#wax begonia

[redrcs]

Playing with light.

In my garden. Wax Begonia

[flowerishness]

Begonia × semperflorens-cultorum (wax begonia) and Bombus (bumblebee)

Today's 'Spot the Bee' challenge features a white wax begonia that looks surprisingly good - considering it's October.

[lovelyyweather]

Rotating Alice with all sorts of plants decorating her!

Hypoestes Splash Select White and red Wax Begonia details on the book. Red / green hypoesteses(?) have always reminded me of my mom :]

[by-jessica-achillea]

Complete Guide on Growing Wax Begonia Flowers

Ever wanted to grow your own Begonia flowering plants? In this article I cover various researched and checked facts and information you need to know in order to grow and learn more about Begonias. Happy reading 🙂 Jump down the article by clicking the links below: Common Names Botanical Name Type of Plant Annual or Perennial Scientific Classification Cultural…

[generalhuccs]

Chicago Front Yard

Photo of a large traditional drought-tolerant and partial sun front yard stone garden path in summer.

[lenisbalenas]

Chicago Landscape Pathway Photo of a large traditional drought-tolerant and partial sun front yard stone garden path in summer.

[nogenrealldrama]

Lily Evans never quite feels like a lily.

[Petunia&Lily growing up - Microfic/fic excerpt - 362 words]

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

Lily Evans never quite feels like a lily.

Lilies are the flowers that guests sometimes bring to her mother’s dinner parties, stiff stems already cut and pre-arranged in the crinkly wrapper. Her mother slots them into a vase in the middle of their dining table and they linger for a week or two, their white petals never getting to unfurl in the sun or to sway in the wind.

Lily broke that vase once, while trying to make Tuney play the new version of catch that the Blythe boys had taught her. The lilies spilled all over the dining table, the water that soaked into the tablecloth smelling a little like a creek in high summer. Tuney scolded her right away for being careless. Later, their mother got back from the shops and scolded Tuney for the mess.

By the end of the week there is a new vase on the dining table, and by the end of the month it is again filled with lilies, pale and elegant and still like a wax sculpture.

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

Petunia Evans never quite feels like a petunia.

Petunias are the flowers that tumble down the windowsills of half the neighbourhood, their streaked and striped and spotted trumpets a confetti of every colour available in the newest gardening catalogues. In spring, she helps her mother carry trays of them from the market, little bundles of leaves that seem to know nothing of the tireless display that would soon be expected of them.

It was a thrill guessing which of the plug plants would produce the most outrageous colours, until Mrs Blythe mentioned that she finds petunias quite naff. Petunia wasn’t sure then what that meant, but next spring her mother comes back from the market with fuchsias and begonias instead. Petunia had never wanted to vie for the windowsill spot but now she retreats further, to the back bench in school and to the quiet obedience at the dinner table.

She tries to warn Lily, Lily who is still loud and bright and who plays with boys in the creek, but Lily never listens to her. And, as years pass by, Mrs Blythe never mentions that lilies are naff at all.

[floresincolor]

Some wax begonias, drawn in Ibis Paint X. 🌺

[liladrien-2024]

Lip to Lip

In celebrating of Secret Identities.

“Welcome to our first-ever premier of Face to Face !” A woman with garnet-ruby hair, the strands bordering on aubergine depending on what light she walks under, beams at the camera. She wears a navy blazer and sensible, tailored khaki trousers. One of her hands rests on her lap; the other is gesturing at the grand set around her. It appears that TVi spared no expenses for Nadja’s prime-time show. The backdrop is fitted with floor-to-ceiling OLED displays, currently playing a slow pan of the romantic Parisian nightscape, the Eiffel Tower lit up in gold and twinkling like a phantom. The cushy white canvas armchairs are a pure contrast to the russet-brown timber floor, waxed to a shine and reflecting the gloss of the lights overhead. Potted tropical foliage – blush-pink begonias and fragrant frangipanis and leafy miniature palm trees – tastefully decorate the surroundings and brighten the awkward, empty spaces. They also grant the illusion of homeliness and zen. Viewers watching at home can imagine that Nadja is sitting right beside them, chatting to them from their own couch. Guests are fooled into believing they’re in a safe space. A resort of frondescence paired with a friendly, calming voice to vent to. Never fall for this daydream. Nadja Chamack is a shark. “Tonight, we have two very exciting guests for you, the heroes of Paris themselves: Chat Noir and Volpina!” Nadja’s lips tilted downwards at the corners, her upset expression dramatised by her bright carmine lipstick. “Unfortunately, Ladybug could not be here today. But, worry not! Her two partners have plenty to share. This will be the first time the heroes of Paris have ever given an exclusive interview! So, stay tuned! Tonight will be an exciting exposé. Drama, secrets, and the mysterious private life of our masked superheroes will all be revealed tonight! Keep your eyes peeled; we’re breaking for commercials but we’ll be back in ten!” Nadja keeps her pageant-winning smile plastered across her mouth, artificially-whitened teeth glistening, rouged cheeks plump, until the stage manager gives her the thumbs-up behind his camera. If Nadja looks to her right then, she’ll see a live video of what TVs across France are showing right now: a Mercedes advertisement promoting their latest off-road, hybrid electric vehicle. A smooth baritone voice that is equal parts bored and excited introduces the 0.8m fording depth and integrated AI virtual assistant feature. Instead, Nadia covers her microphone, stands up, and screams: “WHERE THE FUCK – ?”

