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23 results for “Cjlucke”
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Started volunteering with the National Park Service. Enjoying learning about #puebloan ancestors who lived in #Arizona #WalnutCanyon
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Ready for the long roadtrip from Texas to Arizona and will be listening to my favorite podcast https://www.alieward.com/ologies/p22 #ologies #alieward #cougars
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Trying to explain #Buc-cees to my niece in Sweden. “If IKEA and Disney created a truck stop with 50 pumps, 50 clean bathrooms and aisles of beef jerky products, it would be this place.” Plus, Texas has 57 stores. The biggest attraction in the state.
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My new favorite cookbook by Elisabeth Heiskell - What Can I Bring? #recipes #cookbook #potluckrecipes
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I had time to make a final gift: my annual Cluckey Bear! #SL22B #SecondLifeBirthday #SecondLife
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Not that I need more novelty clothing but come on, Mother Clucker socks are totally me https://darntough.com/collections/womens-lifestyle-dress-casual-socks/products/womens-limited-edition-mother-clucker-crew-cushioned-lightweight-lifestyle-socks?variant=45731722133690
Perfect for that #BackyardChickens lifestyle. Darn Tough missed a sale though because it's only sized for "women's" feet -
Not that I need more novelty clothing but come on, Mother Clucker socks are totally me https://darntough.com/collections/womens-lifestyle-dress-casual-socks/products/womens-limited-edition-mother-clucker-crew-cushioned-lightweight-lifestyle-socks?variant=45731722133690
Perfect for that #BackyardChickens lifestyle. Darn Tough missed a sale though because it's only sized for "women's" feet -
Not that I need more novelty clothing but come on, Mother Clucker socks are totally me https://darntough.com/collections/womens-lifestyle-dress-casual-socks/products/womens-limited-edition-mother-clucker-crew-cushioned-lightweight-lifestyle-socks?variant=45731722133690
Perfect for that #BackyardChickens lifestyle. Darn Tough missed a sale though because it's only sized for "women's" feet -
Not that I need more novelty clothing but come on, Mother Clucker socks are totally me https://darntough.com/collections/womens-lifestyle-dress-casual-socks/products/womens-limited-edition-mother-clucker-crew-cushioned-lightweight-lifestyle-socks?variant=45731722133690
Perfect for that #BackyardChickens lifestyle. Darn Tough missed a sale though because it's only sized for "women's" feet -
Not that I need more novelty clothing but come on, Mother Clucker socks are totally me https://darntough.com/collections/womens-lifestyle-dress-casual-socks/products/womens-limited-edition-mother-clucker-crew-cushioned-lightweight-lifestyle-socks?variant=45731722133690
Perfect for that #BackyardChickens lifestyle. Darn Tough missed a sale though because it's only sized for "women's" feet -
that one time humans decided to make a live chicken-powered nuclear landmine
you know, seal those cluckers up inside the bomb
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that one time humans decided to make a live chicken-powered nuclear landmine
you know, seal those cluckers up inside the bomb
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@RonSupportsYou
I changed my handle right after #OrangeHitler started threatening to "arrest #AntiFa".Changing my handle is my way of saying:
"Here I am, Mother Clucker. Come & get me!"
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#DontForget... #ChickenPolice - #IT's a #Thing... A #LegendaryThing...
#Quote: "We're living in a vast experiment and don't even notice that everything got clucked up a long time ago..."
#TotallySupported by #DolbyProLogicIIx because #EverythingIsBetter with an "X" on #IT... Except #SpaceKarenX...
#Something for the #RacistHomophobes at #SSG and #TheLittleLotROPixies to have a #LittleThink about... On "they/them's" #DeadGame on #NonEuropeanServer(s)...
While #NoOne is #BuyingLotRO...
🧙🐣🤖:wolfparty:🤖🐣🧙 | 🎈🎠🦹🐻🦹🎠🎈
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The cop pulled George over for speeding and asked to see his drivers license. George passed it to her, and she clucked her tongue.
