Moving to the pacific northwest kinda completely turned around our health, energy and overall mood and it is BECAUSE of all the rainy cloudy days as well as the lush foliage and presence of actual things to do
Everyone has a different environment that’s best for them and SO MANY people hate where they currently live, why isn’t there some massive public program of some sort that just lets people trade places or something?? They can have a trial period before they’re sure and they can just take over each other’s rent and stuff without additional expenses.
Like the ability to go live where you really need is probably one of the most overlooked “shortages” people suffer from and there’s just almost nothing to assist with it
Like living sculptures the trained and pruned forms of Ficus carica (fig) cultivars were coming into leaf on the wall of Wyken Hall restaurant - The Leaping Hare, in Suffolk. In summer the wall is awash with lush green foliage but I really like the winter look of grey branches on the grey timber. Ficus will tolerate poor growing conditions - mine is planted in gravel above dry clay soil and some how still produces tasty fruits.
“She was wrapped in blue. The kind of blue, at that place, where you can’t tell the sea from the sky. She was the sea. She was the sky. The blue was her tribal skin. But she didn’t know it yet.”
I’ve always been a city girl; born and brought up here. I’ve spent my childhood evenings playing lagori, lukka-chuppi, badminton, antakshari, pakda-pakdi, sakli below my building, where we had a small, namesake ground. And if and when we craved for a different space to play in, we took over the building terrace(if we were lucky, the watchman would’ve forgotten to lock it that evening). Sometimes we got lucky, but most times we didn’t. If the grounds got too boring, and the terrace locked, we would diligently go over to every one of our friends’ homes, till at least one of our mothers allowed us to play inside the house. But of course we couldn’t run and jump inside the house, so we would quietly(or not) sit in a corner assigned to us and invent games to keep ourselves entertained. We would play till around 8, and if we hadn’t been summoned home as yet, we would all sit and watch an episode each of Popeye and Scooby dooby doo. This was pretty much our playtime routine back then.
The summer vacations were a lot more stifling. I spent hours immersed in Enid Blyton books while growing up. I craved for the kind of adventures the characters in Secret Seven and Famous Five had. I craved to live in the kind of countryside they lived in. I craved to aimlessly ride my cycle, pluck fresh fruits from trees, get lost in fields, have lakeside picnics with my best friends. I craved for spaces I could call my own, nooks and corners of the woods only I knew about, go hiking in the woods with my friends, find pretty spots where we could break for some delicious snacks. I craved to climb trees, eat freshly plucked fruits, make a bouquet of fresh flowers and get them home to mom, play in a stream, come back home tired and thirsty and hungry after a long day of doing all of these.
But there I was, in a place I can confidently say was the opposite of what I craved for. There was no countryside, no woods, no deserted cabins, hardly any trees at all, no empty roads to cycle on, no picnic spots, no pretty lakes. So we made do with what little we had- the ground, the occasional terrace, and corners of our tiny homes. I lived after all in the heart of Bombay.
This year, I spent around two months in the forest areas of Wayanad in Kerala. Wayanad is one of the most beautiful places in India, and is known for its rich, wild forests. Wayanad has almost 10 different types of tribes that live in different parts of the district. I spent most of my time there with the tribal people, and even lived with them for several days, in their settlements. It took me several days to meet locals, become friends with them, get accustomed to my new surroundings, and for them to be comfortable and open up around a non-local. It was slightly challenging, but I had help from my relatives who lived in the same area, and some friends as well. Fortunately for me, it all worked out smoothly.
The first thing I registered when I went there the first time was that there was nothing around me but lush green foliage and acres and acres of untouched forest land. I had in front of me everything I had craved for since a long long time. But these new surroundings felt so alien to me. Suddenly I was at a loss for what to do or how to be. It felt odd walking around without footwear, with my bare feet touching the soft soil and delicate grass. It seemed odd but luxurious to sit under any tree I wanted to or to sit on the rock by the stream with my feet dipped in the cold water.
It took me a couple of weeks to get accustomed to my new surroundings. I made several tribal friends..gradually, but very very happily eased into my new surroundings, sat outside tribal huts chatting with them for hours(it helped that I’m Malayali, so communicating with them was not a problem), played with the children, chased chickens, sang with them, learnt not to be around river banks in the evenings because that’s when the wild elephants come down to the river to quench their thirst, learnt so many little tricks and secrets of the forests from them..
It was possibly the most beautiful months I’ve had in a very long time. It was the first time in my life I lived away from a city that long. And I couldn’t be happier that I did, even though it was only for those two months. That’s the thing about having lived in a city your entire life; you are so deeply cut off from nature, you don’t know what to do or how to be when you’re put in the heart of it. You feel uneasy, because for so long you have lived only in an urban jungle.
