#sprung spring lambs

[the4chambersofmystery]

#my new neighbours #they seem very nice #baa ram ewe #sprung spring lambs #imiging #original photographers on tumblr #original photography on tumblr #photographers on lensblr #photographers on tumblr #original photographers

[thedepressedpelican]

Black Celebration

#black celebration #spring has sprung #spring lambs #imiging #monochrome #original photography on tumblr #lensblr

[the-al-chemist]

A Mother’s Love

A/N: It’s Mothering Sunday where I am, and so in honour of both that and this month’s theme for @hp-12monthsofmagic, here is a story about mothers, featuring the most famous (and fecund) mother in the Wizarding World. To anyone who is a mother, is hoping to become a mother, or has lost a mother, I wish you all the very best today. Warnings: references to canon character death and discussion of bad parent-child relationships/child neglect.

Spring had sprung in Ottery St Catchpole. The trees along the riverbanks had burst into shades of emerald and sage, and the rolling fields were filled with wildflowers and young lambs. At The Burrow, the chickens were happily pecking their way around the courtyard, while the gnomes had taken over the garden. A ginger cat was attempting to stalk them, lionlike, through the overgrown grass, his fur gleaming like amber in the Sunday morning sunshine.

Artemis watched the scene from the kitchen window, a cup of tea in her hands. As Fergus the cat pounced on his would-be prey and missed it entirely, she stifled a giggle, feeling guilty for laughing at his misfortune. After all, he couldn’t help not being as sprightly as he used to be.

“Those gnomes have been busy, Molly,” she said to Mrs Weasley, who had joined her by the window with a plate of biscuits. “There’s loads of them these days.”

“Well, that’s what happens when there are no young people around to help get rid of them,” Molly replied. “The boys and Ginny are all too busy with their husbands and wives and little ones. Except for Charlie, of course, but then I can hardly expect him to come all the way here from Romania just to de-gnome the garden for me.”

A chuckle came from the other side of the kitchen, and Artemis turned to see Charlie leaning against the fireplace, shaking his head slowly.

“I don’t see why not,” he laughed. “You’ve already put me up to all the other jobs that you want doing around here. Why not have me de-gnome the garden as well?”

“If you’re offering, dear, I’m not going to say no.”

“Course not. Alright, I’ll deal with the gnomes for you. Just let me have a cup of tea first, I need a break from sorting out the roof.”

Charlie took two biscuits from the plate Molly held in one hand, and she used the other to pat her son’s cheek before summoning him a large mug filled to the brim with steaming hot tea.

“There you are, dear. Thank you for being so helpful.”

“You’re welcome, Mum.”

“Oh, and Artemis!” said Mrs Weasley suddenly, as if she had only just remembered something important. “I have a job for you, too!”

Artemis frowned. “Really? What?”

“Well, I’ve bought some new dress robes for little Molly’s christening. I’d love for your opinion on them before everyone else arrives for lunch.”

“What about my opinion?” Charlie asked through a mouthful of custard cream. His mother tutted.

“Don’t be silly, Charlie,” she said, and she walked across the kitchen and up the stairs without a backwards glance. Charlie shrugged.

“Alright. Bit rude.”

“Clearly, she thinks I dress better than you,” said Artemis, giggling into her cup of tea. Charlie raised a single eyebrow at her. “What?”

“That’s a very bold thing for you to say whilst wearing my shirt.”

“This is mine,” Artemis told him. “I’ve had it for years.”

“That’s funny, because I’ve been missing one just like that for years,” said Charlie, and Artemis pulled the flannel material of the shirt that used to be his around her protectively.

“If you want it back, you’ll have to fight me for it.”

Charlie sighed and shook his head. “You’re the worst.”

“No, you are.”

The sound of a woman’s scream pierced the air, and Charlie put his mug down on the counter, his head snapping towards the top of the stairs.

“Mum?” he called out, already walking across the kitchen, one hand reaching for his wand. “Is everything alright?”

No response came. Charlie frowned and looked back at Artemis before starting to climb the staircase. In an instant, Artemis was a step behind him, her own wand drawn.

They made their way up to the landing, where the door of Mr and Mrs Weasley’s bedroom was ajar. On the other side of it, Mrs Weasley was standing in front of an open wardrobe, teary-eyed and limply holding a pale blue dress, her husband’s dead body at her feet.

