#Ruth Stout

[petaltexturedskies]

I love spring anywhere, but if I could choose I would always greet it in a garden.

Ruth Stout

#Ruth Stout #spring

[petula-xx]

This is a progress shot of my 14 month old Ruth Stout style experimental bed.

I currently have some nearly mature late season potatoes in it to increase my yearly harvest and keep some plant biology in the soil.

Today I happily discovered some Autumnal fungal activity had colonised a section of the mulch. This is great news because it tells me that a little eco system is starting to establish. Straw is being broken down into microbe rich soil. A positive development indeed!

#Ruth Stout #garden #gardening #gardeners on tumblr #organic gardening #grow it yourself #plants #self sufficiency #eco system #potatoes #mulch #Autumn

[practicalsolarpunk]

Hey do you have any tips for making my garden very low maintenance but still productive. I have a large raised bed and a field with very good soil quality but I just don't have the energy to garden all the time. They both get lots of sun.

These tips are mostly focused on reducing the maintenance required in weeding and watering, which are often the two biggest things that gardeners end up doing to maintain gardens. These tips are also fairly general. As always, if you have more specific questions, please feel free to send in another ask with more details!

Mulch is my go-to method to reduce weeding and watering. Putting mulch around your plants helps keep water from evaporating out of the soil and makes it a lot harder for weeds to grow. This doesn't have to be fancy expensive mulch either - lawn clippings or wet newspaper work just fine (and I would argue better than traditional wood chip mulch).

Soaker hoses are a low-effort way to water, especially if your garden is large. Depending on your setup, watering the garden could be as simple as turning on a spigot.

The Ruth Stout method is an entire gardening method that combines mulching and no-dig techniques to grow plants with minimal effort. An overview here.

Grow native plants. They're already adapted to the growing conditions of your area and tend to grow well with little human input. If you're in the US, your local county extension office can help you pick options and possibly source seeds.

Similar to the last point, choose hardy, low-maintenance plants. I'm using vegetable examples here since that's most of what I grow personally: Beans, peppers, greens like lettuce and spinach, summer squashes like zucchini, and many herbs tend to grow perfectly fine if you throw the seeds at dirt and water them occasionally. Potatoes, carrots, onions, and tomatoes either require special soil preparation or tend to need more maintenance and care while growing to deal with pests or disease. Find the overlap between what grows well in your climate and growing season and what doesn't require a lot of maintenance or preparation.

Look into permaculture gardening principles. A running permaculture garden should be fairly low-maintenance, but it can take a lot of energy and effort to get it going, which may not be the best fit for what you need. However, there are a lot of overlapping concepts in permaculture. You may find things you can implement in your garden to reduce how much energy you have to put into it without going full permaculture. One intro here, another here; I'm also a huge fan of Heather Jo Flores and Food Not Lawns as resources.

I hope this helps! Followers, please chime in with any tips you may have.

- Mod J

#asked and answered #gardening

[subversivecynic]

1. Salt - ok, a rocky start. Is someone making beef stew without salt? Who?! WHO IS DOING... ahem -10/10

2. Rosemary - all right, that is a seasoning and while it is a very basic one that I would assume the majority of European cuisine based beef stew wood include. So. Better than salt. 3/10

3. Bacon - nice, a little novel. And I guess if you make your stew with a few solid chunks of bacon in it. You might not need the salt? I guess. I have never done more than using bacon fat to sear the beef but I'm willing to give that to go. 7/10

4. Mushrooms - I suppose this is flavorful if you use specific kinds. And umani is the most important flavor part. Still. A pretty standard ingredient though. 6/10

5. Coffee - much better. Never tried this, though I've used coffee in different gravies and sauces before. Will give it a go, though I'm a little unsure because I associate it with slightly sweeter companion ingredients. 10/10

6. Cacao - I'm from Cincinnati; I love chili; this is probably delicious and I will have to give it a go. I'm surprised I've never tried it. Am sure the way chocolate is used in general food palettes ill prevent people from using it though. 9/10

7. Orange - now we have gotten to in not sure about that. The tartness of the orange pairs well with sweetness but using it in a umami-based dish with high levels of salt seems undesirable 6/10, it's a bold strategy, Cotton, let's see how it plays out.

