It's very late in the evening, the ghouls have all went their separate ways after dinner together. But Mountain is still shuffling about in the kitchen, the radio turned down low from dinner time so they weren't shouting over each other. Prior to the meal, Cumulus had swooped in, turning it to a station that plays old jazz music. "Easy listening" as she calls it, because truly big band and jazz is the easiest for the ghouls to converse around.
It was when Mountain turned away from the sliced fruit he was preparing for the following morning when he spotted Cumulus in the doorway. The air ghoulette had a penchant for sneaking up on him, or at least attempting to, as he had learned everyone's footfalls over the years. While he may not be able to hear them, the vibration is what told him of another's presence.
Cumulus crossed the kitchen to the radio, nestled in the windowsill above the sink, turning the volume up a bit. She takes note of the earth ghoul, who has set aside the paring knife he was using to prepare strawberries. "I figured you could use some company" she offered, knowing full well he never shied away from her like has the others.
"I'm just finishing up some fruit for in the morning, this season has been wonderful for berries" he remarked, letting his gaze linger before turning his attention back to the cutting board.
The ghoulette watched as he strategically left a single strawberry in the bowl they had resided in, freshly picked that morning before the heat of the day caught up to the earth ghoul. It was customary that he left the best of any fruit for her, knowing she would appear each evening to spend time in the kitchen with him. Apples and plums in the fall, peaches and berries in the summer.
Mountain turned to her, the perfect strawberry in hand. "Would you like one?" He offered, closing the rather small gap between the two of them.
"Of course" she responded sweetly, leaning in to take a bite of the fruit offered in his hand. There was something so intimate about the act to them, not in a sensual way, but knowing that he spent hours cultivating her favorite fruits only to then turn to her and feed it to her. The knowledge that the earth ghoul cares deeply for those he loves.
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I'm not too late for Mountain Monday, right? :)
Something a little different this time. Getting back into the artsy mood, hopefully.
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One of the many beaver-engineered wetlands complexes in Canaan Valley. The dam, now over-grown with sedges and cattails, is as impressive a feat of engineering for rodents as the Hoover Dam is for human beings. More to the point, beavers are the key drivers to the ecological well-being of Canaan Valley’s extensive wetlands, and for the most part, staff at the National Wildlife Refuge and Canaan Valley State Park let them do their thing - to the point of occasionally letting them flood boardwalks and trails.
From top: spring cress (Cardamine bulbosa), a wetlands-loving relative of the toothworts, which is similarly edible; false green hellebore (Veratrum viride), a potentially-deadly mountain beauty, whose alkaloid-laden leaves and roots can cause cardiac arrest if ingested in sufficient amounts; dotted hawthorn (Crataegus punctata), an important food and shelter tree for wildlife in the valley; woodland strawberry (Fragaria vesca L.), distinguished from the similar wild strawberry (Fragaria virginiana) by sepals that point backwards and seeds on the surface of the fruit; and Robin’s plantain (Erigeron pulchellus), the most impressive and beautiful of the spring fleabanes in Central Appalachia.
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