#velvet mesquite
Text
#seedling#mesquite#sand#arizona#photographers on tumblr#textless#amadee ricketts#macro#green#shadow#spring#june#velvet mesquite#san pedro riparian area#texture
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
What if Tucson’s million new trees — and the rest of the country’s — didn’t just keep sidewalks cool? What if they helped feed people, too?
That’s what Brandon Merchant hopes will happen on the shadeless south side of Tucson, a city where about one-fifth of the population lives more than a mile from a grocery store. He’s working on a project to plant velvet mesquite trees that thrive in the dry Sonoran Desert and have been used for centuries as a food source. The mesquite trees’ seed pods can be ground into a sweet, protein-rich flour used to make bread, cookies, and pancakes. Merchant, who works at the Community Food Bank of Southern Arizona, sees cultivating mesquite around the city and surrounding areas as an opportunity to ease both heat and hunger. The outcome could be a network of “food forests,” community spaces where volunteers tend fruit trees and other edible plants for neighbors to forage.
“Thinking about the root causes of hunger and the root causes of health issues, there are all these things that tie together: lack of green spaces, lack of biodiversity,” Merchant said. (The food bank received half a million dollars from the Biden administration through the Inflation Reduction Act.)
Merchant’s initiative fits into a national trend of combining forestry — and Forest Service funding — with efforts to feed people. Volunteers, school teachers, and urban farmers in cities across the country are planting fruit and nut trees, berry bushes, and other edible plants in public spaces to create shade, provide access to green space, and supply neighbors with free and healthy food. These food forests, forest gardens, and edible parks have sprouted up at churches, schools, empty lots, and street corners in numerous cities, including Boston, Philadelphia, Atlanta, Seattle, and Miami.
“It’s definitely growing in popularity,” said Cara Rockwell, who researches agroforestry and sustainable food systems at Florida International University. “Food security is one of the huge benefits.”
There are also numerous environmental benefits: Trees improve air quality, suck carbon from the atmosphere, and create habitat for wildlife, said Mikaela Schmitt-Harsh, an urban forestry expert at James Madison University in Virginia. “I think food forests are gaining popularity alongside other urban green space efforts, community gardens, green rooftops,” she added. “All of those efforts, I think, are moving us in a positive direction.”
194 notes
·
View notes
Text
Seeker
“And once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you would return.” – John Hermes Secondari, Saga of Western Man
Just a young man's passion for the sky and the stars. Fly onward, ever upward.
[view on ao3]
Liberating are the heavens.
And after all, why shouldn’t they be? For what, pray tell, is more freeing than the winds themselves. Vaulted ceilings of changing skies and constellations would live eternal as Alfred’s chapel, his choir the billowing gusts through leaves, his bell the pealing thunder of a spring storm, the very stars mere embellishments upon the walls. Untethered like a wisp of cirrus on a blue morning was where he aspired to be.
Dressed in his darkest clothes Alfred pressed against the wooden slats of the town’s houses. He ducked his head to keep his unnatural eyeshine out of sight from the night watch as one of them drew close, orange lanternlight bobbing steadily. The young boy tried to walk on his toes lest the clack of heel on stone gave him away. Alfred was determined to make it to the crest of hills outside the quiet town, far from tavern voices and revealing light. Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d held; Alfred sprinted the moment the watchman disappeared around a street corner. Quicker he had always run when there was no sun, no eye of any divine to watch him. Further he ran from the warm lights of home and into the velvet embrace of night. Chilling breeze licked at the boy’s heels and appeared to propel him. He only stopped once he surmounted a grassy knoll, immediately letting himself fall back into the prickly green carpet below. Wide oceans met the dense ether above and Alfred smiled to himself. Pictures played out in the silver inkblots above better than any manuscript or chart could hope to achieve. Here he would stay until God’s judging rays turned that sacred blue into gray.
Empires rise and fall, such is the cycle of those fiercely burning suns as the Earth turns so. Humans come and go; such is the view of a creature often untouched by time. How quickly Alfred had tried to move from the shadow of those before him and form an empire of his own. Where better to start than his own open plains, he had decided among the voices of others. Young and boundless energy flowed just as waves of green prairie and amber wheat lulled like rhythmic seas. Glorious loneliness in the face of discovery. Glorious kinship in his only friend upon the ceaseless landscape. Free of eyes and voices altogether as he made rapid progress.
