While taking a proprietary walk through the Garden of Neglect, I noticed the first Freesias of the season peeking out from around another bush/plant thingy. Good to see spring on the offing.

Impegnate nell'invio da Torino P.N. a Cuneo questa coppia di 1900 della Fondazione FS è in transito a San Benigno. Queste automotrici il giorno successivo effettueranno un treno speciale per Montiglio-Murisengo, in occasione della riapertura della linea Asti- Chivasso. S. Benigno, Sabato 1 Ottobre 2022.

nes, Sandstorm. © Copyright 2013 G Dan Mitchell – all rights reserved.

Diffused light and atmosphere as a sandstorm rises above desert dunes.

This photograph comes from a memorable early spring visit to Death Valley National Park back in 2013. (I know… what visit to Death Valley isn’t memorable, right?!) This day brought a fairly big sandstorm to the Valley, and I worked on photographing it in different locations and in a variety of ways — trying to focus on the atmosphere itself, on subjects made nearly opaque by the dust and brilliant light, attempts to capture the power of the dust-laden wind. This photograph perhaps comes closer to most of them in representing a subject that might be recognizable.

Photographing in these conditions is quite an experience, one that I’ve had more than a few times. On one hand, the scene can be overpowering and quite astonishing. Typically, aside from heat, these desert scenes can seem quite benign, mostly nearly static and quiet — in fact, immense stillness and quiet are among the most characteristic qualities of the desert landscape. But when such storms arise the experience is completely different and quite overpowering. It becomes difficult — sometimes bordering on impossible — to do much besides hunker down and wait for the conditions to subside.

G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” is available from Heyday Books, Amazon, and directly from G Dan Mitchell.

Iniziare un nuovo cammino spaventa. Ma dopo ogni passo che percorriamo ci rendiamo conto di come era pericoloso rimanere fermi.

- Roberto Benigni -

"What's A Summer Without Critters?" - the series, continued. This one is from my garden. In May a pair of Tree Swallows moved into a bird house on my fence. They quickly accepted me as a benign presence - or perhaps "innocuous" would be more accurate - and seemed to enjoy perching on one of my bean poles to watch me dig, plant, weed, and water.

I was hoping they would produce a family, but alas, for unknown reasons, one day in July they were simply... gone. This is the male. An iridescent beauty!

Photographed in Val Marie, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2023 James R. Page - all rights reserved.

For those who are new to this series, here is some context.

I was in Messina, Sicily, for a convention - Messina, the city of the Strait. The city of the two seas, the Tyrrhenian and the Ionian - not two whichever seas, but the very stuff of myths and epics. Scylla and Charybdis haunted these narrow, deep, perilous waters.

The weather was consistently unstable - an ever changing sky enlivened by an endless turmoil of clouds (sometimes benign, sometimes threatening and ominous), sudden showers followed by warm sun, and then again. There was at first a peculiar ambiance - a stormy mood, I would say - an epic character reminiscent of remote ages, when the gods and Cyclops trod these lands and monsters haunted these waters. I could understand the sense of awe the ancient dwellers of these places felt while contemplating such views. I could feel the presence of the gods of old just before me. Just all around me.

This shot is from my second Sicilian sunrise, a drastically two-faced one (read the text accompanying my Cyclops' sunrise for detail). I was looking Southeastwards, at the soft, soothing tones and colours of that gentle sky, when suddenly a fiery glow appeared, putting the clouds in fire. It was the ominous glow of the Eye of the Cyclops propagating all through the sky, but in that momentous, fleeting instant I thought of Ephaestus and his smithy. Ephaestus was one of the 12 Olympian gods. He served as the blacksmith of the gods, who made all their weapons and equipments and every kind of metallurgical wonder, including Achilles' armour and the girdle of Aphrodite, and even automatons that worked for him. In some traditions he had Cyclopes as his apprentices. Ephaestus was lame and traditionally portrayed as a bearded, rather ugly - although vigorous - man (a beard was not exactly the first choice in the Greek canon of beauty). Rather surprisingly, he was Aphrodite's husband - and, rather unsurprisingly, she cheated on him with a wide variety of gods, semi-gods, and mortals - most famously with Ares, the god of war, thus compensating his effects on the mortals. Ephaestus, on his part, was not a model husband and had his own share of extramarital affairs. As you may have noticed, the Olympian gods, with all their might, were not immune from the vices and weaknesses of the mortals - they actually amplified and sublimated them!

Ephaestus' workshop was situated inside his Olympian palace, but he was widely identified with many local fire gods, especially those living on volcanoes. More specifically, the Greek colonists settling in Southern Italy identified him with the ancient fire god Adranus, who was widely worshipped in Sicily, and especially associated to the volcano mount Etna. As I watched (and hurriedly photographed) that fiery glow leaking from the clouds I could almost hear thuds and hisses coming from the colossal forge of Ephaestus.

I have processed this picture by blending an exposure bracketing [-2.0/-1.0/0/+1.0/+2.0 EV] by luminosity masks with the Gimp (EXIF data, as usual, refer to the "normal" exposure shot).