Charlie’s face blanched as he looked down at the floor, but a second later, the body disappeared with a loud crack, and was replaced with another, one that looked identical to his own. Artemis looked from the Charlie on the floor to the one at her side, and reached for his arm to check that he was really there. He was. Mrs Weasley shrieked in terror once more, and Artemis nodded her head, finally realising what was going on. Still, she swallowed hard before speaking.

“It’s a Boggart, I think,” she said, stepping forward and taking Charlie’s mother by the hand. “Here, Molly. Let me deal with it.”

She placed herself between Mrs Weasley and the body on the floor, which immediately vanished. There was another loud crack, and she found herself standing face to face with herself. As she watched her own features start to shift, she raised her wand, ready to banish the Boggart.

But, once its features had changed, she found that she was unable to do it. She was powerless, frozen to the spot as she stared blankly at the Boggart’s new form - one she had never known a Boggart to take before.

The first time she had seen a Boggart at thirteen, she had found herself facing the Dark Lord Voldemort. A few years later, her Boggart had taken the form of witch who had killed her best friend in cold blood. Today, however, her Boggart had chosen to imitate someone else entirely, someone unexpected, someone who should not have made Artemis’ throat turn to dust or her heart pound or her blood freeze in her veins.

Her mother.

Tears of confusion and frustration pricked Artemis’ eyes as her mother’s features shifted into her own and back again. She heard Charlie swear behind her, but his voice sounded strangely distant.

“Hey,” Charlie’s voice said. He spoke gently, but he sounded louder this time, and she felt his arm brush against the flannel material of her sleeve. “Why don’t you deal with me instead?”

Slowly, Artemis’ mother turned to look at Charlie, and as her eyes met his, she disappeared. In the place where she had been standing, a large spectral skull now hung in the air. The skull was green and cloudy, and glittered slightly in the sunlight that streamed in from the window. When it opened its mouth, a serpent protruded from it, and snaked through the air towards Charlie, who closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Riddikulus!” he shouted, and the Dark Mark exploded like fireworks. He turned to Artemis. “Artie…”

“Don’t touch me.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Charlie, as he said, made no move towards her, but still, Artemis flinched away from him. Seeming to realise that the air in the room had suddenly become too hot and too heavy for Artemis to breathe freely, he took a large step backwards and allowed her to walk past him, out of the room, down the stairs, and out to the garden, where she sat on the back doorstep with her trembling hands pressed to her hairline.

After what might have been a minute, or an hour, or three, she heard Fergus purring and felt his ginger body rub against her shin. She unfolded herself slightly to stroke one of his greying cheeks.

Fergus wasn’t the only one wanting to check that she was okay, because in her peripheral vision she saw a flash of bright red hair. She looked up, expecting to see Charlie in the doorway, but it wasn’t him. It was Molly, a cup of tea in one hand and a leatherbound book in the other.

“Here, dear,” she said, bending down and placing the cup down on the step next to Artemis. “It’s got sugar in. Good for the shock.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

Artemis did not really care whether Molly sat with her or not, so she picked up the cup of tea and shuffled sideways to make room for Mrs Weasley to sit on the step beside her.

“Horrible things, Boggarts. You never really get used to seeing them.”

“No.”

“That was the first time you saw yours look like that though, wasn’t it?”

If Artemis hadn’t felt so shaken, she would have rolled her eyes.

“Charlie told you that, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t need to,” said Molly. “I remember how it felt when my Boggart changed to what it is now. I hadn’t seen one in a long time, and then after the war broke out… Well, you saw what it is now. Although, looking back, perhaps it changed to that earlier. I’d only ever seen one when I was very young. It might have been motherhood that changed it, as it changes lots of things.” She placed her hand on Artemis’ knee and looked at her with curious and concerned brown eyes. “When do you think your Boggart started looking like your mother, Artemis?”

“I dunno,” Artemis replied. She moved her cup in her hands, the untouched tea swirling around it. “I haven’t seen one in ages, not one that I’ve been facing, anyway. It changed once before, after Rowan died, but… It could’ve been any time. Maybe during the war, or before, like yours.”

“Or since then, maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“It would make sense. After all, the idea of turning out like your mother would be a more pertinent worry for you these days.”