"You've just doubled your trouble--this is an #invalid license.""What're you talking about! This license is the healthiest, most robust one I've ever forged!" George's angry retort came out in an alcoholic cloud. "Oh no. Now I've tripled my trouble, haven't I."
"More like quadrupled it," the cop said.
[yeah, sorry, I'll see myself out.]
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The cathedral welcomed tourists to admire its precincts & treasures, including two golden chalices. Today's tourists included a pair of oxen & several sheep & chickens, who lowed, baa'd, & clucked admiration for the cathedral's beauty.
"Look at them #goblets!" exclaimed an ox. "What're they for?"
"This one holds the blood of the #Lamb," began the deacon, "And that one---"
"What?!" cried a sheep. "What kind of barbarity do you practice here? C'mon friends, let's leave!"
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Last year's visits to Haunted Hollow were noteworthy. My first "drinking problem" shots came from there. My "beta" and final versions of Strange made their appearances there, and there's a video of us dancing in a gazebo where they held events. Now the area shares with the home of Virtual Community Radio. This was my second Drinking Problem pic. You can see the future Cluckey coming through. #SecondLife #Cosplaytober #VirtualWorlds #Cosplay https://flickr.com/photos/holocluck/52455179555/
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6-8pm SLT/PDT POOL PARTY Saturday Night!
https://flickr.com/photos/holocluck/53061399051/
DJing amidst the bubbles & rubber duckies will be HOLOCLUCK HENLY at #SLFandomCon at their SIZE IS RELATIVE venue w/Hype Kitteh OLDESOUL!
Dance on the soap or in the water - or laze on a floatie - to tunes from novelty, movies, Electroswing, & seasonal pop tunes from the 60s-90s... Yeah, typically atypical Cluckey fare!
All tips benefit Relay For Life.
All ages welcome.
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Context, Thought, and Learning: ShiraDest publications Offers Project Do Better @[email protected] ·Passing to Freedom, Chapter 6: Hunters with Hound Dogs, and Bears! Oh, My!!
Chapter 6
We’d started on our way again, in spite of it being daylight. It was early morning, with the rising sun just as freshly awakened as we were. I was awake and worrying about our plan so as not to worry about little Sal and Miss Mary. Anna had agreed that there was no point in waiting, since we were only about a day’s ride to our next station. Still, I fretted, though I tried not to let it show. I did not want my companion troubled by my inconstant humors. That turned out to be a good thing, it would seem.
“Stop!”
Her urgent whisper had sent pins and needles from my belly up through my arms.
“Get your head down, quick!”
Anna had grabbed the reins out of my hands and led the way over to a large fallen tree
before I even knew she was beside me. Our horses must have been well trained, for they followed her tightly together with their heads down, so that I could hardly move at all. I flattened my body along Old Mary’s neck, feeling as if I might fall off any moment. Then Anna did a thing I had never even heard of.“Just hold right on, and be still, like a rock.”
She clucked her tongue and patted both horses heads. To my utter amazement, we four, like the Children of Israel, fell to the ground as one man. What was more, we did so in complete silence. The sounds of a few birds, preparing for the long winter ahead, and a light breeze rustling the fallen leaves of a few trees also preparing to brave the coming cold, were all that my untrained ears could tell me. I started to raise my head to look around, but felt the lightest touch of Anna’s hand upon my arm, warning me not to move. Then I heard them.
Voices, moving through the woods, only just coming within my hearing. Yet my sweet
Anna had heard them well before, and had acted with steadier nerve than many a man would have done. How did she do that?Then came another sound which I heard at a distance, but well enough to bring the taste of
bile to my throat.A dog had barked.
I began to pray, as the smell of my own sweat hit me, mingled with the smell of horse and
pine needles. My face was buried between the necks of our two horses, who had somehow
managed to lay themselves down with us still mounted upon them. Not if I lived a hundred years and finally got to see a circus perform did I ever expect to see something like that again. I gave thanks for this minor miracle, and asked the Almighty for the grace to let us remain unseen and unheard by those who sought our return to bondage. I also prayed for forgiveness. I would need it, if I got to my sewing basket before those patrollers got to me.“Stay here, and don’t move.”
