Lady Lamb the Beekeeper // “You Are the Apple”
And here I state my love of the Atlantic . #coastalmaine
"Paint me like one of your French girls." #roommatescat #fatkitten
Map of the World by Natural Skin Color
i’m really dumbfounded that i never realized skin colour is literally just caused by being closer to or farther from the equator and the resulting sun exposure and skin darkening
actually, its an adaptation. natural selection. people with darker skin are selected for in areas near the equator, where the melanin that causes the darker color protects them from radiation and protects them from skin cancer and other health defects, and because they are healthier they can pass on that trait more. people near the poles have lighter skin because it allows them absorb more of the limited sunlight to convert to vitamin d.
THIS IS THE THING SOME PEOPLE HATE OTHER PEOPLE OVER.
Evolution of melanin levels based on geographical location.
I had heard of Lucy Gray:
And, when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.
No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide moor,
—The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!
You yet may spy the fawn at play,
The hare upon the green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.
“To-night will be a stormy night—
You to the town must go;
And take a lantern, Child, to light
Your mother through the snow.”
“That, Father! will I gladly do:
‘Tis scarcely afternoon—
The minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the moon!”
At this the Father raised his hook,
And snapped a faggot-band;
He plied his work;—and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.
Not blither is the mountain roe:
With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises up like smoke.
The storm came on before its time:
She wandered up and down;
And many a hill did Lucy climb:
But never reached the town.
The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;
But there was neither sound nor sight
To serve them for a guide.
At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlooked the moor;
And thence they saw the bridge of wood,
A furlong from their door.
They wept—and, turning homeward, cried,
“In heaven we all shall meet;”
—When in the snow the mother spied
The print of Lucy’s feet.
Then downwards from the steep hill’s edge
They tracked the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn hedge,
And by the long stone-wall;
And then an open field they crossed:
The marks were still the same;
They tracked them on, nor ever lost;
And to the bridge they came.
They followed from the snowy bank
Those footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank;
And further there were none!
—Yet some maintain that to this day
She is a living child;
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
Upon the lonesome wild.
O’er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.
William Wordsworth (via dottika)
When I think about how long it’s been since I was really close to someone, physically or emotionally, how long it’s been since I really hugged someone tightly, I get very sad. I want to be wrapped up in someone’s arms, preferably a man’s. But alas, not tonight. Sometimes, when I think about this, I feel like I could cry.
I shouldn’t be allowed to blog late at night.
such a needed campaign. i wish they’d have included native americans as well, though, as cultural appropriation of them in costumes is just as awfully common.