“I dunno, Molly. I’ve never wanted to turn out like my mother.”

“No woman ever does,” Molly said conspiratorially, and Artemis let out a quiet laugh. “But now you’re at the age where you’re bound to be thinking about motherhood yourself…”

Artemis shook her head. “No. I mean, I have done, but the more I think about it, the less I want that. Motherhood, I mean.” She looked at Molly and shrugged. “No offence.”

“I’m not offended, dear.”

“It’s not that I don’t like children. Although I don’t really like them, except for Victoire and Dominique and the others, obviously. I like them.” Artemis looked out beyond the garden fence at the rolling countryside that extended towards the horizon. “More than anything, though, I like being able to go wherever I want, whenever I want. I like being able to do what I want to do for me, without having to put anyone else first.” Her teeth grazed her lip and she glanced back at Molly apologetically. “I know that sounds really selfish.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Molly replied. “I think that’s actually the hardest thing about having children, knowing that your life is no longer your own to lead. You lose a bit of yourself and a lot of your freedom. For you more than anyone, I can see why you wouldn’t want to give that up.”

“Yeah. I think that might be why my Boggart looks like that, like my mum. She had no freedom at all for years and years, and she was so hurt and so bitter about it that she lost almost all of herself. I don’t want that for myself, not ever.”

The garden was quiet, aside from Fergus’ purr and the gnomes scurrying around beneath the honeysuckle tree. Artemis sipped her tea. It was more sugary than she would have liked, but it stopped her hands from shaking.

“You still don’t speak to your mum, do you?” Molly asked her eventually.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have anything to say,” said Artemis. “I mean, we barely spoke when she was there. Physically, anyway. She was never really there in any meaningful way, not after everything that happened with my dad. I don’t really remember her before that, and so I don’t know her. Not as a person or as a mum.”

Molly nodded slowly, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Artemis, can I show you something?”

“Sure.”

Artemis shrugged, and Molly picked up the leatherbound book. She placed it on her lap and opened it, flicking through the pages as she spoke.

“This is our family photo album. One of them, anyway. We had more before the house… Well, anyway,” Molly paused. She was smiling, but the look in her eyes was not entirely happy. “This page here is Fred and George’s christening. Summer 1978, so I think this would’ve been the year before your father died, back when your mum was still working for the Ministry. Arthur knew her, invited her to come along. There she is, look.”

Molly pointed to a photo in which a familiar-looking woman not much older than Artemis herself was standing next to a much younger looking Mrs Weasley. The breeze was blowing her dark hair and she was laughing at a joke that Artemis couldn’t hear. She looked happy and carefree, unlike the mother Artemis remembered growing up. She shook her head sadly.

“That’s great, Molly, but-”

“Wait a second. Just wait and you might just see - look, there!”

Molly’s finger pointed to the background of the photo, where a little dark-haired girl was running circles around a fully-bloomed honeysuckle tree. She was small, but not scrawny; her hair was untidy, but someone had taken the time to plait it; and though her clothes were dirty, it seemed as if they had only recently become so. Artemis tilted her head to one side.

“Hang on. Molly, is that me?”

Mrs Weasley nodded and laughed. She wrapped her arm aroound Artemis’ shoulders and squeezed gently, and the two of them watched the little girl Artemis had once been as she ran around the honeysuckle tree that still stood in the garden in front of them.

“There were going to be a fair few children there that day anyway, and Arthur knew you were around the same age as Charlie, so he told your mum to bring you with her,” Molly explained. “I remembered you being there, because I was so scared that day. I had three boys already, and now twins too, and the twins were just starting to move around and looking like they might crawl. I was exhausted and terrified about how I was going to cope, and then… you came along.

“You had these big wide eyes and those sweet pigtails and that pretty little dress, and you smiled like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. And then you took one look at the honeysuckle tree, and before anyone could say ‘bowtruckle’, your shoes were off, you’d climbed right to the very top of it, and jumped all that way back down to the lawn,” she laughed. “You landed on your hands and knees, wiped the dirt off on your nice clean clothes, laughed, and did it again. At least twice more. And I remember thinking that I might have my hands full with all these boys, but five boys couldn’t possibly be harder work than one of you.”

Artemis laughed out loud, tears pricking her eyes as she watched herself run across Mrs Weasley’s lawn and throw her arms around her mother’s waist in a hug that her mum returned.

