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Roberta sips her coffee as she slumps into the back of her chair and gazes through the window at the umbratic front yard. The sky dims and releases a sigh of a breeze wafting in the opening droplets of the rainfall’s exposition. More drops join in accelerating toward the earth, casting a breeze from their path. The plants shake off their winter shivers and the grass sways to catch a drop on each angle of every blade.
It’s a good day to bring the plants outside.
Roberta wheels her chair to the kitchen making her way to the makeshift greenhouse; the kitchen sink and a lamp clamped atop the adjacent cupboard casting white on green tangles of vines and leaves between the sink and window sill. She plucks the aloe plant within reach from the edge of the sink, places it on her lap, and wheels to the front door where her crutches leaned. As she’s leaning forward to hoist herself up with a crutch, she cracks the door and gives the aloe a gentle toss to make the extra inch out onto the porch, which lands dusting the welcome mat sparingly with a bit of loose soil.
That’s fine, it’ll blow away in this weather.
Roberta crutches back toward the kitchen sink greenhouse scooting her chair ahead with each step, and collects the plants from the sill onto the seat. She carts them back finding she left the door cracked.
Oh oopf-, well, it’s a bit stale, might as well refresh the air in here.
Roberta nudges the door wide open with a tap of a crutch, steps out in front of the chair in the doorframe, and passes the plants one-by-one from the seat to the edge of the porch. The overhang facilitates water to collect in drops that splash when they fall, a revitalizing bath for the plants. She looks down and back at the welcome mat to find only the dust departing grain by grain, at a velocity more languid as the storm moistens the air.
Where is the aloe?
With no memory of moving it, Roberta inspects the plants, tilting her head and leaning side-to-side to get a glimpse of each at different angles finding none were aloe. She leans forward craning her neck to catch a glimpse over the edge of the porch, to no sight of it. Drooping back to rest her weight on a crutch, she sighs as her eyes wander back to the welcome mat.
What’s this?
More dust is breezing in joining the route of the dust departing the door mat. Roberta looks in the direction the new dust is coming from. Mini dust piles separated by about the length of her foot form a trail wrapping around the corner of the entryway toward the gardens. The piles zig zag ever so slightly around a single imaginary line in what looks like clumsy little spills, the left piles spattering left to right, the right piles spattering right to left. |
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| There are no conversations. |
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March 9, 2021, 10:01 p.m. |
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| Dolly Parton |
I say, 'Yeah, Taylor Swift.' I think she is a smart, beautiful girl. I think she's making all the right moves. She's got a good head on her shoulders. She's surrounded with wonderful people. Her songs are great. She keeps herself anchored. She knows who she is, and she's living and standing by that. |
| Vidya Balan |
The stakes are high on every film now because there's the opening weekend. The first week is extremely crucial; increasingly, films are being judged in terms of opening day, opening weekend, then first week. People are going berserk promoting their films. |
| Ernest Gaines |
I was raised by a lady that was crippled all her life but she did everything for me and she raised me. She washed our clothes, cooked our food, she did everything for us. I don't think I ever heard her complain a day in her life. She taught me responsibility towards my brother and sisters and the community. |
| Anne Edwards |
She claimed she loved the camera, its warmth, its familiarity. She responded to its naked glare, its slavish attention to every expression of her face and body, with the kind of immediacy a trusted lover could expect. |
| Maria Bamford |
My mom is very structured. She gets up, she does her prayers, and she eats her oatmeal with blueberries and Greek yogurt, and she has her prayer list, and she doesn't worry too much about things. |
| Julian Fellowes |
The moment I was introduced to my wife, Emma, at a party I thought, here she is - and 20 minutes later I told her she ought to marry me. She thought I was as mad as a rat. She wouldn't even give me her telephone number - and she wrote in her diary: 'A funny little man asked me to marry him.' |
| Agnetha Faltskog |
I have always had strong maternal instincts. Even when I was still a child I cut out pictures of prams from newspapers and imagined the feeling of pushing my own pram through fresh winter snow and seeing the wheels' tracks behind me in the snow. |
| Henry David Thoreau |
As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives. |
| Mahmoud Darwish |
Against barbarity, poetry can resist only by confirming its attachment to human fragility like a blade of grass growing on a wall while armies march by. |
| Trishelle Cannatella |
I tried out for another show while I was in college so I could pay off my student loans, and it sort of led to The Real World. The same people that were casting that show were casting The Real World, so they asked me to do it. |
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I had a dream that some government was coming to abduct me. They put me on boat but then I started meditating and I floated up into the air and blew away on the breeze back to shore and through a forest and I just kept flying.
