View allAll Photos Tagged AS
And lovely as the king of flies has come
It was a fleeting visit, all too brief
In three short minutes, he had been and gone....
Fleetwood Mac! - 'Dragonfly'
"Dragonfly" is a song written by British rock musician Danny Kirwan with lyrics taken from a poem by Welsh poet W. H. Davies. It was originally recorded by Kirwan's band Fleetwood Mac in 1970, and became the first UK single released by the band after the departure of their frontman Peter Green. It was also their first single with Christine McVie as a full member of the group.
W. H. Davies ~ Poet
dreamsofthedragonfly.weebly.com
"Peace and Happy Days"...
As I left work for the fastest hour of the day, I noticed the sky was really blown up. While driving home, I saw this old red car out front of a body shop, one of my favorite locations for old and classic cars. I ran home, grabbed the camera and fired off a few shots before heading back to work.
In my opinion, this is true Americana, a classic red car, white puffy clouds and a brilliant blue sky!
Be sure and turn the lights out to view this by pressing "L".
Happy Tuesday!
As in a memory of yesterday, when it was nice out (except for the darn mosquitoes). Now it's 52 degrees. More the way I expect June in the U.P. to be.
As the numbers of Conrail painted power began to dwindle down to nothing nearly 12 years after the split of "Big Blue" one of the Operation Lifesaver geeps still held onto its colors in April of 2011 working along the Lehigh Line in New Market, NJ.
CR MA-02 @ Prospect Avenue, New Market, NJ
NS GP38-2 5290
NS GP38-2 5314
As you walk down a city street loaded with pedestrians have you ever thought to look up at the man in Room 3A?
Why not?
He has been following you for the last 15 minutes.
NEW YORK CITY NY: LITTLE ITALY:
In this case, busy as a Swiss bee. The phrase "busy as a bee" was one of my mom's favorites, and she was busy (industrious) by nature. For her 75th birthday, she asked for a new, taller ladder to make it easier for her to clean her home's windows.
My wife spotted the hive. Neither of us had ever seen one like this. It seems possible that the colors of the platform, hive and entrance are based on someone's "bee research." Maybe they are supposed to makes it easier for bees to find their home and its entrance. Or, are the bright colors just meant to attract humans who are looking to buy a new hive?
The entrance is quite intricate. A human can rotate it and pick one of four different portal designs. I wonder how one chooses. The multi-hole portal seems designed to limit entry to that of bees smaller than the ones shown.
Maybe some bee person among you can enlighten us about hive entrances and color schemes.
Location; Behind a barn, Moostal, Riehen BS Switzerland.
In my album: Dan's Little Lives.
COMING TO DESIGNER SHOWCASE DEC. 1ST
Cold As Ice}
Featuring}} Entice**Truth
Designer Showcase Limo}}http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Sage%20Isle/93/216/31
Blog}} genesismoralez.wix.com/manyshadesofgenesis
**Location Credit**
Winter Holiday Village
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Twilight%20Desires/102/193/37
I managed to capture this beautiful sunset scene over a wheat field near where I live in West Sussex, UK. As I was walking through the field I came across the curved tractor track in the wheat that adds nicely to the foreground. I had to do quite a bit on noise reduction in post production though as it was quite a low light scene.
Follow me on instagram: @sagesolar
This long abandoned farmhouse probably was abandoned about the time the Steely Dan song came out(1974),and there isn't a whole lot left of it, or the farm around it.Even the kitchen and bath were pretty much gutted and/or destroyed.But the old rotary phone remained,untouched,seemingly waiting for the call to make the whole situation....well,as the song goes,better.
...We hear you're leaving, that's okay
I thought our little wild time had just begun
I guess you kind of scared yourself, you turn and run
But if you have a change of heart....
Rikki don't lose that number
It's the only one you own
You might use it if you feel better
When you get home...
Steely Dan(1974)
Do not hurry
as you walk with grief,
it does not help the journey.
Walk slowly, pausing often:
do not hurry
as you walk with grief.
Do not be disturbed
by memories that come unbidden.
Swiftly forgive,
and let God speak for you
unspoken words.
Unfinished conversation
will be resolved in Him.
Be not disturbed.
Be gentle with the one
who walks with grief.
If it is you,
be gentle with yourself.
Swiftly forgive,
walk slowly ,
pausing often:
Take time.
