drainage, she explains. The soil from an outdoor garden, on the other hand, may not hold enough water (or hold too much), be depleted of essential nutrients, or be too heavy and dense, which can pack together tightly and make aeration difficult. (Related: Your Guide On How to Make a Compost Bin)

When choosing a potting mix, look for one that’s light and fluffy, and if you’re going for organic veggies, use a mix that’s certified and labeled by the Organic Materials Review Institute, says Myers. Aside from good ‘ol dirt, potting mixes may contain fertilizer, so be sure to check the bag, so you know how often you should be fertilizing. Some boast a “starter charge” of fertilizer that’s used up after two or three waterings, while others, labeled controlled-release, time-release, or slow-release, include a fertilizer that provides small amounts of nutrients over a long period of time, explains Myers. If your chosen potting soil doesn’t contain fertilizer from the get-go, consider adding one that contains the right amount of nitrogen for vegetables plants (which need less than leafy plants and grass) and slow-release to provide a steady flow of nutrients. Nitrogen is the key nutrient for plant growth and helps create lush, green leaves, which then help capture the sun’s energy, convert it to sugar, and ultimately create delicious vegetables, per the Northeast Organic Farming Association. “It reduces your workload, and I am all about that,” she says.

You can also add moisture-retaining products to help hold water near the plant roots and reduce the frequency of watering. One sustainable, organic option: Wild Valley Wool Pellets (Buy It, $11, wildvalleyfarms.com). “It can be incorporated into the potting mix to reduce watering by up to 25 percent,” says Myers. This feature makes it extra important not to overwater your indoor garden, as plants growing in soil that is too wet won’t be able to get enough oxygen, leading to root death, stunted growth, and yellowing leaves, according to the Missouri Botanical Garden. 

Read more: How Thick Should the Mulch Be in a Planting Bed?

Step 6: Plant those seeds, transplants, or scraps.

Once you’ve picked up your containers and soil for your indoor garden, it’s time to choose your seeds. You’ll probably have the best selection with online seed companies (try: Sustainable Seed Company, Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds, or Johnny’s Selected Seeds), but your local garden center will likely carry them in the spring, says Myers. Pick up seeds that have a high germination rate (meaning many of the seeds end up sprouting) and are dated for the current season, she says. While some seeds can last for years when managed correctly and kept in a cool, dark place, the germination rate usually declines with age. Your best bet: Passing over the discounted seeds that were packaged two years ago and grabbing one dated with the current year instead. You should also look to the label for the estimated size the plant will get once it’s full-grown, says Bawden-Davis. “If it gets much bigger than two feet or so tall and wide, it’s probably not a good choice for indoor growing, as it will get too big,” she explains.  

Planting Seeds

When planting seeds, place them at the depth recommended on the packet. Keep the potting mix slightly moist (think: a sponge that has been wrung out) until the seeds sprout and the seedlings begin to grow, suggests Myers.

Planting Transplants

In the summertime, you might be able to score transplants from garden centers, which take less time to get to the point of being ready for harvest than seeds. Plant the transplants at the same depth as they are growing in their original container. Once the plants have successfully rooted and started producing new growth, you can harvest a leaf or two as needed, and this regular picking will actually encourage the plants to continue producing, says Myers. 

Planting Food Scraps

Some of the best vegetables to grow from food scraps are those that produce shoots—aka sprouts—as they age or when placed in water. These shoots are the new growth from seed germination within the vegetable and are where leaves will develop. Some vegetables, like carrots, turnips, and other root veggies, will only re-grow their top leafy greens when placed in water. Onions, garlic, scallions, and leeks grow shoots when their stems or bulbs are placed in a shallow dish of water, while sweet potatoes begin to sprout at the tip when left in the pantry too long. To grow potatoes from these scraps, cut the sprout off a few inches below the growing point, plant in potting mix, and water as needed. For regular potatoes, which sprout across the vegetable, cut the potato into pieces so that each chunk has a sprout or two. Plant in potting mix and water as needed.

To grow herbs from scraps, cuttings may be used. Choose a three- to four-inch cutting of a firm stem with leaves, remove the lowest leaf, and stick it in a moist potting mix. Keep the potting mix moist until roots form, about two weeks, then reduce watering frequency. Keep the potted cutting in a bright location out of direct sunlight, and move to a brighter location once rooted. 

Step 7: Water your indoor garden.

How often and how much you water your indoor garden plants all depends on your growing conditions and the age of your plants. In general, “the warmer you keep your house, the lower the humidity, and the sunnier the location, the more often you will need to water,” says Myers. 

For seeds that have sprouted and began to grow, gradually extend the time between waterings and water thoroughly when the top few inches of soil are starting to dry, making sure to pour out the excess, says Myers. With newly planted transplants, keep the top few inches of soil slightly moist for the first few weeks, then gradually reduce your watering frequency as the plants become more established, she says. 

A good rule of thumb: “If the soil is dry when you stick in your finger or a moisture meter, then it’s time to water,” says Bawden-Davis. And tap water is typically fine to use for your indoor garden, but if your plants look to be affected by the minerals in your tap water and are getting brown leaf tips, try switching to filtered water, she adds.

Step 8: Fertilize your indoor garden.

If the fertilizer in your potting mix or the slow-release fertilizer you added at the time of planting has run its course (the packaging will tell you how long it lasts), you’ll likely want to continue using some kind of fertilizer, especially if your plants are showing signs of nutrient deficiencies, including pale leaves and stunted growth. You can continue adding slow-release fertilizer as directed on the label, or use liquid fertilizers that are added directly to the water, says Myers. Opt for one designed for flowering plants or a balanced fertilizer, which has the same amount of nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium—the three fundamental nutrients in plant nutrition. These fertilizers are applied every two weeks or month (again, check the label), but consider starting with a diluted solution, as fertilizer recommendations are usually designed to achieve the maximum level of growth and could actually be more than your plants require, says Myers. Over-fertilizing your plants can cause sudden, immense growth, but the roots may not be strong and large enough to supply the plant with enough water and nutrients, possibly reducing the number of vegetables it can produce.

If you’re using a granular fertilizer, make two-inch deep holes, one to three inches apart in the soil with a tool that’s smaller than the diameter of a pencil. Then, sprinkle the fertilizer directly into the holes and cover with soil and water, says Bawden-Davis. 

Step 9: Don’t get discouraged.

Whether you think you have a green thumb or not, know that it’s totally normal if your kale plant shrivels up or your basil looks sad and droopy, so don’t call it quits before you take a bite into something you’ve grown with your own two hands. “Everyone that gardens kill plants—it’s part of the learning process,” says Myers. “And don’t be afraid to ask for help—gardeners love to share their knowledge, passion, plants and produce.” 

Source: https://livingcorner.com.au Category: Garden

source https://livingcorner.com.au/your-step-by-step-guide-to-creating-an-indoor-garden/