Bufflehead Cabin

Practically speaking, a life that is vowed to simplicity, appropriate boldness, good humor, gratitude, unstinting work and play, and lots of walking brings us close to the actual existing world and its wholeness.
-Gary Snyder

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The highest reward for a person’s toil is not what they get for it, but what they become by it.

John Ruskin (via chaos-mikka)

(via plurdledgabbleblotchits)

scipak:

A More Ancient Origin of Animal-Built Reefs

The discovery of an approximately 548-million-year-old reef in Namibia, made of the world’s earliest known skeletal animals, suggests that these aquatic organisms built reefs before the Cambrian explosion (currently dated to have begun around 540 million years ago). Until now, the oldest reefs on record made of such metazoans had been dated to about 530 million years of age. The researchers’ findings not only imply that metazoans had been building reefs millions of years before the Cambrian explosion, but also that the evolutionary pressures that led to hard parts on and connecting animals, such as skeletons and reefs, were present millions of years prior to that great speciation event as well.

Read more about this research from the 27 June issue of Science here.

[Image courtesy of Fred Bowyer. Please click here for more information.]

© 2014 American Association for the Advancement of Science. All Rights Reserved.

(via femmeviva)

ringtales:

black krim

She liked seeing, and learning, and naming things. Daisies. Day’s eyes, she learned with a frisson of pleasure. Buttercups, glossy yellow, a lovelier colour than gold, and the ubiquitous dandelions, fiercely yellow with toothed leaves and seedheads finer than wool, their seeds black dots like the tadpoles in the clouds of jelly-spheres in the pond. In spring the field was thick with cowslips, and in the hedgerows, in the tangled bank, under the hawthorn hedge and the ash tree, there were pale primroses and violets of many colours, from rich purple to a white touched with mauve. Dandelion, dent-de-lion, lionstooth, her mother told her. Her mother liked words. There were vetches and lady’s bedstraw, forgetmenots and speedwells, foxgloves, viper’s bugloss, cow parsley, deadly nightshade (wreathed in the hedges), willowherb and cranesbill, hairy bitter-cress, docks (good for wounds and stings), celan-dines, campions and ragged robin. She watched each one, as they came out, in clumps sprinkled across the grass, or singletons hidden in ditches or attached to stones.

A. S. Byatt - Ragnarok: The End of the Gods

[Which I’m reading. As an aside: For an ethno-botany class I took a few years ago, each student interviewed campus subjects to survey their knowledge of plant names. The class was curious about the lexicographical distance between American students and similarly young people participating in cultures that derive a major portion of their sustenance from the surrounding terrain. These latter previously had been surveyed when they were found to possess an encyclopedic knowledge of local flora. The American students were capable of recognizing & naming a pine tree, but could tell nothing a pine’s variations.]

slavesandqueens:

Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvior

(via tsparks)

manacrystals:

I would kill to make you feel, I would kill to move your face an inch.

[Amanda, the great & powerful]

(via clothedinsky)

(via cabrapreta)

deathandmysticism:

Brulé Sioux, a Sioux medicine man, ca. 1880-1910

(via somossopa)

Other people are bright;
I alone am dark.
Other people are sharp;
I alone am dull.
Other people have purpose;
I alone don’t know.
I drift like a wave on the ocean,
I blow as aimless as the wind.

I am different from ordinary people.
I drink from the Great Mother’s breasts.

Lao Tzu (via fernsandmoss)

(via journalofanobody)

m-v-k-k-t-r-i-l-l-v:

From these 2 days seeing coaltrain, I realized, it’s kinda fucked. This guy is out here every night Livin on the streets and being moniker famous and all, yet he doesn’t get anything for it. I told him that there hundreds if not thousands of people online who are posting his stuff and it blew his mind.
Wish I could help him out. Maybe I’m just being sappy but idk seems kinda ferked.

[This is a metaphor for the entire economic system.]

(via rucksackrevolution)

(via rucksackrevolution)

sapta-loka:

Home made strings, American South, 1870

(via somossopa)

journalofanobody:

Busted - Tango Style

[Great images of the dust bowl.]

ringtales:

for a time desire wades by loon-legged
semi-submerged thru star-filled daydreams,
companion to the linden days of july
the buzz pollination an always horizon–
a fertile cantata from stomach to mind.
the bird ascends a trail of water remembers.
it red eyes us without accusation.
you force nothing to obey.
the loon is a compass of feather and float
already it points to four sure directions,
a bill sharp as the darks of piano keys
a medieval dagger indiscriminate, fish or duck chick
down the truth of the neck
through its vulnerability our kisses curve.
you’ll need a bigger canvas this you know
when it lands with excitement, in your lap at the table.
the studied wing is a black
and white mystery against a burden of elevation
that just keeps unfolding.

s.roberts ©2014

dreaminginthedeepsouth:

The next card in the Major Arcana Icon series. This is “The Moon” as represented by the Blessed Virgin Mary. When I was trying to find a saint whose iconographic symbol was a moon, I recalled the old celtic/pagan image of the three phases of the moon (waxing, full, and waning) represented by the Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Then it hit me: that would fit the three traditional images of Mary as Annunciation, Theotokos, and Dormition. The final image, rather than the Dormition, I chose to draw on the tradition of Mary as the first Contemplative to which she retired in her old age. 
(On a side note, should I get the chance to do this icon again in a longer format, I would complete the cycle with the new moon at either end, and include the Birth of Mary and Dormition, which in turn mirror each other in iconography with the infant Mary coming into the world at the hands of her parents and then leaving the world at the hands of Christ.)

[by the very talented Br. Kenneth Hosley]

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