“Your mum, though,” Molly continued, “she didn’t bat an eyelid. She was so kind and warm and funny. She was wonderful, and she clearly adored you. I don’t think she’d have changed a hair on your head, not for the whole wide world.” She ran her free hand through said hair, tucking a strand of it behind Artemis’ ear. “I know you don’t remember her before everything changed, but this is how I remember her, and you. Not that you’ve changed all that much.”

Artemis smiled in spite of the fact that she felt like crying.

“Thank you, Molly,” she said. “I’m glad you remembered.”

She leant with her head on Molly’s shoulder, raising it suddenly as her younger self ran over two a pair of red-headed boys. The two boys were both bigger than her, and they shared a look of apprehension, but they still allowed themselves to be dragged over to the honeysuckle tree. Molly laughed at the expression on Artemis’ face.

“Oh, yes,” she said, shaking her head. “Even then you had a way of dragging my boys into your shenanigans.” She leaned in closer and whispered into Artemis’ ear, “That I hope will never change.”

With that, Molly stood up and left, taking her photo album with her. Artemis finished her tea, looking at the honeysuckle tree that would soon start to bloom. Once she had finished it, she returned inside to find Molly preparing lunch. Artemis paused by her, and kissed her on the cheek.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Molly.”

#hp12mom #harry potter fanfiction #molly weasley #artemis hexley #charlie weasley #hpff #hphm #hogwarts mystery #golden era fic

[a-chilleus]

I CANNOT hold my peace, John Keats; There never was a spring like this; It is an echo, that repeats My last year's song and next year's bliss. I know, in spite of all men say Of Beauty, you have felt her most. Yea, even in your grave her way Is laid.  Poor, troubled, lyric ghost, Spring never was so fair and dear As Beauty makes her seem this year. I cannot hold my peace, John Keats, I am as helpless in the toil Of Spring as any lamb that bleats To feel the solid earth recoil Beneath his puny legs. Spring beats Her tocsin call to those who love her, And lo!  the dogwood petals cover Her breast with drifts of snow, and sleek White gulls fly screaming to her, and hover About her shoulders, and kiss her cheek, While white and purple lilacs muster A strength that bears them to a cluster Of color and odor; for her sake All things that slept are now awake. And you and I, shall we lie still, John Keats, while Beauty summons us? Somehow I feel your sensitive will Is pulsing up some tremulous Sap road of a maple tree, whose leaves Grow music as they grow, since your Wild voice is in them, a harp that grieves For life that opens death's dark door. Though dust, your fingers still can push The Vision Splendid to a birth, Though now they work as grass in the hush Of the night on the broad sweet page of the earth. "John Keats is dead," they say, but I Who hear your full insistent cry In bud and blossom, leaf and tree, Know John Keats still writes poetry. And while my head is earthward bowed To read new life sprung from your shroud, Folks seeing me must think it strange That merely spring should so derange My mind. They do not know that you, John Keats, keep revel with me, too.

Countee Cullen, 'To John Keats, Poet. At Spring Time,' 1925

#keats #words #countee cullen

[bejeweledlycan]

I'm feeling big sheep and deer energy lately, and I'm SO excited! My prediction was right: my shifts can be brought out by the seasons, and right about now, I'm seeing SO MUCH stuff about being careful about deer (like me) in the area as spring has already sprung so the animals and plants are all growing in population again and all the easter stuff is out so obviously people are posting about sheep shearing for lambing season (which is coming up)! I may not be a ewe, but I still feel so connected to things like that just due to what it means/ meant for me🐏

#therian things #therian #therianthropy #personal #bejeweledpuppicorn #lichenthatlycan #valais blacknose sheep therian #bighorn sheep therian #sheep therian #deer cladotherian #deer therian #deer theriotype

[scrambledlikeeggs]

FIRST LAMBS OF THE YEAR SPRING HAS SPRUNG!

#scrambled rambles #Just knowing it’s spring does wonders for my mental health

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 1: Sweet Dream

Narrated by no one.

Narrator: Nikki turned over as she held the quilt, a sweet smile on her face.

Narrator: Nikki returned to her childhood in her dreams...

Narrator: Everything seemed familiar in the quiet morning.

