i am surely the first transmasc to notice this

finally purchased an actual binder (gotta balance out the fact that i exclusively wear skirts now somehow) and damn, it fucking whips to be flat-chested

my teenage sons love watching bbc gardeners world with me ❤️🤟🏼

me at work: i should be in my garden in a weird skirt having a cigarette

oh my god!!! i have to cry for two hours a day because i had to do too much errand and be employed time! fix it by letting me arrange my stuff in logical and precise locations for four hours!

husband took the kids rock climbing for the whole evening and i got to spend the whole evening doing autistic housework time and fuck it's wild how good that shit works at unfucking me

like i am fucked this time, but i know that if they just let me be alone in my house for a bit every week i would eventually get unfucked. last couple times i thought i would just be a horrible & useless person for the rest of my life

well it's definitely here now and it sucks ass but it does thankfully suck ass a little less than the last two times, when i did not know i was autistic and thought i was just inexplicably fucked forever

my husband's super into Time Team so between garden tours and archaeological sites the two of us could have soooo much fun on a british holiday

i didn't mean to get big into anglo-saxon poetry and bbc gardener's world concurrently but now i'm thinking about going to england every day

lowkey pretty embarrassing that my language/poetry special interest and my gardening special interest have both decided to converge on the british isles this year like god i'm a fucking anglophile i GUESS

like i really fucking support the work this organization is doing but under no circumstances would i like to hop on a call about it

i think i need to tell the director of the charity i volunteer at that i'm autistic bc she's like all about connection and conversation and i just wanna keep my fuckin head down and deliver groceries there every week without being checked in on at all

everyday i’m being so brave and not infodumping about bbc gardeners world to every person who crosses my path

finally a flag for my fuckin gender

praise the lord for uilleann pipes imho

one big salad should be enough to get me through if it's a really really big good salad

do u think if i make a really big thai mango salad first thing in june i can eat only that all the way through the summer

he's also building a lego kit while sitting in a big cardboard box lined with a fluffy blanket but i don't want that one, i want to lay on the couch and watch monty don's gardener's world

my kid is home sick so i'm coddling him today-- hot bubble bath with a warmed towel & bathrobe waiting for him at the end, toast & jam & bone broth soup, my playlist of songs that make the brain feel silly and happy-- anyways i need to find some way to do this day for myself as well sometime soon

what's sick as hell about british garden culture is it's so widespread & deep-rooted, canadians are all like what's the easiest 3 fuckin shrubs to put in my tiny suburban yard meanwhile autistic british mfs have planted 700 rose varieties in a 8'sq square lot & everyone around them is like oh bravo

it's over for you bitches once i propagate some boxwood

i am spending so much of my time now staring out various windows of my house tryna decide on a location for a small formal garden

discovered bbc gardener's world on youtube and let me tell you i'm getting fucked up on it in the most 37-year-old guy way imaginable

TAXIDE That was the pause between breaths, when everything broken, moth-eaten, rusted out, and abandoned swivelled its glass eyes from its various undignified positions about the place— stacked six deep behind the cracked glass display case, upside down in the big front window, on the floor amongst the rubble and the pools of fetid water— and looked for a help it didn’t yet know would really come. With your hand on the door, you hesitated. And over every trapped thing languishing in the stale air of the taxidermist’s condemned building you counted to three.

easter saturday poem

INSECTARIUM In the first place, I was an insect pinned to a card, transected by the fine steel, meticulously labelled, preserved with formaldehyde, jewel-green and pupil-black: an eye held open and skewered through. So those were the days of the exoskeleton, and hast Thou also donned this chitin to be riven by the entomologist’s blade?

good friday poem

sounds like a beautiful fuckin week

lowkey sounds like you've got easter dinner thought of then

yeah that one has such wide applicability to life

my cat ate all the leaves off my beautiful little bean seedlings and then puked them up everywhere bc she's an absolute dipshit