Be gentle as you walk with grief.
~anonymous~
*a Celtic prayer*
....I happened to be passing a spot where they were setting up a new go-karting circuit and there were piles of tyres just waiting to be photographed. How opportune :)
As the sun went down behind the lake I shot many silhouettes. This is oone of them.
Check out my post on this trip at Landscapes of Sharavati Valley
Exposure: 0.006 sec (1/160)
Aperture: f/13.0
Focal Length: 18 mm
ISO Speed: 200
Exposure Program: manual
Good Friday morning everyone, and as always hoping a great day and weekend will be had by all.
This is an image I would normally pass up folks because we see this pose and wing drying all the time, but as I passed he gave me a what for and started screaming at me, so that's when I decided to snap a few while he exhibited the behavior.
Hull # 560, formally known as the Theodore Thibault (C. 176569), in the municipal park and rest area in Val-des-Bois, Quebec, Canada.
It was built in 1945 by Russel Brothers Limited of Owen Sound, Ontario, Canada, and was owned by The James McLaren Co. Ltd. of Buckingham, Quebec, Canada.
Facebook fan page : Descliks2bretagne l PHOTOGRAPHIE
Mon collectif : BREIZH'SCAPES : des photographes complètement à l'ouest
as it comes to taking pictures.
Not as it comes to the constant feeling of exhaustion.
If you're lucky enough to have some spare time there and you're lucky enough to find a spot where you can actually lie down, that is what you do.
Like our two actors did here.
As sun as the sun rose behind me I was joined by my shadow who had a lot of fun playing in the mist.
For over an hour I was treated to a succession of Brocken spectres, Glories and fog bows as the sun cast my shadow onto the valley fog. Gratton Hill fortunately remained above the cloud so added well to the photos
As this shop is built on a slope, the rear windows are almost at ground level with the ceiling being at about chest height from this side of the building.
From the inside it seems normal apart from the fact you are looking at peoples knees as they walk past outside.
(The shop assistant inside is stood on a step ladder).
As noted in the prior scan, 130 and 129 had a split fuel tank, one for fuel and one for boiler water. This shows the difference with sister 159, which has the standard 1/2 fuel tank and the other half as added weight that included a tool box, spare knuckles and chains. Ah, the sound of that Nathan P5...
As neuroses go, it's probably not among the most damaging that a poor tortured soul might have to endure. In fact, considering everything that ails humankind these days I probably shouldn't mention it at all. But here's the thing. I hate my name. Always have done since I was old enough to master all three syllables. And don't tell me it's a nice name. It doesn't matter whether you think it is or not, because as the person who has to live with it, it's on my birth certificate, my driving licence and my passports (both British and Irish) and I detest it with a passion. During the early years of my working life I'd give my name to somebody over the phone and then have to spell out every single letter. One builder whose accounts I was given to work on called me “Sebastian” instead. Which sounded quite ridiculous in a West Cornwall accent. He thought it was hilarious, and he was the customer so I had to grin politely and put up with it. Whenever I say my name it sounds as if I'm a very minor member of the aristocracy. An impoverished fourth son of the baron of a dried up salt marsh who stopped receiving invitations to an audience with the king in the early 1950’s. Nowadays, only people who've known me forever call me Dominic. Generally speaking that's my parents, although my sister often slips into it. She's also had three syllables dumped on her. Rebecca, but only Mum, who remains insistent on this nonsense, calls her that. Everyone else has always called her Becky. My brother is kinder and calls me Dom unless he's in a playful mood and wants to annoy me. As you’ll read later, he got away lightly.