8. Garlic - oh, it's salt 2: electric boogaloo. because there probably are people who have never used real garlic and there are many flavor profiles produced in how it's prepared -1/10

9. Onion - Oh, come on. -10/10

10. Pepper[corn] - who wrote this, jfc. I know you are white, and that's why pepper is novel. -5/10

11. Cinnamon - this is more like it. I bet cinnamon adds a lot of warmth to the stew. I think it would depend heavily on what other ingredients you used herbs and seasoning wise, because there are some things that it clashes with. 7/10.

12. Potato - ok, I looked up the author and Nicole Adams definitely has a taco Tuesday where she eats store bought taco mix hard shell tacos, wearing socks and shoes in the house, and does yoga led by another white lady with a hyphenated first name like Becky-Sue or Ruth-Anne . I'm gonna generally assume she wrote this while wine hung over because I want to assume nice things.

Look, potatoes absolutely belong in beef stew. They are in fact one of the core ingredients that will always appear in beef stew. But as the title of this is things that add flavor to beef stew, and the fact that potatoes are only carb flavored, and their function is to pick up the flavors around them the addition of it. to this list. is. irritating. Null/10

13. Carrots - I... Guess. I'm going to give this points because carrots do add a flavor. They are a part of the flavor profile. They are part of the standard flavor profile, though, so 4/10

14. Red wine - Yes. Ok. Cool. You should definitely add some form of alcohol to your beef stew because it will marry the flavors better. However, this is pretty basic (I prefer the sharpness of dry white wine, personally but it's a far less popular choice) 7/10

15. [Stout] Beer - there are worse places to end this. I'm gonna give Nicole points for specifically saying stout instead of general beer. Bear in general is a good ingredient for something as rich and heavy as beef stew, but stout is the correct choice if you're going to go with it. 8/10

#food #beef stew #home cooking #I'm being critical #this is concrit #but #like #snark

[thoughtportal]

Five years ago Catholic priest Johannes Schwarz left his parish to "withdraw for a few years" in the Italian Alps (in the shadow of his beloved Monte Viso). He bought an old "rustico" - stone farm building - for 20,000 euros and transformed it into his mountaintop hermitage.

Inspired by the early Christian desert hermits from the "200s and 300s when some people went into the deserts of Egypt and Palestine searching for a more rigorous life", Schwarz found something remote: he has only one full-time neighbor on the entire mountainside and in winter, he often has to snowshoe for a couple hours just to buy food and supplies.

To be as self-sufficient as possible, he makes his own bread and stores plenty of potatoes which he grows using Ruth Stout's "No-Work" gardening method. To grow much of his own fruit and produce, he terraced the steep hillside (using stones from the area) to create micro-climates. "You try to build walls that have southern exposure because they heat up during the day and they give off the warmth and can make a difference of several degrees." (Studies show differences of 27°F/15°C in the ultra-deep Incan terraces). He grows plenty of tomatoes inside his self-built recycled greenhouse.

For heating and cooking, he built a combination rocket stove and masonry heater by creating his own casts and loam coating. His refrigerator, which he transported up the hill on top of his bicycle, is kept in the unheated room, along with his food stores. He uses a tiny 30-year-old 3-kilogram washing machine and built his bathroom out of salvaged materials. To transport the lumber up the hill for his remodel, he got some help from a local farmer.

He divided the old barn into four small rooms on two floors; the living room/kitchen and pantry on the ground floor and a chapel and bedroom upstairs. His bedroom also serves as an editing studio where he creates videos on philosophy and religion.

He created a wooden-arched indoor chapel where he “celebrates the traditional Latin mass” alongside a wall he painted with Byzantine, romanesque and gothic styles in appreciation of "the symbolism of the ancient art."

#youtube #hermit #italian alps #italy #Kirsten Dirksen #fair company #gardening #tiny home #small home #mountains

[lunamagicablu]

C’è una riservatezza che non ti dà nessun altra stagione …. In primavera, estate e autunno le persone vivono una sorta di stagione aperta gli uni accanto agli altri; solo in inverno si possono avere momenti più lunghi e tranquilli in cui gustare l’appartenenza a se stessi.

Ruth Stout

**********************

There is a reserve that no other season gives you…. In spring, summer and autumn people experience a kind of open season next to each other; only in winter can you have longer and more peaceful moments in which to enjoy belonging to yourself.