A horse was all Alfred needed. There was no rush here. Freely he flitted from frontier town to rolling hilltops upon wishful wings of his own feather and four sturdy legs of companionship. He would scale the cliffs and bathe in the creeks if he so pleased. Several times a day he would check the position of the sun as it manipulated his cool shadow. Only the sun had such a privilege. Cotton clouds streaked the safe blanket above his head and the boy, now barely a man, pressed onward. How Alfred had scoffed when last he’d talked with his brother. Mathieu was still under their father’s thumb. Alfred had begged – rather, demanded – that Mathieu come with him and escape since he was so seemingly bent against joining his brother in excellent independence. His brother had refused. No one ever gave Mathieu credit for being stubborn when it suited him. Well, it was Mathieu’s loss, Alfred thought as he watched the heavens morph in real-time. Dusty hills covered in scrub broke the horizon, framing a lone mesquite tree in relief upon a backdrop of soft lavender and orange sky. Pink limned long clouds, outstretched fingers over the landscape. The only hand Alfred cared to hold. The first glimmers of early evening stars were the only audience the rowdy teen cared to entertain, for the moon was gone, and would be for two days. Whooping and spurring his horse into motion down across the sparse scrub, Alfred performed for the theater above him without reservation.
Flight, oh, wondrous flight. To leave the ground and soar. Had Alfred not dreamt of flight since childhood? Hours he had spent observing birds in their twists and spirals, butterflies in graceful meandering, and the sharp snaps of the rare bat to his home. Imagining the world buoyed up by wings of his own fed him like no other. If Icarus had flown too close to the sun, well, Alfred would show him how it should be done. To float, to fly, to fall. And how reluctantly would Alfred remember the three words Arthur had impressed upon him for years: onward, ever upward. He would show them and make those words his. Onward, ever upward. That was how it had been. That was how it must be.
Alfred’s lungs stung with cold air. He would not trade this feeling for all the warmest summers his home had to offer. The muffled sound of the engine in front of him, the whirring of a propeller, the glare of bright light against his canopy. Music, sweet music. Loosing a laugh of pure joy into the tight space he only pushed his aircraft further, harder, higher. Resistance came as the plane could no longer climb, a weightless sensation stalling Alfred in the endless stratosphere. He tipped the control stick and hung there, waiting for gravity to enact her oppressive law upon his being. Like clockwork she came for them both and Alfred kicked his aircraft into a controlled spiral. White light flared off his wings as he spun back toward Earth. Slowly the duo turned their noses down. Gloved hands perilously left the joystick to pet the marvel of engineering that the young man controlled. His protective glasses swirled with ribbons of blue and white, pure as a spring and real as his own flesh. This was where he belonged. Alfred’s heart shrieked, racing as he regained control of his trajectory and watched the solid ground speed toward him. Pulling hard on the stick, he once again felt a moment of weightless bliss when the plane around him strained against momentum and pitched skyward once more. Though his energy was stretched, he brought his steadfast steed into a wide barrel roll before straightening out low. Euphoria bloomed through the young man’s body and only then did he perceive the harsh reprimand coming through his radio. Alfred didn’t care, he only wanted more.
Humanity soon sought ever higher reaches and Alfred lived for it. No longer could mere flight satisfy the curiosity of hundreds, thousands, millions. Longing for the celestial had never left any of them. How often Alfred had seen stories of the sidereal, the yearning for things beyond reach. That yearning was one of his own. Onward, ever upward, past the clouds, the atmosphere, and even the Earth herself. Curiosity drove him like incessant spirits. What more was out there? And who could stop him if he tried to jump for it? Why wouldn’t anyone want to see it?
Tears had welled in the man’s eyes the first time he saw the Earth from three hundred kilometers up. Alfred would never admit it, but he had cried at seeing their patchwork marble from so far away and looking so uncharacteristically peaceful. That NASA had selected him for the astronaut candidate program was already a miracle for him. The fact that he had passed to be allowed onboard Columbia for this mission, STS-55 or D-2, was downright mystical. Seven other crew members sat aboard the Space Shuttle, two of them German astronauts from the ESA. Alfred’s seat was mid-deck beside them. Their goal was to reach Spacelab for experiments and – what Alfred was even more excited for – the testing of the SAREX II radio system. Average civilians would be allowed to speak to them from miles away as they touched the stars. Experiments were cool and all – and the American was riding high on the thrill of anticipation and discovery, there was no mistake of that – but knowing that he could speak to someone from the edge of the vast universe might just cause him to burst. Truly weightless, what a feeling! Seeing a storm swirl above the Earth with such a view compared to nothing else. Coming back to land had saddened Alfred more than he wanted to let show. The things he would do to go back again.