What was she up to, now? I felt Anna move, silent as the grave, from off of her horse,
gliding low across the ground over to a large bush that might have had some berries on it, a few weeks ago, and scatter something, then glide back to our hiding place, almost in the blink of an eye, despite the distance she had covered. The dog barked again, closer this time, and I heard shouts, as if several men were following.As the racket grew louder, Anna looked both ways, as if about to cross a street in the Federal City, then whispered:
“Hold on tight, Old Mary won’t let you fall.”
Before I had time to ponder those words, she had clucked her tongue and patted both horses heads again. I felt both of our mounts surging up into the air, and wrapped my fingers in Old Mary’s mane as my feet found the stirrups. With another click of her tongue, we both began to walk backwards! My stomach roiled as the shouts and barking grew closer, and we were finally able to see our pursuers. They were indeed slave patrollers, and most likely looking specifically for us.
Then, I saw another sight which I shall never forget. A black bear, which I had somehow
utterly failed to notice, was sniffing at the bush Anna had just left. As the shouts became orders to stop, directed at us, and the barking became the baying of a hound which has cornered its quarry, the bear looked at them, and stood up. Growling.As if this were exactly what Anna had been waiting for, she gave a sharp whistle, and the
ears of both our mounts perked up to points.“Hold on!” Anna spurred her horse, and jerked to the left.
All I’d had time for was a glance her way, as Old Mary surged forward, in time with her
companion, wheeling around so sharply that I only just managed to stay seated. I heard the sounds of a dog crying out in pain, a bear growling at the sky, and a gun shot.I leaned over Old Mary’s neck, flattening out with her as she and our friends beside us
stretched their necks. I clung to good Old Mary’s mane for dear life, my legs wrapped around her flanks as my fingers clutched the hair of her mane, my face nearly buried in that hair whipping around mingled with mine. Over the noise of our hooves, I could hear the commotion behind us.It sounded closer.
In my fear of the slave hunters, I had forgotten my fear of riding.
That was a grave error.
“Shoot ‘im again! Shoot ‘im!!”
As I looked back I could just make out that bear, its terrible face lifted to the sky. Then my grip on Old Mary’s mane slipped a little. I let go with my right hand, reaching down as I turned my head back, feeling for the reins. More shots rang out, and I flinched, losing the right rein I had just retrieved. I was barely managing to keep my seat, stretched over the pommel as I was.
Then I saw the log.
When I awoke, it seemed like days must have passed. Night had fallen, cold and still. The smell of pine needles and earth was mingled with a foul under-taste. Blood. I lifted my head a little, and saw lightning bugs appear just above my eyes. Wait, that couldn’t be right. It was too cold now, for lightening bugs. I tried to get up, and immediately regretted it. My aching body protested, the slightest movement producing a jolt of pain that yanked a whimper from my lips. As if in reply to that pained prayer, a sound like somebody sweeping dirt under the carpet came from beside me. Try as I might, though, I could not make my body turn over to see the source of that sound. I sighed in despair. Even that hurt.
Dear Lord, please let me go.
It was the only prayer I could make. But it was not the good Lord who answered me. Instead, I felt a familiar muzzle nudging my shoulder, just as a strange sounding bird made a double cry. I felt a shuffling against my left arm, and then the fall of four hooves stepping over me just as gently as could be, touching the ground inches away from my chilled limbs. That muzzle lowered itself back to my head, breathing into my face as I’d gotten used to Old Mary doing.
Old Mary!
That strange bird called again, closer this time, and I began to worry, alone out here in these woods. I had tried once to be still like a rock, and look at me. Instead of being like a rock, I appeared to have hit my head on one. Not exactly walking by faith. Even worse, I’d gotten Old Mary here into danger along with me. Anna would not be happy with me. But right now, that was the least of my troubles, for she was not here. In point of fact, I didn’t even know where here might be. My dear guide Anna could navigate these woods in surety, while I could not.
And now, we’d gone and gotten separated.