This post is an ode to my newfound tribal skin. Blue
There are ghosts on the turnpikes, in the cracked, and faded inns, reflected in the eyes of flamingo statues standing one-legged on lawns.
There are skeletons dancing from between the foliage, the lush green that blazes to life all year long, only dimming in the brief winters.
We are the women in black on the Orange Blossom Trail, in the seedy side-roads of the most popular tourist attractions. The concrete heart line of our state.
I have tasted your blood, and it’s salty like the sea, sweet like the flowers for which the Spaniards named us. I taste the sun in your veins, and remember it glinting off the beaches, oh but there is nothing quite like the moon on the water when you’re walking across the Sunshine Skyway at night.
You tell your children the Fountain of Youth is in St. Augustine, (and ah, what a thing that the Fountain of Youth was here, in this peninsula, and yet they pretend that the only dark magic is in the bayous of New Orleans) but Life Eternal can only be found in the Everglades.
Oscar de la Renta was trained by Balenciaga, worked for Elizabeth Arden, and has been one of the world’s most successful designers for over 40 years. It’s not hard to see why: His peasant blouse and skirt in silk taffeta are just glorious, their colors evocative of lush autumn foliage. Photo from Mirabella, February 1990.
Title: who are you to make me feel so good? Rating: M Warning: Smut, jealousy, and getting it on in a natural spring. Yeah, this escalated quickly. Character: Keith Alford Alternative Moment: Main Story, Chapter 6 Song:cardiac arrest Summary: His country’s economy is on the verge of collapse. His father sent him away like a child to play nice with the other princes. And now, he’s stranded on a goddamn deserted island with no way to contact a rescue party. There are bigger problems to deal with than how his butler’s flirting with her, so why can’t he stop thinking about it?
Requested By: The two anons that wanted to see a jealous Keith, and something to do with the plane crash. Enjoy!
He has to admit, and oh my is he utterly loath to do so, but the island is beautiful.
The sand is a crystalline, off-white hue that contrasts starkingly against the hypnotic blue of the sea. The trees are full and green, the underbrush peppered with colors of the natural flora. The sun is hot but the ocean breeze is crisp, making the weather humid but not unpleasant.
Had he been here under any other circumstances, it would have been a nice vacation spot. But no, instead he is forced to sit idly while they desperately try to make contact with a rescue team.
It shouldn’t be taking this long, he thinks. He’s been missing for nearly sixteen hours now, he can’t imagine they aren’t at least curious as to where he’s gone.
Even at gunpoint, he would never admit how overwhelming he finds this entire scenario. He’s powerless, hopelessly so, and in his weakness he is panicking. He’s never felt so vulnerable in his entire life, and that doesn’t sit well with him.
He notices movement out of the corner of his eye, and is greeted by the smiling faces of his useless butler and the woman who doesn’t seem to know when to shut her mouth.
They’ve spent a majority of the day off searching the west side of the island. And though he got curious enough to wander after them initially, just in time to catch her stupidly trying to climb a tree and catch her before she broke that slender neck, he quickly conceded defeat. He had done his part, by getting the fruit from atop the tower branches. But no, those two were determined to scour as much of the island as they could before sunset.
She’s beautiful, he notes not for the first time, when her face is alight joy. Hell, even when she’s insulting him and giving him a piece of her unfiltered mind she is stunning. The way her eyes flame up and her indignant stare burns into him makes his heart race and gives him the same adrenaline rush he gets from athletics.
But she’s never smiled at him like that. He’s only ever seen the annoyance, up until now. And that bothers him more than he’d care to admit.
God, if she isn’t the most infuriating woman he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting.
Synopsis: It was a bizarre first meeting. Jung Hoseok was someone I’ve never seen before. I would have known him if he lived in the same town ‘cause everyone in the town knew everyone. Maybe he was a traveler. Then again, he should have had some sort of backpack and warm clothing, right? He was a mystery I would meet every time I went to the forest.
A/N: there might be a chance of another part for this :) enjoy~
I’ve walked through the quiet forest many times before. It was a beautiful forest of lush forestry and foliage. Mushrooms grew from the ground and the bark of trees. There always was a dampness in the air around the beautiful forest. The ground was damp from the heavy amount of rain throughout the years of its life. Sunlight seeped through the cracks of the strangely grown branches and lush green foliage during the day and it was dark as the deep ocean at night. Moss grew on every rock, every tree root sticking out, and more. Trees grew in the weirdest ways: up, sideways, diagonally, and I’ve even seen one grow like a bridge with smaller branches growing upwards towards the heavens.
The trails through the forest were always covered by the dead leaves fallen from the tops of the old trees. They dampened and softened, making a mushy walkway for my feet. No one dared to touch the forest in any harmful way and only Mother Nature has; for her valid reasons, I suppose.