Along the journey - post-processing always is a journey of discovery to me - I tried the inverted RGB blue channel technique described by Boris Hajdukovic to give a slight tonal boost to several parts of the scene. As usual, I gave the finishing touches with Nik Color Efex Pro 4 and played a bit with dodging and burning.

Raw files processed with Darktable.

Mountaineers say, “The Mountains don’t care.” Taken from a boat on Maligne (pronounced muh-LEEN) Lake. Happy Mono Monday!

Always watchful, this benign giant of a dog, Djuna, is our female Rhodesian Ridgeback of almost 6 years. When we are in France she can roam around the grounds with her little friend Aafje, the Frisian Staby.

Newington House, in the village of Newington, South Oxfordshire, was originally built about 1635 as a two-storey house. I visited it over 40 years ago when its then owners had heroically tried - yet failed - to fund its restoration after many years of benign neglect. Not only had it been uncared for over a long period but there were serious problems from an unusual method of construction, coupled with regular floods from the River Thame behind, and especially the weight of the late addition of a 'Georgian' frontage. However, soon afterwards a new owner fully restored it to its former magnificent glory. Although available for films and weddings, it is otherwise maintained as a very private family residence.

Carlo, the cook of the refuge, is reading a newspaper; the girl is doing crossword. My sons, Jack & Dave, are upstairs playing with Federico, the oldest of the children at the refuge. And I am playing with my camera... A consolation prize, given that I had some appealing ideas (e.g. to attempt my first Milky Way shot by the shore of the nearby Piazzotti Lake, or some sunrise shooting), but the bad weather spoiled every project involving the sun or the stars... :-)

Seen in the Garden of Benign Neglect.

Rain drops in the Garden of Benign Neglect.

Clarification! It was heavy dew, not rain! still, the effect was the same.

When I first moved to Vegas, my old boss told me about monsoon season "It only rains 4 inches per year in Vegas, and you should be here on the day it falls!" I always think of him when I see a sight like this.

This thunderstorm was a harbinger of things to come. As daylight faded, a group of fairly benign storms were grouped near Alamo, NV. Losing their surface heating, they collapsed and kicked outflow boundaries into a moist airmass that was primed for rain. I was along for the ride, hoping to bolster my lightning image portfolio. Alas, the storms quickly developed monster rain shafts, with the lighting remaining stubbornly within. But oh, if only they hadn't!

The storms were prolific rain producers, flash flood warnings were all over the place, and I had to be careful to stay on major, well drained roads. However, there was lightning too, so much so that the strongest storms pulsed as if there was an internal strobe light within. If it wasn't for the heavy rain, I would likely have several photos of a lifetime from these storms! This went on for hours until the storms moved over the no-mans land of NW Arizona and I headed off to bed at 3am after a 10 hour long storm chase that was short on pictures, but still allowed me to witness some impressive storms.

Mount's Bay is a large, sweeping bay on the English Channel coast of Cornwall, stretching from the Lizard Point to Gwennap Head. In the north of the bay, near Marazion, is St Michael's Mount, the origin of the name of the bay. Though it looks to summer visitors like a large, benign, scenic, natural harbour, in an onshore winter gale it presents a great danger to shipping and a "maritime trap", especially for sailing ships. There are more than 150 known wrecks from the nineteenth century in the area.

St Michael's Mount, is the most famous of Cornwall's landmarks. Originally the site of a Benedictine Chapel, the spectacular castle on the rock dates from the 14th Century when Guy St. Aubin made it his home. The St Aubyn family created a stunning garden with pathways that wind their way up to the main entrance of the mount through carefully planted slopes that feature many sub-tropical species.

In 1954, Francis St Aubyn, 3rd Lord St Levan, gave a large part of the island to the National Trust, under a unique arrangement whereby the family have a 999-year lease to live in the castle and a licence to operate the visitor business.

In 2003, James and Mary St Aubyn moved to the castle with their four children. They, in their turn, became Lord and Lady St Levan in 2013 and still live on the island today.

St Michael’s Mount is a tidal island, connected to the mainland by an ancient, cobbled causeway. At high tide, the sea covers the causeway and the Mount is inaccessible on foot; at low tide, the causeway is revealed and visitors can stroll across to explore the island.

Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

You can see my images on fluidr: click here

You can see my most interesting photo's on flickr: click here

You can see my web site as Nikon Photographer Advanced: NPA click here

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

We were almost five years late. What on earth had we been doing in the time since Lee was taken out by a serious case of man flu just before we were due to head off to Dartmoor? A couple of weeks earlier, I’d taken two days leave and we’d gone on a scouting mission to Foggintor and Great Staple Tor. At Windy Post, a lone tog had asked us whether we were Canon men or Nikon men, as if there was some kind of badge we should be wearing that defined us. We scratched our heads. In Lee’s case he was a Canon/Nikon/Sony/David Hasselhof/Fujifilm/Rolleiflex/Kodak Instamatic/Box Brownie/Canon again/Sony again/Nikon again man. We just nodded, smiled and agreed that Windy Post wasn't working today. A few days later Lee was in bed, clinging grimly onto life with the mysterious disease known as “A Stinking Cold,” and groaning that a photography expedition would be too much for him. “Go on without me,” his whine came over pitifully on the Whatsapp. “I’ll only hold you back.” It was all too pathetic - we’d wait until he was well again. Reluctantly I contacted an understanding host, said we’d be back, and life moved on.