Narrator: It was a warm spring day with a gentle breeze.

Narrator: Birds sang. Sunlight cast the curtain's shadow on the quilt. The soft pillow smelled like scented soap.

Narrator: In her dreams, Nikki returned to her childhood, when she sweetly slept with a stuffed lamb in her little bed.

Narrator: Family photos hung on the wall, and a photo album sat on the table. Nikki's childish handwriting was scrawled in a notebook.

Narrator: The clock ticked as if nothing had changed.

Narrator: It was an ordinary day. Mom took Nikki to school on her way to work. After that, it was Dad's turn to watch her.

Nikki's Dad: Time to get up, Nikki.

Nikki's Dad: Nikki.

Narrator: After her name was called a few times, her eyes opened slowly. She had a sleepy face and a confused look in her eyes.

Nikki's Dad: Get up! I'm taking you to a nice and fun place today!

Narrator: Nice? Fun? Nikki was suddenly full of life.

Nikki: Sure! Where are we going, Dad?

Narrator: Nikki sprung out of bed as she spoke, running toward the door on bare feet.

Nikki's Dad: Put on some shoes and wash up. We'll head out after breakfast!

Narrator: Beautiful flowers sat in a glass vase on the clean table. The flowers had a homey, sweet scent.

Narrator: The bright yellow omelette Mom had made was still warm. It had a ketchupy smiley face that seemed to say good morning to Nikki.

Narrator: Nikki gulped down her milk, giving herself a milk mustache.

Narrator: Dad was holding a large bag that held not only a camera but lenses of different sizes.

Nikki: Are we going to take pictures today, Dad?

Nikki's Dad: Yes. Will you be my model, Nikki?

Nikki: Sure!

Narrator: They got into the car. Nikki slept for the entire drive.

Nikki's Dad: I bet she stayed up late to read comics and talk with Yoyo last night...

Narrator: He couldn't help but smile at her. He was afraid she would catch a cold, so he covered her with another coat.

Narrator: Nikki felt this warmth outside of her dream, too.

Narrator: It's been so long since I first came to Miraland. Is my family still doing okay?

Narrator: She missed her dad so much, even just seeing him in a dream was a delight.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

#nikki #shining nikki #sr designer #transcript #chapter 1 #sweet dream #apple #apple federation #dream #memory #photo shoot #photography #model #childhood

[silverhallow]

So for GOTH, can you tell us something that's on the board? Either for the actual fic or a potential missing moment extra

Plus, spring has sprung! I'm guessing PAWS Benophie & Co. are busy, have you heard any updates from those two about how life is going?

Okay so for GoTH… I’m not sure if this is gonna make it in or not…

But dinner with the Bridgerton’s and the Gunningworth’s, Kate’s there and is teasing Charlie about the fact his best mate has snogged his sister…

Only for Benedict to shoot back, “well it’s not like Charlie’s not snogged Sophie’s best friend…”which results in three drinks being spat across the table, Anthony sending his flying and Sophie’s outrage… only for Richard to sigh, drag his kids from the room and kick their arses…

As for PAWS…

Spring had Spung on the farm… the chicks are hatching, it’s lambing season and despite being ready to pop herself, Sophie is determined to oversee the lambing procedure…

Resulting in Benedict having to carry Sophie back to the house because her waters broke…

Thank god Kate and Violet were their to help… and a mortified Anthony having to hold up the phone for Mary to talk them through Sophie’s unplanned home birth…

#bridgerton #a game of two halves #paws for thought #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #benophie #ask ash

[thesporkidentity]