I dropped the “inic” many years ago and anyone who has come into my orbit over the last twenty years simply knows me as Dom. My closest friends only know me as Dom, because that's what I told them my name was when I met them for the first time. “Dom” I can deal with, even though it's often misheard as John or Tom, or mistyped as Don. Once in Barcelona I told the waitress I was “Domingo.” It was the only way to avoid confusion. As for “Dominic,” hardly anyone could spell that correctly. There'd be a K on the end, or two many O's and not enough ‘I's. Or all of those things. One secretary where I worked in my twenties always called me Dominique. Spelt it that way on Christmas cards too. Even though I love France, I'm not French. In the same workplace, an IT consultant spent a few weeks with us and was introduced to me as Nic. It was only when he had to put his full name on a form that I realised we had the same first name. He obviously hated Dominic too, but had been rather more inventive than me at throwing the nomenclature pedants off the scent. Why hadn't I thought of Nic? That would have been much better. Although I suppose everyone would still have added a K on the end. Later on, a cleaner who was hovering on the brink of retirement became convinced my name was Duncan. “Alright Duncan?” she’d chirp squeakily as she came in to empty the bins at the end of each day. I’ve really no idea where she’d got Duncan from, and before long, it was too late to disabuse her. To her, I’d always be Duncan. My colleagues loved this. As for my surname, don't even go there. It's Haughton, not Houghton or Horton or any similar version of events. Hardly anyone gets that right first time. Almost everyone says it wrong too. Even people who've known me for years pronounce it wrongly. I've been on many adventures with Lee, and he still pronounces it Howton. But it's Horton. Spelt Haughton. With an A and only one O, and definitely no R's. Keeping up? Can you see why it drives me around the bend? Told you it was a pain to live with. I've been dealing with this for nearly sixty flipping years!
Three syllables for goodness sake. Nobody needs three syllables in a forename. It's one too many. When I was four and a half, my brother came along. I was not impressed at having to share my parents with anyone else, and to add insult to injury they called him David. Why couldn't I have been called David, like David was? I protested bitterly and begged our parents to call me David too, but they heartlessly ignored me. I was stuck with Dominic, no matter how much I detested those three syllables. And he can be abbreviated to Dave. Everyone hears and spells Dave correctly. Nobody says, “come again, was that Wade?” Or “pleased to meet you Gabe!” You couldn't possibly get it wrong.
“So why bring all of this up now?” is a question you might be asking. Well at the time of writing, and after a few days in Cork catching up with my family, I'm on the west coast of Ireland, on the Dingle Peninsula in Kerry to be exact. Kerry. That’s another name you can’t really get wrong. Staying in a cottage where the host greeted me as Dom. “A good place to write,” as my cousin Fiona pointed out. She's the only one of eight siblings with a triple syllable by the way. But really, Fiona is more like two and a bit as you can merge the vowels almost seamlessly. All eight of my Irish cousins, and my aunt and uncle, being among the people who've known me longest on this planet, call me Dominic, pretty much without exception. I've been Dominic for four days now. But the strange thing is, I don't mind it so much when they say it. Something about the easy stretching of the vowels and the gentle Cork lilt that makes me sound like the strange Cornish cousin that I am, rather than the landed gentry at the big house in Midleton where my Great Grandfather worked as head gardener over a hundred years ago. They all have that same twinkle about them that Grandad did too. But when you breathe in a landscape like this on a daily basis, it’s no wonder really. It’s a rare place this.
I'm here today and tomorrow, and then I'm back to Cork where I'll become Dominic again for a couple of days until I land back in Cornwall early next week. When I’m home, I’ll be Dom - so don’t get any ideas. Not unless you’re Irish that is. Especially if you’re from Cork. Then, just maybe, I might just let you get away with it without pulling a face that tells you what I really think about those three dreaded syllables.
The central relief shows Venice as Justice with the sword and scales. She sits upon a throne supported by lions in allusion to her Solomonic wisdom. On either side the figure is flanked by river gods with water flowing from urns in reference to the subject territories on the Italian mainland.
"you will hear thunder and remember me"
Anna Akhmatova
All photographs 2006 - 2015 © Janine R. Matheson
Beautiful scenery as seen along a river bank in Potosi, Wisconsin, about 30 minutes from where I live in Dubuque, Iowa. It was a nice drive for lunch and able to get a scenic photo shoot in at the same time. Photo Images credited to Vickie Lynne Klinkhammer of Vickielynne Photography and Designs(VLP & Designs). Images may appear on wearable art or home essentials. www.vlpdesigns.com
As soon as I got to the marsh, this kingfisher flew past me with s sunfish. I wish i would have had my shutter a little faster on this one as the wings are blurred.
As close as I could get without paying the consequences. These wasps are as aggressive as can be, especially if you mess with their nests. Living directly beside their nest is a very large spider, (you can see a leg or two in the shadows) not sure how that relationship netted out.
Fairey Firefly AS.5 WB274 of the Royal Navy Historic Flight at Cranfield on 19th September 1993.
Photo by John W. Read.