Somewhere towards the end of last year, it was agreed that another trip was due. Lee had disposed of all of the above camera systems (probably), and was now in possession of two exotic Leicas. Whether they’d bear fruit, he still wasn’t sure. By now the three happy clackers had fallen into an easy rhythm of heading off for a few days every second February. In 2018 we christened the new tradition with a winter wonderland at Glencoe, while in 2020 and 2022 we managed to time our respective visits to Snowdonia (or Eryri as my sister now insists we call it) and Somerset (or Somerset as we insist we call it) with monstrous storms. And while another dose of snowfall would be more than welcome, we really didn’t need any more tempests. We were done with cowering in our digs watching airborne trampolines zooming past the windows and waiting for the wind to drop below seventy miles per hour. For the bleak uplands of West Devon, rain and mist would be ideal.

This time, in recompense for his earlier failure to keep away from the microbes, Lee booked the accommodation - and a mighty fine billet he found us too. Dave and I immediately agreed that from now on, Lee was appointed Director of Housing. Not only had our host left enough tea bags to last a week, but we also found three freshly baked scones waiting for us on arrival. Next to them stood three pots of jam, and it didn’t take long to locate the clotted cream in the fridge either. What a lovely Westcountry welcome. I decided not to mention the fact I live five minutes walk from the place where they make the clotted cream - it might have seemed ungrateful. And then there was the underfloor heating. Lee had excelled himself. We’d overlook the fact that being on a working farm, it might be quite busy at 5am, but then again there was a plan to get up early on the first morning. And with fog and mist expected at the crack of dawn, it was a rare opportunity to go to the woods. Those woods.

Now I know you know. And you know that I know you know. There’s probably little point in maintaining a veil of pretence as to the exact location, but I’m going to beg your indulgence on this one. Yes of course it’s that famous woodland - the one we don’t talk about for fear of inviting massed hordes into its depths. Our new friend Carl told us a film party had recently asked permission to come here with a large smoke machine. At least there were only four of us creeping around benignly at half past eight in the morning, sheltering from the persistent drizzle that followed us wherever we went. Ok so the gloom wasn’t quite as thick as it might have been, but as things went, the gods appeared to be with us as we searched for the beasts who guard the forest. Here, I found two reptilian forms, swathed in deep green coats of moss and ferns, making their way across the ancient boulders. The one on the left looked spent, but any attempts to overcome him would surely be repelled by a rather fierce looking companion.

Five years on and we’d timed this visit well. No storms, no snow, just an agreeable blanket of misty morning doom. For a couple of hours we moved around the edges of the wood, entranced and enchanted by its curious inhabitants, nursing cups of coffee drawn from thermos flasks. Just now and then a composition might unravel from the chaos, although more often confusion ruled amongst the beasts. Beasts that skulked and plotted in the shadows as we shook the raindrops from our packs and wiped our cameras with whatever passed for towels. All too soon our time was up - the next rendezvous lay waiting somewhere nearby. We packed our gear away and left the guardians to their secrets. I could almost feel them watching our backs as we retreated into the fog once more.

"Pooka. From old Celtic mythology, a fairy spirit in animal form, always very large. The pooka appears here and there, now and then, to this one and that one. A benign but mischievous creature."

Quote from the 1950 movie 'Harvey'

www.imdb.com/title/tt0042546/

Made for the Grove Art Centre photo club, theme is movies/characters.

I was in Messina, Sicily, for a convention - Messina, the city of the Strait. The city of the two seas, the Tyrrhenian and the Ionian - not two whichever seas, but the very stuff of myths and epics. Scylla and Charybdis haunted these narrow, deep, perilous waters.

The weather was consistently unstable - an ever changing sky enlivened by an endless turmoil of clouds (sometimes benign, sometimes threatening and ominous), sudden showers followed by warm sun, and then again. There was at first a peculiar ambiance - a stormy mood, I would say - an epic character reminiscent of remote ages, when the gods and Cyclops trod these lands and monsters haunted these waters. I could understand the sense of awe the ancient dwellers of these places felt while contemplating such views. I could feel the presence of the gods of old just before me. Just all around me.

My third Sicilian sunrise was the most amazing of the whole trilogy of four (dedicated to my fellow Doug Adams' fans). At first I dubbed it "the sunrise of the happy painter", since it was so colourful and the sky was - well... It was just like a happy painter - maybe a painter in love - had brushed it with glowing orange and pink. I dubbed it like that to make my fellow librarians attending the convention regretful for not having accepted my invitation to come along with me and see the sunrise. Haha. And I showed them some photos taken with my smartphone, just to pour salt into the wound. Haha.

However when I immersed myself in the project humbly titled "In the Land of the Gods", I forgot the painter in love and came to see Nephele and her sister nymphs, the Nephelai, dancing in the morning sky with their billowing robes flying about and streaking the sky while capturing that incredible orange-rosy light. The Nephelai, or Nephelae, were the nymphs of the clouds and rain, daughters of the gods of the earth-encircling river Okeanos, the Titans Okeanos and Tethys.