See the rest on Ao3 here!

[gins-stim-emporium]

8 - bluegrass marker stimboard!

melted wax / blanket / forest & flowers

cake / 🪴🫐 / glittery bear

begonia leaves / yarn making / crystal cube

[flowerishness]

Begonia cucullata (wax begonia)

pixie dust

I saw this begonia in bright sunshine yesterday and witnessed an interesting sight. As I moved my head a little, the flowers appeared to sparkle in the sun. One closer inspection, it looked like the red petals were coated with little crystals.

Plants do incredible things to attract pollinators. Flowers use color, shape and scent, of course, but some petals are painted with ultraviolet lines that only bees can see. I must admit, however, that the use of 'pixie dust' for this purpose is news to me.

[unchataparis]

Lip to Lip

In celebrating of Secret Identities.

“Welcome to our first-ever premier of Face to Face !” A woman with garnet-ruby hair, the strands bordering on aubergine depending on what light she walks under, beams at the camera. She wears a navy blazer and sensible, tailored khaki trousers. One of her hands rests on her lap; the other is gesturing at the grand set around her. It appears that TVi spared no expenses for Nadja’s prime-time show. The backdrop is fitted with floor-to-ceiling OLED displays, currently playing a slow pan of the romantic Parisian nightscape, the Eiffel Tower lit up in gold and twinkling like a phantom. The cushy white canvas armchairs are a pure contrast to the russet-brown timber floor, waxed to a shine and reflecting the gloss of the lights overhead. Potted tropical foliage – blush-pink begonias and fragrant frangipanis and leafy miniature palm trees – tastefully decorate the surroundings and brighten the awkward, empty spaces. They also grant the illusion of homeliness and zen. Viewers watching at home can imagine that Nadja is sitting right beside them, chatting to them from their own couch. Guests are fooled into believing they’re in a safe space. A resort of frondescence paired with a friendly, calming voice to vent to. Never fall for this daydream. Nadja Chamack is a shark. “Tonight, we have two very exciting guests for you, the heroes of Paris themselves: Chat Noir and Volpina!” Nadja’s lips tilted downwards at the corners, her upset expression dramatised by her bright carmine lipstick. “Unfortunately, Ladybug could not be here today. But, worry not! Her two partners have plenty to share. This will be the first time the heroes of Paris have ever given an exclusive interview! So, stay tuned! Tonight will be an exciting exposé. Drama, secrets, and the mysterious private life of our masked superheroes will all be revealed tonight! Keep your eyes peeled; we’re breaking for commercials but we’ll be back in ten!” Nadja keeps her pageant-winning smile plastered across her mouth, artificially-whitened teeth glistening, rouged cheeks plump, until the stage manager gives her the thumbs-up behind his camera. If Nadja looks to her right then, she’ll see a live video of what TVs across France are showing right now: a Mercedes advertisement promoting their latest off-road, hybrid electric vehicle. A smooth baritone voice that is equal parts bored and excited introduces the 0.8m fording depth and integrated AI virtual assistant feature. Instead, Nadia covers her microphone, stands up, and screams: “WHERE THE FUCK – ?”

See the rest on Ao3 here!