I heard that strange bird make it’s call again, closer still, which augured nothing good. If this was to be my end, I wanted to at least let Old Mary here get away. I tried to lift my head, and got kicked by more lightening bugs for my trouble. Never knew those bugs could kick anything, but they sure did. I tried to puff out a breath. No. That only made her come closer. I began to feel myself tremble, and even thought I smelled the stench of fear that could only come from my body. Horse sweat smelled sweeter and pure. That smell was so close I could see myself rolling up onto Old Mary’s back, my leg levitating over the saddle as if by some art of magic. The pain that exploded through my body as my head came up was no magic. Try though I did to stay quiet, a croak escaped my throat.
“Hush, now.”
I was sure I’d finally gone mad. I imagined I had heard the voice of my dear sweet Anna, whom I feverishly hoped was far away, safe from these dangers. Feeling a gentle touch upon my neck, I tried opening my eyes again, and beheld four familiar windows into the soul of the one I most feared to see: Anna was indeed there beside me, rolling me onto Old Mary, who had apparently once again done her circus trick of laying her large frame right down on the ground. This blessed creature had practically wormed herself under my body, somehow. Kneeling right beside her, in double beauty, were two images of my Anna. My dear, sweet, wonderful, and now also in danger, Anna. I tried to warn her about that strange bird, but my mouth only admitted a grimace, and then the lightening bugs had their say, forcing my eyes closed again in a nauseated haze. I felt a finger upon my lips as the earth seemed to pull my limbs down, and then, forgive me, the pain and smells all faded away again.
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This is part of my current women’s historical WiP Passing to Freedom: Willow’s Story
a novel by D. Antonia Jones, aka Nia or Ni,
fka Shira Destinie Jones, dedicated to the children, parents, staff, and volunteers of early childhood non-profit Bright Beginnings in DC, and the staff of the GWCF who help them, via The Project Do Better by ShiraDest Publications Fund, and the ideas freely given to all in the Do Better manual/manifesto, in the hope of building a better and more cooperative edifice for all of us.
#AnnAnna #BlackHistory #historicalFiction #slavery #writing -
CW: Not really Raft spoilers
I'm having complicated feelings about #Raft .
Playing through the quest has been a very mixed time. For a game that is ostensibly open world survival, all of the story islands are truly puzzle platformers. I'm a fan of puzzle platformers! But I feel like the designs have been very uneven, with some areas a joy to play, while others are an unintuitive slog.
That said, I'm two scenes away from beating the last level, and it's... ridiculous? In the next-to-last scene, you have to build a stairwell out of crates in a small arena while three hyenas attack you and a madman wings cherry bombs at your head.
And, in normal mode (which I'm playing), you lose 2/3rds of your stuff whenever you die, and the save history is completely non-functional - you can't go back to a previous save and try again.
Naturally, I died very quickly, and lost some very important equipment.
So, I sat on it for a few days to determine whether I should give up or power through - where powering through meant another 10-20 hours working on upgrades and better equipment.
Which is what I decided to do.
But a key piece of equipment is healing salve, which requires eggs, which requires chickens (cluckers, in game)
Which is why I now have a poultry pen on my raft, populated by the first chicken of my set
Named: Motherclucker 🐔
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Evelyn reached into her pocket and found the ring: smooth and black, cold to the touch, and heavy in the hand. "You left this on the pyre at my mother's funeral. Why?"
"A debt was owed. Your mother died before I could repay it."
"So you gave her this?"
"That's right. My most precious belonging."
"What is it?"
"A binding ring. Used by faeries in their weddings. It allows the wearer to travel between our world and the lands of the fairy courts."
Evelyn felt the weight of it. She didn't know such a thing existed. "How did you get it?"
"It was given to me by the Prince-in-Spring--long ago when I was young and beautiful and full of bad ideas."
"You met the Prince-in-Spring?"
"Met him and married him. In the manner of the woods."
"He didn't skin you?"
"No. Not Salamandra Hedge. Too clever for any man, immortal or otherwise. I am Skraefolk--like you--chosen by the stars. The stars wanted a story from me, so I gave them one."
