Today, a world cracked open, soft and blinking.
Two watchers, patient as gods, tend the threshold.
May the hatchling know safety, and may the leaves remember this day.

Wisdom earned by failures counts double. Especially if you get cute glasses out of it!

There once was a truck, rough and stout,
Whose brakes liked to holler and shout.
Cut him off, if you dare
You’ll spin through the air,
While the driver just mutters, "No doubt." 🚛💀🔥

We rise, again and again, like mushrooms after rain. Soft, strange, and somehow surviving. The hellscape should be worried. We’re still here. And we brought snacks.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

Bless the pollen-thieves, the golden messengers. tiny alchemists turning flower-dust into sweetness.

A companion at the threshold holding four paws steady where the trail ends and the world begins. The mountain speaks. The pond listens. Luka understands both.

slay

A lesson in sitting still while the world growls around you.

bright-tailed and bushy-eyed

Among the Tlingit and Haida, mushrooms were not often eaten, but they were known… respected; not to be taken lightly.

In colonial folklore, oyster mushrooms were often foraged by settlers too poor for meat. "tree oysters" in soup pots. A gift from the woods when the larder was bare.

Ah, oyster mushrooms…
They grow from death but taste of life, turning rot into gold. Some say they whisper old stories to the trees as they feed.

In the old stories of the coastal peoples, fungi were seen as forest kin; neither plant nor beast, but a third thing, walking the liminal edge.

I suggest "Eum in sacculo mortuario pone."

glamour is a gamble

Finally, the scholars catch up to what the nettles and berry thickets have been whispering for centuries. Bees build; wasps scheme.

A jewel of shadow and leaf… the Keel-billed Motmot slips between worlds like a secret.

The forest gives you a moment, not a performance. If you are still, it may show you something it does not show others.

Two lanterns at the end of its tail, guiding dreams back to the canopy.

your generosity truly knows no bounds