Topic

A dose of Glitch in real life

These two women are harvesting a peat bog...of sorts. Look at all the Lumps of Earth and Loam they got! 

=D

Posted 6 months ago by Jarhaven Subscriber! | Permalink

Replies

  • Hahaha :) Lol Nice capture :D *hugs* and cheers :)
    Posted 6 months ago by Bachjess♫♫♪ Subscriber! | Permalink
  • The one in the forefront was tossing the darker stuff back into the tar pit once she rifled through it (looking for SB-1, most likely). I kept thinking, "Man, you're gonna need that restore your herb garden."
    Posted 6 months ago by Jarhaven Subscriber! | Permalink
  • LOL Excellent capture & caption.  And look, they Soaked their herb plots.  :(
    I wonder if they found any musicblox?  XD
    Posted 6 months ago by ♪♥~ Auren ~♥♪ Subscriber! | Permalink
  • Here is a poem about digging in peat:

    "Digging" by Seamus
    Published in Death of a Naturalist (1966)

    Between my finger and my thumb 
    The squat pen rests: snug as a gun.

    Under my window, a clean rasping sound 
    When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: 
    My father, digging. I look down

    Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds 
    Bends low, comes up twenty years away 
    Stooping in rhythm through potato drills 
    Where he was digging.

    The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft 
    Against the inside knee was levered firmly. 
    He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep 
    To scatter new potatoes that we picked 
    Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

    By God, the old man could handle a spade. 
    Just like his old man.

    My grandfather cut more turf in a day 
    Than any other man on Toner's bog. 
    Once I carried him milk in a bottle 
    Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up 
    To drink it, then fell to right away 
    Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods 
    Over his shoulder, going down and down 
    For the good turf. Digging

    The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap 
    Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge 
    Through living roots awaken in my head. 
    But I've no spade to follow men like them.

    Between my finger and my thumb 
    The squat pen rests. 
    I'll dig with it.
    Posted 6 months ago by Smashin Grab Subscriber! | Permalink