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I'm catching up on walk thoughts here. I think the elves should deliver plants to Roberta's porch after they become friends. Maybe there are some special plants from the land beyond their portal.
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Group of Biologists Tries To Bury the Idea That Plants Are Conscious
Frustrated by more than a decade of research which claims to reveal intentions, feelings and even consciousness in plants, more traditionally minded botanists have finally snapped. Plants, they protest, are emphatically not conscious. From a report:
The latest salvo in the plant consciousness wars has been fired by US, British and German biologists who argue that practitioners of "plant neurobiology" have become carried away with the admittedly impressive abilities of plants to sense and react to their environments. While ...
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Scientists Have 'Hacked Photosynthesis' To Boost Crop Growth By 40 Percent (npr.org)
There's a big molecule, a protein, inside the leaves of most plants. It's called Rubisco, which is short for an actual chemical name that's very long and hard to remember. Rubisco has one job. It picks up carbon dioxide from the air, and it uses the carbon to make sugar molecules. It gets the energy to do this from the sun. This is photosynthesis, the process by which plants use sunlight to make food, a foundation of life on Earth. "But it has what we like to call one fatal flaw," Amanda Cavanagh, a biologist and post-doctoral researcher at the University of Illinois, says. Unfortunately, Rubisco isn't picky enough about what it grabs from the air. It also picks up oxygen. "When it does that, it makes a ...
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I had a dream that I was looking out over my parents backyard and it was flooded. I could see them down by the river on a patch of grass that wasn't covered with water. The neighbor's yard was mostly above water, but a large portion of my parent's yard was underwater. Then I saw what looked like a huge fish near the edge of their property. It was the size of a large dog and it had eyes probably as big as my head. It looked like 2 or 3 eyes and it looked like it was mostly above water, but when it got to the land it crawled out and I could see a huge crablike body underneath. It was approaching my parents and I yelled out to them and they turned around. It froze, so I thought it was afraid of them and that they were safe. I put my coat on and went outside. I was standing far away from the water but I felt something on my back. I reached back and pulled something off of it. It was a big crab leg. Then I still felt something and I did it again. Another leg. Then I felt something biting m...
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A blind man walks into a bar. And a table. And a chair.
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it's somewhere in the future. giants roam. they start to upcycle brick buildings, using them for storage, plant stands, and ottomans.
some humans are around, they're friends with the giants at least in this town. the giants grow giant plants and pot them in their terracotta pottery creations. The kilns fire up in the winter and the human spa next door--who has a wall on the outside of the kiln--have a seasonal special of kiln-powered baths.
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Giving Back Entertainment http://GivingBackEntertainment.com
Thank you for stopping by! Let us tell you about “Giving Back, Entertainment”.
Based out of Lansing, Michigan- The Label was founded with one purpose: To help our local communities through music. Every song, album, or merchandise offered through Giving Back Entertainment goes to charitable causes such as winter clothing and food drives for children and the homeless.
The foundation of Giving Back Entertainment ensures that it’s mis...
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I had a dream my friend and I were walking quickly across the surface of a lake in the dark. There were long skinny strands of leafy plants just barely under the surface of the water and it almost looked like they were providing a path but our feet didn't touch them. Our feet only touched the surface of the water. It seemed like we were trying to carefully escape something but we were afraid we might break the surface of the water.
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"Continue to do this with something different every time you see them. "So what's this this giant chair thing we're all sitting on called again? Oh, a Couch! It's very interesting!""
""Tastes very strange!""
This post is a comment.
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