Not with a bang but a whimper

[a-poets-darling]

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.

Sylvia Plath

[reading-books-in-the-moonlight]

[vympr]

Scientist bakes sourdough bread with yeast derived from 4500 year old Egyptian pottery

i'm losing my mind @ this thread......historie......

[sassytail]

also please note that this scientist is in fact the retired man who invented the xbox.

[brunhiddensmusings]

oh fuck i listened to a podcast that was interviewing him and the process he went through to make this bread, ologies with allie ward like he went through full on clean room levels of prep to ensure that this was 100% yeast from old egypt and had to bend over backwards to ensure everything involved was uncontaminated he then revealed that the original xbox logo...

is a sourdough boule

[redrook]

[thehourthatneverwas]

[dasswerke]

[wintercorrybriea]

Cotoh Tsumi

[nostalgique-art-deactivated2019]

[bridgeandburn]

[wiselwisel]

Las leyes de la física son inquebrantables.

[detrout]

[i-am-corbin-dallas]

This is legitimately the funniest thing ive ever seen

[bubbabarnes-deactivated20210124]

I’m screaming

[i-will-eat-dynamite]

the smell of rain on wet stone. a cool wind ruffling your hair, the evening like a damp kiss on your cheek, the tote bag of newly-discovered secondhand books heavy in your elbow. the light is rose and gold, and inside waiting for you there is tea, and warmth, and freshly baked lavender and lemon cake.

[eastegg-deactivated20200528]

mentally i am living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere in the woods of oregon and it’s foggy and i am wearing a big sweater and baking banana bread

[fire-withi-n]

Landscape in the Mist (1988) - Theo Angelopoulos

[northern-ash]

This is just Master Hand, on his way to whoop Luigi

[northern-ash]

Ever autumn

She set off into ever autumn,

A place not on a map,

Past the house with tall thin windows

set against the treeline.

Where pines reach high on the horizon,

And fences splinter slow,

Forgotten beside a glassy pond,

That sits forever still.

Where the last spider has abandoned,

it’s web to morning dew, And the hills no longer remember,

The earth when it was young,

Where she felt alone when wide awake,

in all the world at noon,

And where lowly-hanging branches drink,

from shining golden streams.

Where soft sunlight makes it’s bed among,

the foggy forest floor,

And a red moon greets night’s silent song,

In skies of muted blue.

Where dusk fires gently frame the sky,

And set the stars alight,

Where solitude tempers strong the soul,

And frost nips at her toes.

Where popping logs, scarves and warm cider,

are good companions all,

And the heavens whisper their stories,

To those with ears to hear.

How she would get there,

she couldn’t tell;

She didn’t know the way,

Yet, she only ever truly lived,

Here, in ever autumn.

[northern-ash]

Until the Stars are All Alight Island Lake Campground, Grand Mesa National Forest Cedaredge, CO

[sea-plus]

[lost-moonlight]

[dreamhousetogo]

The Freedom by Minimalist Homes