Wur wee Mrs Blackbird popped by, but I couldn't get a good shot to show the wee white tuft on her arse by which we recognise her.
Found another pallet and did a bit of lashing together to help secure the iron frame for now. Still needs attached to the wall long term but it should be ok until the clematis has grown enough to have real weight. Other pallet in temporary/trial position.
Looks like we have a bunch of fresh growth on a fair number of the lavender cuttings. They seem to be liking the shite weather keeping them damp and the high security wing keeping them from getting pure soaked.
Wee flowery bit on one even. I'm guessing if they're hale and hearty by the autumn I should probably pot them on individually and maybe best bring them in for winter, or at least bring some in to try and spare them the cold and damp as best I can.
The heuchera at the front of Langshaw is still looking good so I didn't fuck the roots too badly when I moved the Welsh poppy in front of it. Yay!
The dianthus layering seems to be surviving OK too, better than the one I brought indoors as experiment. I reckon the latter has too much growth for what roots it might have started growing to support, where this one is quite wee.
Self heal really starting to open up now. I really quite like this for the woodland vibe. No surprise given my love of bugle, really. I may let this properly spread as ground cover in Langshaw, see how it comes together with the achillea and such once they're established.
Talking of which, there is activity on the other dianthus, the sweet Williams! Am excite!
First stirrings on one crocosmia too, and over by the acer, so it'll be cool to see the golds together.
The astilbe in Tupsbeard Knot is also slowly heading towards its candy floss spectacularity.
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
I need to go to fuckin bed now, like a normal person, but I may have Some Tweeting to do later about how I think I've inadvertently redeemed Ptolemy's bugfuck bonkers map of Scotland. Well, not *entirely*, but to a pretty significant extent for the Lowlands at least.
OK, so this is Ptolemy's map of Scotland. As you may notice, it's... a little wonky. Like WTAF levels of wonky, bent over at a 90º angle (and then some) like someone came at it from behind, stuck a knee in its back & snapped its frickin spine like a supersoldier getting creative.
It's absolutely batshit. You only have to look at it with the remotest idea of what Scotland looks like to think "wildly inaccurate."
BUT...
OK, so here's a good site with a translation of the textual instructions Ptolemy gave for drawing this madness: topostext.org/work.php?work_…
The message: take your civility centrism out to the desert, put a bullet in the back of its head & bury it in a shallow grave. "Decency" will not prevail when fascism's unleashed just because it's decency. Bourgeois propriety is exactly what the fascists are radicalised against.
Fascism is fuelled by ressentiment and related pathologies. Like narcissism (because arguably it *is* a mode of narcissism, narcissism on a societal level,) when challenged by realities you'd expect to make a reasonable person see reason, that shit just *powers the denial*.
More people didn't vote for Trump *despite* the shambolic shitshow he's made of the last four years. They voted for him--and I include in this *his murderous mishandling of Covid-19*--because of that. Because it causes *narcissistic injury* that makes them double down & lash out.
I hate the prequels, but I will consider them worth it for McGregor being given a chance to do Kenobi again but, fingers crossed, in a series with good stories & a proper Star Wars visual style. Like rough drafts I can bin from my memory, needed on the way to a finished product.
Him being ages with me, I find the tale of him making the lightsaber noises with his mouth during the fights just so identifiable with, & you can see the love he put into it. I've always been gutted for him that he got a childhood dream only to have it turn out... like it did.
All I want for Christmas 2021 is one nine episode season that sneakily divides into three distinct stories, three episodes per story, ideally with flashbacks woven through retelling the backstory so it functions as a covert reboot of the prequels.
If Sally wasn't a brunching centrist fuckin tool, she'd take her friend Bob aside & have a friendly fuckin word with him about him being a fascist. If she was anywhere near open enough to get through to him, you can 100% guarantee he'd break the friendship off, him being a cunt.
Sally, the establishment Dem, whenever anyone asks her pointedly about her friendship with fascist Bob:
"I think he's ready to go. I believe it now." Even if one extends Trump the most charitable reading--that the gobshite vpidly sought to posture a calming stance while not alienating the fash--it's worth saying that there's no way he'll back out of the leadership role he's now in.
I mean, it's a real fuckin stretch being that charitable, but I don't wanna underestimate just how much his narcissism can and does drive him to just speak without actual intent at all, without real thought, just opening his gob & spewing extemporized drivel that pushes buttons.
I can kinda imagine, tbh, that even as he was voicing his basic desire for his bootboys to await his command, he's so lacking in self-awareness he'd actually think this was him telling them to chill as required, just "cunningly" finding a way to say that while keeping them sweet.
All you really need to know, AFAIC, fiction-wise, practically speaking is past perfect versus simple past and the idea of "continuous" that gives us, like, simple present versus present continuous.
(In fiction, present continuous can read kinda floaty & distanced, which can be put to good effect, but because of that it gets used to slather a contrived air of import in lieu of actual effective import, & that can grow old as fast as every sentence being its own paragraph.)
The thing about continuous is that "is running" conjures a state whereas "runs" conjures an action, & if you conjure everything as a series of states, surprise surprise, all the action takes on a sort of static quality, a detached ruminative air as of a tableaux being mused upon.