‘C'mon babe, this one has got everything we said we wanted! Five bedrooms, big kitchen, lots of family rooms downstairs, masses of outside space, it’s ready to move in to… you seriously can’t see us living here?’
Chris pulled a face that clearly said no, he couldn’t. The realtor had left you both to ‘get a feel for the place’ and you had to hand it to her, she had the patience of a saint; this was the tenth property you’d viewed in half as many weeks and she still had a dazzlingly white smile on her face every time she gestured dramatically at a ‘focal feature fireplace’ or a 'cosy yet spacious veranda’. You let the deflated feeling take over you for the tenth time that month and your shoulders slumped as you admitted to yourself that Chris was right, this wasn’t the place for you no matter how many of your boxes it ticked.
64 days in heaven and hell (89) Day 7, October 29 - The Elysian Fields This day marks the real start of the ‘Studio of the South’ that Van Gogh had in mind. For the first time, he and Gauguin would work in the field, almost side by side, on more or less the same theme.
They headed towards an old Roman cemetary on the other side of Arles, called “Les Alyscamps”, a Provencal corruption of the Latin ‘Elisii Campi’ (Elysian Fields). Van Gogh hadn’t worked there before and was looking forward to paint the lush-looking autumn foliage and complete the decoration of the Yellow House with some fine autumn scenes.
Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic: Forget-me-not
2.7k words, G rated
There’s a type of Forget-me-not known as Scorpion Grass, and it grows on the banks of the river that runs round the edge of the Malfoy Manor grounds. Forget-me-nots are supposed to help you remember people after they’re gone, and sometimes Scorpius needs help remembering.
This is based on @platinasi‘s beautiful art of Scorpius with forget-me-nots in his hair, and @ohscorbus‘s tag ramble about forget-me-nots and Scorpion Grass. The pair of them are entirely to blame for this fic.
Folk Names: Calendula, Goldes, Holigolde, Marybud, Mary’s Gold.
The Latin name for the plant, ‘Tagetes’ comes from the name, ‘Tages’ an Etruscan prophet of ancient fame who taught others about Divination. Marigolds are considered the flower of the dead in Mexico & are used as a holiday decoration for Mexico’s Day of the Dead celebrations, as well as in the Pagan holiday, Samhain, in which the flowers are used to adorn altars & are common ingredient in Samhain, & Divination Rituals. In the Garden, Marigolds have long been known as ‘protective/sacrificial plants’ in which pests & disease will generally avoid surrounding plants.
Harvest Marigolds at Noon, when the Sun is at it’s hottest, & strongest for use in any Magickal Workings.
Protection: Marigolds are a flower of protection, & harmony. Garlands of Marigold strung upon doorposts will prevent evil & negativity from entering the home. Dried or fresh flowers scattered underneath the bed will protect one whilst sleeping.
Dreaming: Dried Marigold flowers, placed in the pillowcase will help to induce prophetic dreams, also said to aid in making one’s dreams come true. This technique is especially useful for catching a thief who has robbed you.
Justice: Carried in the pocket, Marigold promotes Justice to smile favourably upon you in court.
Misc: Marigolds resonate with the radiant, vibrant energy of the Sun, added to bathwater, it is said to help one win the respect, & admiration of everyone they meet.
Marigold, or Calendula contain anti-inflammatory properties & are converted into oils, & tinctures to treat minor burns, allergic reactions, & eczema. One of the medicinal uses of Marigolds is that it promotes the growth of both new blood vessels as well as new skin tissue, hence it is used in the healing of wounds such as burns, scrapes & irritated skin. They also contain plenty of antioxidants & are very beneficial in getting rid of an oily complexion naturally, In this treatment, fresh flowers need to be soaked in warm water & then applied to the skin at least once a day & allowed to remain for 10 minutes before washing it off. When consumed internally, Marigolds are also known to help against digestive inflammation in the form of duodenal or gastric ulcers on account of its anti-inflammatory properties. Marigold tea is also known to be effective against painful mouth & stomach ulcers as well as colitis.Marigold is also used in the form of an ointment for women who are suffering from breast cancer to minimize the dermatitis that is usually caused by chemotherapy.
Plant in an area that get’s plenty of sunshine, Marigolds tend to thrive in a mildly fertile, well-drained soil. Start seeds indoors about a month, to 6 weeks before the last Spring frost. Keep seedlings in a sunny, warm area, only watering when soil is visibly dry to prevent dampness. Be sure to water plants at the base as Marigolds don’t care for excess water. De-head spent flowers to promote new growth, leaving some to extract seeds if you wish to plant more. Do not fertilize Marigolds, as to rich a soil stimulates lush foliage at the expense of the flowers, Marigolds tend to thrive in a less dense soiL.
Harvest flowers from mature plants, at Noon, on a day when the sun is at it’s hottest, & strongest.