Liberating are the heavens. Alfred had experienced them firsthand. And why shouldn’t they be? Being alone in the sky was more freeing than anything he’d felt before. The space to be himself without thought, to become lost in too much thought, and the space to simply see unbidden, with no judgment or nattering voices that weren’t his own. He had run past the winds, flown higher than the thunder, and seen the stars with his own eyes. Justified was he in believing in their unchained opportunity. And dare he would fly ever higher.
#hetalia#aph america#hws america#alfred f jones#very self-indulgent in a way#one of my greatest heroes growing up was sally ride#my mom once wanted to be an astronaut and so did i#this was inspired by nothing special#just a boy and his love for the heavens#this has always been a part of alfred's character that i've loved and related to#i think it encapsulates so much of him#please be gentle#papa echo november#writing#i did not have anyone beta read this my apologies in advance#alfred f jones // daring to fly
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
This is a 3 ft deep hole I’ve been filling with organic matter all summer. I’m going to plant a velvet mesquite tree in October.
The pallet structure is my plant watering station and outdoor shower. It has a grey water system that connects to the soon to be, mesquite guild. I’m also going to utilize the structure as a trellis to grow dragonfruit. As the weather gets cooler I’ll be spending more time on the land planting trees and designing a meditation garden.
Rocket ship blast off and a desert sunset.
http://www.patreon.com/Rahealingdesertranch.com
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sonoran Desert Plants & Their Magic
Creosote Bush
Larrea tridentata
A.k.a Stinkweed, Chaparral, and Hediondilla
image source
Creosote is a prominent plant in the southwestern portion of North America, it's range includes the Sonoran, Mojave, and Chihuahuan deserts.
Correspondences
• Element: Water
• Powers: Permanence, longevity, healthy isolation (living alone with a purpose i.e introspection or healing), developing a "tough skin", overcoming challenges, logic, reasoning, order
Mesquite Tree
Prosopis velutina
A.k.a Velvet Mesquite
image source
Velvet Mesquite is found naturally, and plays an important ecological role, in the Sonoran Desert. They grow 20-50 feet in height, or more in well watered areas, less in dry grasslands. The roots far extend the height of the tree, as such Velvet Mesquite can access water sources that are deeper than most plants can reach.
Correspondences
Planet: Saturn
Element: Water, Earth
Powers: Healing, protection, cleansing, purification
Chuparosa
Justica californica
A.k.a Hummingbird Bush
image source
Chuparosa is a flowering bush native to the deserts of Southern California, Arizona, and Northern Mexico. Chuparosa and Chiporosa are both colloquial Spanish terms for "hummingbird". For a short while this shrub produces succulent leaves, it then loses those leaves and grows plentiful tubular flowers. These flowers are generally shades of bright red, but can also be found in shades of yellow. Hummingbirds frequent this low bush to feed on the sweet nectar hidden in the flowers.
Correspondences
Planet: Venus
Powers: Beauty, self-esteem, romance, sexual energy, love, new beginnings, positivity
Brittle Bush
Encelia farinosa
image sorce
Brittle bush is a rather common little shrub found in Northern Mexico, Arizona, Southern California, Nevada, and Utah. It's name comes from the brittleness of the stems. A Spanish name for this plant is "incienso" because the dried sap was burned by the early Spanish missions in the New World as incense.
Correspondences
Planetary: Sun
Element: Earth
Powers: Healing, cleansing, luck, empathy, friendship, protection, banishing sickness
Desert Lavender
Hyptis emoryi
A.k.a Bee Sage or Bushmints
Image source
Desert Lavender is found in Arizona, Nevada, California, and Northwestern Mexico. It is a medium to tall perennial shrub that is favored by honeybees in early spring. The violet-blue flowers are profuse along the main stem and side branches.
Native American tribes like the Akimel O'Odham saw this plant as a "pure and holy plant that cleanses all evils away from one's spirit". It's traditional Native American uses include smudge wands that were burned to cleanse the body of diseases and stop heavy menstruation and internal bleeding.