To John Keats, Poet, at Spring Time

By Countee Cullen (1903-1946), Written 1924

I cannot hold my peace, John Keats; There never was a spring like this; It is an echo, that repeats My last year's song and next year's bliss. I know, in spite of all men say Of Beauty, you have felt her most. Yea, even in your grave her way Is laid. Poor, troubled, lyric ghost, Spring never was so fair and dear As Beauty makes her seem this year. I cannot hold my peace, John Keats, I am as helpless in the toil Of Spring as any lamb that bleats To feel the solid earth recoil Beneath his puny legs. Spring beats Her tocsin call to those who love her, And lo! the dogwood petals cover Her breast with drifts of snow, and sleek White gulls fly screaming to her, and hover About her shoulders, and kiss her cheek, While white and purple lilacs muster A strength that bears them to a cluster Of color and odor; for her sake All things that slept are now awake. And you and I, shall we lie still, John Keats, while Beauty summons us? Somehow I feel your sensitive will Is pulsing up some tremulous Sap road of a maple tree, whose leaves Grow music as they grow, since your Wild voice is in them, a harp that grieves For life that opens death's dark door. Though dust, your fingers still can push The Vision Splendid to a birth, Though now they work as grass in the hush Of the night on the broad sweet page of the earth. "John Keats is dead," they say, but I Who hear your full insistent cry In bud and blossom, leaf and tree, Know John Keats still writes poetry. And while my head is earthward bowed To read new life sprung from your shroud, Folks seeing me must think it strange That merely spring should so derange My mind. They do not know that you, John Keats, keep revel with me, too.

#poetry

[design-emporium]

Spring Has Sprung – Animals PNG | Lamb | Bunny | Duck | NON EXCLUSIVE

Digitally hand drawn bunny PNG/sublimation file that compliments my ‘Spring has Sprung’ collection. You will receive 3 x 300dpi png files with a transparent background. The artwork is approximately: Lamb – 17cm x 30cm Bunny – 22,5cm x 22.5cm Duck – 22.5cm x 26.5cm   Please note these are a large scale to accommodate multiple products, so you may need to scale down! For licensing information…

View On WordPress

[andrewkhurst]

THE TIMES THEY ARE A CHANGIN’ AND BEDTIME LEAVES ME RAGING.

The clocks went back last week. Hoorah! Spring has sprung, Daffodils are everywhere, lambs are frolicking straight onto people’s Sunday dinner plates, the baby Jesus is busy making chocolate eggs for kids. the World seems a brighter place. I absolutely DESPISE it.

I despise it because without fail it absolutely fucks Marthas body clock and bedtime routine right up. For the first couple of nights, we try to wing it, and actually enjoy that she has a ‘lie in’ until 6:40am. Then it inevitably goes sideways. The combination of evening light creeping sneakily through Martha’s newly installed and non-blackout roller blind and the squeakiest floorboards known to man that are sited directly outside of Martha’s bedroom door mean that she is drifting off at 8:30 now, only to wake up at least 4 times as soon as mum or myself step on the non-explosive land mines in the hallway.

I’m currently stood in the dark in Martha’s bedroom typing this, afraid for my sanity to attempt my fifth exit of the bastard night. Once I have finished typing, I’m heading straight over to Amazon to buy a 5 litre tub of tar to cover her window pane, and a massive box of climbing wall pegs and/or bungee cords to help us bypass the squeaky bastard floor. Roll on the gloomy dark days of wintertime.

[ravenouscultleader780]

COTL AU(1st MLP Base Edit Post!) on Tumblr Blog!, More Base Edits Coming Soon.

Hello Fellow Cultists!, And Happy Spring Equinox! Yes Spring has Finally Sprung, my Birthday has Passed(Turned 22 yrs old abt 3 days ago and had a Great Birthday) and Finally have Kept my Promise of Continuing my MLP Base Edits(based on COTL). Here is The Finished Fanart I did just now with Lambert and his Lost Older Sis Lamberina(my Lambsona) Happily Smiling with The Two Lambs Finally Reuniting(with Lamberina seeing better days while searching for her Baby Bro) and Decided to Join his Growing Cult.

Here it is, This is the first debut post of Lamberina Herself, with her own crown(the diamond crown) along with some bandages from fighting many enemies in the old faith but thankfully her brother Lambert patched her up and is currently nursing his wounded sister back to health.

wanted to add Narinder, but just was too lazy maybe another time. this is just the beginning of this cotl au storyline. more will come very soon.

i hope you all liked this post and fanart, later

#cotl #cotl oc #mlp base edit

[riverrockbabe]

What is so cool about Vermont?

Not speaking as an expert, but I have lived in the beautiful Green Mountain State  for the better part of my 25 years.  

What an experience that has been. Today I spent the day sitting outside in the sun smoking fresh Vermont grown outdoor,  soaking up the peace and tranquility of living in the rural area of Franklin County. 

Don't get me wrong, there are days where the air is season with the sour smell of cow manure over the fields; but oh, how beautiful it is in the summer, winter and fall. Corn is plentiful in these parts. As well as cows. 