Ruth Stout

[abellinthecupboard]

What We Have

On the mountain the neighbor's dog, put out in the cold, comes to my house for the night. He quivers with gratitude. His short-haired small stout body settles near the stove. He snores. Out there in the dark, snow falls. The birch trees are wrapped in their white bandages. Recently in the surgical theater, I looked in the mirror at the doctor's hands as he repaired my ancient frescos. When I was ten we lived in a bungalow in Indianapolis. My sister and brother, my mother and father, all living then. We were like rabbits in the rbast fur of a soft lined nest. I know now we were desperately poor. But it was spring: the field, a botanist's mirage of wild flowers. The house centered between two railroad tracks. The tracks split at the rochard end of the street and spread in a dangerous angle down either side. Long lines of freight for half an hour clicking by; or a passenger train, with a small balcony at the end of the last car where someone always stood and waved to us. At night the wrenching scream and Doppler whistle of the two AM express. From my window I could see a fireman stoking the open fire, the red glow reflected in the black smoke belching from the boiler. Once I got up and went outside. The trees-of-heaven along the track swam in white mist. The sky arched with sickle pears. Lilacs had just opened. I pulled the heavy clusters to my face and breathed them in, suffused with a strange excitement that I think, when looking back, was happiness.

— Ruth Stone, In the Next Galaxy (2002)

#What We Have #Ruth Stone #In the Next Galaxy #poetry #writing #literature #poets on tumblr

[skyler10fic]

Sweet Like Honey: Ch. 7 Beach Brides

Summary: Carol’s in a pastel yellow halter top and lavender swim shorts, Daisy’s in a teal bikini, they’ve got their sandals, sunglasses, hats, towels, and sunscreen … it must be time for BEACH FIC! My specialty.

Next to last chapter!

Read on Ao3

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

The beach was busy given the heat wave, but Carol and Daisy scored a pair of rental lounge chairs away from any big groups. Especially since it was early June and the area behind the Pegasus was known as the local gay beach on this side of town, for obvious reasons, the giant Pride flag on the lifeguard tower welcomed in a particularly hyped crowd.

A group played beach volleyball, another dared each other to run at least waist high into the cold water, and more couples and individuals and groups strolled along the sand, simply enjoying the atmosphere. One couple in particular caught Daisy’s eye from where she was relaxing and pretending to read her book as she people-watched. Two women, one tall with long silver hair and one stout with short white hair. The first was painting the beach scene, observing all around them, while the second sat fully absorbed with what she was writing in her notebook. A content old chocolate lab napped on a blanket between them. They were situated in a little half-cove of small dunes, out of the way of the flying beach balls and partiers, but with a clear view of the ocean and the tourists a short distance away, including Daisy and Carol.

Daisy’s observations were interrupted by a group of girls approaching.

“Hi guys!” Kate bounded up to them, with Trish, Jessica, and Sharon trailing behind. Her bikini with a strawberry pattern and high ponytail reflected her bubbly personality.

“Hey!” Daisy and Carol greeted. Daisy noted the painter was subtly watching them in amusement.

Kate followed her brief gaze to the older couple. “Did you meet them? They are so fascinating.”

“Katie,” Trish interrupted, “we’re going to be over here.” Trish gestured vaguely in front of their path and the three of them continued on without Kate.

Carol cleared a spot for her at the end of the chair and Kate sat down.

“No, I don’t think we’ve seen them before,” Daisy answered her question about the painter and writer. “Do you know them?”

“We met at breakfast this morning. C’mon, I’ll introduce you!” Before they could stop her, Kate was on her way to the older couple and Daisy and Carol had no choice but to follow.

The painter, Mary, smiled gently as Kate introduced them to her; her partner, Ruth; and their dog Barkley, who slept undisturbed on his beach blanket. Ruth nodded from her writing and continued on with a furrowed brow.

“She’s been inspired today,” Mary explained. “Whereas I have been thoroughly distracted.”

“Sorry.” Daisy cringed.

“Oh, no, not your fault at all,” Mary assured kindly. “It’s more that I’ve been commissioned to paint a calm ocean view for the resort, but there’s so much life and excitement here today. Even the waves know it.” She looked out to where the ocean, indeed, was actively and loudly entertaining its guests.

“They’re smart to wear wetsuits,” Carol noted, pointing to a group in neck-to-ankle neoprene. “We just stood in the shallows and it was really cold.”

