#there’s is nothing better than a spring thunderstorm in the south

[isaa-r]

the first spring storms are rolling over

#there’s is nothing better than a spring thunderstorm in the south #esp at night

[saphyhowl]

Own Story

Ok so I finally got the courage to write my story. I was a bit afraid to post it but I still got through with it. I have no idea how to protect my writing so I hope I can figure out where to regularly post it and not be afraid that someone will take it. Although I doubt my story is that great. I just want to protect it because I am like a mother hen. 

Here it goes... Please tell me how you like it, leave a comment or a like, I will be forever grateful to you :3 Also please please please don’t pay attention to my bad spelling. It’s a story I wrote by hand in french and translated it here. I am no translator so there will be mistakes. It’s not a final version, it’s an ongoing work. If you feel like stuff is missing that’s normal I am still working on lots of aspects, but don’t hesitate to let me know what you think might be crucial to you to understand the story.

I have a very low self esteem when it comes to my own work. It took me a very long time to get where I am today. I am not trying to get pity or anything, I am just putting you in a context so you understant that all this is historical for me and I hope we can celebrate that historic moment together.

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

He should have felt it during the morning, when he woke up. The crispy air from the night still hung in his bedroom, rendering it impossible for him to fall back asleep. Nothing pleased him today. No urgent letters for him. Everything was calm. Although Cynan enjoyed the calm routine that had settled in his life, he could not help to feel as if he should act to prevent what seemed to him an upcoming storm.

After seven years of conquest and negotiation, his friend  Meanas could ascend the throne officially. He could finally hold a coronation ceremony without any fear of revolution. Cynan had organized everything with the help of the other members of the counsel. The invitations were sent and had been answered. The preparation had already begun, all was well. After seven years of constant uproar, Cynan almost worshipped the calm and order that had finally settled in and so did Meanas.

As he sat at his desk, basking it this holy stillness, he read utterly slowly the law document he needed to approve. This was part of the many tasks Cynan, advisor of the future king. He should have sensed it in this moment as well, when the sun finally can warm one enough, hinting that the season of spring was approaching. He should have known that as the sweetest and mild season of the year was nearing, his life would enter a season of bitter regret.

***

“If my heart could run, then it would have already passed the coach that was meant to bring me to him. 

I am of an impatient nature.

I play the scene out in my mind, like an actress before her performance. 

How delectable it is just to imagine their faces when I finally reveal myself in front of them.

I could appear here and there. I could keep him as the last person I meet.

I could hide until the very end and wait until the coronation. Then, I would make the most vibrant of appearances.

Oh no, even better! I could visit him first. That would stir the glowing embers of our past and hint towards a possible story for us. Whatever that story would hold, that I would decide depending on my mood.

So many possibilities lie out there and only a few can be chose as I have only one life.

However, my emotions should not lead me astray and distract me from my true goal.

I did not return to revive past passions. I came here to set this place on fire, to start a new era.

Seven years of preparation and now everything will play out. 

But to open the festivities, I must first get my hands on an invitation,”

The coach came to a halt in front of a mansion. Zelina descended and took in the view of the garden before walking towards the entrance, where a quite surprised butler awaited her.

***

Her arrival could not be compared to a thunderstorm. The situation occurred way too fast for Cynan to be overwhelmed. His butler announced her and when she entered his office her aura invaded the room like a rising tide. Cynan had been too dulled out from his peaceful day to prepare himself mentally to face the young woman in front of him.

Two old friends meeting again for the first time.

“You still have an awful taste. Your curtains are a disgrace,” Zelina said as she scanned the room visibly bored.

Silence.

“After all this time, I would have thought you had developed a more luxurious taste,” she added.

 Zelina took one step forward and then another. She walked idly in the room with a candid expression.

“What is the reason for your visit... Madam?” Cynan asked.

Zelina suddenly turned her head towards Cynan and her golden eyes squinted with hatred.

“Madam…” she repeated.

Cynan did not react.

“Meanas’ coronation. Would that be a pleasing enough reason for you, Sir?” Zelina finally answered.

“King Meanas,” Cynan corrected.

“My apologies,” Zelina said as she bowed down excessively.

Zelina refused to refer to Meanas as a king.

“Lady Zelina, you are not invited to this joyous event,” Cynan stated.

Zelina smiles causing Cynan to doubt his capacity to stay unfazed for long.

“Oh but I do know that,” she said.

Zelina sat in the chair in front of Cynan’s desk and started playing with her fan. Cynan examined her and slowly he shifted into contemplation. That smile of her, her voice, her gesture, they were all familiar to him. Thousand memories rise again in his mind. He is tempted to dive into them and daydream. As he battled against the temptation of reminiscence, he did not notice Zelina looking at him as well. However, she was not reminiscing, she was waiting for the right timing.

“I simply came as a friend.. An old friend. One cannot forget a friend who did so much,” she added.

Zelina placed her hand on the table in an attempt to draw closer to Cynan. He stared at her hands. She was still wearing her many bracelets.

“And I mean, you know…” Zelina hesitated.

Cynan raised an eyebrow as he noticed her false bashfulness.

“Say, was it intentional to choose only one emissary for the South?” she asked.

Zelina had found the right moment and had struck with her words. She knew his weakness, Cynan was a skilled warrior and noble but not a tactician.

“Lady Zelina, this should not be of concern for you,” Cynan answered.

“Many southern families were quite shocked and felt offended,” Zelina added.

“I thought you came as a friend Zelina,” 

“And it is as a friend, Cynan, that I inquire about this issue!”

Cynan sighed and Zelina took it as a sign to continue.

“You know much the merchants' families take pride in their origins. I tried to explain to them that there must have been a reason to send only one emissary. And that you, Cynan, would have chosen the emissary as impartially as possible,”

Cynan remained silent. Her way with words had gotten more skilled after all those years. Sadly for him, there was no impartiality coming from him. Meanas had wished to choose one emissary to demonstrate that under his reign the South was meant to be one unified province. Despite all the tribes in the South, only one person would represent the South. The emissary, chosen from one of the most influential families, would then be promoted to Governor of the South. This would allow Meanas to have one sole correspondent in political and economic matters regarding the South. However, Cynan had no intention in sharing this intention with Zelina, who was herself from an affluent family from the South. However, her family belonged to another tribe. Cynan never investigated further the intrications between the southern tribes. Now that Zelina had returned, he realized how foolish that had been.

Zelina stood up to leave Cynan to his thoughts.

“Why did he not invite me, Cynan?” she asked.

Cynan did not answer nor did he accompany her. The question floated in the air unanswered.

Through his office windows, he caught a glimpse of her crossing the gardens. She passed by a lilac bush. She stopped in her tracks, turned and contemplated the bare branches, noticing the growing flower buds. Cynan continued to observe her as she took off again. His gaze returned towards the lilac bush. With the mild season approaching the bush would bloom again.

***7 years ago***

  “Gardening really?” Zelina asked as she had stopped on the path leading towards the mansion. She made her umbrella twirl as she thought about what Cynan had just shared with her.

Cynan carressed the lilacs and smiled lost in his thoughts.

“There is nothing more beautiful than helping mother nature in her creations,” he explained.

Zelina shrugged her shoulders unimpressed by his wise words.

“If I weren’t a noble then I would have become a farmer. However since I am a noble, I have to satisfy myself with mere gardening,” Cynan continued explaining.

Zelina twirled her umbrella once more and peered at him through the laces. 

“If I were not a noble, I would not exist as I am before you. I have used over and over again all the privileges that have come with my status to build myself. I clung myself to anything a noble like me could get their hands on. Wishing to escape this world that created me would be idiotic and would turn my life into something insignificant, where I could not be the fully fledge me,”

Cynan listened to her attentively and did not respond immediately.

“I did not know you had such strong opinions about your title. Our aspirations vary a lot,” He finally said.

“And yet we somehow get along,” Zelina added.

A smirk appeared on her face. 

“If I ever find myself in dire need of a gardener, I know to whom I can turn to. I’ll make sure to order my lilacs with you,” Zelina said as she made her way back towards the mansion twirling her umbrella.

Cynan bowed excessively. “You are too kind Madam,” he whispered.

***Back to the present. In Zelina’s coach***

“He called me Madam. How monstrous! Poor soul, he does not know what awaits him. Ugh, now I must wait for all of this to stir and boil. Let my words sink in. I must get under his skin. If only Cynan would have more spark then I would not have to wait so much. The day Cynan bursts will be one to remember. I must ensure to be the one to wake the dragon sleeping in him. But that would be only a collateral benefit from what I truly intend to achieve.

#own writing #my story

[doomedandstoned]

Chattanooga’s Dope Skum Drop Gritty First Spin

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Stompin' southern stoner riffs and great big beats collide with punkish vocals in 'Tanasi' (2021). It's the debut EP from Chattanooga's DOPE SKUM. These guys know it's about to get hot as we transition from winter to spring and on into summer, too. Oh those muggy days in Tennessee! What I miss most about spending time in the Deep South are the cicada at sunset, the smell of honeysuckle during evening strolls, and those damned thunderstorms -- the kind that loom large and loud and'll put the fear of Zeus right in ya.

So new that they're not yet in the oft-referenced Encyclopaedia Metallum, Dope Skum attracted my attention earlier this month when we met on Instagram -- a platform I avoided for years, but have finally come to embrace, if for no better reason than these kinds of spontaneous encounters. They're another child born of the Great Lockdown, a two-piecer with Cody Landress-Gibson on guitar and voice and James Silber on drums. Like many of the duos we've visited recently in this humble rag, Dope Skum bring impressive heft that could easily fool the common bystander into believing they're dang near twice the size.

Cody Landress-Gibson of Dope Skum

Drawn together by their affinity for punk rock and the heaviest of metal, Dope Skum have a distinctive, if eccentric sound that kinda reminds me of Portland's LáGoon, at least in the crooning department. If you look at the history of sludge metal, bands of this kind typically start out as lo-fi punk or thrash and just get slower, meaner, deeper, and heavier over time (I'm thinking of an outfit just one state over, NC's Buzzov*en).

Dope Skum describe their sound as "nastier than an old timer's moonshine mash," which made me wince. Standing on a "rock-solid foundation of sludgy stoner metal with a notable punky inflection" the band is influenced by the likes of Weedeater, Iron Monkey, Eyehategod, and Toke. This is rude, crude, raucous terrain we're entering, people. And I'm sure the guys are just itching like an ankle full of chiggers to take the act to the stage, if they haven't gotten busted for an illegal house show by now.

James Silber of Dope Skum

'Tanasi' (2021) is their 5-track debut, and while trying to look up the meaning of the word -- temporarily mistaking it for the Japanese "Tansai" (which I thought might be a reference to some to some "lightly colored" strain of weed) -- it finally hit me that Tanasi might be referring how folks generations deep in Chattanooga pronounce Tennessee, with characteristic Southern drawl. As if the state-shaped logo on the album cover wasn't clue enough. Truth be told, Tanasi is actually the Native American/Cherokee word that Tennessee is derived from.

Dope Skum are only happy to let the unique character of their surroundings and its fascinating, tangled history leak into the songcraft too, which the guys quip, "recalls simplistic fiddle tunes of yore." They go on describe their first opus to us:

Exuding a gritty DIY ethos and an anti-establishment attitude, 'Tanasi' is deliberately rough around the edges, and doesn’t play by any particular set of rules. There is no ulterior motive, no grand artistic vision. Dope Skum simply play engaging music that appeals to their interests and their roots.

I can definitely get behind that. If you like riffs that can really rumble, honest lyrics delivered with vocals that sting like an onary hornet's nest, and rhythms that swing wide and heavy with stomping Southern swagger, you'll be saying Tanasi in no time! "We wanted to try and create something that was southern, punky, and sludgy," the band concludes. "I think we accomplished that."

Look for the EP to drop this weekend in digital format. I'm sure if you guys dig it, 'twill find its way to a suitable label for a physical release in the near future. I'm currently stuck on a loop between "Anxiety" and "Chickamauga" as my tracks of choice. Doomed & Stoned is pleased to give you a first listen to Dope Skum's Tanasi and let you find a few favs of your own.

Give ear...

Tanasi EP by Dope Skum

Dope Skum Take Us On Tour Of 'Tanasi'

How did Dope Skum become a thing and what tools did you use to create 'Tanasi' (2021)?

Dope Skum started in late-2020 with myself, Cody Landress-Gibson, on guitar and James Silber on drums. Our gear really isn't anything to write home about. On the EP, I played a Harley Benton DC Junior with a single P90 pickup running through a Rat ProCo, Orange Fur Coat Fuzz, and EarthQuaker Devices Ghost Echo at times into a Marshall MG50CFX. James plays a Yamaha drum set with PA Meinl Classics cymbals. It's pretty "working class" gear, nothing too fancy.

What's the story behind the new record?

James and I started jamming and both had a pretty solid idea of the sound we were going for. We wanted something in the same vein as Weedeater, but maintain the ability to throw in elements of different influences we have. I had already written some riffs, and we threw them together to what became the EP. We recorded, mixed, and mastered everything ourselves at my house/garage in Chattanooga.

We'd love a guided tour through the new EP. Can you give us insight into the themes explored in these five monster tracks?

Feast of Snakes: The title was inspired by a Harry Crews novel, but the song doesn't pull from the novel at all. It's essentially an anti-authoritarian song. Politicians, kings, people in power tend to be snakes in the grass. There are also some religious metaphors used, as well, throughout the song.

Anxiety: The idea behind this one lyrically and musically was to try and put that emotion/feeling into a musical context. It's why the lyrics don't start until the second time into the verse riff. You're waiting, and you know you need to act, but something is just holding you back -- you just feel kind of stuck.

