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Author Topic: dearth  (Read 1141 times)

Offline abejaruco

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dearth
« on: June 24, 2007, 06:58:50 PM »
The game is over. Snails are closing the door. And the cardoon are invaded...massive inmigration. :evil:

Well, I can see art in the de-art-h too.


Offline Mici

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Re: dearth
« Reply #1 on: June 24, 2007, 07:15:43 PM »
Photoshop?!?!?!? :?
1. why do the snails scale the flower
2. why does the flower get scaled by snails
3.what are the snails doint on that flower?


why won't they go to some shady, moisty place like normal snails do!?!?

abejaruco, again an awesome picture!

Offline Cindi

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Re: dearth
« Reply #2 on: June 25, 2007, 11:04:44 AM »
abejaruco.  What a strange sight, you do get the neat pictures, love your pictures.  Beautiful day, great life.  Cindni
There are strange things done in the midnight sun by the men who moil for gold.  The Arctic trails have their secret tales that would make your blood run cold.  The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, but the queerest they ever did see, what the night on the marge of Lake Lebarge, I cremated Sam McGee.  Robert Service

Offline abejaruco

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Re: dearth
« Reply #3 on: June 25, 2007, 05:28:30 PM »
Perhaps they "think" that the prickly flower can offer any protection against human voracity.

Here my son devouring a mountain of unhappy snails, purged, seven time washed, gaiteated (killed in warm water, so they die out), and cooked with garlic, onion, black pepper, chili, mint-tea (pulegium) and silvester fennel.


Offline Cindi

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Re: dearth
« Reply #4 on: June 26, 2007, 10:36:17 AM »
abejaruco.  Escargot is one of my favourite appetizers when we go out for dinner.  One day, I will get some from the wild, but I think that ours are just too darn small to bother with.  Have a wonderful day, great life, Cindi
There are strange things done in the midnight sun by the men who moil for gold.  The Arctic trails have their secret tales that would make your blood run cold.  The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, but the queerest they ever did see, what the night on the marge of Lake Lebarge, I cremated Sam McGee.  Robert Service