Daisy agreed. “It was fun to cool off after our walk, but I would not be out there like those guys.” A few brave surfers had ventured out to the breaking waves, but mostly those in the water lounged on inflatables.

Ruth spoke up. “It’s not the cold that would bother me. It’s the sharks.”

As if a prophet had spoken, the alert from the lifeguard tower sounded. A voice from a bullhorn declared the warning, and the swimmers and surfers paddled back to shore.

“It’s the sharks’ home first,” Mary reminded as she adjusted her ribboned straw hat. “They are kind to let us visit at all.”

“Have you two been here long?” Daisy asked, expecting a few days or weeks.

Ruth chuckled, and Mary answered. “Oh yes, every summer since we were in our 30s, and then when we retired, we moved out here. It was where we could be together without hiding.” Mary held out her hand and Ruth took it, exchanging nostalgic, bittersweet smiles.

“That’s beautiful,” Carol remarked. “You’ve probably seen the Cape change a lot.”

“Oh yes,” Mary sighed. “It’s much busier, but I’m glad it brings more young energy and life to the town. We need all this joy to remind us how far we have come.” She observed the openly queer couples all around them, as Carol and Daisy had so often on their trip.

“How about you all?” Ruth nodded to the girls.

Daisy beamed and took Carol’s hand, swinging it briefly. “My wife and I are here on our honeymoon. We head home the day after tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe it’s almost over. It’s gone so fast,” Carol said, mostly to Daisy but loud enough for the other women to hear.

“I bet it has,” Ruth laughed. “What about you, sweetheart?”

Kate answered, “Oh, we’ll be around through the weekend. Then I have to get back to start my first job!” She squealed in nervous excitement, and the others laughed.

“You’ll be fine,” Carol assured. “Just be yourself and everyone will love you immediately.”

This praise made Kate’s day, but her mood fell as Jessica called out, “Hey Katie, stop bothering those artists. They are trying to work!”

Kate growled under her breath. “Coming!” She turned to the women and apologized, running off to where Jessica was waiting to have what looked like a heated conversation.

“We should let you two get back to it too,” Daisy said with an apologetic gesture. “But your painting is beautiful. The resort is going to love it.”

“Thank you,” Mary answered sincerely. “And you two? Don’t lose hope. Stay connected and keep choosing each other and everything else works itself out.”

“Thank you,” Daisy said with a little bow of her head, as if receiving a blessing.

“We will,” Carol added, as if being charged with a sacred duty.

They returned to their beach chairs to find a seagull eyeing their tote bag with a shiny snack wrapper hanging out of it.

“Don’t even think about it,” Carol warned the bird. She made big shooing motions with her arms and the bird flew away, only to land near the volleyball crew’s belongings in search of treats to steal.

Daisy searched in the bag and then held up the bottle of sunscreen. “We should probably reapply.”

“Get my back and I’ll get yours.” Carol winked. They both knew that went beyond applying sunscreen into a little shoulder massage, as was their tradition. They had a real, professional couple’s massage coming tomorrow morning, but this sunscreen tradition wasn’t about truly working out any knots, just a little romantic gesture. Carol’s halter top made that part easy for Daisy, but when it was her turn, Carol had to move her teal bikini straps out of the way, letting them fall off her shoulders. It felt so publicly intimate, and Daisy knew Carol was barely resisting kissing down her neck—at least, if it hadn’t been for the fresh sunscreen taste her lips would be met with instead of pure Daisy.

When Carol was done applying and massaging, Daisy had mercy on her and pulled the straps back up, then turned to kiss her in gratitude. They continued reapplying sunscreen to the rest of their own bodies and settled in to read their books. A young man wearing the logo of the snack shop and bar came by with a menu, and they ordered blue slushie drinks with little umbrellas.

It didn’t take long for him to return. Drinks in hand a few minutes later, they clinked glasses and took a sip at the same time.

“This is the perfect honeymoon,” Daisy assessed.

“Don’t jinx it! We aren’t home yet!” Carol warned, making Daisy roll her eyes and laugh.

“I’m just saying, I love all of this. I love being here with you,” she stated simply. “This is how we’re always going to remember our first days of our marriage. No matter what comes next.”

“Me too. What was it the artist said? Keep choosing each other.”

“Easy choice.” Daisy smiled, the very picture of besotted, which Carol returned in equal measure.

“I think that’s the best marriage advice we’ve gotten so far.” Carol tilted her head, remembering others that were less helpful.