Chickamauga: This one is all instrumental. I had written the main riff that is throughout the song one night and brought it to James at a practice. We really didn't know where to go with it, so for the EP we recorded it live and just let whatever came up get included on the EP. I named it "Chickamauga" after the second bloodiest battle in the Civil War that took place just south of Chattanooga. With the build-up in the song, it's kind of like a soldier waiting for the battle to take place, then the chaos, then silence either from surviving the melee or dying. It's probably one of the tracks that will stick out the most because it doesn't really fit the "genre."

The Levee: I wrote this song with the thought of losing someone you love, the death of a close partner or family member. That one person you feel like you can't live without. I also love the riffs in this song. They groove well and the ending riff is super fun to play.

Mountain Cur: The final track on the EP is essentially about a lone wolf or stray dog that roams the mountains and hills. The intention was to use it as a metaphor for loneliness. This dog is all alone and has no one. He's committing these acts of violence as cry out for help and companionship. Don't know if it comes across this way, but that was the intention! Also, at the beginning is audio from a scene in Lawless (2012), which is a film about the Bondurant brothers who were outlaws moonshiners in rural Virginia in the '20s during Prohibition.

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#D&S Debuts #Dope Skum #Chattanooga #Tennessee #doom #sludge #metal #doom metal #D&S Reviews #D&S Interviews #HeavyBest2021 #Doomed and Stoned

[bearslikedilfs]

So...since I’m guessing you live in Florida I need to know. (Tiny backstory I’m uhhh...humanising the states if that makes since. Think of hetalia but the state instead of countries. I know cringe right?) Anyway I need you full opinion of said state if you don’t mind of course. I would like to know the good and the bad (if you have any good things to say about it. btw I’m sorry this is pretty long...)

Pros of florida: nothing

cons: everything

Jk ill do my best to find a couple positives but you should really find someone who actually likes living in florida. i am very clearly biased.

Also thats not cringe! sounds like fun.  I made an ohio oc before, they’re fun to make.

florida opinions below the cut

So the one thing i can say is undoubtably a plus is there are these extremely cute little lizards that run around everywhere and they’re especially prevalent in thee summer and you see them just basking on the sidewalk. they’re like the length of your pointer finger with an extra 3 inches of tail and i love taking pictures of them bc they have cool colors and stripes or spots. 

things that most people would consider pros but i dont:

extremely hot.  I live in the upper half so it does, occasionally, get below freezing in the winter, but if you lived down more south it probably wouldn’t ever freeze.  this is probably why old people live here they get colder easier.  some people just don’t like cold. i do, i love it. anyway.  you can grow things for a lot longer, and even at night it’ll be like 70 degrees.  it’ll be down to 50 degrees at night in winter usually.  there isn’t really seasons, its just 2 months of reasonable (to me) weather that feels like, something like spring in northern states. then the next 10 months are just hell. so hot. but other people would call it great.

Sunny almost all the time. sunlight is nice occasionally but down here it beats down on you like you owe it money.  you will be easily sunburned if you spend 2 hours in direct sunlight.  i like me some nice thunderstorms here it just rains.

beaches. yeah sure there are beaches. i will admit the white sand is very pretty and doesnt actually burn your feet bc it reflects light  better, the water is also the very pretty light blue or green you see in pictures.  but beaches have people and sand and it gets old after a while.

cons:

humid af. like. its at least above 75 % at all times. humidity is disgusting and nasty and in summer you sweat within 30 seconds of going outside.  even if the temp is a rare reasonable 70 or something its usually overshadowed by the 90% humidity that makes you sweat anyway.  if you paint something its entirely likely it’ll never completely dry bc its just so fking humid here.  you can barely do anything outside bc within like 30 min your main thought is how to get tf out out of the heat and you definitely cannot concentrate.

no sense of community and too many people.  people move here for vacation and the place where i live, for example is a spring break/vacation town and so the traffic gets horrible every spring and summer.  the roads are fucked too bc its so hot the tar in the asphalt is more liquidy and moves and potholes and such appear more often.  no sense of community means that there’s no YMCA, the public libraries are very small and not great and its so hard to talk to people and make friends bc many people are here to party it seems like. there are plenty of pubs and places to fish and boat and those arcade places where everythings expensive but those get old and expensive quick and none of those are really my thing. 

expensive af. theres little inlets and swamps and bays everywhere which means bridges, which means maintinence, which means toll roads, which means fucked up intersections bc of space restritctions and shit planning. seriously these are the worst fucking intersections i’ve ever seen.  also houses and rent are high because again, space is limited, and everyone wants something within reach of the beach or the bay or the inlet. 

its just straight up nasty. and dangerous. there’s a fair amount of car crashes here, i think i’ve seen more in my 4 years here than i have in my 20+ years in ohio.  as for nasty there are fucking roaches everywhere, they will get in your house even if its clean. people here just accept it too “yeah they do that” BITCH WHAT. AND YOU JUST PUT UP WITH THAT.  there are also plenty of other bugs that are nice and big and prevalent bc there’s no winter or cold to stop them from growing.  mosquitos are everywhere. i havent seen any gators really but i know theres plenty. there’s also bears.

 in conclusion i might like this place better if i liked partying, fishing, boating, going to the beach often, going to pubs a lot, but i dont and even if there were things i liked doing here the heat and humidity would still make me hate it. 

#shithole-state #asks #fuck florida

[unholyhelbig]

Hope is afraid of thunderstorms and Lizzie comforts her?

Read on Ao3 | Send me Legacies Prompts Here 

Title: Stormy Weather 

Ship: Lizzie Saltzman/ Hope Mikaelson  

When Lizzie was little, she was afraid of thunderstorms. They had always seemed so much bigger than her. Each one taut with rolling clouds of purple and slate gray, filling the sky until the air around her felt green and positively charged with electricity. Josie would sit outside with their father, curled in his lap as the two of them watched the water fall in sheets, collecting against the awning of the back porch.

Lizzie would pull the comforter from her bed and hide in the darkest corner of her closet with the blanket pulled over her head. She could hear her heartbeat, but never over the thunder, and smell the sourness of her breath. She pinned her hands over her ears and struggled to count to ward off the demons that growled just past a thin sheet of glass.

One summer, when it would rain every single night, Caroline joined her.

She didn’t say anything at first; instead, she sat cross-legged next to her on the closet floor. It was a ploy, and Lizzie knew that because but still, she lifted the blanket slowly and blinked in the darkness at her mother, who blinked right back.

Then another crack of thunder shook the house and Lizzie squeaked before burying her tear-streaked head into Caroline’s embrace. She thought it would be better to hear someone else’s heartbeat rather than her own damning one.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Caroline said as she smoothed her touch over her daughters back “Did you hear that?"

Lizzie pulled back and blinked at her like she had lost her entire mind. Of course, she had heard it. The entire town had heard it. More than that, she felt it. The ground shook and the light that had just filled the sky quickly followed with an earthshattering tumble.

Caroline chuckled, and the sound was soft, angelic “Okay, point taken… I mean, do you know what that is?”

Lizzie didn’t answer. She knew what the rain felt like, had tasted it and reminisced in the sting that it pressured close to her skin. Her ear was pressed flush against her mother’s chest and her fingers nervously played with the charm at the end of her necklace.

“Up past those big clouds, there’s a bowling alley.”

“A bowling alley?” Lizzie’s voice was that of a mouse, broken and frayed.

“Oh yeah, a really big one too, it has a thousand lanes and every size shoe you can ever imagine. It has the best and greasiest pizza and the fries-“Caroline paused to lament “the fries are the best thing in this entire universe.”

Lizzie pulled away with a puzzled look on her face, fingers still gripping the fabric of her blouse. There was no way she would believe that an entire bowling alley was nestled in the dark and looming clouds. And even if she did (which she didn’t’) how would her mother know so much about it?

“Angels from all over the world go there to bowl.” She continued just as the rain picked up, the wind hissing with the raging storm “That thunder? That’s just the angels getting a perfect score.”

She frowned at her mother and thought about the way that each loud and rumbling burst of sound was the equivalent to ten ivory pins falling to a glossy floor. Everyone would clap and an obnoxious animation would flash across the screen.

Another hiss of thunder rolled through the house then- and Lizzie was so focused on the score of the roll, that it didn’t scare her as much. The wind still whistled and the lights would flicker, but nothing about it was as detrimental as it had been only a few moments ago.

Caroline pulled her close and Lizzie breathed in the even scent of lavender and rainwater, and everything was going to be fine, she decided, even if the world was clouded in gray.

Lizzie didn’t’ hate storms anymore, but she didn’t’ actively go out of her way to get caught in the middle of one. Not until her junior year at the Salvatore school, when a hurricane grew at the edges of the coast and the lights buzzed with the tooling energy in the air.

The wind howled like a rapid animal and the power had flashed away entirely a few minutes ago. She had signed and fished for a candle in the side drawer before lighting it and returning to her book as the large oak trees scraped close to the windows. Entirely too invested in the woven tale of a court case in the Deep South. She didn’t want to admit that she had gone far past the required reading for her English class, but she had.

She had grown used to the creaking of the old Salvatore school, and even more so, it’s sounds during a storm like this. The structure would groan like a chain-ridden spirit searching for its next victim. And even she could admit that it made her hair stand on edge.

Her unripe eyes flicked towards the door to the room. Lizzie hadn’t heard the slight knock over the hissing wind. But she did see it slowly open and reveal a mousy looking Hope, wrapped in one of the throws from the leather sofas in the study. She had her own copy of the book clenched against her chest- and she was oh so drawn into herself.

Lizzie sat forward from her bed frame. Hope Mikaelson coming in here like this was rich. Her father was right down the hall and MG was on the floor below them. She looked none too happy about her choice either but still didn’t move. “Hi,”

“Hi?” Lizzie frowned “What are you doing here?”

But she knew the answer already; because Hope had the same exact expression on her pale features that Lizzie used to get right before she grabbed the closest stuffed animal and did a swan dive into her closet. Hope Mikaelson was afraid of storms.

Lightning illuminated the room, casting a lattice of white against the floor and a nice rug that Lizzie had picked up in Richmond. Hope flinched but schooled her expression once the thunder had passed.

“I thought that we could talk about the book…to get a better understanding of it. But we don’t have to.” She hesitated for a moment and took a step back.

“Wait. Come in and close the door, we can talk about it.”

Hope struggled to hide her relief and gave off a curt nod instead before doing as she was told. She stood at the bottom of Lizzie’s bed for a moment and then sat on the corner with her fingers running over the spine. She had gotten an older copy wrapped in leather from the school's large library.

Her fingers clenched the blanket as another round of thunder shook the ground, a train that had fallen from its tracks. Lizzie could swear that her eyes flashed a deep gold, if only for a moment before she swallowed thickly and opened the book to a random page.

“So, your opinions on Scout?”

Hope’s fingers left little sweat marks against the edges of the paper and Lizzie closed her own book before setting it next to the candle on the nightstand. It had been straining her eyes to keep going- and now she had a necessary distraction on her hands.

“Hope, are you afraid of storms?” She approached the situation with delicacy.

“What? No. God, No. They’re natural things, right?” She scoffed but grimaced shortly after. “It’s kind of loud, is all. And then the power went out.”

Lizzie watched the way that Hope struggled to hide her the way she shook by shoving her fingers under the blanket she had brought in with her, and it tore at Lizzie. She had never seen the other girl in a state this close to breakdown before.

She scooted closer to the nightstand and peeled back the covers, Hope looked at her expectantly before Lizzie lifted her eyebrows in invitation. It didn’t take much more than another flash of lightening for her to spring forward and climb into the warmth that the Gemini twin had to offer.

Hope smelled like fresh vanilla and the fire that she had been curled up next to until the power decided to pull away. The old book sat in her lap but she didn’t’ seem to shake as much with Lizzie’s shoulder pressed close to hers.

“It used to rain a lot in New Orleans,” Hope said, her voice a small whisper, “And my father… he liked the way it filled the atrium, how it felt like our own personal world while the city around us crumbled and the blood filled the drains as it washed away from the streets. My family was the cause of most of it, and I always liked the fresh feeling after a storm. But then they would work hard to paint the town red again, so it didn’t matter so much.”

Lizzie found herself taking Hope’s hand in hers. She squeezed it and tried to quell the way that it trembled. “I used to be afraid of them too, you know? But one day, my mom sat with me and told me that it was just angels in the sky.”

“Angels?” Hope’s voice was that of a mouse, broken and frayed.

“Oh yeah, they’re bowling too. So all that rain you hear, it’s clapping and the thunder, the thunder is every single pin being knocked down.”

Hope’s expression was pensive for a moment before her fingers tightened around Lizzie’s as another rumble rocked the sky. But it loosened soon after and her breath evened out. “Yeah, okay. A bowling alley.”  

Lizzie nodded with a triumphant smile and picked the book from the nightstand back up before turning to the page she had dog-eared. Hope kept her fingers intertwined with Lizzie’s and slowly lowered her head onto the girl's shoulder, both of them reading the typed paragraphs in the dull light of a candle, and the waning bolts of lightning.

#lizzie saltzman #hope mikaelson #lizzie x hope #hizzie #hizzie fanfiction #legacies fanfiction #Legacies

[sarissophori]

Hither Yonder, Chapter 6

The Mistgap

Halli made camp by Lake Kelihd, whose stony shores lay against the uplands of Hanan’s westernmost reaches, rising up to meet the mountain arms and valleys of the Sheerim. Greenery was sparse, save for some moss and tussock patches. Even under the clear blue of a cloudless sky, the lake seemed a mournful place; the still waters, the lack of wildlife, and the sight of bare hard lands ahead. She decided to set off early next morning rather than go on. The day was late in afternoon, and she shied from the idea of navigating mountain passes and ravines with only a few hours of sunlight left to her.