As an individual nymph, Nephele originated from a cloud moulded by Zeus to look like his own wife, Hera, to test the integrity of Ixion, king of the Lapiths - or rather to test Hera's report that Ixion had tried to violate her. Be that as it may, Ixion failed the test and was chained to a fiery wheel for all eternity - a hell of a punishment for an impious king.

Well, I understand that by now you might be getting lost in the multifaceted, complex layers of Greek mythology, with their often conflicting traditions. To be honest I am fully with you, yet I believe that you can really see the beautiful girls dancing in their orange and rosy robes, smiling and laughing while looking at their own colourful reflections in the tidal pools - so close to a humble mortal like me that I felt I was almost able to touch them. I did not succumb to the temptation, anyway, fearing that disturbing those reflections would make the nymphs flee - after all you can only watch a reflection and delight in its beauty, but never seize it - so I contented myself with photographing the scene that I am sharing with you.

Explored on 2022/11/26 #43

I have processed this picture by blending an exposure bracketing [-2.0/-1.0/0/+1.0/+2.0 EV] by luminosity masks with the Gimp (EXIF data, as usual, refer to the "normal" exposure shot).

Along the journey - post-processing always is a journey of discovery to me - I tried the inverted RGB blue channel technique described by Boris Hajdukovic to give a slight tonal boost to several parts of the scene. As usual, I gave the finishing touches with Nik Color Efex Pro 4 and played a bit with dodging and burning. I used for the very first time the Gimp's Liquify tool - a very powerful and dangerous one, indeed - to impart a slight bending on the streaks of clouds on the left, that were absolutely straight. As always, it was a small touch, not betraying itself.

Raw files processed with Darktable.

MRS Frosinone-Cuneo in arrivo alla sua destinazione, circondato da prati e frutteti primaverili.

Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

You can see my images on fluidr: click here

You can see my most interesting photo's on flickr: click here

You can see my web site as Nikon Photographer Advanced: NPA click here

Sulzer class 25 'Rat' no. 25099 comes off the Corby line at Glendon Junction, just north of Kettering, with a rake of fitted mineral wagons.

Both routes form part of the Midland Mainline (MML) but the more direct line on the left tackles the steeper gradients leading to Sharnbrook summit and, in the 1970s, was the almost exclusive domain of passenger traffic. Freight traffic of the period (which included a significant amount of coal movement from Toton Yard to London) tended to follow the more benignly graded route from Syston North Junction, through Melton Mowbray and Corby before rejoining here at Glendon Junction.

In 1977 it was still a novelty to see a rake of mineral wagons without the brake van and guard bringing up the rear, and I'm wondering if the working might originate from Corby Steelworks. If anyone has any better knowledge I'd be grateful to hear.

Looking at the map I'm presuming I took this from the Glendon Road overbridge but, to be honest, I can remember nothing about this trip or taking the image! What is evident though are the twin-poled telegraph supports, albeit with most wires now removed, as well as a few sempahores dotted around protecting the junction for trains from the north.

Agfa CT18

8th October 1977

Am Tag unseres Besuchs hat es in Arezzo heftig geschüttet, man würde wohl keine Ansichtskarte aus diesen Aufnahmen machen. Aber der Vollständigkeit halber gibt es von mir doch eine !😊 Auch diese Stadt war Drehort eines Films und zog daher unsere Aufmerksamkeit auf sich. "Das Leben ist schön" oder "La vita è bella" im Original von Roberto Benigni heißt der sehr berührende Film. (1997)

de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Das_Leben_ist_sch%C3%B6n_

On the day of our visit it was raining heavily in Arezzo, nobody would make a postcard from these pictures. But for the sake of completeness, there is one of me ! 😊This city was also the scene of a film and therefore attracted our attention. "Life is beautiful" or "La vita è bella" in the original by Roberto Benigni is the name of the very touching film. (1997)

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Life_Is_Beautiful

Acrylic on linen

100 x 120 cm

From the gallery description:

"This pretty tabby looks benign but her imprint - paw print perhaps? - on the environment is manifest in the mixed flock of Tasmanian birds that can fall prey to her innate talents as a natural born predator."

One thing is clear in Michael McWilliams' depictions, all animals are painted with the same care and the imported species are not treated with any direct antagonism. It is up to us to ask the relevant questions and manage how they relate to the environment.

NOTE: You really do need to enlarge these photographs to see the intricate detail of Michael McWilliams' paintings. Sadly, I don't expect most of the people who merely look or fave and move on to do this, let alone read the descriptions which I have thoroughly researched. But if people did they might in fact increase their knowledge of the world. Some things are more important than flitting around Flickr like a butterfly to flowers.

* All these works are copyright to Michael McWilliams.

It's Flyday once again, and what earthy good is a Flyday without a fly. Another one of the pesky flesh fly, trying it's best to look benign. A 2-image, handheld focus stack.

Happy Flyday Friday. HFF

PLEASE: Do not post any comment graphics, they will be deleted. See info in my bio.