Correspondences
Element: Earth
Animal: Honeybees
Powers: Spirits, purity, banishing, warding, psychic energy & ability, cleansing, protection
Ephedra
Ephedra fasciculata
A.k.a Mormon Tea or Arizona Ephedra
image source
This plant is found mainly in the Mojave, Colorado, and Sonoran deserts. It thrives in creosote bush scrub. Historically it has been used as an alternative to coffee.
Correspondences
Element: Air
Planet: Earth
Powers: Protection, healing, positive energy, cleansing, friendship, happiness, purity, alertness & focus
Yellow Bells
Tecoma stans
A.k.a Yellow Trumpetbush
image source
Yellow Bells is an attractive ornamental vine native to the Americas, and is the official flower of the United States Virgin Islands. It is hardy in nature and can be grown nearly anywhere, becoming an invasive species in some areas. It's large yellow flowers attract many creatures such as hummingbirds, bees, and butterflies.
Correspondences
Element: Earth
Powers: Resilience, dominance, strength, healing, cleansing, banishment, cursing, retaliation
Source 1 | Source 2 | Source 3 | Source 4 |
Source 5 | Source 6 | Source 7 | Source 8 | Source 9 | Source 10 |
#KitchPosting#ReginaSolem#Sonoran Desert#Magic#desert witch#desert magic#some is UPG some is traditional information#herbalism#plant magic#UPG#i hope my sources worked...
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
here where I am there’s a velvet mesquite that’s flowering and all day long it buzzes, the bees really love it
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Last Mojave Indian Barbie
Wired to her display box were a pair of one-size-fits-all-Indians stiletto moccasins, faux turquoise earrings, a dream catcher, a copy of Indian Country Today, erasable markers for chin and forehead tattoos, and two six-packs of mini magic beer bottles—when tilted up, the bottles turned clear, when turned right-side-up, the bottles refilled. Mojave Barbie repeatedly drank Ken and Skipper under their pink plastic patio table sets. Skipper said she drank like a boy.
Mojave Barbie secretly hated the color of her new friends' apricot skins, how they burned after riding in Ken's convertible Camaro with the top down, hated how their micro hairbrushes tangled and knotted in her own thick, black hair, which they always wanted to braid. There wasn't any diet cola in their cute little ice chests, and worst of all, Mojave Barbie couldn't find a single soft spot on her body to inject her insulin. It had taken years of court cases, litigation, letters from tribal council members, testimonials from CHR nurses, and a few diabetic comas just to receive permission to buy the never-released hypodermic needle accessory kit—before that, she'd bought most on the Japanese black market—Mattel didn't like toying around with the possibility of a Junkie Barbie.
Mojave Barbie had been banned from the horse stables and was no longer invited to dinner, not since she let it slip that when the cavalry came to Fort Mojave, the Mojaves ate a few horses. It had happened, and she only let it slip after Skipper tried to force her to admit the Mojave Creation was just a myth: It's true. I'm from Spirit Mountain, Mojave Barbie had said. No, you're not, Skipper had argued. You came from Asia. But Mojave Barbie wasn't missing much—they didn't have lazy man's bread or tortillas in the Barbie Stovetop to Tabletop Deluxe Kitchen. In fact, they only had a breakfast set, so they ate the same two sunny-side-up eggs and pancakes every meal.
Each night after dinner, Mojave Barbie sneaked from the guesthouse—next to the tennis courts and Hairtastic Salon—to rendezvous with Ken, sometimes in the collapsible Glamour Camper, but most often in the Dream Pool. She would yenni Ken all night long. (Yenni was the Mojave word for sex, explained a culturally informative booklet included in Mojave Barbie's box, along with an authentic frybread recipe, her Certificate of Indian Blood, a casino player's card, and a voided per capita check.) They took precautions to prevent waking others inside the Dream House—Mojave Barbie's tan webbed hand covering Ken's always-open mouth muffled his ejaculations.