      When the dawn was still pale Halli went on, trudging along Kelihd’s shores, then past, as the lands began their rise into the hills. The Imperial Road could still be made out against the naked stone, winding a little, but keeping mostly straight and in the open, then entering the mouth of a narrow valley before the pass. It then turned with the curve of a waterless ravine, worn and weathered from centuries of neglect and disuse. Rockslides had choked some of the way, while other parts were gone altogether. Out through the ravine it led, taking her into a confused wilderness of rock, broken plateaus and mist-covered vales; a labyrinth of stone sharp and unforgiving, almost unnaturally so. Here at last the Road ended, buried by piles of loose shale and mounds of stone, petering out in the bare wilderness into nothing. It would be Halli’s own sense of direction from this point on.

      After a moment’s debate she chose a way, or what looked enough like one, that went down into a shallow defile that bent north, then turned again to the west, curving around an outlying shoulder from the Sheerim’s south range. The sun rose over the hills, and the lingering mists in the low vales were parting as she passed through them. The bedrock was smooth, and she made good progress as morning transitioned to midday; it was colder here than on the plains, with chill winds coming down from the mountains, holding back the warmth of spring. Garbed in her cloak, Halli made the turn west and entered another defile, then another, and spent most of that day picking a sure path through a multitude of crevices and false ways. Often she doubled back and resumed a prior course well behind where she found it, careful not to forget a way already tried.

      The wind hissed at her from the rock, or whistled sharply through the cracks, sometimes moaning through the defiles and ravines ahead, always adding to her discomfort. It reminded her of old camp-stories of bodiless voices that were said to haunt these mountains, whispering an evil fate to any traveler who dared cross them, chilling them with the wind of death; as cold as it was, she remained no less alive. Pushing against such thoughts, however persistent, she wound her way into a small valley, then on into yet another ravine…

 Halli stopped and rested early that day, just before sundown, and resumed early again the next. The mists were thick, the damp heavy, and the already confused paths were now nearly impossible to navigate. So she climbed up from the latest ravine she had wandered in, and tried picking out a surer way in the sunlight. A cloud front had gathered and fallen down from the northern range, veiling all the land about her in gray, hemming in her sight with fog banks.    Now, Halli understood, why travelers long ago forsook any trail or highway that cut through this pass after Tarmaril’s fall. She climbed down and went slowly in a direction she assumed to be west, by the pale silhouette of the sun and its angle to the time of day.  The ravine narrowed and closed her between two jagged ledges thrust straight up, dark but smooth to the touch, and after many turns in the half-light and a descent she could only feel, the crevice splayed out suddenly into a mountain canyon open to the overcast sky, with a tiny stream of water trickling along its pebbly bedrock; the first sound she heard besides the wind and her own scrabbling feet, in two days. Halli reoriented her sense of direction, determined west again, and wandered beside the stream as it, too, went down the canyon’s breadth, tinkling softly in its course.

      Once the sun reached its apex and started its declining arc the mists parted again, and Halli even felt a little warmer. The day, of course, remained pallid and dreary, but she could at least see far enough ahead to mark where the canyon narrowed out some miles away, shouldered in by bluffs from the north range that turned the way in a S-shape, where it became a landscape not so high and boxed in, though jumbled and hard-scrabble all the same. That being so, Halli believed that that once these next set of bluffs were behind her, so would be the worst of the pass. She came to the first in their chain on the late evening hour, when the grayness some time ago gave way to a murky light. The moon, cresting the ridgelines, was waning from the full. She rested at the mouth of the canyon pass, wanting to save the easiest paths for tomorrow.

 The wind died away soon after. Low clouds covered the moon. The air was soundless and heavy, as it sometimes is before a thunderstorm. Rain pattered on the rocks, scattered at first, then fell in sheets, enough to swell the little stream in the canyon. Halli moved into the neck of the pass and lay beneath a ledge in the bluffs, having no better place to rest until the raining stopped.

      It didn’t. It fell in greater torrents, turning the canyon bed into a roaring flash-rapid that flooded through the pass where Halli was, threatening to wash her away amid boulder-choked swells and riptides. Slinging her cloak and roll-kit, Halli crawled out from the ledge and pressed herself to the bluff, clinging on with freezing fingers; the water was bitterly cold, as if cascading down from the very mountain peaks. The rapids swept her feet out from under her many times as she held on, but finding holds in the dark and in the driving rain she pulled herself up onto a ledge and scratched her way to the top of the shoulder. An old battered tree was there, leafless, stooped by many such storms, but Halli took to it for what shelter it offered. She slumped beside it and caught her breath, shortened from the cold as much as the climb. That was when she noticed how light she felt. Searching herself, Halli found that the supplies she tied to her roll-kit were gone, torn away by the rapids and washed far down the ravine. Wet, cold, tired and hungry, Halli groaned through gritted teeth and fought against an urge to scream in frustration, or cry in misfortune.

      She was in the middle of a barren wilderness without food, tinder or comfort, on an island in the midst of tumult, wondering, what do I do? Nothing, for the moment. She was stuck, stranded until the storm would lift, whenever that would be, and not a minute before. Wrapped in her cloak, she drew in her arms and legs, and pulled the hood down over her face. Her back propped against the tree she waited, sleep no longer an ability or desire.

 The rain ceased an hour before dawn, replaced by fog. The growing day was filtered as a hazy orange-brown. With the morning came the faintest blue in the west; to the north, clouds still clung to the mountain slopes. Shivering, Halli climbed down and entered the open rock-wastes of the Mistgap’s furthest courses. The densest parts of the fog slowly evaporated as the morning grew, but a low haze lay over the stony fields like a blanket, hiding fissures and sinkholes until Halli was almost on them. Strings of water wound their way out from the bluffs and trickled into the cracks, draining that otherwise parched desolation of last night’s rain; down into, as the stories said, the vast caverns deep under the roots of the Sheerim, where sat dark pools still and unexplored, inhabited by reclusive and suspicious creatures wary of any encroachment. She saw no creatures, but avoided the sinkholes all the same. As Sador said, all stories have their kernel of truth.

After much wandering to and fro, mostly through shallow ways between the hills, she came to scattered plains of grass where the Mistgap’s western passes finally fell, long and waving, growing in recesses that overtook the hills and leveled out to wide fields of soft, supple turf. The mists were gone, and the air was again warm with spring. A light shower fell, a remnant of the storms from the mountains, but it refreshed her and gave the grass an aromatic scent. The clouds parted, and the grass glinted with dew. It was short and well-tended like a pasture, lacking the appearance of wild lands, though she hadn’t yet seen any people or herds. A few miles away, where the fields dipped gradually, was a broad but wavering line of treetops as far reaching in length as the mountains, marching down, down to the shores of the Middlesea. This was the Gallenwood, a forest-land of vast breadth and volume, the greatest in the Hitherlands, and second only to the unimaginable expanses of Wilderland.

      Halli remembered reading about the Gallenwood from Sador’s books. It was home to several nation-tribes collectively called the Nosi, who lived in seclusion among the trees to avoid contact from outside peoples, being suspicious and savage. Granted, this was the Tarmarillian perspective during the Imperium, whose scholars used the term avargi, savage, loosely. Halli’s own people fit well into that definition. The Nosi, as written, were dark-skinned, wild-eyed, and fought from the trees using bows and javelins, striking then vanishing, never allowing for close combat –tactics the Tarmarillians found distasteful and reluctantly adapted to. It took two invasions, north and south of the Wood meeting in a pincer, to finally subdue the tribes and win a way through the forest to the Mistgap and the Hinterlands beyond, moving on to conquer Hanan, Urambar, Kundanar, Ipsaria and Doria in turn.

      Halli guessed that the Imperium’s records were probably exaggerated (while considering, of course, that invaded peoples never take too kindly to their invaders) but she didn’t know anything else about the Nosi other than what their enemies had written of them. She was alone in a foreign land, a place of tribal territories unused to outsiders and probably preferring it that way.

      Such was the new choice before her: to skirt the forest south for eighty leagues and add more weeks of wandering to her journey, or to risk entering the forest and go straight through to the Middlesea; more plainly, to either starve on the long road, or march into the unknown on the short. Neither gave her a good feeling, but she hadn’t eaten since noon yesterday, on a rationed diet at that. Her hunger pains carried their own weight of influence, making a convincing argument to her rationale. The very real possibility of starvation overruled fear of the unknown, and she made for the tree-line ahead, if none too quickly.

 It was the rose-colored hour before sunset when she came within a mile of the Gallenwood’s outermost eaves, young and green, rolling back to older, higher canopies tussled by the wind like an emerald ocean breaking upon the land. A thousand feet out from the forest was a borderline of large marker-stones, tall, roughly chiseled and evenly spaced, some leaning, yet otherwise orderly; whether crafted by the Nosi or a relic of Tarmaril, Halli couldn’t say. Inside this border were herds of animals grazing on the grass, some akin to Hananin livestock, others of a kind she didn’t recognize. There were herds sheep and flocks of wild turkeys intermingled, though the fowl kept close to the marker-stones, away from the larger animals.

      Halli hid by a stone and searched for any herdsmen afield, finding none. She crouched with her bow and bent it, slowly drawing back her elbow and fitting an arrow, anticipating the taste of fresh turkey roasted over a fire; just one good shot to end her starvation.

      Something quick and low to the ground darted into her periphery from the line of stones, finding her crouched and poised, and growled at her.

      “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

      Halli flinched, expecting to see an angry herdsman glaring at her –speaking Hananin, oddly enough. It was a dog, black with white markings on her chest, paws and face, and tipped on her bushy tail; wolf-like with her long snout, pointed ears, and piercing stare. The dog barked at her, bearing her teeth.

      “You shouldn’t be here. Go away, now!”

      Halli looked at her dumbfounded. The dog was only barking, but she heard the words as if they were in her own mind. Perhaps the dog was possessed, or a figment of her famished imagination. The dog jumped at her.

       “Go away now!”

      No, not a figment. Halli scrambled to her feet and ran, directly into the herds. They bellowed and bleated, stampeding in confusion; other shepherd dogs moved in, springing out from concealed places to corral the bewildered packs, moving as shadows on the green. Halli pivoted on her heel and ran in direction with the panic, forcing the larger animals to avoid her, knocking aside the smaller ones and flipping them end over end, escalating the chaos. It rippled outward, and soon the whole field was beset with pandemonium and noise. The ground trembled under Halli’s feet, and the air was beating like a drum around her. She stumbled as she jumped over a sprawled calf, losing momentum; a large bull caught her with his horns and threw her clear across his back, sending her in an uncouth arc to the ground behind his kicking hoofs. The hit knocked the breath from her, and stars flashed across her eyes. An intense pain raced up her left arm.

      Just as she was about to be trampled the shepherd dogs encircled her and fended off the stampede, channeling it further downrange by nipping at the heels of the stragglers in instinctive coordination. The dog that spoke to her stood guard, panting lightly.

      “You fool of a biped, what were you thinking doing something so stupid? Luck alone has spared you.”

      “Forgive me” Halli said, curling up to cradle her arm.

      The dog cocked her head. “Say you that to me?”

      “Yes” Halli said. “I know not what you are, but forgive me, please.”

      Herdsmen with staffs and longbows ran into the field to help pacify the herds, calling and whistling to the dogs. The herds were wheeled back and slowed, and returned to their grazing spots. Noma gave a series of short barks, and one of the herdsmen came to her as she sat and waited patiently. He knelt beside Halli and spoke to her in a strange language. She saw that he was indeed dark-skinned like her, though his eyes were more keen than wild. His long black hair was braided and decorated with ornaments. He tried to take her arm, but she pulled away.

      “Let him examine it” the dog said. “He won’t harm you.”

      “It hurts to touch” Halli said.

      “It may be broken. He will help you, if you let him.”

      Halli relented and let him take her arm. He felt along her elbow and wrist, and she winced. He said something else in his tongue, and the dog seemed to nod as if in agreement. He then spoke to Halli again.

      “Come you from yonder?” He waved to the mountains.

      “Yes” Halli said.

      “Be you Hananin?”

      “Yes.”

      “The bone in your arm is broken” he said. “I must take you to my village so it can be mended. Can you walk?”

      Halli stood shakily on her feet while he steadied her. The shock and pain of her injury made her feel woozy standing up. He untied the sash across his shoulder and draped it over Halli’s, tying it into a sling.

      “Thank you” she said. “Your dog said that I might have broken it. I guess she was right.”

       The herdsman looked to his dog and talked to her in Nosi, asking her of this.

      “I believe she may understand me, though I don’t know how” she said. “This girl is not of your tribe, or your people. That is plain.”

      She sniffed at Halli, then turned grim.

       “She has their blood in her.”

      “Does she? Even so, she is welcome” the herdsman said, switching back to Hananin.  He whistled and pointed, and one of the dogs went to fetch Halli’s roll-kit. He slung it on his back and took her by the hand.

      “We will take care of you. You need not fear us.”