“Or maybe it just means more, considering the source,” Daisy pointed out. While her parents and their friends had good tips, back home their video chats with Wendy and Victoria had proven uniquely helpful. So it wasn’t a surprise that hearing how to stay together from two queer elders here carried an extra weight.

They sipped their drinks and people-watched for a few minutes until Daisy turned to Carol again.

“I have this nagging feeling that there was something I was supposed to remind you to talk about, but I can’t remember any more than that.”

“Hmm,” Carol thought back. “Was it last night?”

“Yeah, I think so. Out on the balcony?” Daisy drank her blue frozen cocktail as she waited for Carol to remember.

“Ohh!” There it was. “Yeah, you know how at the party, you said we didn’t get anything for me? I had a different idea. You have your, uh, necklace, but mine would be more permanent.” She pointed to the spot on her hip.

Daisy took a few seconds to think of what she could possibly mean and then noticed Carol was tracing a shape. “Oh!”

“If that’s something you’d want.” Carol shrugged. “I’m thinking a little daisy flower, just the outline. And maybe you’d draw it on the paper I bring to the tattoo shop?”

“Babe, of course!” Daisy sat up. “I didn’t know you wanted a tattoo. But I’d be honored.”

“Yeah?” Carol relaxed in relief. Daisy realized from the motion that Carol had been nervous to bring it up. She really wanted this.

“Yes! I love it. But no pressure, either. You don’t have to reciprocate for the collar. If it hurts too much or you just change your mind, it’s your body, and I won’t be offended or hurt or anything at all.”

Carol played with the umbrella on her drink. “I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while but didn’t know for sure what or where. Then remember last month, you caught me writing Carol Coulson on all my post-its at work and then we got those pens and drew on each other?”

“Mmhm.” Daisy’s awe turned to a wicked smile. It was a fun, naughty night. “I remember drawing little music notes on you with your new full name. Because you’re my favorite song, my Carol.”

“So then I drew a little flower on you. And that’s what gave me the original idea. But on me instead, because I’m yours.” Carol said it simply, as if it was just a simple fact of science, but it bathed Daisy in honeymoon bliss anew.

Daisy confessed, “I thought about ring tattoos for our fingers, but I read that they hurt a lot, so then I thought maybe not.”

Carol grimaced, picturing the needle on the delicate skin between their fingers. “I’d do it for you if you asked me to, but I think this is my first choice.”

“If we lose these too many times, or our real ones, that’s when I’d consider it.” Daisy placed her empty glass in the sand and held up her silicone ring.

“Understood. And agreed.” Carol finished off her drink and took it and Daisy’s back to the beachfront bar.

Daisy noticed Mary and Ruth’s dog had woken up from its nap to play in the sand, and sure enough, Carol stopped by on her way back to pet it and play for a minute. Daisy knew getting their own dog wasn’t practical in this stage of life, but Maria had been considering getting one for Monica for her birthday in the fall or for Christmas, and if she decided to, it would be a surprise for Carol as well. Truthfully, besides their busy lives and life-consuming jobs, Daisy didn’t want the work and expense of owning a dog herself and they really needed more space, but dogsitting once in a while was well worth it to see Carol happy.

She watched Carol hand the slobbery tennis ball back to Ruth and practically skip back over to Daisy.

“I know, I know,” Carol warded off. “I can play with other people’s dogs, but we wouldn’t be good dog owners. At least for the foreseeable future.”

Daisy nodded. “You read my mind.”

Carol sighed and looked out to the ocean. “It’s going to be kinda sad going back to our little apartment, our ordinary lives and jobs.”

“We’ve been spoiled here for sure.” Daisy watched the waves with her. The shark was long gone by now and there were more people braving the water, some getting used to it and others squealing and running back to their towels as soon as they tried to get past their waistlines.

Daisy turned back to Carol. “We still get to play our game though.”

“Which game?” Carol met her glance.

“Saying the words ‘my wife’ over and over in conversation until someone gags at our cuteness.”

Carol laughed. “True. We are going back to normal but our new normal. And I have a lot of paperwork to fill out when we get home. Becoming a Coulson officially.”

“I know it takes a lot of dull bureaucratic bullshit paperwork, but I am actually looking forward to that. My dearest wife.”

“Me too, my darling wife.”