[tragedy-of-commons]

DUDDEEE THE FRICKENAUHIAKK1N aventurine fic,,, i am SICK,,,,, no way you're giving him more emotional damage by pairing him with a shapeshifter reader 😭😭😭

(chanting) WHUMP HELL WHUMP HELL

me looking at their relationship dynamic: how can i cause as much damage as possible?

sdfds on discussion though, that's a whole 'nother can of worms. writing the outline is causing me to have to account for future Events.. which is why it's probably going to wait until we get more story!!

glad that the mere concept is enough to evoke such a visceral reaction 😭 if we are ill we are ill together

here's a little snippet utc:

In each form that you assume, you always leave your mark. Your brand, really - akin to scrawled initials toeing picturesque canvases or fanciful wax seals dictating the news an envelope is about to bring forth. The desire to be recognized makes fools of many, the begonia tucked behind your ear seems to taunt. You suppose that the bells and whistles of individuality are a guilty pleasure. Whether it be in the form of silver tiaras resting on the heads of now-disgraced rulers, or cheap lockets populated by worn photographs, your interest is captivated. Sometimes they make parading around as the target easier if they’re particularly sentimental; more information that holds the curtain up just long enough for you to execute your orders. You’re partial to flowers. Vegetation is abundant on most planets you’re sent to, so it encourages the ritual of adorning your disguises with them. The golden blossom you’ve chosen this time, pilfered from a vase courtesy of The Reverie, is sufficient. The native flora of Penacony’s reality is anything but fantastical - boasting weeds, wildflowers, and sneakily imported bouquets which are but one thread of thousands keeping this worldly veneer alive.

(Yes. It’ll do nicely.)

[9thbutterfly]

Today, the afternoon was quieter than the last few Saturdays, so I actually had time to get stuff done, other than helping customers and watering.

Mostly I focused on moving stuff around so that I will have to spend less time watering tomorrow.

Got the last hanging baskets moved out to the main sales area, so I don't have to wait for the drip line to run (our irrigation system is old, and always needs to be babysat to make sure it does what it's told.)

We already got everything moved off the overhead shelf thingies in greenhouse 2 yesterday

And while I didn't have time to move everything down from the ones in greenhouse 1, I got some things down, and others moved closer together.

So, less time on a stepladder!

I also tidied up the wax begonias and gazanias, condensing lots of half-empty trays into far fewer full ones, so they take up less space - hand watering will be quicker and waste less water.

And finally I moved lots of petunias and calibrachoa from the space between greenhouse 1 and 2 (where we put about half of them so they'll grow more slowly) to the tables in greenhouse 1 (where they are more easily accessible for customers, and can be watered with the ebb-and-flow irrigation instead of hand watering.)

It's just so reassuring to see all this empty space.

[desaparecidos]

   Mary of Woodland Apts. Of Hoodland Darkness. Mary Who Raises Her Hand for Public Comment. Mary Who’s Told She’s Off-Topic. Mary of Ya    No Puedo Vivir. Mary, Mother of the Deceased. Who First Conceived the GoFundMe. Mary of Mortuaries. Of Casket-Compare. Of Unbrushed Hair. Dios te salvia, Maria, llena eres de text messages, Mi dolor es contigo, blessed the shoots of thy womb, baby’s breath, burnt glass, wax begonias, bleeding wax, our condolence, this folding table of teddies & roses, of boys sin bigotes, all the bags of Cheetos from La Tiendita Market, Mary of Sunflowers whose son’s a flower, his name engraved on a Frappuccino.    Our altar, that art in EPA, hallow be thy pain, thy henny, thy Don Julio will be poured in dirt as it is in 7-Eleven, give us this day our daily Takis,    our westside, our good morning, our good night, our boy back, please, his dreams, his age, 15, his name I pray, Inty, my God, you were hardly. A man.

Antonio Lopez, Our Lady of the Westside (2023)

[recitedemise]

👁️ WAX POETIC ??

Send ‘wax poetic’ for Gale to work some poetry; his muse is you: still accepting.

Gale approaches.

He's mystery. You're those whispers in the night with its ceaseless shadows. He's the ancient unknown in a plunging sea.

And Gale? Well, as much as he loves to wander in wonder, has yet such desire to know and learn. Curious, he is, and quite abundantly so, but Regulus, casting, entices that quality, all overtures of winter with symphonies of spring. It wears him quizzically -- you confound me, he thinks -- for there's frostbite in his gaze as he calls forth begonias! Then, bushels of thistles! And roses by trees. He looks all a blizzard in an eclipsing sky, but his magic and his weaving is decidedly sweeter... he thinks of fields with their bee-song and petit fours.

You're a tale with an ending I'm failing to grasp.

Their eyes meet, and Gale raises his hand to cast.

But he's nothing if not a reader. I will dare the unknown.