#story #fantasy #hither yonder #sarissophori

[tothewaterhq]

ACCEPTED // SABLE OSWALD

district 10 → mentor →  Meghan Ory fc  → she/her

three strengths: pragmatic, protective, hard-working three weaknesses: stubborn, blunt, and cynical

tw death, gore, animal death, rape

Arena: For the 59th games, tributes rise up into a flat, grassy field surrounded by forests. There is no breeze, no clouds in the sky, no sounds of nature. Here at the cornucopia, with it’s piles of weapons and food, there is only the sun above. To the north tributes can spot snow covered mountains but nothing else is immediately apparent. The arena is laid out in four quadrants with each one representing on of the four seasons. North of the cornucopia is winter. Past the forests the land curves upward and the temperature drops drastically. This is harsh landscape prone to avalanches and with little edible food. Nightfall without a fire will lead to frostbite and probably death. Some caves can be taken to for refuge but mutts may wait inside. To the south of the cornucopia the trees thin out and the temperature rises. Travel far enough and tributes will find themselves caught in an arid landscape with no water in sight. Poisonous scorpion mutts patrol the landscape, their sting leading to hallucinations and a painful death. The tributes find more hospitable landscapes to the east and west. To the east, there are vast meadows and plentiful collections of fruits and wildlife. The land is flourishing and the rain that falls is gentle. Relax too long however and a tribute might find themselves drifting into unwanted sleep. To the west, the forest thickens and leaves turn vibrant colors of orange, red, and yellow. Thick groves of apple trees and streams bubble throughout. Wolves mutts patrol at night however and will fall upon the unsuspecting tributes. Biography: The first lesson was held place in a slaughterhouse with a bolt gun in her hand and the eyes of a full grown bull staring her down. Sable was the eldest of three daughters born to Yara and Corbin Oswald. While her father worked with the pigs from sunrise to sunset, her mother worked as a butcher. This was her lesson: there are crueler things than death. This act was simple. It was quick, it was painless, and it was considerate. Suffering was for the living. The luxury of a childhood was not afforded to many in district ten. Growing up Sable shared her room, her bed, and her clothes with her sisters. Mornings were spent attending to household chores, middays to studies, afternoons to the market where they could barter trinkets for bread, and evenings to the dinner table. Sable was a responsible and pragmatic child that did not dream of a better life. She had a mind for numbers and sponged up what little education she was afforded. She looked out for her younger siblings, and did not complain over the extra work. It was in her nature to be protective and she found herself occasionally on the bad side of a peacekeeper’s whip for daring to step between them and an offender. As her mother would wash the wounds she’d remind her whose finger was on the trigger in that situation. She was happiest in the evenings when her father might strick up a few chords, or her sister might whistle a tune. The music helped distract her from the hunger of a meal skipped, or the ache of her muscles. It was in those hours, her mother’s face lit by candelight that she’d catch a smile or a softening. As a young girl she made friends with a rancher’s son named Colton Hargreeves. He would be the only man she met who made her want to be less sensible. While Colt was of a much higher social standing in district ten, he didn’t seem to mind. They were sweet on each other, naturally progressing into a couple as they aged. Sable didn’t often let her contemplate a future, but at fourteen she thought she could be very happy if the only person she ever fell in love with was Colt. The next year, her name came out of the reaping bowl. By that age, she was a lanky and underfed teenager. Her district partner was eighteen, a scowl on his face and eyes that looked past her when they shook hands. She committed the faces to memory; Her mother’s wobbling chin, her father’s tears, Darcy’s fear, and Eve’s anger. Each she would take with her to the capitol. From Colt she took a beaten bit of horshoe, attached to a bit of leather string, with his initials on it. It would be her token in the arena. The capitol had little particular interest in Sable. After five baths, a haircut, and several layers of make-up they remarked that she cleaned up nicely. She had no talent for inspiration, or any stomach for the performance that others put on. She took to the training stations, focusing on survival skills and self-defense and garnering a modest score of seven. Throughout the weekly pre-game events however, she did garner some respect from her district partner, Orson. They made a pact to stick together, and with a little discussion recruited the pair from seven to join them. Throughout it all, Sable didn’t let herself hope that she might survive. She only wished for a merciful ending. Working as a unit the four tributes were able to snatch a backpack and several knives from the cornucopia during the bloodbath. The district seven boy took a beating from one of the careers, but was rescued by Orson. They retreated to the west afterward and into the autumn segment of the arena. Nights were cold and that first night the wolf mutts stalking the forests attacked them and took down the boy from seven. Sable was knocked down and sustained a bite to her shoulder that would scar in the years to come, but she managed to climb her way to safety. They trekked north after that coming two nights later to the foot of the northern mountains. After making camp in a tree, the girl from seven decided to take first watch. Sable woke that night with the girl’s hands around her throat. She’d thought to dispose of both her alliance partners in one go, but Sable managed to use her nails to claw at the girl’s face. In pain the grip loosened and Sable was able to escape into the mountainscape. She was alone after that and surprised when Orson’s face didn’t appears in the sky. She made her way south after a night in the mountains resulted in some frostbite to her fingertips. Along the way she skirted the edges of the cornucopia and kept herself hidden. Four nights passed, then six. On the ninth, feverish from an infection to her bite, her first gift came. Some antibioitics and water to keep her moving out of the summer landscape. The careers were all taken out on the seventh day, buried in an avalanche and the victims to their own ambitious hunting schemes. With them gone attention swung to the quieter tributes, the ones that had seemed like long shots, or had been wise enough to keep targets off their backs. Sable was a bit of both and she knew enough of herself to understand she was capable of killing. By the twelfth night, four tributes remained. Her, Orson, the girl from seven, and the boy from three. The gamemakers broadcast the locations of all the tributes every hour during those last days. Sable let herself sleep only for snatches at a time. She was ravenous and exhausted but stubborn. She found her way into the spring segment of the arena and there found Orson a victim of the sleeping pollen. He slept peacefully with his hands folded over his stomach. She’d sought him out and hoped to arrive before either of the remaining tributes. With throwing knife she’d managed to wrestle away, she slit Orson’s throat. It was quick, it was painless, and it was merciful. The girl from seven took care of the boy from three and then the gamemaker’s pushed the two together. While a thunderstorm worked it way across the sky they fought it out. It was bloody and it was sloppy. Sable took several stab wounds that would require surgery to repair. She woudl have bled out in the rain had her opponent not gotten a little cocky. Her blood was on the girl’s hands when she leaned backward and laughed. She was but bones and skin and thought the pain was everything, she grassped a blunt bit of rock and smashed it against the girl’s forehead. She hit again and again and stopped only when the cannon sounded. She was conscious only to hear the words “Ladies -” and then gave herself up to blessed darkness. Her scars would last forever but as a nurse pointed out ‘we’re glad you’re pretty little face wasn’t so banged up.’ She wasn’t an anticipated victor but the capitol took what they could and made it their own. She was to be the ruthless, no-nonsense killer, the great stratageist, and the girl who fought to return to her sweetheart at home. Back at home, a cold reception was waiting for her. While Colt and her family welcomed her with open arms there were others who would not so much as look at her. Orson’s killing would haunt Sable for the rest of her life. Often she woke with her hand against her throat, imagining the injury. She’d killed him while he slept, a dishonorable murder. (None much cared to hear that no murder, no minute, no second even in the arena gave space for honor.) Sable’s popularity rised as she aged. As a victor she was fed properly for once and grew into a beautiful young woman. When the time came, Snow began to sell her off to sponsors. There was no hiding this from Colt. He grew more restless with every injustice, more incendiary toward Snow and the capitol. She was more reserved, colder, and less given to laughter but their relationship survived. They were married at twenty in a small ceremony in the victor’s village, and yet none of that disuaded the sponsors. She kept her toe in line with the capitol in order to protect her family, but her sister was of a more restless stock. Eve’s treasonous words were incindiary and she never listened to warnings. Colton was quieter in his hatred, but no less passionate. The 68th games brought a victory to District Ten again, but Sable arrived home to an empty home and a single white rose. Eve Oswald and Colton Hargreeves were too closesly tied to a victor to be dealt with publicly. So instead they simply disappeared. Sable knew what was likely. A bullet to the brain and a shallow grave. It was better than the other options, less suffering. She was consumed by grief, but she dug herself out because she was pregnant. Her son, named Leo Oswald, became the center of her little world. She would do anything in her power to protect him and for him she kept herself quiet and did not provoke the capitol.

PLAYED BY // KATIE

#accepted #sable

[not-your-lifeline]

from @vivianit4

APPEARANCE: I’m over 5’5” // I wear glasses/contacts (try not to except when I’m reading/studying. Agoraphobia: blurry vision helps distracting me from recognizing people) // I have blonde hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings// I have at least one tattoo // I have blue eyes // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don’t often smile // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas (both are trash in my opinion. Adidas is slightly more practical. you get to use a LOT of them for some reason when you live in South Korea.)// I wear baseball hats backwards

HOBBIES AND TALENTS: I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy(medals) in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe (you don’t say?) // I know how to swim// I enjoy writing // I can do origami(often folds luminescent paper cranes) // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing (not in front of others, except that one time when I was in choir club) // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during school or work breaks // I can do a handstand

RELATIONSHIPS: I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year // I have a crush // I have a best friend I have known for ten years // my parents are together // I have dated my best friend // I am adopted (haha, only if. I bet that would’ve been better.) // my crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child// I give advice to my friends // I have made an online friend (I wouldn’t really call them ‘friends’ since they don’t even know who I am mostly, but they definitely seem to consider me as one. nothing I haven’t seen before. though I tend to send presents for them sometimes.)  // I met up with someone I have met online

AESTHETICS: I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sun rise // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars (when I was very little. it was the first time I’ve ever saw that many shooting stars in my life.) // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like (water, what else?) // I listen to music to fall asleep (singing/whispering along until I’m too tired and can’t speak anymore)  // I enjoy thunderstorms // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire (bring your marshmallows) // I pay close attention to colours // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favorite season (used to like autumn, but well. spring and autumn barely exists here in south korea because. global warming.)

MISCELLANEOUS: I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend// I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food (not my favorite, but thanks to certain space cowboy.) // I can drive a stick-shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed (usually only in summer and winter. apparently mosquitoes love my blood.)  // I am multiethnic // I am a redhead // I own at least three dogs

#tag game #private information

[thestorytellerofkpop]

Stream of Consciousness #1

The point of this exercise is to write what comes to mind, in hopes of relieving some inner turmoil and to get back into the routine of writing. It’s also supposed to be very therapeutic and supposed to help you see your thought process as you’re writing in real time. This is more for me than anything, and I don’t expect anyone to read this. But if you want to see what I think about, then go ahead! ~Germane

 Currently, I’ve been getting back into the Beatles. I was obsessed with them when I was a teenager, but I kind of fell away from them but now I’m listening again. I guess I forgot how deep they could actually get with their lyrics. Currently, the ones that have struck me the most are from their song ‘Happiness is a Warm Gun’. I’m not sure if it comes from the PTSD of shooting for most of my early career choices, but I can’t help but picture myself saying these lines in the future: “She’s not a girl who misses much” and “I need a fix ‘cause I’m going down” “Happiness is a warm gun; when I hold you in my arms, when I feel my finger on your trigger; don’t you know no one can do me no harm?”

I think it’s because part of me knows my mind will get fucked up by the military eventually; even if I don’t work in the frontlines or hell, even enlist or go into the military at all. But the training I’ve been doing for almost five years now, is starting to take its toll, I think. Even though I’ve never had to shoot someone during any police jobs, and the worse damage I’ve done was with blanks, I still think about what my mind will do when I may have to shoot a real person. I would love to write a one shot exploring a PTSD Soldier role…maybe through nightmares or thunderstorms triggering battle memories from war assignments. Just to release these daunting thoughts of getting messed up, but having someone there to help through the pain. I think that’s the real fear; never having someone to help me through the fucked-up shit that PTSD causes. But I don’t think there’s an audience for that or one that would want to read it. I have been writing parts of it for myself, just to ease my mind and to assure myself that eventually the right person will come along that would want to help me ease the pain. But it just may remain unpublished and only for my eyes, I don’t know. The fear is real and very deep for me, and readers may not understand it well through any KPOP muse or as a reader insert. Knowing though, I’ll have that comfort fic waiting for me, helps me in coming to terms with future PTSD, and that everything will be alright.

I’ve always liked the Strawberry Fields Forever song. Especially from the movie Across the Universe. I really like these lyrics the most: “Strawberry Fields, nothing is real; nothing to get hung about…” “Misunderstanding all you see, its hard to be someone…it doesn’t matter much to me”. This version I like more than the original because they changed the music to be a little more haunting and daunting. The singer’s deeper voices also make it seem a little more “midlife-crisis like” which I appreciate since I’m going through that now. Military or no military. My contract isn’t processed yet, and I could still get out if I wanted. But I’ve worked this hard to get to this point and for what? Just to realize I don’t want to devote 20 years of my life for this? Well, yes, that’s exactly how I feel. But where do I go after this? Definitely not back to the police force. Though I have the training and knowledge for it…there’s more and more corruption going into the system. I admit it. Some things I agree with and some Officers are justified in their actions. But more and more immoral officers are going in, and I don’t want to be a part of that again. And I don’t think I’ll get lucky again and find a decent department. I think I’d like to be a teacher, maybe History or Russian or French. Or become a therapist. Honestly, any other job that could help people for the better rather than the worse. Embassy work sounds interesting too. I’m still trying to find a calling in life, but I’m still young (enough) and have time to figure things out.

I had some fleeting ideas of writing a mafia-esque story today. Nothing major, but I just couldn’t get the image of BTS’ hyung-line running a gang. Something about that strikes my fancy. But they’d be chaotic goods; doing illegal things for good causes. Like hiring hitmen to get rid of the Neo-Nazis or child abusers in the country or something like that. With love! I also want to do a parent series. I’ve been feeling really soft towards the idea of doting husbands being super duper happy with their kids. It may just be the hormones, but I really just want “nice-guy” fics right now.

It’s very hard to find “pure” fanfiction nowadays; even though I’ve been getting harsher with the fluff I read, for whatever reason, I can’t voice the feelings I want to write out either. I want to try and describe the feelings I want to read more about below.

The base feeling, I would say, is warmth. Just…warm, warm, warm. Like the sun barely kissing your cheeks as a breeze ruffles your hair and clothes while you look and find white, fluffy clouds in the sky. Being held in someone’s arms, safe and secure, not too tight or too loose, but just right. Holding just to hold, and to be close, and to savor the moments alone with someone you love. Feeling skin on skin contact that’s so warm you just want to get closer and closer until you dive into a pool of love and adoration. Soft kisses and words are exchanged, no rush to move or progress through the day, rather, just stop time for a little while and relish in the feeling of another body and soul connecting with yours. The air would be hazy and still; comfortable, not tarnishing any moments being captured. Though the world changes, you’ll always have that moment of clarity and peace and love and hope forever.

I want that feeling.

I want that feeling too. In due time I suppose, will my hopeless romantic heart be appeased.