One night, after drinking a pint of Black Velvet disguised as a bottle of suntan lotion, Ken felt especially playful. Ken was wild, wanted to sport his plastic Stetson and pleather holsters, wanted Mojave Barbie to wear her traditional outfit, still twist-tied to her box. She agreed and donned her mesquite-bark skirt and went shirtless except for strands of blue and white glass beads that hung down in coils around her neck. The single feather in her hair tickled Ken's fancy. He begged Mojave Barbie to wrap her wide, dark hips around him in the “Mojave Death Grip,” an indigenous love maneuver that made him thankful for his double-jointed pelvis. (A Mojave Death Grip Graphic How-To Manual was once included in the culturally informative booklet, but a string of disjointed legs and a campaign by the Girl Scouts of America led to a recall.) Ken pointed his wooden six-shooter and chased her up the Dream Slide. The weight of the perfectly proportioned bodies sent the pool accessory crashing to the patio. Every light in every window painted itself on as the Dream House swung open from the middle, giving all inside a sneak peak at naked Ken's hard body and naked Mojave Barbie gripping his pistol, both mid-yenni and dripping wet.
Ken was punished by Mattel's higher-ups, had his tennis racket, tuxedo, Limited Edition Hummer, scuba and snorkel gear, aviator sunglasses, Harley, windjammer sailboard, his iPad and iPhone confiscated. Mojave Barbie had been caught red-handed and bare-breasted. She was being relocated—a job dealing blackjack at some California casino. On her way out the gate, she kicked the plastic cocker spaniel, which fell sideways but never pulled its tongue in or even barked—she felt an ache behind her 39 EE left breast for her rez dog, which had been discontinued long ago. Mojave Barbie tossed a trash bag filled with clothes and accessories into her primered Barbie Happy Family Volvo, which she'd bought at a yard sale. The car had hidden beneath a tarp in the Dream House driveway since she got there. She climbed through the passenger door over to the driver's seat, an explosion of ripped vinyl, towels, and duct tape. She pumped and pumped the gas pedal, clicked and clicked the ignition, until the jalopy fired up. Mojave Barbie rolled away, her mismatched hubcaps wobbling and rattling, a book of yellow WIC coupons rustling on the dash, and a Joy Harjo tape melted in the tape deck blaring, I'm not afraid to be hungry. I'm not afraid to be full.
Mom and Dad Barbie, Grandma Barbie, Skipper, and Ken stood on the Dream House balcony and watched Mojave Barbie go. Grandma Barbie tilted at the waist whispering to Mom Barbie, They should've kept that one in the cupboard. Dad Barbie piped in, Yep, it's always a gamble with those people. Mom Barbie was silent, hoping the purpling, bruise-like marks the size of mouths circling Ken's neck were not what she thought they were: hickies, or, as the culturally informative booklet explained, a “Mojave necklace.” Skipper complained to Ken that Mojave Barbie had flipped them off as she drove out the wrought-iron gates, which, of course, locked behind her with a clang. Ken fingered the blue bead in his pocket and reassured Skipper, Mojave Barbie was probably waving goodbye—with hands like that, you can never be sure.
— Natalie Diaz, When My Brother Was an Aztec (2012)
#the whole part about diabetes is so heartbreaking#Natalie Diaz#The Last Mojave Indian Barbie#When My Brother Was an Aztec#poetry#prosetry#prose#poet#Native American
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
bourbon street tended to be buzzing with energy at all points in the day but there was a small stretch in the small early hours when riley could get things like inventory done. the french doors were open wide to let in the brine and the gentle breeze. music hummed through the sound system he'd set up several years prior, meant to accompany the live bands that played friday through sunday.
several half empty bottles were on the polished mahogany when the scent sage and ash started drifting in. but, it was a second whiff of mesquite that had riley looking up towards the street.
another witch's familiar, currently known to the world as corbin walked leisurely in with a toothpick held between his lips and both hands stuffed into a very dramatic trench coat. the raven's tall, human figure was always clad in black whenever riley saw him. very 90's goth dramatic.
a step behind him was a werewolf riley hadn't seen in about three years. not since their poor attempt at a relationship went south.
" hale ashwood, " the tall blonde slams down a shot glass despite the time of day. it earned him a lazy grin. wood clattered against ceramic tile as the wolf let gravity pull him down into one of the stools that would be barely visible later in the evening. either customers would fill them or push them aside in attempts to join the revelry.
" hi, babe, " torn knuckles drum against the counter. to riley that had to mean a run in with either magic or silver. something to prevent the wolf from healing as quickly as he normally would. " i need to speak with big daddy ash. "
just like that old frustrations bubbled back to the surface. only one thing would prompt hale to ask about riley's demonic patron; desperation. since it wasn't anywhere close to october that could only mean someone used the death of his pack as a means to get under his skin.