Saint Bénigne de Dijon fut un monastère avant d'être une cathédrale. La première église, construite sur la sépulture du saint, date de 535. Le monastère est créé en 871. Lorsqu'il constate, un peu plus d'un siècle plus tard, le délabrement de l'église, l'abbé de Cluny Maïeul décide de confier la reconstruction des bâtiments à Guillaume de Volpiano. Les travaux sont entamés en 1001. L'église de 100 m de long est alors la plus grande du monde chrétien.

Le monastère prospère jusqu'à son passage sous le régime de la commende, au début du XVIe siècle. Les bénédictins de l'ordre de Saint Maur relèvent le monastère au XVIIe siècle mais la Révolution vide l'église de ses richesses, même si elle en épargne les murs. Tout au long du XIXe, les bâtiments monastiques disparaissent pour laisser place à de nouvelles constructions.

La façade de Saint-Bénigne est très austère. Le porche est surmonté d'une galerie appelée galerie du Gloria (le prêtre y bénit les rameaux). Au second niveau, on trouve une baie à trois lancettes surmontées d'une rose. Au-dessus une seconde galerie lie les deux tours qui flanquent l'ensemble. Elle est coiffée d'un petit pignon. Les deux tours, hexagonales, sont agrémentées de tourelles. Malgré ses ornements, c'est le caractère massif de la façade qui l'emporte

Saint Bénigne de Dijon was a monastery before it became a cathedral. The first church, built on the saint's tomb, dates from 535. The monastery was created in 871. When he noticed, a little over a century later, the dilapidated state of the church, the abbot of Cluny Maïeul decided to entrust the reconstruction of the buildings to Guillaume de Volpiano. Work began in 1001. The 100 m long church was then the largest in the Christian world.

The monastery prospered until it came under the commendam regime at the beginning of the 16th century. The Benedictines of the order of Saint Maur restored the monastery in the 17th century, but the Revolution emptied the church of its riches, even if it spared the walls. Throughout the 19th century, the monastic buildings disappeared to make way for new constructions.

The façade of Saint-Bénigne is very austere. The porch is surmounted by a gallery called the Gloria gallery (the priest blesses the branches there). On the second level, there is a bay with three lancets surmounted by a rose window. Above, a second gallery links the two towers that flank the whole. It is topped with a small gable. The two hexagonal towers are decorated with turrets. Despite its ornaments, it is the massive character of the façade that prevails.

A local shot for me taken last week in the very benign weather that the UK enjoyed. In my particular area in North Yorkshire we had a series of foggy mornings with sunny afternoons. This was one of the few sunsets we had where cloud and fog combined to give this unique atmosphere.

Le plan de la crypte présente une rotonde avec double déambulatoire, le martyrium avec le tombeau de St-Bénigne à l’ouest, des parties de l’étage inférieur du transept avec absidioles orientées, et deux chapelles à l’est dédiées à Saint-Jean-Baptiste et à Sainte-Marie. Les fouilles ont attesté l’existence d’une crypte sous la nef qui reste encore comblée. Il y a un total de 86 colonnes supportant les voûtes de la crypte, qui ont été en partie refaites au 19e siècle. L’entrée actuelle à la crypte se trouve au sud et remplace l’entrée d’origine avec des marches à l’ouest. La rotonde comprend une partie centrale de plan octogonal où se trouve l’autel. Huit colonnes monolithes aux chapiteaux épannelés supportent la voûte à huit ogives (refaite en 1858). Le double déambulatoire entourant la partie centrale complète trois cercles concentriques. Le déambulatoire interne est voûté en berceau annulaire et le déambulatoire externe est voûté de berceaux à pénétrations et de huit compartiments d’arêtes sur doubleaux. Seize colonnes monolithes séparent les déambulatoires et 22 demi-colonnes d’alternance faible et forte allègent le mur extérieur. Les murs sont en petit appareil et les baies montrent des claustra reconstitués au 19e siècle d’après des fragments. On y trouve deux sarcophages anciens.

A seemingly benign street picture until you see that sign.

I did not stick around to eavesdrop on their plans.

++ I gotta get me a new lens 😫

I was in Messina, Sicily, for a convention - Messina, the city of the Strait. The city of the two seas, the Tyrrhenian and the Ionian - not two whichever seas, but the very stuff of myths and epics. Scylla and Charybdis haunted these narrow, deep, perilous waters.

The weather was consistently unstable - an ever changing sky enlivened by an endless turmoil of clouds (sometimes benign, sometimes threatening and ominous), sudden showers followed by warm sun, and then again. There was at first a peculiar ambiance - a stormy mood, I would say - an epic character reminiscent of remote ages, when the gods and Cyclops trod these lands and monsters haunted these waters. I could understand the sense of awe the ancient dwellers of these places felt while contemplating such views. I could feel the presence of the gods of old just before me. Just all around me.

This photo comes from my fourth Sicilian sunrise, when I ventured as far as Capo Peloro, where the Ionian and Tyrrhenian seas swirl into each other. Directly above the beach stands the mammoth electricity pylon of Messina, that was one of the tallest in the world. It is disused now, but it still stands proudly like a sentinel on the very northeasternmost tip of the island - a modern giant guarding the place once haunted by the monstruous Charybdis. The dolphins and swordfish that frequent these waters in Summer where gone, but the magic of the place was fully there. It was a windy, almost but not quite cloudless morning and the blooming light at the horizon, pouring from the rugged coastline of Calabria felt just like the fiery chariot of Apollo was about to rise from the very edge of the world as the wavebreakers emerging from the sand were stirring to hail the new day.