Or maybe, a story about being alone. No happy resolve, just angst in being alone. I guess because I’m alone and away from family and friends. I haven’t had a real hug since Christmas, so I guess I’m just feeling lonely more and more as summer comes around. I always get a little seasonal depression in the first couple weeks during the change of spring to summer. More than likely because I can’t cover up in hoodies and jeans anymore and that I have to show off my body to keep from literally dying in the South’s grueling sun. Even though I’ve lost a lot of weight since high school, I still feel insecure about myself, no matter how much I workout and train. I’ve been getting better about keeping a positive mental attitude, but I still have my off days too. But we’re getting better!

I think that’s it for this stream.

If you read this far, thanks for reading my bullshit, haha. I appreciate it and hopefully you took something away from this, or at least, got to know how my mind kinda works.

#stream of consciousness #germane rambles #not kpop

[livinginbeauty-net]

  Our campsite tree at Myrtle Beach State Park

“While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,           As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my trailer door. Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my trailer door —           Only this, and nothing more.”

– adapted from The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe

Deer Lake Park – Burnaby, British Columbia, Canada

Jim celebrated his sixty-fourth birthday on October 4th. And if that wasn’t spooky enough, we were all alone in the woods.

With the temperature in the high 20’s at night and the high 30’s daytime, we were the solitary campers in a large densely forested park during the last a few days before seasonal closing. Shuswap Lake Provincial Park was kinda creepy in a beautiful way.

Shuswap Lake Provincial Park – Scotch Creek, British Columbia, Canada

Shuswap Lake Provincial Park – Scotch Creek, British Columbia, Canada

Shuswap Lake Provincial Park – Scotch Creek, British Columbia, Canada

But good friends, old and new, warmed our rattling bones with home-cooked delights and even met us at a cheerful pub, right across the road from our campground to toast Jim’s Beatle Birthday.

64th Birthday at The Hub

Birthday at The Hub with Laura and Paul.

Pattie is a great cook!

Pilpil! Got the recipe!

Watching the salmon run was the perfect metaphor for an epic Birthday Month. Old age ain’t for sissies! Whenever the futility of life gets me down I will turn to the salmon for inspiration …

Then, we moved south to a slightly warmer climate in Sasquatch Country!

We must return to Harrison Hot Spring in June for Sasquatch Days!

Hiking in Sasquatch country

Jim performed a Vulcan mind-read on the Sasquatch!

Lost in Sasquatch country

Sasquatch live here.

Our campsite beside a natural outdoor stage with amazing acoustics.

Very Sasquatchy, if you ask me.

In a few days, we will be in Port Townsend for my birthday and I will miss the trains in Canada. Trains soothe my mind and put me in a mood to ruminate.

Warming our feet by the fire tonight in our cozy campground on Cariboo Place, we realize how these past twenty-seven months of travel have connected us to the land, our roots, long lost friends and family … and also to some unexpected encounters with the spirit world.

Interested? Pull up a chair and sit for a spell …

Our campsite tree

The Ghost Lights

We’re not paranormal enthusiasts, but now and then, one or both of us have a feeling that a place is, well, invested with an energy – sometimes good and sometimes not so good. Traveling has sharpened our senses, made us more keen and perceptive.

An example of good energy is the ghost lights of Anza-Borrego which stayed right beside us inside our tent throughout a treacherous night of flash floods, making us feel safe and protected. Only a decade later did we learn they were The Ghost Lights. We thought they were angels.

The Monticello Snake Story

After a restful night at Golden Acres Ranch near Monticello where – we had no idea at the time – one in three houses are recorded (in a somewhat legitimate way) as haunted, I felt compelled to stop the rig on a narrow country road to take pics of an intriguing cottage.

A big yeller dog roused up from the porch and raised his hackles. The home’s human occupant promptly emerged from the house and, he – an exquisite orator in the southern tradition – recited, to my delight, a popular regional snake story.

What a gift! I hung on every word. Floridians, in my book, have full rights to all snake stories and this gentleman is a master of the art. But sometimes a house wants to tell its own story like the one in Opelika, Alabama …

Spring Villa

On our way to Fort Pickens from my sister’s house in Tennessee, we’d hoped to overnight near Opelika. We pulled into Spring Villa Park and Campground on the chance they might have space for the night.

Instantly, our eyes fixed on the gorgeous old antebellum mansion and our immediate response was, “What a shame.” Poor thing needs some serious TLC.

At the check-in, a pale middle-aged ranger with a balding head and bulbous eyebags announced in a slow, gravelly baritone that the old house is haunted. Jim loved it. Thought it was an act. “Okay. That’s really cool” he said.

The ranger, unamused, held his weary “this-is-no-joke” gaze.

“So, um. Is the house being restored?” Jim asked.  “No.” replied the caretaker/ranger guy, “We can’t find anyone to do the work. Like I said, it’s haunted.”

While this continued, I took Pico on a walk and observed the other campers who seemed to be excessively goth for small-town Alabama. A lady in a flowing satin-black gown and lipstick smiled and gave me a cheerful, “Hey!” as she decorated her picnic table in black chenille with purple string lights in late-November.

But, too tired to change our minds and more concerned about the basketball-sized anthills than the superstitious southern folk, we opted to stay put.

You see, we’d just come from Costco in Birmingham, and all we wanted to do was properly stash an obscene amount of food, and present our fresh, new rosemary Christmas tree for its first night of the season.

After dinner, we settled down, watched a movie and got ready for bed.

Jim always turns in around 10 pm while I take Pico for his last walk. But on this night, Jim grabbed the leash.

I presumed he was acting in my behalf due to the creepy neighbors. “I want to check this place out,” he said.

I had half a mind to go with him and said so, but then he got in a spooky mood and let loose an Jack Nicolson “Here’s Johnny” imitation. “Sure you don’t want to go?” he said, creeping me out better than I thought he could. I said, “Uh-uh. Not playing this game. But take the phone and may unicorns and rainbows guide you.”

He speed-dialed me and off he went into the sultry Southern night on a Young Goodman Brown escapade/with chihuahua.

Pico de Gallo – a big N. Hawthorne fan.

On digital technology, I listened to their footfall through the deep wet grass as Jim slapped mosquitos off his face.

The squishy walking suddenly stopped!

“What’s going on? I asked. “Gotta ditch the headlamp … Bugs.” Then, squish, squish, squish … on they walked. Presently, Jim said, “I’m at the house.” He said it real important-like – as if he were about to set foot on the moon.

The boards creaked under his weight. Then, Pico sounded urgent warning barks. Several voices popped up in the background, women’s voices!

When Pico calmed down Jim told me the women were ghost hunters using an app to detect paranormal energy. The app told them that a presence was just inside the door. So Jim fastened his headlamp again just as … the door opened! The women screamed and ran.

“Just leave!” I said.

“Hold on,” he said, “It was probably a draft but I’m taking a photo … Sending.” The photo showed the door about three inches ajar from the inside. But what sent chills down my spine and made me scream, “Run!!!” was the shadow-play of Jim’s hand and iPhone which appeared to be a freshly dug grave and tombstone.

A sudden thunderstorm…

… on Lake Ponchartrain drove us off the designated bike lane near Fontainebleau State Park.  We took shelter in a gazebo in an old cemetery.

By all appearances, we were alone. Yet, we both felt we were being watched.

Then … Out of nowhere

(Everything happened so suddenly the details are difficult to assemble)

Out of nowhere, a young man appeared in the gazebo with us – a boy really – blue eyes, brown hair, medium build, wearing dungarees and denim shirt. Just as I noticed the number on his shirt, I spied a work truck, way back in a far corner of the cemetery with a guard and several prisoners around it. Ah, a routine maintenance program. Of course.

We exchanged hellos and his dialect suggested he was from the area. He asked if we wanted to see some bones. Bones? No! We’re just passing by, ducking the weather, we explained.

But he wouldn’t have it. Bones we would see. For mercy’s sake and politeness, we followed the young man, and upon his request, we peered between broken crypt walls to behold the bones he spoke of.

But when we looked up to ask the boy if he knew the name of the deceased, he was gone – vanished – nowhere to be seen or heard and no sign of the old truck and crew.

Natchez

And, oh, where to begin with Natchez? The ghosts outnumber the living so they all just have to to go along to get along.

Kings Tavern in Natchez – the most haunted pub in Mississippi

Boothill

But our most haunting moment was near Mount Moriah Cemetery, commonly known as Boothill where this row of tombstone clouds reminded us of the single row of thirteen civil war graves of unknown soldiers on the Natchez Trace.

Fort Pickens

We could go on and on … Fort Pickens and the bomb removal squad.

The set of LOST?

Savannah

The Old Pirate House

The Haunted “Old Pirates House” in Savannah

and Moon River Brewing Company,

The Travel Channel’s Ghost Adventures featured this brewing company.

Harper’s Ferry

Harpers Ferry ghost stories…

But that’s enough. Now, it’s time to pass the Talking Stick.

Do you have a ghost story to share – one from personal or second-hand experience?

Or just a good travel yarn, perhaps?

We’re dying to hear it.

Let’s see if we can keep this campfire burning through Halloween night!

Nothing like a few ghost stories before Halloween! “While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,           As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my trailer door.

#Airstream #Airstream Blog #Airstreaming #Beaubeaux #Full-time Airstreaming #Full-time RV Living #Full-Time RVing #ghost stories #halloween #haunted places #Living in Beauty #Living the Dream

[thehikingviking]

Snow Mountain East from Summit Springs Trailhead, Mendocino National Forest

Snow Mountain East in Mendocino National Forest was one of those peaks I had wanted to climb, but whenever I started to think about a trip, it was either too warm or the roads were closed. This time I made a mental note to plan something for May, and that I did. The relative ease of the peak made it a little less appealing than other peaks in the past, but now that I had a baby to carry, the 9 mile roundtrip hike made perfect sense. The hardest part would be the drive, as baby Leif had recently become aware of his disdain for long drives and was now capable of strongly stating his opinion. We planned to time the drive with his nap and then suck it up for his remaining waking hours. Brian also agreed to join, and we planned to meet him at the trailhead later that night. Forest Road 18N01 was in good condition. The road was dirt but passable for 2WD vehicles. The complaining baby was our biggest challenge, and we had to stop and get out of the car a few times. The last 1.5 miles of road to Summit Springs was a little rougher, but was still doable with a low clearance 2WD vehicle, as Brian would prove with his Honda Civic later that night. The road all the way to the trailhead was clear, but the real prize was the campsite we found a couple hundred yards down the road. We had a large grassy area on top of a hill, fully equipped with a picnic table, fire place and view.

I set up one small tent for Brian and one large tent for me, Asaka and Leif. Brian indicated that he would arrive close to midnight, so I let him know that his tent would be ready upon his arrival, since I planned to be fast asleep by that time. We were there early and had several hours to enjoy camp before bedtime. We put Leif in his lion costume and explored the area.

The weather was perfect. We walked to the trailhead where we found a couple of cars in the parking lot, which indicated backpackers. We then found the actual Summit Springs, which was a small trickle into a dirty tub. We then had dinner as a family. It appeared to be the perfect camping trip, but that would soon change.

We put Leif to sleep, then shortly after Asaka and I followed suit. It got dark and I closed my eyes, noting a few small gusts of wind as I drifted off to sleep. I awoke a couple hours later to giant gusts of wind shaking the tent. I had left everything out at the mercy of the wind. Then I remembered Brian’s tent. I didn’t bother staking it since there was no wind before I went to sleep. I grabbed my headlamp and ran outside into the pitch black, but the tent was gone. I make a small circle around camp, but I could see nothing. I then made a larger perimeter, but it was useless. I returned to my tent dismayed and explained to Asaka what just happened. The tent was rattling and somehow the baby was still asleep, but he would end up waking later in the night. Headlights hit our tent, so I went outside to find Brian driving off the road through the grasses. I haphazardly directed him back to the forest road and eventually to the spur road which led to camp. I explained that his tent was gone, so he settled to sleep in his car. With the wind hammering the tent, it was a long and sleepless night. When dawn came, I did an early morning reconnaissance, but again came up empty handed. That was my backpacking tent that I traveled the world with. It held a lot of sentimental value. The wind had died down but the damage was done. I was a defeated man. There was a slight chance of thunderstorms after 11am, so we didn’t have the option to sleep in and get a later start. Breakfast and morning preparations ensued. We started off hiking from camp, trying out our new back carrier for the first time.

We started off in a forest then emerged shortly after into a recovering burn area.

The devastation from the 2018 Ranch Fire was remarkable. I wish I could have enjoyed this peak before the burn. It was a little bit of a bummer to miss out on what once was a beautiful forest.

The ruin was widespread, but new life had already begun to take root. The circle of life continues.

After mostly sticking to the ridge, the trail passed by a small pond where a family group was camping.

-Great Mullein

We continued along the trail to a small pass where the peak finally came into view.

We dropped down slightly, passing through an unburned area that was only lightly forested.

-Corn Lily

There was still some snow lingering on the ridge above, and small creeks dribbled down the slopes creating lush patches of vegetation.

We reached the saddle between Snow Mountain East and West.

We turned right here and traversed the barren ridgeline towards the summit of Snow Mountain East.

There were a few summit contenders so I climbed all of them.

The northernmost challenger contained the summit register and was most likely the true summit.

To the northeast was Saint John Mountain.

To the east was the San Joaquin Valley.

To the south was Goat Mountain. We planned to hike this the following day.

To the southwest was Snow Mountain West.

To the northwest was North Ridge. In the distance was Hull Mountain.

To the north were Crockett Peak, Brushy Peak and Sheetiron Mountain.

We sat down and had lunch on the summit. Asaka prepared spaghetti with tuna for everyone.

After a long break we decided to check out Snow Mountain West, which looked equally interesting. On the way down we spotted with a group of hikers who stated they were part of some Northern California Facebook group. After wishing them luck, we continued up the wide open ridge to our bonus peak.

Here we found the official benchmark, and better views to our west.

