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Brother Gregor never spoke and often spooked the neophytes with his appearance, but he was a gentle soul and a phenomenal cook and knew more ways to prepare a fish than the abbot knew hymns
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Being a young adult is so strange. You enter a coffee shop. The 20 year old girl waiting behind you cried all night because she just came to a new city for university and she feels so alone. That 27 year old guy over there works a job he is overqualified for, he lives with his parents and wants to move out but doesn't know what to do about it. That one 24 year old dude already has a car, a house, and a job waiting for him once he graduates thanks to his dad's connections. The 26 year old barista couldn't complete his higher education because he has to work and take care of his family. The 28 year old girl sitting next to you has no friends to go out with so she is texting her mother. That couple (both 25 years old) are married and the girl is pregnant. The 29 year old writing something on her laptop has realized that she chose the wrong major so she is trying to start all over. We are not alone in this, but we are actually so alone. Do you feel me
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This was supposed to be a post about our cat demonstrating Plato’s allegory of the cave, but then she chased the shadow up the wall and discovered that she can scramble up drywall (there are no pictures of this because we were like “BABY NO” and intervened). So yeah, she’s straight up just climbing the walls now. Precious baby. Nightmare baby.
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listen i do not believe i'm able to communicate with chao in any way but when the unmistakable sound of raccons having a fistfight on the roof broke out and we looked at each other I firmly believe the shared thought was "you hear that too, right?"
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flickr
A satirical papyrus showing a lady mouse being served wine by a cat while another cat dresses her hair, a third cares for her baby, and a fourth fans her. The mice have hilarious huge, round ears.
Where: Egyptian Museum Cairo
When: New Kingdom
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Caves are weirder and more varied than you think
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I’m a teacher assistant for spanish grammar and the professor was explaining epícenos (single gendered words that encompass masculine and feminine beings) and he was using iguana as an example and he said: “there is only one gender… iguana” and i had to mute my microphone
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Reading a book about slavery in the middle-ages, and as the author sorts through different source materials from different eras, I am starting to understand why so many completely fantastical accounts of "faraway lands" went without as much as a shrug. The world is such a weird place that you can either refuse to believe any of it or just go "yeah that might as well happen" and carry on with your day.
There was this 10th century arab traveller who wrote into an account that the fine trade furs come from a land where the night only lasts one hour in the summer and the sun doesn't rise at all in the winter, people use dogs to travel, and where children have white hair. I don't think I'd believe something like that either if I didn't live here.
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This guy always takes his chocolate art to the next level!!... Omg!!
(Source)
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Glowing Giant Fish Made of Discarded Plastic Bottles, Playa de Botafogo, Rio de Janeiro, Brasil
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the very rare phenomenon of a volcano producing vapor rings/volcanic vortex rings. Mount Etna today (April 5, 2024) by Boris Behncke
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The great thing about having no internet for a couple of weeks is, you get so much stuff done. I've made great strides in my fight against invasive plants in the pasture!
^ This large rock used to be lost in a sea of broom, you couldn't even see it.
It's a lot more fastidious now that I'm uprooting plants one by one with the root slayer instead of clearing the whole area with a brushcutter, but hopefully they'll no longer be able to sneakily bide their time underground and then grow back even stronger from their intact root system.
I took some in-progress pictures—don't these invasive plants look like a retreating army?
We've had a tiny bit of April snow—I don't know if I can call it that, the air just felt icy and wet and tangible, if I opened my mouth I could feel snowflakes fly into it but nothing was actually falling on the ground. It felt like being repeatedly enveloped then dismissed by clouds that had made plans to drop their snowflakes elsewhere.
But every time I saw Pandolf he looked like a starry night, so there really were snowflakes in the air!
It felt very satisfying to come home with my face and hands all numb and warm up by stuffing entire wheelbarrows' worth of broom into the wood oven then throwing a match. Ever since I've learnt that this plant attracts ticks, burning it has felt like defeating two enemies at once. I listen to the lovely little crackling sounds of a broomfire and picture hundreds of ticks popping like popcorn.
My animals didn't enjoy being stuck inside snow clouds all day—I saw the llamas use their shelter for once, and Pandolf politely asked to come in and sit by the fire instead of staying out to collect more snowflakes in his fur, so I think they were all already in spring mode in their minds.
Merricat also (less politely) asked for shelter, but Merricat treats every instance of wet weather like a national scandal that I personally failed to prevent.
Even the hens wanted to come sit by the fire, and when I said no (you are hens), one of them ignored me and walked in, resolutely, clucking for the younger hen to follow her, like "let me teach you how it's done".
You know when you want to eat a crêpe in a crêpe restaurant in Paris and the waiter looks baffled that you envisage to buy food in his food establishment and he says no that won't possible, and you're like these people over there are having coffee they're almost done we'll just wait inside for their table!, and (with mounting horror) he says no no no if you really insist on giving us your money then you must wait in the street for the privilege, and watch the diners through the window like little orphans, and then your more assertive, confident friend militantly walks in anyway, encouraging you like, come on he's not gonna call the police, we're about to pay 12€ for 1 crêpe I think we can wait inside thank you very much—because a dismissive aristocratic aplomb is the only attitude that'll get you a table in a crêperie in Montparnasse sometimes? It was pretty much this dynamic. Between me and my hens.
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