Apollo was one of the Olympian gods, son of Zeus and the nymph Leto. He was the god who used to give his gifts to the mortals: medicine and healing were among the most important gifts from Apollo (Asclepius was his son), along with music, songs, dance and poetry (Orpheus was another renowned son of his); he was the inventor of string music and archery, and the protector of herds and crops from diseases. Apollo was also a protector of the young, concerned with the health and education of children. He was also the giver and inspirer of laws and of prophecy - he was the prophetic deity of the Delphic Oracle. Apollo was a complex, multifaceted, mostly benevolent deity, who was willing to offer his many gifts to the mortals, to the point that one could wonder what was the raison d'etre of the other gods. And it is no wonder that since the 5th century BC he has been identified with Helios, the personification of the Sun, and depicted while driving a fiery chariot across the sky, maybe as Aurora, goddess of the dawn, strews flowers in his path, announcing his - and the new day’s - arrival (see an example from Italian Renaissance).

Explored on 2022/12/12 nr. 41

I have processed this picture by blending an exposure bracketing [-2.0/-1.0/0/+1.0/+2.0 EV] by luminosity masks with the Gimp (EXIF data, as usual, refer to the "normal" exposure shot).

It has been a long, difficult, and devious post-processing journey, and I am not really ok with how this photo has come out. The sky always tried to overdo itself and I often had to retrace my steps, trying to get a more realistic result; this was made even more difficult by those streaks of clouds, that were strangely flat and saturated from the very onstart of the journey. I tried my best to bring out the real three-dimensional look of the treacherous clouds while not having the whole sky looking like clown vomit (I am indebted to Pat David for this brilliant, self-explanatory phrase). No inverted RGB blue channel technique for this photo, since it only worsened things. I hope to get your feedback and constructive criticism.

As usual, I gave the finishing touches with Nik Color Efex Pro 4 and played a bit with dodging and burning in the foreground.

Raw files processed with Darktable.

When this day began, I was comfortably trapped in my chic little Icelandic hotel cabin by snow drifts covering the door that were over five feet high. I heard some scrapping noises and peered out the window next to the door. The ever cheerful English guy in the bright red parka grinned back at me with his infectious smile. With a loud "good morning, Anne!", he waved the tiny shovel that he'd purchased at the Iceland version of the convenience store just the day before in the 'remote' chance that we might be snowed in at some point in the trip. Within time, I was freed into the wildly blowing subzero winds.

Our destination was Reynisfjara, one of the most beautiful and yet dangerous beaches in Iceland. I had seen the videos showing tourists trapped in terrifying sneaker waves on this beach and so I was careful not to get caught in one myself. We had not been so lucky a few days earlier at the beach in Vik which managed to swamp us with a rogue wave of freezing water - despite our best efforts to keep an eye out.

The temperatures this day were so far below freezing that it didn't matter what the number was -it was just bitterly cold. The winds were so strong that I felt that I was pushing against a wall just to walk forward. I took off in an opposite direction from my friends to find a different point of view. Hiking up to this overlook, I found a little shelter from the wind and I was able to set up my tripod and catch this scene just as the morning sun began to light up a bit. The sea looks almost benign in this image but believe me, it was very rough and thunderously loud as the crashing waves landed on the obsidian sands and rocks.

I know that I had a huge smile on my face that morning. I'm smiling right now just thinking about how good it feels to be in places like this which challenge us to thrive in adverse conditions. On this International Women's Day, don't give me a pair of fancy designer shoes, but give me more days like this one.

Sunny afternoon

Tall grass, shimmering water

Three geese on the pond

"Iniziare un nuovo cammino spaventa. Ma dopo ogni passo che percorriamo ci rendiamo conto di come era pericoloso rimanere fermi."

Roberto Benigni

Con aprecio y gratitud para Benigno, Any, Maria Antonia y Joaquin ..... su compañía hizo posible este momento feliz.

Canon EOS 6D

Minolta Dimage Scan Elite 5400 lens

MJKZZ Xtreme Pro rail + IR Remote Motion Controller

Tiempo exposición: 0,8" - ISO100

Canon Auto Bellows

Stacking

Nº de fotos: 60

Pasos: 100 µm

Magnificación aproximada: 2x

La avispa Evania appendigaster, lejos de ser temida, debería ser vista con respeto, ya que nos ayuda en el control de las cucarachas. La hembra deposita un huevo en la ooteca de las cucarachas del que sale una larva blanquecina. Esta larva va devorando los huevos de cucaracha que forman la ooteca. Y en este proceso hace 5 mudas hasta convertirse en una larva de 5 milímetros que se transforma en pupa. Todo ello siempre dentro de la cápsula de la ooteca. Al final emerge una evania adulta que vive 2 o 3 semanas y se alimenta de polen de flores. Además, aunque es una avispa, no se ha reportado que pique a los humanos. Se trata pues de un parásito, pero de un parásito benigno para los humanos

The view from the top of Helsby Hill, Cheshire is a grand one at any time, although more often accompanied by a mighty gale when a westerly's blowing necessitating the use of a tripod to keep the camera steady.