To the southwest we could see Mt Saint Helena and Mt Konocti.

Back to the northeast was the eastern summit, almost equal in height.

It was a little breezier here so we didn’t stay long. We continued along the ridgeline and then descended cross country back towards the trail. I stopped here to chat a bit with a backpacker and take a break from carrying my load. We spotted a peculiar tree shortly after and decided to take a funny photo.

Leif did not find it funny whatsoever.

We hiked back down the trail, having to stop for a while since Leif was hungry. After the pond, I gave Leif to Asaka and I ran off to climb High Rock.

It was a class 2 scramble to the top. Views were okay but it was getting too warm for me to enjoy the detour.

Thunderstorms were still in the early stage of formation, and I hoped to get back into the forest before they fully developed.

I jogged down the trail until I caught back up with the others. 

-Lupine

We returned to camp not long after. The weather was nice for the time being so we decided to enjoy the camp for the rest of the afternoon.

Thunderstorms had formed, but were hovering over the land to our west.

I didn’t want to spend another night getting pummeled by the wind, so we decided to eat dinner and then breakdown camp. I suggested we sleep in the car at the trailhead of Goat Mountain, which I hoped to hike the next day.

After dinner, we took our two cars and drove south along forest roads to the northern ridge of Goat Mountain. Brian’s 2WD low clearance Honda Civic was able to navigate the roads better than I expected.

Once the baby began to get fussy again, we stopped at a flat spot and set up our camp. We agreed our spot would be good enough.

I tried my new invention, which was a front seat hammock for the baby. It worked like a charm.

That night we had a much better sleep. The wind was not an issue and the baby slept through the night. The next morning, we were rejuvenated and ready for more peaks.

We drove another mile or so until reaching our starting point for Goat Mountain.

We followed Forest Road 16N03 along the northern ridge of the peak to the summit of Goat Mountain.

At the summit, the old fire lookout had been knocked down and replaced with a radio installation.

To the southeast ran Pacific Ridge.

To the southwest stood Mt Saint Helena and Mt Konocti.

-Summit memorial

We retraced our steps down the forest road, admiring Snow Mountain and Saint John Mountain along the way.

We continued our driving adventure back down the mountain.

We stopped on the way to climb Board Camp Ridge. Asaka and Leif waited at a meadow next to the car while Brian and I ran up this little peak. We dodged the burnt brush to reach the summit.

I was surprised to find a little rocky outcropping. It was a better peak than I expected.

To our south was Goat Mountain.

Once back down, we had a snack in the meadow before continuing our adventure.

We drove back down to Fouts Springs where we had lunch.

I still had some unfinished business, so I asked Asaka if I could climb Saint John Mountain. I received permission under the condition that I wouldn't take too long. It was a drive up, and Brian decided to join.

I drove as fast as I could, probably much faster than I should have driven. The road was not bad until the last few tenths of a mile. My new Jeep Grand Cherokee Trailhawk handled it brilliantly though. I met Dylan Pankow of Bluebeard Adventures from YouTube at the top, then quickly hopped back in the car and sped down the hill. I didn’t even stay long enough to take photos.

It took me an hour and a half to get the job done, which was acceptable for Asaka. Thankfully Leif would sleep most of the way back home. I am happy we were able to pull it off. I thank Brian for his excellent photography and my wonderful wife for her support!

[tanuki-kimono]

Japanese folk tales #60 - Children of the Wind

Find my tales tagged here or visit my blog for both english and french versions.

Wish me to cover a special youkai or subject? Contact me, I’ll try to accommodate ^^❤️

Once upon a time, in a simple village, one like thousand others across Japan, there were three children who loved to play outside.

The oldest, Kazuo, always tried to look older than he really was, his stern behavior somehow ruined by his ever-snotty nose. His sister Chiyo, though all gangly limbs, was a mean biter when rough-and-tumble called. And all knew that Nobu, the woodsman’s son, would blabber about everything and nothing for hours if you didn’t stop him.

Be it sunny or rainy day, as soon as their parents had turned their backs, all three would ran to the outskirts in joyful string of laughter.

One day, as they were round dancing, singing gleefully off-key at the top of their lungs, an unknown voice joined theirs.

The three friends stopped and turned. Half hidden behind a bush, blinking like a owl, was little boy they had never seen before.

Kazuo puffed his chest and called:

– Stated your name stranger!

Nobu eyed the newcomer with unveiled curiosity:

– Are you ill? Your skin is very red. Mine’s always like that when-

Rolling her eyes, Chiyo cut in like an angry boar:

– But let him talk!

The strange child slowly came forward:

– Are you… playing? I think I have never done that before.

The three friends exchanged shocked looks: a kid who had never played! Immediate pity blossomed on their faces. Kazuo declared, serious as a monk:

– We can show you is you wish.

And the strange child joined their games. For hours, all four played catch and tag, and laughed – and bickered a little bit.

Suddenly, Nobu’s stomach growled, soon echoed by his friends’:

– Mom says kaki are not ripe yet. Shame, I could eat a whole bucket right now!

As Kazuo and Chiyo agreed, the strange child quietly said:

– At home, fruits are ripe. Sweet chestnuts, and mellow kaki. We have some everyday.

He paused and smiled shyly:

– I could bring you there if you wish.

All three, already half drooling, nodded eagerly and the red child beamed.

He got up and untied his flowy belt. Then, putting the hands of his friends on the long, long fabric strip, he simply said:

– Hold tight and you won’t fall.

And he soared up into the sky.

Kazuo swore, Chiyo squealed, and Nobu shut his eyes tightly. Clouds billowed all around them, while the world below flashed and swirled.

As suddenly as they had taken off, the red child landed on into a beautiful orchard. As far as the eyes could see stood trees bearing fruits as colorful as precious jewels.

The red child eyes crinkled mischievously at his friends’ obvious delight. A warm gust of wind shook a persimmon tree, and fresh kaki gently roll to toward the mesmerized children.

Fingers gooey, lips sticky from sugar, they all eat and eat. Until thunder rumbled somewhere.

The red child, suddenly fidgety, rose and bowed:

– I forget the hour, I must go home now. See you.

And he was gone, up, up, up into the dimming sky. Nobu’s yell got lost in the wind:

– Wait! How are we gonna get back home!

The astounded friends shared a look. Kazuo finally pointed a direction:

– I think we arrived from this way. Guess we’ll have to walk.

None of them had a better idea, and the three children hit the road. They walked amidst the seemingly unending orchard as the sun declined.

Before long, Nobu was whining:

– Are we there yet? I wanna see Mom, and Dad, and…

Chiyo growled:

– If you keep crying, foxes will hear you, and they’ll fool you and they’ll eat you.

After that, all three walked in silence, holding hands tightly in the dusk.

Between trees heavy with chestnuts, a pretty little house finally rose. A plump middle aged woman, bright as a sunny day, sat by the door:

Relieved, the children ran to her and babbled all at once:

– Auntie, auntie! We’re lost! Please help us! There was a child, and we played, and he flew us here to eat kaki, and he disappeared, and…

The woman seemed to darken like a thunderstorm. She turned toward the house and rumbled:

– Come here a minute.

Four children appeared. A comely one had a luminous smile and a blueish skin, another was lithe, black and silent. The third was pale and had wild untamed eyes. And the last one was the red child.

The lady tsked:

– Which one of you have forgotten to bring his new friends back home?

The red child rose a timid hand. The lady sighed and bowed to the three children:

– I apologize deeply. My son, the South Wind is not mean but he always is such an air-head…

She throw a stern look at him:

– You, young man are grounded. And no « but ». You three, get those poor kids back to their parents, they must be quite worried.

The white child took Chiyo on his back and soared up, crackling like thunder. Soon, his dark brother carrying Kazuo followed in a cold gale, while the radiant one carried a paling Nobu muttering:

– Not again…

And they say that, from this day on, the children of the wind were often seem befriending children of men. And they never forgot to bring them back home again.

Notes:

This cute tale plays on the imagery surrounding winds and cardinal points in Japan. If today, the most well known god of wind is Fujin, many more existed such as Shinatobe, an ancient female kami cited in the old Kojiki chronicles.

Today’s wind children embody asian traditional cardinal system. The South wind, minamikaze, is linked to summer and the red bird Suzaku. The North wind, kitakaze, symbolizes winter and the black tortoise/serpent Genbu. Higashikaze the East wind is linked to spring and blue/green dragon Seiryu. And the West wind, niikaze, is associated with autumn and Byakko the white tiger.

Chestnuts (kuri) and persimmons (kaki) have been the autumn fruits in Japan for centuries. Both are highly auspicious foods, sweet and nourishing. And I love when in late autumn colorful strings of drying kaki (tsurushigaki / hoshigaki) dot the countryside. On a side note, love for pears and apple is much more recent in Japan (it has only started to rise by the end of Meiji period).

[pictures sources: 1 / 2 / 3 ]

#japanese folk tales #tales #japan #Shinatobe #wind goddess #wind god #kaki #persimmon #Suzaku #Genbu #Seiryu #Byakko

[jacewilliams1]

Eight things I know about flying in Georgia

Georgia was my birthplace for flying. I cut my teeth piloting a little Alarus out of DeKalb-Peachtree airport in northeast Atlanta (PDK), and that was home base for 15 years. I set a goal of landing at every public-use airport in the state, and dang near got most of them, even if it was just a touch and go. Over that time I learned a thing or two about flying in the South.

1. The Weather is Fine Year ‘Round.

You really can count on flying pretty much all year in Georgia. There are very few winter days that are so cold that you need to preheat the engine… and heck, if it’s that cold once you do preheat, you can count on crystal clear skies and the awesome performance of super-dense air. It will certainly have warmed up by the time you stop for lunch. The summer does get hot, but that’s all the more reason to get some altitude twixt you and the ground to cool off some. Plan to finish your day before the afternoon thunderstorms attack and you’ll be right as rain.

2. From the Mountains to the Sea.

The scenery in Georgia is more dazzling than people expect. There’s nothing better than climbing into a blue October sky to circle Brasstown Bald (the highest point in the state at 4,783 feet), admire the fall colors and waggle your wings at the ground huggers who hiked – or drove! – to the top. At the other end of the state there’s the low country, with the Atlantic Ocean surging against the coast and the Savannah, Altamaha and Saltilla river outlets creating verdant, sandy barrier islands to explore. With airports at Jekyll Island, St. Simons Island, Brunswick and Savannah, you can park your plane and have a fancy meal or be swimming in the ocean in minutes.

VFR over the top of ATL? It’s not only possible, but pretty easy.

3. You Really Can Fly VFR through Atlanta Airspace.

Most folks think the Class B airspace around Atlanta is best avoided. And rightly, if you are on a long cross country and just passing through, you’re better off keeping your distance. But with many public airports all around the city, the guys and gals at Atlanta Approach can be very accommodating with your route. The magic words are “over the top.” If you’re trying to go north to south, or south to north, and Hartsfield is right in your way, just call up Atlanta Approach and ask for it. You’ll get it more than half the time, and you’ll have a bird’s eye view of ATL and the downtown at 4500 or 5500 feet.

4. You Can Feel Good About Flying and Helping Others.

PDK in Atlanta is the home of Angel Flight Soars, the southeast regional Angel Flight organization. With two Children’s Hospital of Atlanta facilities in town, a specialty cancer center at Carrolton, a burn center at Augusta, and a number of other great treatment centers in the region, Angel Flight organizes an average of nine missions per day, 365 days a year. In 2018, volunteer pilots flew over 3,300 missions… talk about getting your (angel’s) wings! If you fancy four-legged friends, Pilots-n-Paws has plenty of missions to rescue shelter animals and transport them to a new “fur-ever” home. Since the South has a large pet over-breeding problem, these treks often start in Georgia – or nearby – and head north, often with two or more flight-legs involved. Both organizations are 501(c)(3) certified so you can deduct the transportation costs… your avgas just got a little cheaper!

5. You Can Be IMC on a VFR Day.

Georgia has pine trees… lots and lots of pine trees. Also oaks and birches and grass and weeds and all sorts of pollen-producing organisms. And it seems like for at least a week each year, usually in April, these all conspire to release their spores into the air at the same time, casting a yellow fog over the region. This is especially true over Atlanta, which is made worse by the exhaust of hundreds of thousands of vehicles. All of which to say, I have taken off on a crystal clear morning, and within an hour seen visibility drop so far that PDK Tower started requiring ILS approaches. And oh what fun it is to descend into that amber soup, and pray that you have some Claritin in your flight bag.

6. The $150 Hamburger?

Peach State Aerodrome isn’t the longest runway, but the burgers are worth the effort.

Georgia is a great state for flying, but one thing it sorely lacks is a wealth of airport restaurants. One of the best is right at PDK (The Downwind Restaurant) but if that’s your home-drome, then it becomes a standard $10 hamburger. What fun is that? If you’ve got a taildragger or a taste for adventure, you can fly to Peach State Aerodrome (GA2), a sporty turf strip south of Atlanta that requires good short field landing technique and high ground clearance. The reward is Barnstormers Grill, a juicy burger and a seat right on the runway to watch those other pilots slipping in over the trees.

But if you want to log some time enroute to filling your stomach, there are good options just across state lines. Greenville Downtown (KGMU) has the Runway Café. Eufala, Alabama (KEUF), has the Airport Restaurant & Lounge. And 30 minutes into Florida at Flagler Executive (KFIN) there is High Jackers. So the price of that $100 hamburger just went up a bit, but on the other hand, there’s more time in your logbook.

7. Clouds.

Okay, maybe not unique to Georgia, but this is where I learned to love clouds in all their varieties. In the spring, stratus layers along a low pressure front hug the ground at just above low-IFR altitudes, making it easy to maintain approach currency. And what a joy it is to break out above a thin inversion layer in the fall to spectacular blue sky and sunshine. But the most fun is summer, when big puffy cumulus clouds form towers in the sky and beg for pilots to make turns around and through their cotton canyons. At sunset, those white cauliflower forms catch the violet, pink and orange of the setting sun, a roiling explosion of Mother Nature’s beauty.

