Outdoor candle lighting sconses

Hey there everyone! This is my first ever fanfic, and it was mostly a spur of the moment thing. I'm still really new to writing so I apologize If this isn't the kind of quality you would expect.
Please let me know If I make any canon mistakes and I'll be sure to fix them either in edits or any upcoming parts I make! This first chapter is more character establishing than anything, so I hope you all enjoy it!
Also, I hope you enjoy the little tool cards I made! I plan on making more in the future so people don't have to look up stuff for this story, also, let me know if you have any questions about anything!
Thank you u/SpacePaladin15 for creating this setting!

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[Memory transcript)
[Subject: Krittoh, Venlil Forestry technician at Bridger-Teton National Forest.]
To think, just a few [years] ago, I was a bookish shut-in who never dreamed about stepping outside, much less moving to a different planet.
Now, I stood at about 11,000 feet of elevation on a planet 16 lightyears away from Venlil prime, Hiking across a ridge with a Pulaski on my shoulder, and listening to my Human sing about a “big Rock Candy Mountain”
I was whistling along occasionally, but my gaze was mostly glued to the magnificent scenery that surrounded me. The mountains rising above the planet, scraping the clouds with their timbered granite peaks. The Gros Ventre range stretched as far as my sight would reach before being obscured by the blue tinge of the planet's atmosphere. Hmph, no fair.
It was so beautiful, so amazing. a claw ago I stood before the Gros Ventre Wilderness boundary with Marshal by my side, eye affixed on the big sign with bold letters that read “This is GRIZZLY BEAR country!”. Of course, Marshal wasn't phased at all! I shouldn't have been either, I work here! But I was still absolutely horrified.
In general, this whole career path has been in the face of my entire species. As a Venlil, it's been drilled into me that I am prey, weak, vulnerable, and tasty to all things that have pointed teeth. It's certainly not as bad sense the fall of the federation, but it's an idea that persists even today in Venlil society.
Yet here I am, on my way to fight an all-consuming force of nature that on all accounts could be compared to a predator. The nature of fire is to consume, and it is very good at it. I have no hatred for fire, as I've since learned that fire creates just as much as it destroys.
“How ya' doing back there?” The voice of my human broke my thoughts, I shook my head and turned my right eye to meet his. He stood tall and straight despite his enormous pack and pick mattock on his shoulder. He adjusted the old brown wide brimmed hat he always wore in the backcountry. “taking in the scenery?” The human partook in the view himself. “Beautiful, ain't it.”
“I don't have the words to describe…” I said, adjusting by bifocals and shifting the smaller pack on my back, along with switching which shoulder I rested my Pulaski on. I took my time to survey the primeval landscape that dominated here in Bridger-Teton National Forest. The human let out a few quick exhales through his nose as though it were a laugh escaping.
“We gotta keep on going, we should see the smoke on the other side of this ridge” Marshal whipped out his phone and checked something, likely his downloaded map. “You need a snack?”
I flicked my tail in the affirmative, taking off my pack and quickly going for the front compartment where I kept all of the goodies. I pulled out an Applesauce squeeze pouch for myself, and a “Monster” sized “Slim Jim” that had been folded to fit inside for Marshal. “Here” I tossed it to him. “so you can satiate your predatory instincts.”
“Ohhoho! Now!” he caught the meat stick and tore open one end of the plastic packaging with his teeth. “thank goodness!” He took a bite “I was just thinking about eating you, good thing you came prepared”
I whistled through my teeth at his reply, squeezing some apple-y goodness into my mouth. “Hmph” I verbalized through a mouthful, before I swallowed. “Sometimes I wonder if I should let your instincts kick in, maybe it would be fun~”
“you've got an interesting idea of fun.” Marshal shot back a smirk at me, “I like it!”
It wasn't long before we crested the ridge we were on, and there it was, a thick plume of smoke drifting lazily into the atmosphere before dispersing in the clouds, this was the fire we came to see, the “Crystal Valley” Fire.
The fire had started about 7 hours ago, and was picked up on the forest service's fire detection software a little later. the last fire of the season, and a pretty big one at that. Procedure usually indicated identifying the cause of the fire, if it were natural, it could be managed and allowed to burn. This one was quickly deduced to be a man-made fire, so the only option was total suppression.
“Bet the smokejumpers are already down there, probably building a fireline-” Marshal pointed to a well-timbered spot in the valley “right there. If I had to guess, Bastion is probably going to-”
