if you learn to love bugs with all your heart the world will feel half as hostile and a thousand times as big
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cuddling
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Blueberry picking was a family tradition growing up. I haven't been in over 12 years, so this weekend my cousins took me to a good patch near White River. There was a spot where full bushes lined a fallen log, so I got to sit and rest while bending twigs into my bucket to release bunches of berries without losing them.
The hornets are bad in the daytime, so we went in the evening which is prime mosquito time. I've always liked dragonflies, but I'd never been so grateful to have one fly by my head. I applied a citrus-mint balm to my chest, wrists, and ankles at home so those were left alone. Next time I'd better put some bug repellant on my face and booty, too!
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A fire keeper named Joe, who lost his baby finger in an accident, told me to always top off the fire with 4 pieces of wood to keep the fire centered.
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Down by the beach of Michipicoten First Nation, the day before the Youth and Elder's Gathering 2023.
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I lent my mom a book before I read it and apparently right at the beginning they tell a true story about all our chestnut trees dying and it made my mother SO DEPRESSED that she couldn't sleep and now she's been researching chestnut trees for the past half hour looking sick
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But seriously, when we got our property, it was all just…grass. A sterile grass moonscape, like a billion other yards. With two big old maple trees. Just grass and maples, that was it.
But then I got my grubby little paws on it, and I immediately stopped fertilizing, spraying, and bagging up grass clippings and leaves. I ripped up sod and put in flowers and vegetables. I put down nice thick blankets of mulch around the flowers and vegetables.
When I first was sweating my way through stripping sod, I saw a grand total of 1 worm and 0 ladybugs. The ground was compacted into something that would bend shovel blades.
Now, six years later, I can’t dig a planting hole without turning up fourteen earthworms, and there are so many ladybugs here. Not the invasive asian lady beetles; native ladybugs. They winter over in the mulch and in the brush pile. I see thousands of them.
The soil is soft and rich. There are birds that come to eat, and bees of many sorts.
Like this is something that you, yourself, can absolutely change. This is something that you, personally, can make a difference in.
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I made this chaotic poster about my hatred of garlic mustard. Feel like putting it on a sticker or something wdy think
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We took a friend smelting for the first time in her life and while having a cigarette she spotted one alone in the shallows so she just reached down and picked it up.
She caught her first smelt with her bare hand, with a cigarette in the other.
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There is a town in North Ontario
Dream comfort memory to spare
And in my mind I still need a place to go
All my changes were there
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You are never lost in the woods— you have walked in the dapple for too long to truly lose the way. Look to the moss-jowl oaks and you will find familiar faces grinning back, names you almost know. And the ivy slithers as it always has, as foreign-familiar in its formula as a phrase spoken into garble. You might forget, but the rumble of thunder knows the way as it climbs inside your lungs to shake once more. There is no place for certainty when wandering in the woods-- but step where other beasts have stepped, and you will walk assured.
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