#red pines

[pileofeyes]

Could go anywhere.

[hudsonvalleylusciousliving]

Sculptural Red pines looking pretty in a dusting of snow. Claverack NY

[plf-photographie]

Dear friends,

This Tumblr account is going to be turned off. If you want to keep following my work (and showing me yours), please go on Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/plf_photographie/

See you there !

[prodegy-pines]

W h a t  i s  t h e i r  u n d e r l i n i n g  m o t i f ? ? ?

Malcolm Emery

THE BREAD . . Whether it’s your ability to rise against the odds, provide comfort, or be a staple in lives, your undercurrent is bread. you’re made from love and you carry it your whole life, to give on to others in any way you can. you’re delicate and it doesn’t take a lot to break you, but still you rise up and that is more important than what took you down. be careful with your heart, it’s so full of love that it needs to be treated delicately. you’re a staple in lives, a necessity, but not always as appreciated as you should be. so here is a thanks to you. m.f.k fisher said “ the smell of good bread baking, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight” and that my friend, that is you. Dipper Pines THE COFFEE . .

Whether it’s your sharp tongue, your tendency to blow hot or cold, or the familiarity of you, you’re the coffee. don’t immediately assume that your undercurrent means you’re bitter, a common misconception, because people who like coffee always make it work for them. coffee doesn’t always have to be dark, it can be a warmth that’s comforting and the first start to a day. you aren’t nearly as tough as you make out to be, but we’ll keep your secret. you’re a constant, won’t ever go out of style. not everyone’s taste, but what is these days? an unknown quote reads “I like drinking coffee alone and reading alone... I realize that even though I like being alone, I don’t fancy being lonely” remember you don’t always need to face things yourself, there’s a reason people suggest “coffee?” when they want to spend time together. “Red” Pines

THE DOG Whether it’s the way you bare your teeth when backed in a corner, your loyalty, or your tendency to act on instinct, your reoccurring theme is the dog. like mitski said “i get mean when im nervous, like a bad dog” or how halsey said “i won’t smile but i’ll show you my teeth” even when migos said “dance with my dogs in the night time” the essence of the dog runs through you. you’re tough and a quick draw on the outside, but if we got down to it we’d see you’re acting the only way you’ve ever known how. it doesn’t make you bad, survival is natural, your loyalty and determination is commendable. i don’t blame you for the way you act when your back is against a wall, but please remember to not bite the hand that feeds. Tagged By: @twomxndss​  Tagging: @ao-de-shizukana​ @billcipherrp​ @blacksand456​ @fizzielilian​ @theglitterytwin​

[pallanophblargh]

I am back from Itasca State Park: unfortunately, I did not get lost. Here's the first batch of photos. 

 Getting a little better at plein air painting? Which almost makes up for me not making it onto a couple of the trails I had been curious about! (Did finally take a canoe out onto the lake, so that's a Minnesota milestone accomplished. Bonus: I didn't fall into the lake, either!) 

 For those curious, I am adding captions to each photo. (Trail name, etc.) If I can get through the rest of the photos, I will post more!

[thenighteternal]

Red Pines by offermoord

[redpines]

WWW.REDPINES.DESIGN //////// COP SOME GEAR

[ivorjerome]

Another snippet from my short story Red Pines. The narration character switches between Anthony's, which is in first person, and Cassiel's, which is in third person. This snip is from Cassiel's:

“What did you mean back there? About day-walkers feeding on blood and full vampires feeding on life?” Anthony had gotten out his notebook, and his glasses out of his pocket and they were perched on the end of his nose. Rather like a bird, which made Cassiel hungry. Perhaps after burgers they could find some fried chicken. But he had asked her a question. He asked a lot of questions. He took a lot of notes and got very upset when she disrupted their order when she caught a mouse in his cabin one time. He was distracted from that, however, as she had swallowed the mouse whole. There. Now she was back to thinking about food again. “Cassie. Earth to Cassie. I’ll get you a milkshake if you play nice.” “He does not. Drink. Blood.” She said. “He steals. Life. Soul.” She watched his brow wrinkle, his eyes squint. A strand of hair, brown like the pelt of the mouse she had eaten, fell into his eyes. Her head tilted to one side. It would be nice to reach out and move the hair from his eyes. Why she could not say. But then he would actually be able to see the nonsense he was writing on his paper. “C’mon, Cas,” he said, running long fingers through his hair, something that Cassiel found herself wanting to watch him do all the time, “Soul? Life? Blood I get. It’s tangible. I can see it, I can test it. I can fill a vial and examine it under a microscope.” She blinked. “You can. Smell it.” “Sure,” he said, sighing. “And. Taste it.” “As we’ve established.” His skin paled, sweat ever so slightly increased. His sweat was a part of his unique scent and she could pick it up out of even the biggest Independence Day BBQs that the whole town showed up to every year. Now, of course, she understood that this meant he was feeling ill thinking about the dead human, not that he was too warm. Anthony did not manage death well. Very strange, since he insisted upon stubbornly disbelieving in the soul that all humans possessed. He himself had one! She could see it very clearly, shimmering off him with a glory that he scoffed at. “I still can’t square it though. You’re saying the girl didn’t kill herself, but there’s a hell of a lot of knife wounds that would suggest otherwise. Plus a pretty narly fall from an attic window.” Cassiel found that her cheeseburger had disappeared, the sad remains of a few bits of lettuce and beef juice the only survivors. Her stomach was still pitifully empty, but at least there was still the milkshake. This she grasped with both hands, taking out most of the whipped cream on top along with the blood-shot cherry in one mouthful. “He ate up. Her Life,” she said, “He drove her. To despair.”