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montanaboulder.bsky.social
@montanaboulder.bsky.social
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sagamaraia.bsky.social
Here you go, the best Twitter post I’ve ever read in Bluesky. Or Twitter.
seamus.bsky.social Seamus Blackley @seamus.bsky.social · Apr 30
I’m in England, in a field of Barley. Today, I’m going to collect wild yeast under that tree back there, and I’m going to show how to feed and grow it until it’s ready to bake with. We are going to start at the very beginning, and end at the end.

(this is an experiment in thread transfer)
August 22, 2025 at 4:08 AM
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blairbraverman.bsky.social
A story from a few years back, when the team got caught in a whiteout blizzard. Hari is very old now, but he's still the sweetest gentleman I know.
August 12, 2025 at 4:06 PM
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darthbluesky.bsky.social
hello ok i am awake what did i miss
tell me every thing
the classic windows xp wallpaper with your friend darth the red panda, a red panda wearing a darth vader outfit and with blue sky butterfly wings, flying above
March 26, 2025 at 2:59 AM
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nicolechung.bsky.social
I count, this first day of another year, what remains.

—Jane Hirshfield
Counting, This New Year’s Morning, What Powers Yet Remain To Me by Jane Hirshfield The world asks, as it asks daily: And what can you make, can you do, to change my deep-broken, fractured? I count, this first day of another year, what remains. I have a mountain, a kitchen, two hands. Can admire with two eyes the mountain, actual, recalcitrant, shuffling its pebbles, sheltering foxes and beetles. Can make black-eyed peas and collards. Can make, from last year’s late-ripening persimmons, a pudding. Can climb a stepladder, change the bulb in a track light. For four years, I woke each day first to the mountain, then to the question. The feet of the new sufferings followed the feet of the old, and still they surprised. I brought salt, brought oil, to the question. Brought sweet tea, brought postcards and stamps. For four years, each day, something. Stone did not become apple. War did not become peace. Yet joy still stays joy. Sequins stay sequins. Words still bespangle, bewilder. Today, I woke without answer. The day answers, unpockets a thought from a friend don’t despair of this falling world, not yet didn’t it give you the asking
January 1, 2025 at 12:41 PM