Flaming Mist, Photoshop illustration by Ben J
Next week, probably.
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@lcdsunshine
Flaming Mist, Photoshop illustration by Ben J
Next week, probably.
Just a special spot.
Protect the Porcupine Mountains!
Hello friends - I come to you asking for your help on protecting the most beloved piece of my home, the beautiful Porcupine Mountains of Michigan's upper peninsula.
The Porkies are a vast swath of old growth forest, rivers, waterfalls, lakes, Lake Superior shoreline, and a vast home to so much wildlife. In 2022, it was ranked as the most beautiful state park in the entire US.
Right now, it's under threat again for a third time. Highland Copper is a brand-new Canadian copper mining company, and they want to open Copperwood Mine right along the border of the park, and are vying for a grant of $50 million taxpayer dollars to do so. The mine would be a 15 second drive from the park, and all of the waste that they generate (98.5% of everything they pull from the ground), including lead, arsenic, and a plethora of other poisons, would drain directly into Lake Superior, which holds 10% of the world's fresh water.
The company has been trying to get this grant for years - it has passed the Michigan house only to be shot down in the senate twice. Just last week, it passed the house again, and moves along to the senate with a deadline of September 30th.
The kicker in this is, a BIG reason it was shut down was due to public outcry. So, I'm making this post here to try to raise awareness of the issue, and ask if you can set aside 5 minutes of your day to write to the senators listed in the link below. Even if you're not a Michigan resident—if you're in the Midwest, or anywhere in the US, this will affect you too. There are templates on the website linked below as well. Please write if you can, or make a phone call or three—anything helps, and the more we flood the senators' inboxes, the more we will drive this home, that this mine cannot be built.
ProtectThePorkies website
Dragostea din tei.
Secat.
My little girls.
Some of you already know what you're looking at. Maybe you've seen it somewhere. Maybe you've been here before. This is what you see when it's time to turn the page. Invariably, you will one day come upon the path. Sometimes you'll have company here. Usually you won't.
Don't give up on the horizon. Take the time to appreciate the wonder before you. The sky isn't endless. It's a thin blanket between you and the chill of the great black beyond. The road ends. Take the breaks. Smell the flowers. Allow your heart and soul every opportunity.
I've been here before. It usually stings and this time is no exception. Sometimes you open up and sometimes you lose something when you do. Maybe you don't know how to go on. As many times as I have been here, I have learned at least this one thing: that if you can't see the end of the road, it isn't over. Not yet.
Take all the time you need. Someday, your legs will need stretched again and you'll be ready to heft your knapsack and embark on the fool's journey once more, hopefully less foolish. Savor the sweetness but so savor the trouble as well. The path is winding and uncertain. Embrace that. Uncertainty is the first step toward self-determination.
Next comes courage.
Keep me in your heart, dear reader. I'll always keep you in mine.
The space between white lightning after a long, gray day. The air is cooled. The silent breaths of faint winds bring the atmosphere to life. It's alive with memory. The celestial dome is hidden, no futuresight tonight. I can't see the stars but I know that they're there. I'll see them again.
Just enjoy it.
Red swords in the morning.
I'm behind on uploads, some nice beautiful shit to post. This is going up first though. I know there's a significance here just barely beyond my ken. Eight spots. Forester. Those colors. All by itself.
It's probably nothing, just a rare traveler passing through. Why is it tearing me apart inside?
Thinking about the water; missing the wind. I can feel it in my skin.
That's the post.
There was magic in the air last night. I don't think it left.
I should not be awake. Touch my shoulder. I'm ready to close my eyes.
The moon this morning
The moon-a and the June-a.
Dark was the night, forlorn my spirit, as like a ghost I wafted across the grass from moor to meadow. My soul bleeds but my heart yet beats.
Just a restorative late afternoon. Tall trees, tall hills, and a tall order.
Crown Vetch and Moth Mullein making an abrupt entrance. I think it will be an eventful Summer.