Having noted that a train had gone into the Encirc glass works at Ince earlier in the morning (6F90), I decided to take a hike up the hill to see what could be seen. In this shot, DB Cargo Shed 66084 is poised with the last couple of wagons going through the unloading facility, and will soon be ready to head back to Arpley Sidings travelling as the 12.30pm departure (6F91) where it will change drivers and make its way back to, presumably Middleton Towers, in the early hours of 14th July.

The scene of course is dominated by the Stanlow Refinery, with Ellesmere Port in the middle distance. In fact a Merseyrail class 507/508 can just about be made out waiting at Ellesmere Port Station where it will shortly embark on another out and back trip along the Wirral to Liverpool.

The hills of North Wales lie on the horizon - and catching a couple of showers too while I waited. Luckily the conditions where I was were pretty benign for this visit so no tripod required.

Better viewed full screen.

11.35am, 13th July 2020

... yet she was so beautiful as she was quietly gliding through the treacherous waters of the Strait of Messina, where the fearsome shadows of Scylla and Charybdis are still looming. I have already mentioned that my second Sicilian sunrise was somehow a bipolar one: a fiery, ominous Cyclops' sunrise, no doubts about that. Yet when looking Southeastwards it was as gentle and serene as a sunrise can be, bathed in a soft light. And yes, I was lucky enough to see and capture the elegant, graceful shape of the Amerigo Vespucci, the renowned training ship of the Italian Navy, in the distance, her sails furled. Definitely not Ulysses' galley, but a subtle sense of adventures to come transpired from her.

For those who are new to this series, here is some context.

I was in Messina, Sicily, for a convention - Messina, the city of the Strait. The city of the two seas, the Tyrrhenian and the Ionian - not two whichever seas, but the very stuff of myths and epics. Scylla and Charybdis haunted these narrow, deep, perilous waters.

The weather was consistently unstable - an ever changing sky enlivened by an endless turmoil of clouds (sometimes benign, sometimes threatening and ominous), sudden showers followed by warm sun, and then again. There was at first a peculiar ambiance - a stormy mood, I would say - an epic character reminiscent of remote ages, when the gods and Cyclops trod these lands and monsters haunted these waters. I could understand the sense of awe the ancient dwellers of these places felt while contemplating such views. I could feel the presence of the gods of old just before me. Just all around me.

Explored on 2022/12/31 me. 75

I have processed this picture by blending an exposure bracketing [-2.0/-1.0/0/+1.0/+2.0 EV] by luminosity masks with the Gimp (EXIF data, as usual, refer to the "normal" exposure shot).

Along the journey - post-processing always is a journey of discovery to me - I tried the inverted RGB blue channel technique described by Boris Hajdukovic to give a slight tonal boost to several parts of the scene. As usual, I gave the finishing touches with Nik Color Efex Pro 4 and played a bit with dodging and burning. I did not like the sea in this photo, so I tried a fancier processing; yet I would have had a ND filter while shooting in order to get the result I wanted (incidentally, I have one now, a little late for my shooting at Messina though). I did not try to emulate the effect of a longer exposure, it looked futile and dangerous, so I was a little creative with the sea as it was.

Raw files processed with Darktable.

in transito con il suo RV Torino-Cuneo dal Casello Rosso di San Benigno/Ronchi

Painterly panoramic work looking down on Paleokastritsa. A bit of a challenge with my Benign Positional Vertigo but hopefully worth it :)

se quella notte, per divin consiglio,

la donna rosa, concependo silvio,

avesse dato a un uomo di milano

invece della figa il deretano,

l'avrebbe preso in culo quella sera

sol donna rosa e non l'italia intera

Roberto Benigni

Milano '07

© www.antoniotascino.com 2008

Many a wild and wonderful curiosities has come from Cordelia Curiosus. But, be warned that not everything is benign and wholesome. Many are cursed and destined for evil.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

Frogmore

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Frogmore/192/126/27

This winter is been so benign that some trees have not lost their leaves completely...directly from autumn to spring

You may say, "All gremlins are squalid, loathsome creatures!" and you would be right. But there are those gremlins so detestable as to cause ruin, madness, and death simply through their presence.

Of course in fantasy warfare, gremlins are not going to be seen fighting on the battlefield or anywhere else. The gremlin way is in the shadows to meddle, to destroy in increments. The presence of a gremlin is always known from the results before the gremlin itself is spotted.

Things stop working. Knots are undone, levers are broken, shoes are mangled, food is poisoned. At first seemingly ordinary failures but it quickly becomes apparent that it is sabotage rather than benign.

This is the case with all gremlins but the Squalid Gremlin is so vile, so repugnant that the effect on those it targets is madness and even death. More than simply the meddling and destruction, the Squalid Gremlin's presence is like a repulsive oil that clings to your psyche. A noxious odor, foul beyond description, fills and clouds your thoughts, though others cannot smell it. The deepest of depressions set in and despair begins to crush you until death seems like a sweet deliverance.