" wasn't me, " corbin chimed in as if reading riley's mind. instead of joining them at the bar, he chooses to walk towards the opposite wall to plop down into a velvet couch. " i was picking up a spell jar when i found him bouncing a head into a wall. "
which made riley's ire settle back down on the amber-eyed shifter sitting in front of him. the love was still there. hard not to spend five minutes around hale and not love him but it was equally difficult to stay for the self destructive spectacle. a younger version of himself thought another home would help ease that pain. both his mothers welcomed him in with open arms. so did several others of the coven. all it did was exasperate everything hale was trying to hide himself from.
" one, please don't call my patron ' daddy. ' two, we've been over this a hundred times. it wasn't demons that killed your family. and - " riley holds up a hand before the wolf can chime in, which earns him a roll of eyes. " if they - whoever - was possessed by something then he doesn't know about it. no one who's passed these wards since the last time you asked has known a fucking thing. "
the scent of sage hit him again. when riley looked up corbin was still sitting on the couch, only now he had a small can of peanuts. he sighed.
looking back at hale, he leans down on the counter to ask, " what happened? "
" i was in gehenna having fun, " the wolf's hand shoots up defensively. " and i may or may not have beat the shit out of a hunter. "
" did you ask dumah? "
another roll of eyes. " i am not now nor am i ever talking to an angel, rye. "
" so...you'll fly half way across the country to ask me? you know you can probably shout his name and he'll come eventually. "
scrunching his nose, hale had the decency to look a little ashamed. " about that... "
#( ㅤ blog ㅤ ) drabbles#hello i have been awake since 4#so this might be the only writing i do today#no i don't know where this came from#but sometimes you gotta write characters to understand them
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Roz and Ulysses dying within weeks of each other is NOT meant to be sad!!!!!!! I think of the old married couples that do the same- so in love and connected to the other that they refuse to let them go into death alone.
When Roz and Ulysses die they die happy. Satisfied and secure in knowing that their girls will be so wonderful in their own lives and they have nothing to worry about. They're going to rest well, under the big velvet mesquite tree they planted as part of the Memorial Garden they made for all the tribes Caesar destroyed
1 note
·
View note
Text
Brother Ass
A working animal,
If given no work,
Will make its own,
And tear and kick and bite and jump
To hurt itself and others.
A working animal,
If given no work,
Will worry away,
And pine and mope and whine and sulk
To everyone’s frustration.
I fed a burro a treat. It was a scrubby little thing,
Mesquite-tree short and baked-earth brown,
it kissed the palm of my hand as it accepted my gift,
Small noises rumbling its barrel solidity,
And I loved it.
How could I not?
But sacrifice is the body of love.
There is nothing evil about unbodied love,
Cupboard loves, close and comforting,
The love for liquid eyes and velvet nose and shaggy fur along the round of sides,
That we cannot help but fill the cracks of our lives with,
But flesh hungers for flesh.
Blood thirsts for blood.
The bodiless love I permit my soft brother through life
Will never satisfy my hunger.
I will have time to sit and talk
Later:
For now, I must tend to my duties.
There are things that need feeding.
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
shanghai 上海 vlog: places to visit, michelin steamed buns, ferry ride on ...