8. Southern Hospitality is Alive and Well.

Even with all the benefits noted above, the best part about flying in Georgia is visiting all the little airports that dot the state. You may come for the cheap self-serve fuel, but you will soon strike up a conversation with the FBO attendant who is either a grizzled old-timer full of hangar stories, or an eager young local who yearns to build a career in aviation. Either way, there will likely be big rocking chairs on the porch, cool shade on a sunny day, and a front row seat to watch that next pilot landing to join you and sit a spell. It’s what flying in the South is all about.

  To read other entries in this series, including California, New York, and Ohio, click here. Want to share tips about your part of the world? Email us and find out of your state is spoken for already: [email protected].

The post Eight things I know about flying in Georgia appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

from Engineering Blog https://airfactsjournal.com/2019/09/eight-things-i-know-about-flying-in-georgia/

[kansascityhappenings]

Joe’s Weather Blog: Well at least the sun is shining (SUN-2/24)

Good afternoon…another cold one out there and today we have wind too…so really it’s not the greatest combination. Temperatures, despite the sunshine, haven’t moved much off the morning lows through the noon hour. Actually we’re down a couple at 12PM from the 11AM observation…sort of strange. Regardless today will be a day with highs some 15° below average and more often than not over these next 10-14 days…more of the same is coming.

Forecast:

Tonight: Clear and cold with lows down to near 10°

Tomorrow: Partly cloudy and not as cold with highs well into the 30s…milder farther south of the Metro

Tuesday: Partly cloudy and chilly with highs in the 35-40° range.

Discussion:

Let’s start with one of my favorites…and that is showing snowcover via a simple black and white view from 22,000 mile up. Always been one of my favorite satellite perspectives for you.

That’s a lot of snow…we had a lot of melting yesterday thanks to the rain…and the milder air that came up the state line.

We had quite the weather potpourri yesterday. Mist…drizzle…downpours…thunderstorms…a dry slot working northwards…some small hail..some gusty convective winds to near 50 MPH…some cold front winds that gusted to almost 50 MPH…falling temperatures…some snow…oh and potentially a wall cloud.

https://www.facebook.com/plugins/post.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fjoe.lauria.10%2Fposts%2F2320896144609305&width=500

I did get word that there was a probable elevated wall cloud with this. I didn’t get a chance to frame grab a velocity image at the same time…

As I mentioned that’s one of the better “hook” echoes that I’ve seen in awhile. Thankfully despite the rotation about 1,000 feet off the ground…nothing was able to come down likely because the air was just too cool.

I do remember one incident back in March…I think it was in the late 1990s-early 2000s where we had a tornado towards Sibley I think…and it was around 45° or so…it was during the morning. So strange things can happen.

Farther towards the southern US…there were tornadoes…Columbus, MS was hit.

Columbus, Mississippi took a DIRECT HIT from a large #tornado today.

Here's a FULL Radar & Velocity hyper-lapse of the storm. Notice the stout Hook Echo and Velocity Couplet appear as the tornado caused major #damage to the community.#weather #alwx #thinkweather #mswx pic.twitter.com/CXfEjL98pc

— Nash from Nashville (@NashWX) February 24, 2019

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Looks like a #tornado is hitting Columbus, Mississippi. A tornado debris signature (TDS) showing up on radar. #MSwx pic.twitter.com/uPSjRFfpJL

— Nick Stewart (@NStewCBS2) February 23, 2019

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On the other side of the storm…blizzard conditions occurred. Heck, Concordia, KS had about 9″ of very wind blown snow. Hays had 11″

So you get the idea…we just missed this one.

Today that storm is up towards the Great Lakes region. One of the strongest lows that you’ll see over land too for the entire year. Usually these types of low pressures are more confined to the coastal regions or offshore where warmer waters help to create stronger surface low pressure regions…not the case with this behemoth.

The black lines in the above map represent isobars or lines of equal pressure. Where there are many squeezed into some tight spacing…that means a large change of pressure in a small area…that means wind!

There are still large swaths of the upper Midwest that have blizzard warnings/high wind warnings in effect.

Map above via Pivotal Weather

So let’s put that storm to bed.

Onwards…our weather will actually be a bit calmer for a few days. There are a couple of things to watch as the week moves along. Some very light precip (rain or freezing mist) on Wednesday (iffy right now) and the potential for an accumulating snow nearby on Friday to start the month of March.

As I’ve talked about the beginning of March won’t be so great. Temperatures are really going to struggle through the 1st 10+ days of the month and while Spring doesn’t start till the 20th…we won’t be enjoying any early Spring weather it appears.

As far as Friday goes…snow may be streaking through the Plains region. Not worth getting too detailed about at this point but we can see how the 2 longer range models are handling the differences. The GFS is more bullish with a smallish wave coming through the western Rockies…

Let’s go up to about 18,000 feet and you can see what I’m talking about. Move the slider to the right for the GFS model for 6AM Friday…see what’s happening in the Rockies? Now move it left…and see the “flatter” look of the EURO model?

https://cdn.knightlab.com/libs/juxtapose/latest/embed/index.html?uid=f0c9b916-3866-11e9-9dba-0edaf8f81e27

IF the wave is beefier…and with the cold air in place…we get the potential of seeing another accumulating snow and with s strong surface low tracking towards the south of the region…the potential for having ourselves a wind blown snow too.

The flatter look of the EURO isn’t as ominous for snow…but it does show another dump of cold for March air down into the Plains for next weekend if nothing else. For what it’s worth…the soon to be new GFS model gives us very little snow…and the Canadian model which never met a snowstorm it didn’t like…doesn’t do much for us either on Fridya at least. It does have lots of cold air advection lighter snow in the region on Saturday.

I’m not convinced about anything regarding this at this point. The EURO model flakes out (as in goes haywire) next weekend anyway and I’m never one to trust a lot into the GFS model to begin with…but the models are giving us clues that “something” will occur as we get another potential significant dump of cold nasty air for early March. I get a bit nervous about that set-up because when an anomalous cold or warm air mass comes into play during the seasonal transition time..it makes me wonder if something more noteworthy, regardless of what model is doing whatever the models are doing, can occur. The EURO is pointing again (and it’s been consistent with this) highs of around 15° next Saturday. That would be almost 35° below average. The GFS has a high of 12 and 11° next SAT and SUN.

Let’s go up to 5,000 feet for next Saturday…oh my goodness. These are the anomalies with regards to average. Oh and those anomalies are in °C…so about double those values for °F.

Purple is OK for the summer…nasty for the winter.

The coldest highs ever on 3/2 (Saturday)

and for giggles the 3rd (Sunday)

IF there is snow on the ground…watch out at night too.

OK that’s it for today…among everything else happening yesterday there were some great rainbows and double rainbows too. Check this picture out…

Glenn Jones sent this picture in…

Joe

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/02/24/joes-weather-blog-well-at-least-the-sun-is-shining-sun-2-24/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/02/24/joes-weather-blog-well-at-least-the-sun-is-shining-sun-2-24/

[endlessarchite]

Our Family’s Favorite Spring Break Yet

Since our daughter started elementary school a few years ago, spring break has become an increasingly precious opportunity to get away, clock some quality family time, and soak in some long-overdue warm weather. Last year’s spring break vacation to Cape Canaveral, Florida checked all of the right boxes and we were tempted to just repeat that trip again this year. But we pushed ourselves to see if we could make this year’s getaway even better and explore a new part of Florida while we were at it – and we are SO GLAD WE DID. So for anyone else looking for a great family vacation spot or, like us, if you’re just ready to start dreaming about next year’s spring break – here’s a quick recap of our family’s trip to South Florida.

Where We Went

Our #1 priority for the trip was “guaranteed beach weather,” and going to South Florida was the most convenient destination that could guarantee us hot temperatures in early April. We love a good road trip, but we wasted four days driving to Florida and back last year… so we decided to give flying a go this year (a first for us with both kids + the dog). A couple of airlines fly direct to Fort Lauderdale from our airport here in Richmond, VA, and we remembered Fort Lauderdale very fondly from our first book tour, so we figured anything within a 30-minute drive of that airport would be perfect. We actually ended up in a small area north of Fort Lauderdale called Pompano Beach and spent most of our time in nearby towns like Lauderdale-By-The-Sea, Lighthouse Point (seen below), and Deerfield Beach, so we never actually stepped foot in Fort Lauderdale proper.

We haven’t flown as a family since our 2012 trip to Hawaii when our daughter was nearly 2 years old. Our hellish red-eye flight back to Virginia (there was lots of crying and zero sleeping) planted a deep-seeded fear of flying with children for several years, but now that she’s almost 8 and our son is 4, it felt like a 2-hour direct flight to Florida would be an easy way to dip our toes back into the family flight waters.

The flight went even better than expected. We flew Spirit Airlines (we’re infamously cheap travelers) and even though they nickel-and-dime you for everything from carry-on bags to in-flight water, it ended up being noticeably less expensive than our next best option, JetBlue. We were even able to bring Burger (our chihuahua) with us without any trouble. He flew to Alaska for our honeymoon, so he has proven himself to be a travel champ (yes, we brought our dog on our honeymoon, and yes we know how that sounds). See him there chilling at Sherry’s feet while she sports what she calls her “nervous travel face”?

A rental car was also a must on our list, so we got a minivan to ensure we’d have enough room for luggage, car seats, and beach gear. We brought car seats with us (we weren’t guaranteed that the rental place would have them since we were arriving really late at night) and thankfully Spirit will check car seats and strollers for free. We talked a little bit more about juggling the dog, the dog crate, car seats, bags, and kids at an airport in podcast episode #92 if you’re curious how that went…

Where We Stayed: A Private Rental

Last year’s trip taught us the wonders of renting a house for spring break. Even though we could all pile into a hotel room, we’ve never regretted at least considering the option of not sharing walls with other vacationers (especially when we’ve got kids and a dog with us). Heck, sometimes a beach rental for the week actually breaks down to being cheaper than a hotel when you do the math to figure out the per-night cost. Last year our rental in Cape Canaveral was 1 of 3 units in a building, so we did have people above us and we all shared a communal pool. It ended up not being a problem (the other renters didn’t use the pool very much, so we had it mostly to ourselves) but this year we looked around online for a detached home with its own pool that was still within our budget, and thankfully we found this one.

We searched across Airbnb, VRBO, and HomeAway for pet-friendly rentals with a pool located within 30 minutes of the Fort Lauderdale airport. We found this gem in Pompano Beach on HomeAway and we could not recommend it more highly. It. Was. Awesome. Not only did the kids love having the entire pool to splash around in, but Burger LOVED having free reign of the yard (last year he had to share a fenced area with another dog, and let’s just say they quickly became frenemies).

The interior furnishings are pretty much what you’d expect from a vacation rental (nothing that felt fancy or precious – which is AWESOME when you’re traveling with kids) and the beach wasn’t really within easy walking distance like the listing says, but the pool was PERFECT and the house and neighborhood were pleasantly very quiet and private. It just took us a few minutes to drive down to the beach and we always found parking (which was nice and cheap), so we really ended up loving everything about it.

The house was located in a small residential neighborhood on Terra Mar Island, a little island in the Intracoastal Waterway. This little bit of separation from the main thoroughfare helped it feel like a secluded and charming suburb – unlike all of the high-rise hotels and condos along the oceanfront. It felt nestled, private, and un-trafficed… even though it was close to everything.

The house itself was surrounded by tall thick foliage on all sides – making it feel like you had the whole island to yourself. We skipped the beach entirely for a couple of days because we were having so much fun just hanging out by the pool. And yes, Sherry has never been more convinced that we need a pool at our own house than after this vacation. #helpme

For any other families who might rent this place: they warned me ahead of time that they didn’t provide beach or pool toys (just chairs, towels, and a beach cart). We certainly weren’t going to bring buckets and shovels on the plane, so we planned to buy them at a dollar store once we got down there… but a previous renter had left a couple for us – along with a pool float and ball. We also picked up some beach toys and pool noodles at the CVS just down the street, all of which we left for future renters – so here’s hoping the cycle continues.

What We Did: Beach, Pool, And Eat

We are very chill vacationers and this spot was perfect for that. I know some families love to cram in tons of new activities and sightseeing on vacations, but our goal for this trip was just to unwind and be together, so we consciously avoided the pull to overschedule ourselves. Our kids love spending hours playing in the sand and making up games at the pool, so that’s pretty much all we did – breaking to eat lunch or dinner as needed (we had all of our breakfasts at the house, which was a nice way to save a little money).

The beach we drove to was at Lauderdale-By-The-Sea because it was close (about 5 minutes away) and super charming (see below!). Parking was extremely easy and affordable, and there were some restaurants and shops we could walk to from the beach. The beach always had people on it, but by no stretch would I call it crowded. We always got a spot that felt like it was ours and the kids could build in the sand and run in and out of the water without worrying they were splashing sand on other people and stuff like that. The water was the perfect temperature and “temperament” for us all to play in (read: not too rough, but enough waves to keep things interesting).

I’m sorry not to have more exciting recommendations for what to do, but our typical spring break agenda is usually: beach, pool, eat, nap, repeat. We did venture down to the Hollywood Beach Boardwalk one day because it promised some new scenery, but a thunderstorm rolled in right as we arrived so we were rained out of actually enjoying it. The good news is  that by the time we drove home, it was done raining and the kids jumped right back into… you guessed it… the pool.

Where We Ate: Good Food With Good Views

I mentioned that we ate breakfast at home each morning, but we ate out for pretty much every other meal. You guys gave us some FANTASTIC recommendations on Instagram, which we now want to pay forward to anyone else who might be reading this and planning a trip, so thank you for helping to make our trip better than Yelp ever could have. Our first dinner was at a place in Pompano Beach called Beach House because, well, how could we not?