“That’s a good one.” They giggled and sighed as the sun started making them sleepy. Eventually, they gathered up their towels and bag and headed back to their hotel room to get ready for their last nice dinner of their trip at a highly rated seafood restaurant.

The problem with this plan, of course, was that they took off each other’s swimsuits, which lead to getting in the shower together, which lead to shower sex, which shortened their getting ready window before their reservation.

They rushed down the street and made it just in time as their reservation was being called for the last time before being canceled. They sat down and accepted their menus as they caught their breath, both thinking of half an hour earlier when they’d been breathing heavily for a different reason as bikini strings were loosened, moans were muffled by the sound of the water and the buzz of a waterproof vibrator, and their hands and washcloths cleaned every speck of sand and salt and sweat and sunscreen from each other’s bodies.

Now, with light makeup, barely dry hair, sun-kissed pink cheeks, and tanned arms and legs, they sat across from each other at a popular restaurant, smiling at their secret of what they’d been doing to make them late.

Of course, anyone who looked their way could give a reasonable guess. Everything about the way that they looked at each other to their body language to their flirting and obliviousness to anything else happening in the restaurant around them screamed “honeymooners.”

They might be coming to the end of their first trip as newlyweds, but the so-called honeymoon phase wasn’t even close to being over yet.

#daisy johnson #carol danvers #aos #agents of shield #captain marvel #daisy x carol #carol x daisy #wlw #sapphic fic #femslash #lesbian carol danvers #bisexual daisy johnson #skywriting #honeymoon #honeymoon au #marvel femslash #beach fic

[touchn2btouched]

"I like spring everywhere, but if I had to choose, I would always greet her from a garden."

Ruth Stout

[ravens-farm]

I'm really excited about this garden, because while I grew up on a small organic farm, I've learned a lot in the years since I left home. A lot about mycorrhizae, soil bacteria, interplanting, insectary plants, and passive water catchment techniques, and I'm really excited to try them on a bigger scale than my back yard.

So let's look at a few of the design guidelines I have for this place.

1. Use practices that encourage mycorrhizae & other soil microbiota. In practice, this means we will not dig in the soil if at all possible, we will keep the soil covered with mulches (including living mulches), and we will keep healthy roots in the soil year round (either by having a living mulch or biennial & perennial crops). We will also not be using concentrated forms of fertilizer, such as inorganic, bone meal, guano, etc, as these have been shown to disrupt the relationship between plants & mycorrhizae.

2. With few exceptions, crops will be inter-planted, usually with plants that have been shown to reduce damage to crops, improve the health of the crops, fix nitrogen, or support native insect species.

3. There will be a lot of insectary plants, and large areas for native plants to grow. We will encourage species that support native pollenators & birds, discourage invasive species, and work to make sure our garden benefits the surrounding ecosystem. We will not be using pesticides, herbicides, or inorganic fertilizers.

4. We will be using passive rainwater catchment practices to retain as much soil moisture as possible and reduce irrigation as much as possible. This will look like the use of mulches, incorporating as much organic matter as possible, and possibly the construction of swales.

If you want some resources on these matters, here's a reading list, ranging from memoirs with good info to books with many case studies

The One-Straw Revolution: An Introduction to Natural Farming, by Masanobu Fukuoka

The Ruth Stout No Work Garden Book, by, you guessed it, Ruth Stout

The Complete Guide to Restoring Your Soil, by Dale Strickler

Finding the Mother Tree, by Suzanne Simard

Mycelium Running, Paul Stamets

#gardening #organic gardening #permaculture #save the bees #sustainable gardening #mycorrhizae #no till #no dig #tiny farm

[somediyprojects]

Hold the Door Sampler ($10) designed by April Koenig of CrownStreetCottage.

Some heroes don't get the girl. Some heroes don't get the lime light. Some heroes don't even get to live to the end of the story. Those heroes, those selfless folk who make a hard, but necessary choice, they are the ones that inspired this sampler. This sampler honors Hodor from Game of Thrones. Hodor, his mental state thrust upon him without any chance of him turning it down, but still his heart is huge, and his loyalty goes above and beyond. Even though he was afraid he held true. Inspired by a sampler by Ruth Lemon in 1760 this sampler strives to remind us of those brave of heart, and stout of soul. The exemplar was stitched on 22 count coffee died linen with Valdani threads. The pattern is charted in DMC with two other substitutions listed in the instructions section of the pattern. The satin stitch borders are stitched with #5 Perle Cotton by DMC. Hold the Door is 151 stitches wide x 250 stitches long.

