asakiyume: (glowing grass)






I have a plan: I am going to grow a mangrove. You can do it! I checked, and the Internet said yes. First step is to get the seed to sprout. It's possible this seed won't germinate as (a) I picked it (rather than it falling of its own accord--in other words, it may not be ripe yet) and (b) the seeds mustn't be allowed to dry out, and it might have, between the time I picked it and the time I hit upon this plan. But I'm hopeful. And if this seed doesn't work, I'll get another one. Somehow. I think you can order them.



And here is a lawn that is crying out for a thyme pun (I lost track of the thyme... I had all the thyme in the world... )

From a distance



Up close, with bonus clover



And lastly, during my travels this weekend, I saw mermen reclining at ease, while nearby children frolicked. Here is one of them:




asakiyume: (glowing grass)
Mugwort was what I set out for, as I have become addicted to mugwort tea.

Exhibit One: Mugwort

mugwort

It's taller than me, which is something I love in a wildflower or weed. It silhouettes nicely against the sky. )

But on my return, I found something wonderful by the side of the road: a book

found book

It turns out to be King Spruce, by Holman Day. It was published in 1908.

found book

Holman Day (1865-1935) was a Maine native, a journalist and newspaper publisher, and the author of twenty-three novels and three books of ballads. A scholarly article that [livejournal.com profile] wakanomori kindly procured for me dismisses the novels ("None of his publications, unfortunately, can be placed much above the level of the pot-boiler") but takes interest in the ballads. I think I'd like to find the ballads.

I think I'll try the book too, though. I opened at random and found this passage:
"And now, speaking of arresting in the name of the law," snarled the lumber baron, "and your duty that you seem so fond of, Rodlliff, get out your handcuffs for something that's worth while. It's three years in state-prison for maliciously setting fires on timber lands. It's a long vacation in the county jail for assaulting a man without provocation. There's the girl who set that fire; there's the man that struck me. So you see, Lane, your prisoner is going to have company."

Do you sense a villain?


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