For these reasons, gremlins are utilized in single targeted attacks on enemy weapons and leaders, much like Scalesworn Specters, * Death Demons, ** and Gnoll Robbers. *** Gremlins in general and Squalid Gremlins in particular are feared by the forces of evil that employ them because they have no loyalty.

A gremlin is fiercely independent and goes where it wishes so many evil planners have themselves fallen prey simply by gaining the attention of the creatures. So, for gremlins to be effectively used against a target, situations must be created and designed so that the gremlin thinks it was their idea.

This requires careful planning and the only ones with any sustained success in the area has been the Nightfiends. ****

👾 Happy 🏰 Heroclix 🏯 Friday! 🐉

__________________________

A year of the shows and performers of the Bijou Planks Theater.

* The Scalesworn Specters seen in BP 2020 Day 338!

www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/50680091997/

** The Death Demons seen in BP 2020 Day 290!

www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/50495700621/

*** The Gnoll Robber seen in BP 2021 Day 120!

www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/51148610748/

**** The Nightfiends seen in BP 2020 Day 304!

www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/50547322378/

Gremlins were also featured in BP 2019 Day 189:

www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/48231662567/

and in 13 Daze of Halloween 2020 Day 11:

www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/50513094947/

Ben More at 3843 feet is a big hill & i once climbed it twice in a week in vastly different weather conditions, here it looks benign in the late evening light reflected in the river Fillan at Crainlarich.

My first time had been anything but benign as we had struggled up in snow & slippery icy patches thankful for a stone wall to follow for shelter & a navigation marker when the visibility dissapeared.

For those who are new to this series, here is some context.

I was in Messina, Sicily, for a convention - Messina, the city of the Strait. The city of the two seas, the Tyrrhenian and the Ionian - not two whichever seas, but the very stuff of myths and epics. Scylla and Charybdis haunted these narrow, deep, perilous waters.

The weather was consistently unstable - an ever changing sky enlivened by an endless turmoil of clouds (sometimes benign, sometimes threatening and ominous), sudden showers followed by warm sun, and then again. There was at first a peculiar ambiance - a stormy mood, I would say - an epic character reminiscent of remote ages, when the gods and Cyclops trod these lands and monsters haunted these waters. I could understand the sense of awe the ancient dwellers of these places felt while contemplating such views. I could feel the presence of the gods of old just before me. Just all around me.

Siciliy and the coastal regions of Southern Italy were not just a land of myths and legends, and of epic deeds: they were also a land of philosophy. Pythagoras emigrated to Croton, in Calabria, and the first community of Pythagoreans were founded in that city. The whole Magna Graecia was imbued with Greek art, culture, and philosophy - not least because people who had troubles in their homeland often found useful to settle in the Italian colonies, as things often go.

Plato travelled three times to Sicily, more specifically to Syracuse (yes, that in the USA is not the only one - the Sicilian city is the original!), apparently considering Sicily the best setting to try and make his idealized Republic real (there is an enormous amount of information in the web, but if you are intrigued by the subject you could enjoy reading part of a book I have found freely available in Jstor, Politics and Performance in Western Greece: Essays on the Hellenic Heritage of Sicily and Southern Italy, ed. by Christos C. Evangeliou: part VI). Scholars believe that Plato might have developed the well-known Allegory of the Cave thinking of the 7,000 Athenians imprisoned and chained in the quarry Grottoes of Syracuse during the Peloponnesian War.

It was my last morning in Sicily and I was gifted with what I previously described as the "Apollo sunrise" (have a look at my Apollo's Fiery Chariot on the Horizon, even though I do not love it too much). It was a crystal clear windy morning and the world was so sharp and crisp that it felt like it had just been created. When the chariot of Apollo rode above the horizon everything was flooded with a powerful warm light that sculpted everything just like it was the perfect model from which our human perceptions derive. Yes, in that magic place, the very horn of the island, for some minutes I felt like the freed slave that was allowed/forced to leave the cave in Plato's allegory, the man who was blinded by the glare of the Real world whose confused shadows he was able to see while dwelling in the cave. A painful, yet revealing experience. I kept shooting as my camera was struggling to capture the real essence of reality, knowing that such shots would testify that fleeting, dizzling epiphany to my fellow photographers much better than any words.

All that said, I do not love the sky of that morning, and it keeps coming out accordingly (maybe it resents my feelings) - however this is my image, with its limits and its beauties, and I hope you enjoy it. Have a nice Sunday!

Explored on 2023/01/16 nr. 63

I have processed this picture by blending an exposure bracketing [-2.0/-1.0/0/+1.0/+2.0 EV] by luminosity masks with the Gimp (EXIF data, as usual, refer to the "normal" exposure shot).

Along the journey - post-processing always is a journey of discovery to me - I tried the inverted RGB blue channel technique described by Boris Hajdukovic to give a slight tonal boost to several parts of the scene, absolutely excluding the sky.

As usual, I gave the finishing touches with Nik Color Efex Pro 4 and played a bit with dodging and burning.

Raw files processed with Darktable.

Apologies to Gilbert and Sullivan.

These are the pups I removed last year. They seem to be thriving on benign neglect.

Deep in the Garden of Benign Neglect.