youtube
SHANGHAI - IS - OUR
DESTINATION - TRUE
SHANGHAINESE
FORGIVE - SPELLING
CHINESE - MANDARIN
MAINLAND - CHINA
TAX FREE - HONG KONG
ISLAND - CANTONESE 2
HIRING - HONG KONG
MALES AS MY STAFF
MARTIAL - ARTS
WEAPONS - EXPERTS
RAMEN - NOODLES
PEKING - DUCK
CHINESE - FOOD SINCE
KIDS - MAKING SHUMAI
PORK - BAO - SWEET - 2
RAMEN - NOODLES - FR
SCRATCH - FASTEST YES
COOKS - BAKERS IN THE
WORLD - LOVE - THEM
HONG KONG - GIRLS
SPEAKS - ENGLISH
TELEPHONE - JOBS
CUSTOMER - SERVICE
24 HRS
LIVE - RECEPTION
RECEPTION - DESK
MY - PERSONAL
ASSISTANTS - SINCE
ME - PARIS - FRANCE
ALSO - 5 FLR - BLDG
MY - COUTURE FASHION
BOUTIQUE - WITH FOOD
2 - SHOWCASE - TALENT
RUNWAYS
THINKING - ITZY - AESPA
RED VELVET - GIRLS YES
PARIS - FASHION CAPITAL
OF - THE - WORLD
SUPER - TALL - MODELS
MALES - FEMALES
SHOWCASING - MY - YES
GOING - BACK - 2 - PAST
ROYAL - BRIDES
ROYALTY - CLOTHES
ASIA - AND - EUROPE
JUST - MAKING MODERN
TODAY - ALSO - EVERYDAY
WEARABLE
SHIRTS - SHORTS - DAILY
SWIMMING - SUITS
WE - WON'T - LIVE LONG
BEAUTIFUL - ROYAL YES
CLOTHES - OF - PAST
NEW - NATIONAL YES
COSTUMES - WE HAVE
DREAMY - NIGHTS HAI
DREAMY - EVENTS SO
WE - LIVE - LONG WHEN
WE - HAVE - BEAUTIFUL
OTHER - CLOTHES 2 YES
WEAR - LOVE - FILMS
KOREAN - CHINESE
TV - EPISODES
LOVE - THE - FASHION
LOVE - COMEDY ROMANCE
BEAUTIFUL - CLOTHES
2 - WEAR - ESPECIALLY
GALA - MUSEUM - YES
OPENINGS - BALLROOM
EVENTS - MASKED BALLS
WE - WILL - LIVE - LONG
BRINGING - PAST - LUXURY
AND - DECADENCE - LONG
LOST - OPULENT - ERAS
HONG KONG - GIRLS TO
EMPLOY - 4 - MUSEUM
JOBS - RECEPTION - AND
MORE - MY - MAGAZINES
WRITERS - RECEPTION 2
GOING - 2 - CONTRACT
ALLIANCES - SHANGHAI
TAX - FREE - HONG KONG
ISLAND - GETTING - HOT
PREPARINGH - 4 - MAIN
LIBRARY - HISPANIC OLD
MALE - WANTED - 2 HELP
2 NIGHTS - AGO - SO THEY
CAN - TOUCH - CLOTHES
YOUR - THINGS - AS - HE
STAYS - IN - A - STORE AT
LEAST - NO - SHOWER
HE - WANTED - ME - 2 GO
ALL - THE - WAY - WITH
HIM - THERE - OF COURSE
LAST - NIGHT - HE WANTED
2 - GIVE - ME - THE - THINGS
2 - COVER - MESQUITE NET
NO - NO - NO
AMAZON - PRIME
WATERPROOF - SELF STICK
2 - COVER - NETS - WHEN IT
RAINS - GLAD - ABOUT NO
TENTS - I - WAS - FREEZING
IKEA - USING - SMALL BINS
PLASTIC - SALE - $4.99
COVER - $2.49 - WE HAVE
NO - CHOICE - WHEN - IT
RAINS - PROTECTED - HE
WANTED - 2 - SUPPLY ME
WITH - PLASTIC - BINS SO
I'M - NOT - WASTING - $$$
BUT - IS - IT - CLEAR
BPA - FREE - BETTER THAN
IKEA -MY - THINKING - SO
TOLD - HIM - WHEN - WE
FIGHT - U - WANT - IT BACK
WASTED - HOURS & HOURS
WILL - GET - RID - OF - YES
CLOTHES - I - DON'T - NEED
FINAL - DECLUTTER
18 INCH - COT - SPACE SAVER
UNDER - SO - CAN - FILL - UP
SMALL - PLASTIC - BINS
IKEA - SO - ORGANIZED
ROSS - BAGS - MAKING
TENT - OXFORD - CLOTH
BULKY - INSTEAD - OF
SMALL - ORGANIZED
EATING - THERE - ALSO
WILL - B - ENJOYING IKEA
OFTEN - BUYING - $6.99
SMALL - MANUAL - BRICK
RED - WITH - DESIGN THEIR
UMBRELLAS - LOVE - IKEA
TIME - 4 - HOMEWOOD
SUITES - HILTON - OVEN
PUTTING - INSIDE ROSS
BAGS - LIKE - WENT YES
SHOPPING - 2 EACH ONE
MAYBE - FITS - NAUTICA