There was a little bit of a wait on a Tuesday night, but we just hung out on the beach until our table was ready. Whoever designed the restaurant outdid themselves (the woven lanterns swayed in the ocean breezes that blew through since the entire restaurant was open-air) and it was very kid friendly. We’re not really food critics, but I’ll say that we both enjoyed our meals a lot! I had ceviche and Sherry had some sort of “life-changing salad” that she couldn’t stop talking about for the rest of the trip.

The next night we tried a restaurant called Cap’s Place in nearby Lighthouse Point, which had been recommended to us because you have to take a (free) boat to get there! You park at this small dock in a town called Lighthouse Point, and this little watercraft picks you up and shuttles you about five minutes across a lake to the restaurant.

The restaurant itself has a really cool backstory: it was built on top of a beached barge and got its start nearly 100 years ago as a rum-running club and casino during the prohibition. They showed us a list of the famous people who’ve eaten there over the years, ranging from FDR to Paris Hilton, so the whole experience was quirky and super memorable. The building was dark and tough to photograph, and while the meal wasn’t our favorite of the trip, the whole boat-to-the-restaurant thing was the most fun meal-related experience we had on the entire trip. So we definitely recommend it!

We also headed back out to Lighthouse Point for another meal at a place called The Nauti Dawg Marina Cafe, which was right around the corner from Cap’s Place. The food was solid and we got to eat right along the marina, so the kids had fun watching boats come in and dock. There was a wait for this restaurant as well, but near the marina was this really colorful collection of townhouses that we walked around while we waited, keeping count of all of the lizards we could find sunbathing on people’s stoops. Our lizard-count got to over 50 (!!!) and as you can imagine, Sherry was extremely excited the entire time – as were the kids.

Our last meal was at the Ocean Grill & Tiki Bar located in the Beachcomber Resort right near our rental in Pompano Beach. I feel like I should have more to say about the food at each of these places, but it honestly was mostly about the location each night. Sitting right by the water and ordering dessert for the kids was the most fun part. At this restaurant we got to eat beachside in an oversized tiki hut. This was literally the view from our table:

Honestly, a lot of the food blended together because most places had similar menus of seafood, salads, and burgers. We were just excited to find so many interesting dining experiences that were kid friendly. All of the places we mentioned above had kids menus (Beach House’s was verbal, so you had to ask the waiter to list everything) and none of them required any special dress code. We also ate more casual lunches at places like BurgerFi, Lunch Room, and Aruba Beach Cafe.

But one of our most memorable finds of the trip was this place, called… wait for it… Bean & Barnacle.

For those who have followed our blog for a while, you may remember that while Sherry was pregnant with our daughter, we referred to her as “Bean” and when she was pregnant with our son, he was dubbed “Barnacle” (by his sister, who was going through an Octonauts phase at the time). So to see that odd pairing of words emblazoned on a Florida coffee shop was such a funny surprise. We stopped in for gelato, and the interior was pretty cool too.

We’ve been home over a week now, and we’re all still mourning the fact that we’re not still in Florida on vacation. It seriously was one of the best trips we’ve taken as a family, and it makes us so eager to take another (and a lot less scared to fly with the kids). So I hope that sharing some of the details are helpful to anyone else who’s contemplating a trip there.

Speaking of which, here are some of our past vacation posts if you’re looking for more travel ideas:

Our Anniversary Trip To Puerto Rico

A Summer Vacation To Destin, Florida

Hawaii Part 1: How We Saved Money

Hawaii Part 2: What We Did 

The post Our Family’s Favorite Spring Break Yet appeared first on Young House Love.

Our Family’s Favorite Spring Break Yet published first on https://bakerskitchenslimited.tumblr.com/

[truereviewpage]

Our Family’s Favorite Spring Break Yet

Since our daughter started elementary school a few years ago, spring break has become an increasingly precious opportunity to get away, clock some quality family time, and soak in some long-overdue warm weather. Last year’s spring break vacation to Cape Canaveral, Florida checked all of the right boxes and we were tempted to just repeat that trip again this year. But we pushed ourselves to see if we could make this year’s getaway even better and explore a new part of Florida while we were at it – and we are SO GLAD WE DID. So for anyone else looking for a great family vacation spot or, like us, if you’re just ready to start dreaming about next year’s spring break – here’s a quick recap of our family’s trip to South Florida.

Where We Went

Our #1 priority for the trip was “guaranteed beach weather,” and going to South Florida was the most convenient destination that could guarantee us hot temperatures in early April. We love a good road trip, but we wasted four days driving to Florida and back last year… so we decided to give flying a go this year (a first for us with both kids + the dog). A couple of airlines fly direct to Fort Lauderdale from our airport here in Richmond, VA, and we remembered Fort Lauderdale very fondly from our first book tour, so we figured anything within a 30-minute drive of that airport would be perfect. We actually ended up in a small area north of Fort Lauderdale called Pompano Beach and spent most of our time in nearby towns like Lauderdale-By-The-Sea, Lighthouse Point (seen below), and Deerfield Beach, so we never actually stepped foot in Fort Lauderdale proper.

We haven’t flown as a family since our 2012 trip to Hawaii when our daughter was nearly 2 years old. Our hellish red-eye flight back to Virginia (there was lots of crying and zero sleeping) planted a deep-seeded fear of flying with children for several years, but now that she’s almost 8 and our son is 4, it felt like a 2-hour direct flight to Florida would be an easy way to dip our toes back into the family flight waters.

The flight went even better than expected. We flew Spirit Airlines (we’re infamously cheap travelers) and even though they nickel-and-dime you for everything from carry-on bags to in-flight water, it ended up being noticeably less expensive than our next best option, JetBlue. We were even able to bring Burger (our chihuahua) with us without any trouble. He flew to Alaska for our honeymoon, so he has proven himself to be a travel champ (yes, we brought our dog on our honeymoon, and yes we know how that sounds). See him there chilling at Sherry’s feet while she sports what she calls her “nervous travel face”?

A rental car was also a must on our list, so we got a minivan to ensure we’d have enough room for luggage, car seats, and beach gear. We brought car seats with us (we weren’t guaranteed that the rental place would have them since we were arriving really late at night) and thankfully Spirit will check car seats and strollers for free. We talked a little bit more about juggling the dog, the dog crate, car seats, bags, and kids at an airport in podcast episode #92 if you’re curious how that went…

Where We Stayed: A Private Rental

Last year’s trip taught us the wonders of renting a house for spring break. Even though we could all pile into a hotel room, we’ve never regretted at least considering the option of not sharing walls with other vacationers (especially when we’ve got kids and a dog with us). Heck, sometimes a beach rental for the week actually breaks down to being cheaper than a hotel when you do the math to figure out the per-night cost. Last year our rental in Cape Canaveral was 1 of 3 units in a building, so we did have people above us and we all shared a communal pool. It ended up not being a problem (the other renters didn’t use the pool very much, so we had it mostly to ourselves) but this year we looked around online for a detached home with its own pool that was still within our budget, and thankfully we found this one.

We searched across Airbnb, VRBO, and HomeAway for pet-friendly rentals with a pool located within 30 minutes of the Fort Lauderdale airport. We found this gem in Pompano Beach on HomeAway and we could not recommend it more highly. It. Was. Awesome. Not only did the kids love having the entire pool to splash around in, but Burger LOVED having free reign of the yard (last year he had to share a fenced area with another dog, and let’s just say they quickly became frenemies).

The interior furnishings are pretty much what you’d expect from a vacation rental (nothing that felt fancy or precious – which is AWESOME when you’re traveling with kids) and the beach wasn’t really within easy walking distance like the listing says, but the pool was PERFECT and the house and neighborhood were pleasantly very quiet and private. It just took us a few minutes to drive down to the beach and we always found parking (which was nice and cheap), so we really ended up loving everything about it.

The house was located in a small residential neighborhood on Terra Mar Island, a little island in the Intracoastal Waterway. This little bit of separation from the main thoroughfare helped it feel like a secluded and charming suburb – unlike all of the high-rise hotels and condos along the oceanfront. It felt nestled, private, and un-trafficed… even though it was close to everything.

The house itself was surrounded by tall thick foliage on all sides – making it feel like you had the whole island to yourself. We skipped the beach entirely for a couple of days because we were having so much fun just hanging out by the pool. And yes, Sherry has never been more convinced that we need a pool at our own house than after this vacation. #helpme

For any other families who might rent this place: they warned me ahead of time that they didn’t provide beach or pool toys (just chairs, towels, and a beach cart). We certainly weren’t going to bring buckets and shovels on the plane, so we planned to buy them at a dollar store once we got down there… but a previous renter had left a couple for us – along with a pool float and ball. We also picked up some beach toys and pool noodles at the CVS just down the street, all of which we left for future renters – so here’s hoping the cycle continues.

What We Did: Beach, Pool, And Eat

We are very chill vacationers and this spot was perfect for that. I know some families love to cram in tons of new activities and sightseeing on vacations, but our goal for this trip was just to unwind and be together, so we consciously avoided the pull to overschedule ourselves. Our kids love spending hours playing in the sand and making up games at the pool, so that’s pretty much all we did – breaking to eat lunch or dinner as needed (we had all of our breakfasts at the house, which was a nice way to save a little money).

The beach we drove to was at Lauderdale-By-The-Sea because it was close (about 5 minutes away) and super charming (see below!). Parking was extremely easy and affordable, and there were some restaurants and shops we could walk to from the beach. The beach always had people on it, but by no stretch would I call it crowded. We always got a spot that felt like it was ours and the kids could build in the sand and run in and out of the water without worrying they were splashing sand on other people and stuff like that. The water was the perfect temperature and “temperament” for us all to play in (read: not too rough, but enough waves to keep things interesting).

I’m sorry not to have more exciting recommendations for what to do, but our typical spring break agenda is usually: beach, pool, eat, nap, repeat. We did venture down to the Hollywood Beach Boardwalk one day because it promised some new scenery, but a thunderstorm rolled in right as we arrived so we were rained out of actually enjoying it. The good news is  that by the time we drove home, it was done raining and the kids jumped right back into… you guessed it… the pool.

Where We Ate: Good Food With Good Views

I mentioned that we ate breakfast at home each morning, but we ate out for pretty much every other meal. You guys gave us some FANTASTIC recommendations on Instagram, which we now want to pay forward to anyone else who might be reading this and planning a trip, so thank you for helping to make our trip better than Yelp ever could have. Our first dinner was at a place in Pompano Beach called Beach House because, well, how could we not?

There was a little bit of a wait on a Tuesday night, but we just hung out on the beach until our table was ready. Whoever designed the restaurant outdid themselves (the woven lanterns swayed in the ocean breezes that blew through since the entire restaurant was open-air) and it was very kid friendly. We’re not really food critics, but I’ll say that we both enjoyed our meals a lot! I had ceviche and Sherry had some sort of “life-changing salad” that she couldn’t stop talking about for the rest of the trip.

The next night we tried a restaurant called Cap’s Place in nearby Lighthouse Point, which had been recommended to us because you have to take a (free) boat to get there! You park at this small dock in a town called Lighthouse Point, and this little watercraft picks you up and shuttles you about five minutes across a lake to the restaurant.

The restaurant itself has a really cool backstory: it was built on top of a beached barge and got its start nearly 100 years ago as a rum-running club and casino during the prohibition. They showed us a list of the famous people who’ve eaten there over the years, ranging from FDR to Paris Hilton, so the whole experience was quirky and super memorable. The building was dark and tough to photograph, and while the meal wasn’t our favorite of the trip, the whole boat-to-the-restaurant thing was the most fun meal-related experience we had on the entire trip. So we definitely recommend it!

We also headed back out to Lighthouse Point for another meal at a place called The Nauti Dawg Marina Cafe, which was right around the corner from Cap’s Place. The food was solid and we got to eat right along the marina, so the kids had fun watching boats come in and dock. There was a wait for this restaurant as well, but near the marina was this really colorful collection of townhouses that we walked around while we waited, keeping count of all of the lizards we could find sunbathing on people’s stoops. Our lizard-count got to over 50 (!!!) and as you can imagine, Sherry was extremely excited the entire time – as were the kids.

Our last meal was at the Ocean Grill & Tiki Bar located in the Beachcomber Resort right near our rental in Pompano Beach. I feel like I should have more to say about the food at each of these places, but it honestly was mostly about the location each night. Sitting right by the water and ordering dessert for the kids was the most fun part. At this restaurant we got to eat beachside in an oversized tiki hut. This was literally the view from our table:

Honestly, a lot of the food blended together because most places had similar menus of seafood, salads, and burgers. We were just excited to find so many interesting dining experiences that were kid friendly. All of the places we mentioned above had kids menus (Beach House’s was verbal, so you had to ask the waiter to list everything) and none of them required any special dress code. We also ate more casual lunches at places like BurgerFi, Lunch Room, and Aruba Beach Cafe.

But one of our most memorable finds of the trip was this place, called… wait for it… Bean & Barnacle.

For those who have followed our blog for a while, you may remember that while Sherry was pregnant with our daughter, we referred to her as “Bean” and when she was pregnant with our son, he was dubbed “Barnacle” (by his sister, who was going through an Octonauts phase at the time). So to see that odd pairing of words emblazoned on a Florida coffee shop was such a funny surprise. We stopped in for gelato, and the interior was pretty cool too.

We’ve been home over a week now, and we’re all still mourning the fact that we’re not still in Florida on vacation. It seriously was one of the best trips we’ve taken as a family, and it makes us so eager to take another (and a lot less scared to fly with the kids). So I hope that sharing some of the details are helpful to anyone else who’s contemplating a trip there.

Speaking of which, here are some of our past vacation posts if you’re looking for more travel ideas:

Our Anniversary Trip To Puerto Rico

A Summer Vacation To Destin, Florida

Hawaii Part 1: How We Saved Money

Hawaii Part 2: What We Did 

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