Anna's Artists Chat Thread
- Thread starter lilmillefleur
- Start date
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- #262
I was going through my phone's pics to print out polaroids for my fabric board and I rediscovered some of my favorite moments--not exceptional photos by any means, but they brought back good memories 
these are all from ma., either vt. or nh., and ut...
these are all from ma., either vt. or nh., and ut...
- Thread starter
- #263
my favorite pictures are on someone else's phone though, from when I hiked a mountain in VT this summer. THAT was a pretty scene. I'll have to find them
Is that a lamb? Are those doves?I was going through my phone's pics to print out polaroids for my fabric board and I rediscovered some of my favorite moments--not exceptional photos by any means, but they brought back good memories
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these are all from ma., either vt. or nh., and ut...
- Thread starter
- #265
The lamb is Winnie, she belongs to me but she is almost fully grown now!
The pigeons were from a cute farm we visited, they were the curly feathered kind...frillbacks, I think they're called? They were very cute. <3
Yeah, so to clarify, none of the poultry I took pictures of here actually belong to me. I just have a habit of taking pictures of them when I visit farms etc.
These pictures are stunning!! :0I was going through my phone's pics to print out polaroids for my fabric board and I rediscovered some of my favorite moments--not exceptional photos by any means, but they brought back good memories
View attachment 2513235View attachment 2513238View attachment 2513239View attachment 2513240View attachment 2513242View attachment 2513243View attachment 2513244View attachment 2513248View attachment 2513252View attachment 2513253
View attachment 2513271
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these are all from ma., either vt. or nh., and ut...
I haven’t been idle. I wrote this quite a bit ago and know this is how I want the story to go. But Idk how to edit it and don’t like the endigg.
Chapter 10 Peregrination
“Peregrination: a long, meandering journey or period of wandering.” Sage’s voice was interesting even while discussing the mundane topic of vocabulary. But this particular noun was unique. Sage smiled and looked up from the thick book that sat before him. “I don’t think your parents could have prevented your escapade when they gave you a name like yours, Peregrine.”
Peregrine groaned at the mention of his “escapade.” After flying off to the red canary village, he was grounded. Very grounded. What’s that word? Profoundly grounded. Peregrine had been practicing vocabulary with Sage frequently, along with all the other nuances of language that the canaries were so obsessed with.
“You aren’t allowed to fly anywhere for five days. You aren’t allowed to associate with Gia for five days. And definitely don’t associate with Pearl. She may be an adult, but she’s not an excuse for sallying off whenever you like. You can only practice nouns and verbs and reading and writing. Foraging too, since apparently, you can do that now. Maybe get an education.” That was what his father had said.
But his parents hadn’t been totally horrible about the matter of grounding. They let him study at Sage’s house. For all his rusticity, Sage knew a lot of words. He just didn’t bother using them.
“You’re moping again, Peregrine,” Sage said. Indeed he was. Peregrine had been watching a glow-worm slowly squirm across the floor.
“Wait what?” Peregrine asked. “Peregrination… that’s actually pretty cool, is that how I got my name?”
“Probably. ‘Peregrin’ means ‘traveler.’ But you also have the beak.” Sage tapped Peregrine’s beak with his own. It was beginning to curve into a hook, much like a falcon’s beak. Like his father’s beak. “A great traveler, fierce as a falcon.”
Peregrine laughed and rubbed his beak with his wing. I really like my name. It has nice...connotations. His life really had been a great journey so far, even though his recent escapade had been the only time he flew outside his village.
“I think that’s enough vocabulary for today,” said Sage. “Let’s get to writing.” He spread his wing and plucked one of his primary feathers with a twist of his beak.
Peregrine winced.
“Spread your wing, Peregrine,” Sage said. Peregrine reluctantly obliged. “It really doesn’t hurt so much. Just look for a feather that’s already twisted out of place and pull it. If you don’t have one in that wing, check the other.”
In his left-wing secondaries, he found a loose feather. He tugged it out. Okay, that didn’t actually hurt very much.
“Your quill will probably last you a couple of months, if you take care of it,” Sage said. He removed a tiny, sharp knife from his pocket and took Peregrine's feather, making a few careful cuts at the bottom of the shaft. “It’s very disrespectful to take somebody else’s feathers, so only use your own for writing.”