#cross stitch #inspo #x #etsy #pop culture

[johnschneiderblog]

Cold snap 

On the whole, it’s been a milid autumn here in mid Michigan but it looks like the ants are now marching toward the picnic.

It was 77 degrees here yesterday. Tomorrow? A high of 41, dropping into the 20s by Sunday morning. 

Today is a transition day, which is why I’m writing this long before the first hint of daylight powders the eastern horizon. I expect to greet the dawn in my tree stand, feeling those cooler temperatures riding a westerly breeze .

Although the science is inconclusive on this point, nine out ten veteran hunters would tell you radical drops in the temperature - a dip of 10 degrees, or more in daytime highs - makes warm-blooded creatures want to move.

One of my early bosses - a stout, rough-barked woman of 60 or so named Ruth - used to say she liked cold weather because “it makes people walk like they know something.”

And remember, deer can’t shed their winter coats so an unseasonable warm spell is bound to make them sluggish. A snap in the air will wake them up. Theoretically, anyway.

#John Schneider #from 77 degrees to 41 #radical weather change #deer movement

[petula-xx]

With rising food prices and produce shortages in the world it was great to have some Winter harvest potatoes ready to lift out of my Ruth Stout style plot today.

I planted a few sprouting tubers in late Summer and without much more effort from me I now have a couple of kilos of free, fresh veg.

King Edward variety on the left and White Star on the right.

#potatoes #King Edward potatoes #vegetables #grow it yourself #self sufficiency #garden #gardeners on tumblr #food security #simple living #eco living #Ruth Stout #organic food

[mushroommanchanterelle]

I'm trying to write some excerpts to get personalities right for my characters. Please be gentle, I haven't written anything in YEARS aside from the occasional RP

RUTH

Miss Pothec, dignified and distinguished, stares into her mug of cocoa. The mirrored sheen of her beverage reflects her face, cold, bored, and in utter need of some rum. She sighs, her pale fingers curling around the warm mug, holding it close in an attempt to feel something other than the cold cynicism she was oh so used to. Silver strands of hair fall to her shoulders as she sits back, letting out a loud sigh. Ruth Pothec, medic extraordinaire, unable to heal a single little girl. She rests her mug on a small nightstand, exchanging it for a photograph framed in gilded metal. Her abnormally blue eyes soften, and a smile spreads across her face as she takes in the visuals. Nestled within the frame is a snapshot of a family. There is a dark haired man, smaller than usual for a Petraedict, stout and smiling, beside a woman dressed in a refined gown. Long, silver hair flows down to her hips. The two are looking at each other lovingly. In front of them are two small children, both little girls. The taller of the two looks remarkably like the woman, with long, silver hair decorated with ribbons. The other, shorter and more frail, wears her curly black locks in a low ponytail. The family all wears an earnest smile, and the man and woman both have a hand on  their daughter’s shoulders. Ruth stares at the photograph in her hand, reliving the memories of her youth. A shout from the other room forces her back into reality, and her icy gaze narrows again as she sets the photograph down.

“What do you want now, Advent?” she responds in a cold, harsh tone.

#creative writing #oc #original character #writing #character concept #original content #wip #work in progress

[puutterings]

and blue eyes, and hunting worms, and moving-pictures yearning

        Phoebe turned houseward. The world was just full, she reflected, of good moving-pictures that no one seemed to be using. Chapter XVI       To Phoebe, Uncle Bob took on a new and intense interest. Heretofore, he had been just Uncle Bob, stout and jolly and loving, with certain unknown duties at the Court House, and his various homely pastimes at home, such as gardening and puttering about the stable, and hunting worms. But now all at once he seemed different. And Phoebe forgot his stoutness and his baldness in remembering that he was the adoring, yet unhappy, lover. And just as she had watched her father’s face for signs of suffering, she now watched this uncle, discovering sadness in his smiling blue eyes, and yearning even in his whistled tunes as he hammered away at the chicken-coop.       “He loves Miss Ruth,” she pondered. She was doubly tender to him, knowing his secret. And just as she had vowed to thwart any plan of her father’s to marry a second wife, she now gave time to a plot that would bring Miss Ruth to Grandma’s.       Sophie discouraged the idea.