Suddenly, the radio on my packstrap came to life! Well, almost. The voice on the other end was clinical in its report, almost bored. It began with the current weather conditions; hot and dry, I knew that much… the direction and speed of the Wind, and the locales most at risk. Jackson, Wyoming. The National Elk refuge. Grand Teton National park.
“Yadda yadda, let me see that, would ya Critter?” Marshal reached his hand towards me, his fingers flexing in a “gimme” fashion. I obliged without much complaint, I didn't have much of a desire to listen to it. I was well aware of what I was up against.
I remember the first time I laid my hands on my radio, I was ecstatic, it took everything in me not to bleat with joy! It made me feel like a professional, it's primitive design sparked my love of vintage things! I “geeked out”, in Marshal's own words. I've since gotten used to it, and it's just another tool that the Forest Service expects you to take care of.
Oh, I took care of my things! As a forestry technician, my duties are varied, typically having to do wth maintenance. Yes, I've had a couple cool experiences with wildlife, and getting my red card was a huge milestone, but usually my work consists of fuels reduction or maintaining historic sites around the Jackson ranger district.
I sort of zoned out as Marshal messed with my radio, I had my mind on other things. While we hiked I dug around in my bag and pulled out my current reading material. I held the book in my paws. It was brand new, only ever having been opened by me a day earlier.
“ “Fire Season: Field notes from a Wilderness lookout” by Philip Connors. Forward and Venlang translation by: Tresta “Forester””. This must be the latest book translated by Tresta! I picked it up just under a week ago from a bookstore in Afton, Wyoming. And it was the first bookstore I had ever seen on earth display Venlang copies of books straight on the shelf! Hell, they had a whole section dedicated to books translated by Tresta, as well as a few of her own books translated into English.
I had almost every one of her translated and original books. I knew a lot about her, it's hard not to in this profession, and given that I'm working in the very same forest that she did! Tresta was the first Venlil to ever work with the US forest service (in none other than Bridger-Teton national forest!) she was also the first to ever complete the pack test and get her Red card, a feat of endurance worthy of human envy in some cases. She was a very vocal naturalist, and many of her books centered around it.
Her response to the Federation attack on earth was her book “On the nature of predators, and the right to existence.”. It was perhaps the most striking piece of literature I had ever read. From her interviews I gathered that it took her one hundred and eleven tries to get it published, and about twelve of those tries almost ended with the publisher trying to get her committed to a facility. Surprisingly low, all things considered.
Tresta's works and translations have sense seemed to penetrate the minds of the Venlil who have read them. The swath of human conservation literature from “A sand county almanac” to “Wilderness and the American mind” have created a vocal group of Venlil who are eager to change things on the homefront. Large swaths of undeveloped land on Venlil prime have since been targeted for potential protection, along with the creatures within it, even the predators.
Tresta herself has proposed the idea of a Xeno-exchange conservation corps program akin to the ones that already exist on earth, a good way for young people of any species to visit another world and work on environmental and sustainable agricultural projects. I wonder how well those are going, another thing to look up when all of this is finished.
My train of thought was interrupted when I heard Marshal say his call code over the radio, he wasn't going to let Sébastien know that he's out here, is he?
My question was answered in less than a moment.
“Marshal Motherfuckn’ Mason” I heard the human voice over the radio, a tone indicating some slight agitation, I didn't think Sébastien would be too pleased with Marshal being out here, but somehow I don't think he was surprised.
“it's nice to talk to you Bastion, I ain't that far away now, you can rest easy! Do you copy?” Marshal snickered to himself, seeming quite pleased with himself.
“i Copy. You know you aren't supposed to be out here, Reggie is going to flip his shit when he finds out. Krittoh is supposed to be coming out in your place. You copy?”
“Copy, you know I can't miss the last fire of the season! It was just a light knock on the head anyway. I have Krittoh with me, I'm using his radio. Do you copy?.”
“You had a concussion, son. The hotshot crew is inbound near Saddlepack. You copy?”
“Copy! that means I'll make it to the fire before they do! Plus, whatever Reggie doesn't know won't hurt him. Do you copy?”
“copy. If I see you out here, I'll fire you myself. I can't be taking these kind of risks, especially on a fire like this. You copy?”
“I copy. Well, then you won't see me! It's a win-win for both of us.” Somehow, Marshal's optimism didn't exactly make me feel any better about my decision to allow him to come with me, I began to feel a tinge of worry creep up my back, and my throat started to tighten in a sure sign of stress.
