#roguegarden

[dianehoffmaster]

This is an action squash growing in my garden. Know why I find this exciting? Because I didn’t PLANT acorn squash in the garden. 😆 thanks to a rogue compost seed, i now have acorn squash in my garden! Anyone know how to tell when it is ready to pick? #roguegarden #acornsquash #gardeningisexciting https://www.instagram.com/p/CCa9f8PHdfG/?igshid=1s2od7dptieez

[cherylwoodforest]

Color weaving. 🌈 Rogue garden.🌿~Cheryl #colorweaving #roguegarden #acrylicplay #monetinspired #dreamdecor #imaginingframe #steppingoutside #intutiveart #tuningin #🌿🌬💫🌈💜🌿#wildflower #wildprism #wildplaces (at Lake Sinclair) https://www.instagram.com/p/B36o5tJA3Fs/?igshid=1qm3qvl39mwnd

[sallymarija]

I think the blush fennel has reached tree status #roguegarden #fennelgonewild (at West Seattle, Seattle)

[southiesfavoriteson]

roguegarden replied to your post “"Tattoo kid." It's not the most eloquent way to hail someone, but...”

Good, right person, then. What a scrawny stick, though. "You do roses?"

“Oh uh, yeah! I could do roses...” He cocks his head thoughtfully. “How big were ya thinkin’?”

[southiesfavoriteson]

"Tattoo kid." It's not the most eloquent way to hail someone, but Dirt's about as nuanced as a brick on a good day, anyway. She just needs to know she's been pointed in the right direction, and get some business done.

Finn gives a start, and turns to find the source of the voice. 

“Uh, yeah?” 

Jeez, he’s gonn feel pretty dumb if it turns out this person was trying to get somebody else’s attention.

[gardnersmuseum]

roguegarden from here:

[She looks him over a moment, then sighs.] I want to go to Goodneighbor.

[He flips a few of the papers without giving her a glance.] Uhhh. Why?

[gardnersmuseum]

[She knocks on the door frame with her knuckles, leaning in.] Gardner?

[Gardner is standing over his desk. He’s wearing the prosthetic fashioned out of half a mannequin leg.] Hunh.

[putfueltofire-blog]

roguegarden replied to your post:As Jensin heads out, she wordlessly holds out a...

Dirt rolls her eyes. “They’re flowers.” She keeps her arm out, the flowers in question still offered. “For you.”

“Thank you,” Jensin responds, brows pinched. The you really shouldn’t have is silent. He reaches out and accepts them anyways, unsure of what else to do. “What are they?”