Since its spring, the locals are starting to come out of the wood work...literally. In the little towns of this area, privacy is a cherished delicacy. So if finding a private place to call your own in the woods is involved in your future homesteading plans, Vermont is top of the list. 

Speaking of spring, the fiddleheads have recently just sprung and are now mostly all matured into ferns. What a delicious snack once cooked in butter and seasonings. You can find them just foraging along the side of the road at the right time of the year. Raspberries and blackberries more common later in the summer. Small farms locally raising beef, lamb, and chicken freshly available to locals who prefer to support locals. 

One of the things I find so cool about Vermont is the mountain waterholes. Plentiful around here and often accommodated with a covered bridge and rocks used as jumping platforms, they are a favorite place for locals and visitors alike. As we are working on becoming a greener state, it is more likely to find skinny dippers at these pristine holes before finding trash at them. They are sacred amongst many of us. 

If you are into winter sports, Vermont is the place for you. Anything from skiing to snowboarding and snowshoeing is available at many resorts around the state. The VAS Trail also is available to sleds(snow mobiles) during the winter season as in the summer, many of the Trails are used for walking and biking. Vermont is for people looking to experience Nature and the beauty all around. 

I figure most people have not heard much about this beautiful state I call home. Crazy right. This post is a call for my fellow young hippies, adventurist, and nature lovers. Come see rural Vermont!

p.s. please let me know if you like this post. It is my first and I’m still searching for my niche. Let me Know if you want to hear more about VT! Or me?

#Vermont nature swimmingholes snowboarding eatlocal firstpost

[ghoulsister1]

Spring is beautiful

🌷☀️🐝🌷☀️🐝🌷☀️🐝🌷☀️🐝🌷☀️

#spring #springtime #spring has sprung #spring is in the air #spring is here #spring is springing #daffodils #easter eggs #easterbunny #bees #lambs #new life #rabbits

[littlebettysboutique]

Spring is sprung, despite the ice and snow, life is going on #outside #life #sprung #springisintheair #spring #lambingseason #lamb #sheep #britishcountryside #yorkshire #ysp #BestOfBritish #nature (at Yorkshire Sculpture Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/CN0hhrZsPg_/?igshid=16uqbihbd3g34

#outside #life #sprung #springisintheair #spring #lambingseason #lamb #sheep #britishcountryside #yorkshire #ysp #bestofbritish #nature

[roswell-rp-archive]

ROSWELL SPRING FESTIVAL !

Do you hear the spring chickens clucking? The sun is finally coming out, the grass is green again, and the trees are dazzling with pink blossoms. That can only mean one thing — Spring has sprung. For Roswell’s annual Springtime celebration we have organised a festival to bring the town together after the storm, jam packed with fun for all the family and a little musical injection to shake out worn muscles. The stage will welcome local talent, including that of our very own homegrown Roswell bands, and in the evening will be illuminated by re-runs of the Disney classics. Get your adrenaline rush through tractor rides or competing in the egg and spoon race, or simply kick back, relax, and give love to some newborn lambs. 

・  。  ◟   ⟨  ☆  ⟩  spring fest ┊  *    ──   DASH EVENTS :

easter egg hunt.

live music, featuring roswell bands such as: B2UN and fish brains! 

petting zoo with all your favorite newborn animals, featuring pony rides.

kid-friendly events such as pie-your-teacher, egg and spoon race, face-painting and arts & crafts. 

tractor rides for all the family.

outdoor cinema featuring all the old disney classics.

・  。  ◟   ⟨  ☆  ⟩   spring fest ┊  *    ──   GUIDE :

starting from APRIL 11TH @ 00:00 - APRIL 18TH @ 00:00 , you can post threads for the event!

please make sure to reach out to other players to broaden your horizons and make some fun, meaningful plots for the week. make an effort to break out of your bubble and start speaking to new characters.

make sure you have replied to at least two open event starters before posting your own , unless yours is one of the first to be posted.

tag any content for the event with #roswellspringfest

you are free to continue any regular threads during the event , and to continue any event threads past the end date as long as these are tagged accordingly and you do make an effort to be involved in the festivities .

please don’t feel confined to the activities listed above. we want you to use your imagination!

#roswellevent #roswellspringfest