“You're going to kill yourself, Marshal.”
Seems that his optimism didn't cause Sébastien to feel any better about it either, his voice betrayed no anger, just genuine concern, it made me shudder.
“You worry too much, boss. I'll take it easy though, don't worry about me.”
Marshal was stubborn, perhaps too stubborn most of the time, but that's what attracted me to him. I have never been stubborn, nor have I ever been particularly assertive. Marshal always had a strong, sure optimism in everything he did or said, it was a reassuring confidence.
I met him about three standard human years ago. Marshal had come to Venlil prime for a “Terran environmental” panel being held at the local community center in my town. They wanted a human with experience doing conservation work and Marshal was exactly what they were looking for.
He was well rounded; having been with the National Park Service, Forest Service and Borough of Land Management, And he had stories to tell from his time as a Wildland firefighter. Marshal was also an author of relative renown within the small world of environmental conservation, though most of his work focused around history and outdoor lifestyles.
When I met him, I was clutching one of his books in my arms as if it were a newborn cub. I think he was shocked to see that I had a copy given that it wasn't translated into Venlang.
I must have looked so peculiar to him now that I think about It, a scrawny little Venlil with glasses holding a book he wrote about the ethics of primitive living. I likely looked like the last person who would be interested in the subject.
I asked for a signature with probably ten extra syllables then the question needed to contain, and he asked me about the book I had. He was mostly concerned with the fact that it mentions hunting, and he was curious on how I acquired it in the first place.
I explained that I acquired it through a book exchange program, which was true. It would have been almost impossible to acquire online, and mainstream sites that sell earth literature would never import something like this. The book exchange sites are really good ways to find hidden gems, books that are scarce due to tight regulations on the sort of media that can enter different worlds.
My explanation perplexed him, and he began asking me what my interest in conservation actually stemmed from. I didn't have an answer. Marshal decided to give me his contact information in case I was ever interested in talking with him about the subject.
It was shortly after that day that we started messaging each other online. It started strictly professional in nature, just a few questions about the experiences he drew on for the book. This quickly turned into exchanging stories of our personal lives, my aspirations, my desire to do something that matters.
Even after he went back to earth, we continued to message regularly. We talked about anything that came to mind, but what I loved most was when he would talk about his lifestyle. The passion he had for the outdoors, his love for the natural world around him. He talked about his reverence for animals, even the predators. He made me love everything he talked about.
Soon, I started to love him too.
So I made preparations to uproot my life and move to a new world. Me, a Venlil who was once very comfortable with the idea of never moving out of my hometown. It was as nerve-wracking as it was exciting.
I often think about one of the first paragraphs from the Boon of his that I owned at the time, it's ingrained in my memory, and sums up a lot of what I like about him and his philosophy.
“Reverence for Nature is just as contradictory as Nature is objective. Nature is, and always will be. It has no rhyme, no reason. Humanity -and all sapient creatures- have a propensity to assign philosophical and often idyllic meaning to things that just are. Because of this we also fall victim to the tendency to give nature moral power, which leads to disgust, or a feeling of betrayal when it inevitably does the exact opposite, on account of it just being.” -Marshal Mason. “Ethical dilemmas of the outdoors, and how to live with them.”
All of it lead up to this moment, descending a mountain into a wide and wild valley to face one of nature's greatest and most frightening forces.

Fire.

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My peach tree has been looking kind of sick this year and now there is this weird goo on a bunch of the branches.
I don’t really water it per se since it’s an outdoor mature tree.
It gets full sun/lots of light and has been perfectly healthy until now.

This plant was indoor with indirect light until frost risk was gone. I’m zone 7 and have put it outdoor where it gets some direct afternoon sun (2pm-4pm) but is sheltered from overwatering in the corner. It was turning colours in the centre in the house so I thought outdoor may help. What can I do? Advice needed as I kill succulents but have had other plants for 25 years. (I don’t know the name of plant either so I’m posting as an outsider and hope you can help)