07-31-2018, 11:11 PM
/i need to do posts for other stuff but Some Times You Just Gotta Garden
also this is one of the most rambly pointless posts i've ever made but here take it
Jericho fell in love with the little sea town before he even discovered the greenhouse, and yet he's grown to adore the latter even more. He misses the garden he used to have, back in the beach village. He thinks about all the hours he spent pulling weeds, he thinks about teaching his clanmates to make bouquets to send to allies, he thinks about making sure the honeysuckles and buttercups were beside each other because they were his and Dusk's favorites. The little tabby hopes that, though he's long left it, the flowers he planted continue to grow in his absence. The notion is a bittersweet one and yet, in a way, it makes him feel better about leaving everything behind. He doesn't quite know why.
He's been itching to get his paws on the greenhouse ever since he realized it was there — this new place, this new start, he knows won't be complete without a new garden. Jericho himself has been busy enough since their arrival, with setting things up and finding a house of his own and venturing out to neighboring clans, but today has been slower. He spent the morning tending to things as usual and the afternoon on the beach, listening to the sound of gently-lapping waves and attempting to familiarize himself with this still-foreign land. He feels at ease here, in the in-between where the earth meets the sea — it reminds him of the place of his birth and those he would later call home. Among the flowers and herbs he somehow feels an almost greater sense of belonging; that's why he's immediately drawn to the greenhouse when he remembers that it's still there.
It takes him a few minutes of blindly stumbling about and jumping on counters for Jericho to get a true feel for the glass structure; it's a haphazard mix of raised beds and pots and hanging baskets, and he falls in love with every chaotic inch of it. The plants strung from the ceiling are left alone to deal with another day (perhaps when a taller clanmate is nearby), but he sets to work on the dirt within reach without a second thought. Most of the flowers are old and withered, long dead from lack of watering. He salvages what little he can and sets them aside. The Sunhavener finds in the back a few shelves still stocked with supplies and potting soil and even a couple packages of seeds — he can't see what they say and he can only identify a couple through texture and scent, but he thinks it might be fun to plant them and see what springs up.
When he entered the greenhouse he could feel the sun's warmth on his pelt through the glass panes. Standing among the beds, his own pelt dusted lightly with soil after creating fresh layers of dirt for planting, that light has since faded, falling back beyond the mountains. The tabby has also managed to plant a few of the seeds he's found (as well as a few he's kept in his satchel, gathered from wild herbs and flowers), each in its own carefully-chosen spot. Given his blindness and missing leg, the work is slow, but Jericho doesn't mind. There are worse ways to spend his time. He pauses to exhale; the air around him is balmy yet, and for a moment he relishes the scent of seaspray and earth that hangs in it. In the distance he can hear the ocean, the sound of waves crashing in the background. But here, with his paws buried in the dirt, he feels at home once more.
also this is one of the most rambly pointless posts i've ever made but here take it
Jericho fell in love with the little sea town before he even discovered the greenhouse, and yet he's grown to adore the latter even more. He misses the garden he used to have, back in the beach village. He thinks about all the hours he spent pulling weeds, he thinks about teaching his clanmates to make bouquets to send to allies, he thinks about making sure the honeysuckles and buttercups were beside each other because they were his and Dusk's favorites. The little tabby hopes that, though he's long left it, the flowers he planted continue to grow in his absence. The notion is a bittersweet one and yet, in a way, it makes him feel better about leaving everything behind. He doesn't quite know why.
He's been itching to get his paws on the greenhouse ever since he realized it was there — this new place, this new start, he knows won't be complete without a new garden. Jericho himself has been busy enough since their arrival, with setting things up and finding a house of his own and venturing out to neighboring clans, but today has been slower. He spent the morning tending to things as usual and the afternoon on the beach, listening to the sound of gently-lapping waves and attempting to familiarize himself with this still-foreign land. He feels at ease here, in the in-between where the earth meets the sea — it reminds him of the place of his birth and those he would later call home. Among the flowers and herbs he somehow feels an almost greater sense of belonging; that's why he's immediately drawn to the greenhouse when he remembers that it's still there.
It takes him a few minutes of blindly stumbling about and jumping on counters for Jericho to get a true feel for the glass structure; it's a haphazard mix of raised beds and pots and hanging baskets, and he falls in love with every chaotic inch of it. The plants strung from the ceiling are left alone to deal with another day (perhaps when a taller clanmate is nearby), but he sets to work on the dirt within reach without a second thought. Most of the flowers are old and withered, long dead from lack of watering. He salvages what little he can and sets them aside. The Sunhavener finds in the back a few shelves still stocked with supplies and potting soil and even a couple packages of seeds — he can't see what they say and he can only identify a couple through texture and scent, but he thinks it might be fun to plant them and see what springs up.
When he entered the greenhouse he could feel the sun's warmth on his pelt through the glass panes. Standing among the beds, his own pelt dusted lightly with soil after creating fresh layers of dirt for planting, that light has since faded, falling back beyond the mountains. The tabby has also managed to plant a few of the seeds he's found (as well as a few he's kept in his satchel, gathered from wild herbs and flowers), each in its own carefully-chosen spot. Given his blindness and missing leg, the work is slow, but Jericho doesn't mind. There are worse ways to spend his time. He pauses to exhale; the air around him is balmy yet, and for a moment he relishes the scent of seaspray and earth that hangs in it. In the distance he can hear the ocean, the sound of waves crashing in the background. But here, with his paws buried in the dirt, he feels at home once more.
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