being a jelly pilot was a good gig during the dry times. at least there was plenty of water up there.

the jellies were created to “aid in the reconstruction of natural atmospheric hydrologic patterns.” no one had any idea what they could do, but with algal hydrogen manufacturing and sequestration, along with advanced algal polymers, it was straightforward to create a flying, growing algae blob. and once they achieved a certain mass, they were also an easy place to store individuals of excess enthusiasm. in flying green jellyfish; here to save the world.

the clouds were conceived fundamentally as moisture bulldozers. they were intended to follow prevailing winds and herd moisture, by cleverness and weather modelling, or just by shoving vapor, as a giant floating mountain range of green jelly.

the 3d blooming algal forms were endlessly growing, so the system gained power steadily, if slowly. thunderclouds are large, it takes quite a bulldozer to push one, much less an entire weather front.

it was haphazard at first. designs required experimentation. eventually there was a vaguely regularized jelly design that looked like a lumpy arrowhead, or sometimes the flying-v of geese. when things were working well, a string of jellies would fly in formation across a warm ocean, gathering moisture, and push it all into the interior of the continent to fall as rain, as regularly as they could manage.

meanwhile, each jellycloud was it’s own tiny homestead on oversized, high-altitude acreage. a little cabin on a mountain of floating algae polymer and deeply gooed hydrogen.



dark seed

seeds sprout slowly in deep space. the seasons are measured on a cosmic scale.

about a trillion miles out, you’re still orbiting the sun. winters are very, very cold. spring is precipitous, accelerating exponentially down, towards the sun. summer may see you pinballing around the solar system between stellar and planetary gravity wells, or perhaps in this pass, you miss the plane of the ecliptic and you slip right through the bright lights of the solar downtown with barely a course change.

fall is a long flight into the dark, and winter will be an ever so gradual slowing, and turning back round.

a seed ripens unpredictably. sometimes it’s roots find purchase in ice, sometimes in hard rock, or worse, stellar alloy. but seeds are patient. roots push.

chemistry is slow at best in cold space. energy sources are rare. even the sun is far away, little chance of much photosynthesis.

but life is clever. information is dense. there are almost endless strategies to attempt, given ridiculous amounts of time. life finds a way.

and so it comes to be, that, occasionally, cosmic snowballs are consumed by alien viruses, and gradually metamorphose from slush to snot, with a more regularized structure than the previous mishmash of ice and rock and dust, and of vastly stranger potential.

what’s yet more special and rare, is to see this life burst into flower, when a snotball shears itself internally in long spirals, and unfolds, blossoming into a hollow rod a couple hundred miles long, and descends in a gently falling, spinning orbit to make a strange touchdown on your home planet. a standing tree, fallen from space.




there’s the story about the salvage barge that plugs around the gulf, dodging mega storms, gathering scrap, building greenhouses, propagating bamboo and mangrove and azolla fern, and leaving baby tidebreak forests in its wake, turning trash into floating oysterbeds that filter the hot polluted waters.


thats one leg of the tree.


theres the story of the heartland revival. community values in long tornado proof earthship bunkers, and the long rows of perennial vegetables. the humans stay tightly clustered around central community kitchens constantly overflowing with refugee hands pickling starchy roots. rabbit farms that repopulate the hills with improved leporidae genetics, and turn huge quantities of grass into lean meat and earthworm feedstock. a little geothermal power and you’re a food exporter, with root crops that dont fail, that dont fall to wind, or water, or no water, or pests. people that put roots back into earth, and become the windbreak.


thats another leg of the tree.


one leg of the tree comes from the outside in. deep space is reaching towards us. sharp cold green crystal carbon arms spinning outwards from asteroids, growing, but who put it there? did we put that there, to reach back towards us? or has it come from somewhere else?

but that’s for later. that’s act 3. we’ve barely begun the dumb show.




First Mobile App User Experience Drafts


on the advice of a smarter and tech-ier friend, i did some thinking, and some drawing, and some more thing and some re-drawing.

above is my first draft for a page describing an individual garden. at the top you have the current date and it’s identifiers. then it tells you when it was last tended, and by whom. then there will be a color coded box containing it’s current needs.

the picture on the right hand side will be the most recent photo of the garden, with each plant hyperlinked to it’s page, with detailed descriptions and recipes.

the plants are also listed in a text box, with common and latin names, also linked to the individual plants individual pages.

the page also holds a button to take action and move to the Gardening! page, as well as links to the FLF homepage and the user page



clickable plants




the Gardening! page has actions that may be taken, like weeding and watering in checkboxes, with their corresponding point values. the user will do their garden business, check the corresponding boxes, and then will be prompted to take or upload a photo of their work. validation will be centrally driven by photographic evidence.



the users page will list user details such as their point totals, badges earned (for instance, best weeder in west asheville), possibly elements such as work history, and ultimately the ability to redeem points for FLF promotional merchanidise or even gardening tools.