— Eleanor Gates, Phoebe (George Sully and Company, 1919) : 166 : link same (NYPL copy/scan, via hathitrust) : link  

#1919 #Eleanor Gates #melodrama #moving-pictures

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“The interpreter be that distincts, breaking your end”)

And murmur’d: Who art thy state: if     thy Reign? He did not a Slaves; And, wife, and not with thirst appealed     to defaced Music shall proue. We quest, let the two young     Messias Life can it be you get up early woke Endymion     with hart to pray; while

other me in me. So as soon     as of Caiaphas. The poetes heart, where’er the after when     he to meanes of a ruin’d brown earth while we never seize     me if every stall; the gorge dimension could spill the other     speech,—nor ever seas

long therein show’st thy lasing pride     another me in pure yvory: but better parts that     lies turning, leave the times, ruth, sorrowful noise overcame     my soule was she inquire Oh, weep the Burial talked ere     we are threw he is gone

that wait thee with her own; and elm     have to the heaven’s image in one’s cell, will acquaintance     secret joys of them. When pray that where past, but glorious     devotion shall quicke, and been a blessed the river billowing     weeds or three Elizabeths

for triumph was the color.     Taught win whom thou whom a watched mind, when the Golden     daffodil, I know, phrase, that love-burden head in extremes, and     rolling survived every nook of hospital; at first Christ’s—     oh! Let not be stung; where

wet, and of the web of beautie best     agree, the victorie, yet deed. From these ruine hath nature is     time he may beholding a bier, but warld’s wildest Hope, with     such a cup of the very hours apace but simple Kurd     awaking a web of

glory the Southern thongs, nor vnto     me shepe, hey ho Bonibell, to drink a draught himself and     far descends, let out for a few lives more easy, and that     has been work, your over me; and wine for you are all be     thou didst make one light, giuen

so a boy of the red rose would     that soon or they bearing tyme&changed; and the witness on the     Gods, for the sproutine—look at they feel, to give her work, Cease,     so typical, showers. What tempt th’ event; for so     to immortal eyes and

poverty brought my still the wat’ry     flowers and Forward to sway? That skill not sing moon deck     the shepherd well as not dead; The payne doth in wonted worse.     She had failed and the talks o’ your loue chearfully, mysterious     quill: perhaps he

the single breath spreading bed the     Dust of equall her Ida, thou thy selfe doth place and trust     to the fruit the Judge. To her prayers. If sorrow, month folly     call it with fetters, sweets; but when I see the carelesse     bloud, above; you the

quicklime on my own, heard the top     of Oxford hunted me, the Faiths Defence set about me     in pleasure, like the sting in talcum on the sink no more     against the Tree. Or else to my should have knows the hay, woods     and stout. Eyes doo weaue, each

threescore years the golden opes,     tis my invented worse I fared with no contentment perforce     against his due, is often go then either you ain’t     never mourn, and with many ages, and pensive mood, through     town and loud, all Young Spring.

And she past one, with him to     the cottage; at his deep discord she lordeth in the quarry;     but the City. All days gone, as when on its disguise,     of lonely with figure was so fill you loves. The interpreter     be that distincts,

breaking your end. From you didst buy,     who were Croud to joy, I thinking off and bloody gore while     ones, whose ugly Scars, to spit out, the Fool’s Paradise is     change, will consume us day, Sir; the floor—and cold hears so     gentle dear, till it backward

steps of kindred Graces, and     see a child. And faithless spot, nor thou now and that great, could     not true Lovers, though I have lives; and Sleep which the fire theyr     payne to nought his wat’ry bier unwept, as fingering     piano our meriment.

Yoked in a suit of starred, silent     men have not talked ere we be what I bear of faëry, but     her as the King, the sprouting Hál! Was hard, but perfume then     whylst her most? And easie still he please, but strike wind In such strong;     and ocean wyde, the blinding

curls, and slip at once thy to     illumine down assert itself, Is he picture, a kindled     hope, our heart’s core, but thus, God and would haunting swallow     still confused to the toadstool’s lazy Happinesse huntsman     after that held in me.

The dead, he looks into one. But     as a block left in my bosome being caught for you, you     be thought in plain—oh might glooming sun. That for all to eat     not one that so our bed. For heroes, and gather trim prepared,     how shadowes shore.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #192 texts #ballad