“I didn’t know that,” Peregrine said worriedly. “I always used my dad’s pens.” Sage handed the brand new quill pen to Peregrine. Peregrine rolled the sharp-tipped brown feather in his claw while Sage sharpened his black one.
“And that’s okay, but it’s time you had your own.”
Sage placed an open notebook in front of Peregrine. “Okay. Now do some journaling. Write about whatever you want to.”
“What should I write?” Peregrine asked.
“Whatever you want.”
Peregrine scowled. He hated it when adults told him that. When he asked a question, he wanted a definite answer. “Okay,” he said, dipping the pen in a tiny wooden pot of ink.
Peregrine brought his claw to the top-middle of the paper. The Peregrination, he wrote in shaky, scribbly handwriting. He sighed and stared at the title. His pen froze in his claws. It was hard to write with a grinning Sage staring over his shoulder.
Sage must have realized Peregrine needed some space because he wandered to the corner to roost.
It wasn’t a long adventure because Peregrine never went very far away from home. He didn’t have to. Because that wasn’t where the problems were. He couldn’t find them deep in caves. He couldn’t find them in the hills to the west. Peregrine found the problems in his own Forest. It all started when he had to deliver an errand for Sage. Sage was the storyteller for his village. He was old.
Peregrine began to write down any of the significant events that had happened to him in his yet short life. He wrote them in the third person because that was how Sage told his stories. It was the only way he knew.
Peregrine would go back in future years and revise this story, and he would add much more of the events to come, but it would always remain frank and unflowery. Peregrine wasn’t an artsy bird.
~
Peregrine roosted in tactile silence. Sage’s hut was illuminated only by the pale light of glow worms slowly making their inefficacious progress across the floor. Sage sat in the middle of it all, Peregrine’s notebook in front of him, brows furrowed in the noble effort of deciphering Peregrine’s handwriting.
Sage closed the journal, setting it beside him. Over the past five days, Peregrine’s sore wings had healed and he finished writing about his adventure. When Sage asked to see the notebook, Peregrine gave it up freely. “I’ve always been as transparent as a puddle anyway,” he had said.
“So, you think the plight of the red canaries is unfair?” Sage asked.
“Yes!” Peregrine said.
“And you think something should be done about it?”
“Something should be done about it.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because!” Peregrine said, gesticulating with one wing. “I’m just a fledgling.”
“I think that you are in a very unique position,” Sage said. “As a black canary fledgling, you are invincible, immune to the law. I think you should go to Falcon Nest. Go to Falcon Nest and tell them. Tell everyone about the injustices in this world. But don’t go alone. Take Gia with you.”
“But I’m scared,” said Peregrine.
“Every hero is scared before he embarks. Peregrine. I think this is your calling. The world has wanted a hero for far too long. And I think… I know that you’re the one they’re looking for.”
~
Peregrine landed in the tree where Gia’s hut was. He was finally of the “un-grounded” status. What he saw there disoriented him. Wait. Am I at the wrong tree? The Leaflow hut was in its usual spot. But not far away was a new hut, woven with less skill than Mr. Leaflow’s. Still not bad though. Wait. Is Gia…
A cheerful brown blur shot out of the new hut. “Peregrine!” it squealed. The brown blur was Gia of course. She hovered in front of him, but she couldn’t keep still. Her own claws were trembling with excitement. “You’re finally ‘ungrounded’!” A smile, even bigger than her usual one, was distorting her beak.
“I am!” said Peregrine. “But you’re Fully Fledged! Aren’t you?” Suddenly, their age gap seemed like a gaping chasm to him. The thought of building a hut for himself had yet to enter his mind. Peregrine’s brain was still utterly consumed with matters like flying straight, foraging and literature.
“Yes! I am! My parents didn’t ground me when I flew off, since we told them where we were going. But they did make me build this!” Gia waved an enthusiastic claw at the new hut. “I know it’s not perfect, but it’s my own! I’m my own bird now! Isn’t that great?” She gyrated around Peregrine in dizzying circles.
“Yes!” said Peregrine, trying to come up with a subtle way to stop her from flying around his head. “Can I see the inside?”
“Sure!”
Gia’s hut was pretty empty. It contained a roost and a couple of books. The most interesting feature probably had to be the little carved fox figure that she had once bought at the market.
“So, when are you going to Fully Fledge?’ Gia asked.
“I don’t know,” Peregrine admitted.