MEDIUM - LUGGAGE
MIGHT - FIT - WILL NOT
WORRY - STEP - BY STEP
IKEA - PLASTIC - OUR YES
ONLY - ALTERNATIVE RIGHT
NOW - BAMBOO - BINS - IN
THE - FUTURE - WITH MOSO
BAMBOO - CREATING - YES
ALTERNATIVES - 2 - PLASTIC
BINS - BUT - SINCE - FREE - 2
CUT - AND - WILL - GROW
AGAIN - MOSO - BAMBOO
75 FEET - 3 FEET - DAILY
CREATING - BAMBOO BINS
2 - SUB - PLASTIC - BINS
THESE - BLK - HISPANICS
ALL - THEY - WANT - IS 2
GIVE - ME - THINGS
HISPANICS - SAME - $$$$
BLKS - STAY - WITH - YOUR
THINGS - UNTIL - YOU DIE
BLKS - SPEND - MONEY
GET - STORAGE - BINS
SO - THEY - KNOW LACKING
MONEY - DJ - GIVE - ME
LOTS - OF - FOOD - ALL THE
TIME - BLK - WOMEN - ARE
SUPER - OBESE - USA - NOT
MANY - THIN - BLK WOMEN
OBESITY - SO - NOT - 2 B
DESIRED - BY - OTHERS
NO - ADMIRING - GLANCES
USA - TERRIBLE - BLK MEN
HISPANIC - MEN
ALWAYS - GIVING - YES TO
OVERWHELM - WITH THINGS
SO - U - CAN'T - LEAVE SINCE
U - HAVE - SO - MANY THINGS
CAN'T - ESCAPE - FAST
HISPANIC - MEN - GIVE MOMS
FAMILIES - HEART - ATTACKS
SO - MANY - THINGS - YOUR
MIND - IS - CLUTTERED
SAD - AND - DEPRESSED
BLKS - HISPANIC - MEN
KILL - WOMEN - FASTER
JESUS - IS - LORD
TRUST - NOT - IN - MEN
WOMEN - NON-VIRGINS
TRUST - ONLY - MOST
HIGH - WHO - CANNOT
LIE - AND - GIVES - US ALL
THINGS - 2 -- ENJOY - I SAID
2 - HISPANIC - MALE - ALL
MY - LIFE - GOD - GAVE ME
ALL - MY - THINGS - I'M - A
STRANGER - DON'T - GIVE
ME - ANYTHING - ITS CALLED
PRIDE - ALL - THOSE - MEN
EVEN - THEIR - UNDERWEAR
DONATED - ALL - THESE YES
FREE - FOOD - FREE - ALL
FREE - CLOTHES - USED
FREE - SHOES - USED
DJ - GOT - EXCITED ABOUT
FREE - USED - SPORTS
SHOES - DIRTY - SOLES
USED - BY - OTHERS
ROSS - DRESS - 4 - LESS
FILA - SPORTS - SIZE 8
FOR - ME - NOT - WORN
BY - OTHERS - HOT NOW
PREPARING - 4 - LIBRARY
0 notes
Text
I wonder if the mesquites I cultivated while living in [redacted] were hybrids because the seed pods I collected to grow from have never matched any description or image of screwbean/velvet/honey/chilean/argentine nothing.
0 notes
Text
Mesquite Trees Arizona: Which Varieties to Grow?
Mesquite Trees Arizona: Which Varieties to Grow?
There are over 40 mesquite trees in the world. Of these, Arizona has three native species. Most other mesquite species are from South America.
Read on to learn about mesquite trees’ features and the types best for Arizona landscaping.
Do Mesquite Trees Grow Well in Arizona?
Three types of mesquite trees grow well and are native to Arizona—honey, velvet, and screwbean mesquites.
That said, it’s…
View On WordPress
0 notes
Link
Check out this listing I just found on Poshmark: Vintage turquoise stone sterling silver. .
0 notes
Photo
Untitled.
#photographers on tumblr#velvet mesquite#Prosopis velutina#San Pedro House#San Pedro Riparian National Conservation Area#Cochise County#Arizona
102 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
queer-ragnelle
🕯In Theory, A Writer 🕯
melancholydreamers
Melancholy Dreamer
wakafbadal
WA 0813-5084-3000 Wakaf Quran Tanah Suci - Jasa Badal Umroh
twanette
分からないことが多すぎる
eisbareis
EisbärEis