"Tell me your story!" Evelyn begged, edging closer. Salamandra Hedge grinned slyly in her direction. The old woman's milk-white eyes, blind as they were, brimmed with laughter.
"You want to know about how I came to marry the Prince-in-Spring?"
"Of course!"
"And what will you give me."
Evelyn did not hesitate. "The most precious thing of all."
Salamandra Hedge clucked her tongue. "Most precious, eh? And what is that?"
"Time."
The blind seer flashed a crooked, toothless smile. "Ahh--a good and clever girl. You are Skraefolk, aren't you? That was the very deal I made so long ago--traveling with a caravan on the Ostern Road. I lived as a boy then, and made my living as a scout in the service of the merchant legion."
Evelyn regarded her with some skepticism. "You were a boy?"
"Mm. A disguise--nothing more. You cannot always tell with people."
"What happened?"
The old woman laughed. "Youth. Lust. I caught the eye of two men traveling with the caravan. Tomas, a merchant prince, soft and sweet and smart as could be--and Asmer, an older man--a falcon handler, with tough, strong hands and a thirst for danger."
"You loved them both?"
"I loved the attention. Loved to be chased. I was raised to be a hunter; it was nice to be hunted. Of course, I think that was what called the faerie prince to us. Deep in his barrows he smelled love thickening the air--and because the Prince-in-Spring cannot resist competition, he joined the hunt." -
The #Moroccan #FoodForest That Inspired an #AgriculturalRevolution
These ancient forest gardens may be more relevant than ever.
by Eric J. Wallace April 1, 2019
"It was 1975 and Geoff Lawton was wintering with friends in Morocco. Camping on beaches north of Agadir, they’d been surfing for weeks when locals told them about Paradise Valley. Located along the Tamraght River in the High Atlas Mountains, it promised 5,200-foot vistas, blue-green waterfalls, and lush, rainforest-like vegetation.
"Lawton, then 21, was on his first trip outside the U.K. 'Tourists had yet to ‘discover’ the area, so the culture was very much preserved,' he says. 'For me, it was like going back to Biblical times.'
"The dirt road to the Valley climbed through a barren, arid landscape into rural hills studded with mud brick homes. Twenty kilometers in, the group stopped at the tiny village of Inraren for directions. Lawton went to relieve himself in a roadside wood.
" 'I remember thinking it was odd that this lush, green forest should be bursting from the desert,' he says.
"Stepping inside, things got stranger. The air felt cool, almost misty. Growing in the shade of tall date palms were trees, vines, and shrubs bearing bananas, tamarinds, oranges, figs, guavas, pomegranates, lemons, limes, mulberries, carobs, quince, grapes, and other fruits and nuts. Following a footpath through the grassy understory past groves of olive and argan trees, Lawton discovered a cluster of fenced-in vegetable and herb gardens—most about a quarter-acre in size. Here and there, goats were tethered to posts. Chickens clucked through the underbrush and roosted in trees. Gazing down a leafy corridor, he spotted a man leading a donkey. Its saddlebags brimmed with produce.
" 'I felt like I’d wandered into some kind of ancient organism,' says Lawton. “I had goosebumps all over.'
"Totaling about 65 acres, the food forest was a remnant of one of the world’s oldest #sustainable systems of agriculture. While its origins have been lost to history, scientists agree it is at least many centuries old. Some, including Lawton, date its establishment to 2,000 years ago. When asked about the forest’s age, villagers shrug.
" 'I have no idea how old it is or when our ancestors first began gardening here,' says 45-year-old Abdelmajid Ziyani, a construction worker and member of a local argan and olive oil cooperative. 'But I know it has been here for centuries.' "
Related video: "The 2000 Year Old Food Forest in Morocco - Discover Permaculture with Geoff Lawton"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wd-b_C7a_es
Read more:
https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/what-is-permaculture-food-forests#SolarPunkSunday #ForestGardens #UndergroundSprings #Permaculture #AncientFoodForests #SustainableAgriculture #History #AgricultureHistory #Histodon #TraditionalAgriculture