“Soon, I imagine,” said Gia. “You’re not much younger than me. Only a month. But your mom might hurry up the process. Fledglings become more of a nuisance when there’s three.”
This was a bit overwhelming for Peregrine. “Once I’m fledged…” he croaked.
“What?”
“Once I’m fledged, I have to leave. I know I must. There’s a great adventure ahead of us. We’re going to Falcon Nest. Sage told me to.” Peregrine’s gaze was fixed on the fox figure.
“Ooh! That sounds like an excellent idea. I’ve always wanted to go to the capitol.”
Peregrine’s resolve hardened. He glared at the fox figure like it was the root of all evil. “And once we get there, I’m gonna make sure that life for the red canaries is fair and equal. They should be allowed to live in the Forest with the same rights as us black canaries have.”
“Sounds pretty impossible!” Gia grinned. “I’m in!”
“Peregrination: a long, meandering journey or period of wandering.” Sage’s voice was interesting even while discussing the mundane topic of vocabulary. But this particular noun was unique. Sage smiled and looked up from the thick book that sat before him. “I don’t think your parents could have prevented your escapade when they gave you a name like yours, Peregrine.”
Peregrine groaned at the mention of his “escapade.” After flying off to the red canary village, he was grounded. Very grounded. What’s that word? Profoundly grounded. Peregrine had been practicing vocabulary with Sage frequently, along with all the other nuances of language that the canaries were so obsessed with.
“You aren’t allowed to fly anywhere for five days. You aren’t allowed to associate with Gia for five days. And definitely don’t associate with Pearl. She may be an adult, but she’s not an excuse for sallying off whenever you like. You can only practice nouns and verbs and reading and writing. Foraging too, since apparently, you can do that now. Maybe get an education.” That was what his father had said.
But his parents hadn’t been totally horrible about the matter of grounding. They let him study at Sage’s house. For all his rusticity, Sage knew a lot of words. He just didn’t bother using them.
“You’re moping again, Peregrine,” Sage said. Indeed he was. Peregrine had been watching a glow-worm slowly squirm across the floor.
“Wait what?” Peregrine asked. “Peregrination… that’s actually pretty cool, is that how I got my name?”
“Probably. ‘Peregrin’ means ‘traveler.’ But you also have the beak.” Sage tapped Peregrine’s beak with his own. It was beginning to curve into a hook, much like a falcon’s beak. Like his father’s beak. “A great traveler, fierce as a falcon.”
Peregrine laughed and rubbed his beak with his wing. I really like my name. It has nice...connotations. His life really had been a great journey so far, even though his recent escapade had been the only time he flew outside his village.
“I think that’s enough vocabulary for today,” said Sage. “Let’s get to writing.” He spread his wing and plucked one of his primary feathers with a twist of his beak.
Peregrine winced.
“Spread your wing, Peregrine,” Sage said. Peregrine reluctantly obliged. “It really doesn’t hurt so much. Just look for a feather that’s already twisted out of place and pull it. If you don’t have one in that wing, check the other.”
In his left-wing secondaries, he found a loose feather. He tugged it out. Okay, that didn’t actually hurt very much.
“Your quill will probably last you a couple of months, if you take care of it,” Sage said. He removed a tiny, sharp knife from his pocket and took Peregrine's feather, making a few careful cuts at the bottom of the shaft. “It’s very disrespectful to take somebody else’s feathers, so only use your own for writing.”
“I didn’t know that,” Peregrine said worriedly. “I always used my dad’s pens.” Sage handed the brand new quill pen to Peregrine. Peregrine rolled the sharp-tipped brown feather in his claw while Sage sharpened his black one.
“And that’s okay, but it’s time you had your own.”
Sage placed an open notebook in front of Peregrine. “Okay. Now do some journaling. Write about whatever you want to.”
“What should I write?” Peregrine asked.
“Whatever you want.”
Peregrine scowled. He hated it when adults told him that. When he asked a question, he wanted a definite answer. “Okay,” he said, dipping the pen in a tiny wooden pot of ink.
Peregrine brought his claw to the top-middle of the paper. The Peregrination, he wrote in shaky, scribbly handwriting. He sighed and stared at the title. His pen froze in his claws. It was hard to write with a grinning Sage staring over his shoulder.
Sage must have realized Peregrine needed some space because he wandered to the corner to roost.
It wasn’t a long adventure because Peregrine never went very far away from home. He didn’t have to. Because that wasn’t where the problems were. He couldn’t find them deep in caves. He couldn’t find them in the hills to the west. Peregrine found the problems in his own Forest. It all started when he had to deliver an errand for Sage. Sage was the storyteller for his village. He was old.
Peregrine began to write down any of the significant events that had happened to him in his yet short life. He wrote them in the third person because that was how Sage told his stories. It was the only way he knew.
Peregrine would go back in future years and revise this story, and he would add much more of the events to come, but it would always remain frank and unflowery. Peregrine wasn’t an artsy bird.
~
Peregrine roosted in tactile silence. Sage’s hut was illuminated only by the pale light of glow worms slowly making their inefficacious progress across the floor. Sage sat in the middle of it all, Peregrine’s notebook in front of him, brows furrowed in the noble effort of deciphering Peregrine’s handwriting.
Sage closed the journal, setting it beside him. Over the past five days, Peregrine’s sore wings had healed and he finished writing about his adventure. When Sage asked to see the notebook, Peregrine gave it up freely. “I’ve always been as transparent as a puddle anyway,” he had said.
“So, you think the plight of the red canaries is unfair?” Sage asked.
“Yes!” Peregrine said.
“And you think something should be done about it?”
“Something should be done about it.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because!” Peregrine said, gesticulating with one wing. “I’m just a fledgling.”
“I think that you are in a very unique position,” Sage said. “As a black canary fledgling, you are invincible, immune to the law. I think you should go to Falcon Nest. Go to Falcon Nest and tell them. Tell everyone about the injustices in this world. But don’t go alone. Take Gia with you.”
“But I’m scared,” said Peregrine.
“Every hero is scared before he embarks. Peregrine. I think this is your calling. The world has wanted a hero for far too long. And I think… I know that you’re the one they’re looking for.”
~
Peregrine landed in the tree where Gia’s hut was. He was finally of the “un-grounded” status. What he saw there disoriented him. Wait. Am I at the wrong tree? The Leaflow hut was in its usual spot. But not far away was a new hut, woven with less skill than Mr. Leaflow’s. Still not bad though. Wait. Is Gia…
A cheerful brown blur shot out of the new hut. “Peregrine!” it squealed. The brown blur was Gia of course. She hovered in front of him, but she couldn’t keep still. Her own claws were trembling with excitement. “You’re finally ‘ungrounded’!” A smile, even bigger than her usual one, was distorting her beak.
“I am!” said Peregrine. “But you’re Fully Fledged! Aren’t you?” Suddenly, their age gap seemed like a gaping chasm to him. The thought of building a hut for himself had yet to enter his mind. Peregrine’s brain was still utterly consumed with matters like flying straight, foraging and literature.
“Yes! I am! My parents didn’t ground me when I flew off, since we told them where we were going. But they did make me build this!” Gia waved an enthusiastic claw at the new hut. “I know it’s not perfect, but it’s my own! I’m my own bird now! Isn’t that great?” She gyrated around Peregrine in dizzying circles.
“Yes!” said Peregrine, trying to come up with a subtle way to stop her from flying around his head. “Can I see the inside?”
“Sure!”
Gia’s hut was pretty empty. It contained a roost and a couple of books. The most interesting feature probably had to be the little carved fox figure that she had once bought at the market.
“So, when are you going to Fully Fledge?’ Gia asked.
“I don’t know,” Peregrine admitted.
“Soon, I imagine,” said Gia. “You’re not much younger than me. Only a month. But your mom might hurry up the process. Fledglings become more of a nuisance when there’s three.”
This was a bit overwhelming for Peregrine. “Once I’m fledged…” he croaked.
“What?”
“Once I’m fledged, I have to leave. I know I must. There’s a great adventure ahead of us. We’re going to Falcon Nest. Sage told me to.” Peregrine’s gaze was fixed on the fox figure.
“Ooh! That sounds like an excellent idea. I’ve always wanted to go to the capitol.”
Peregrine’s resolve hardened. He glared at the fox figure like it was the root of all evil. “And once we get there, I’m gonna make sure that life for the red canaries is fair and equal. They should be allowed to live in the Forest with the same rights as us black canaries have.”
“Sounds pretty impossible!” Gia grinned. “I’m in!”
- Thread starter
- #269
guys I just got asked out on my first date 
:0 have fun! I’ve never been on one before so I have no advice to shareguys I just got asked out on my first date!!
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