View allAll Photos Tagged Concentrate
This bee has regurgitated nectar collected from the Corymbia calophylla flowers to concentrate it through evaporation.
ID from Michael Batley Github.
Late in the night, Jane lost her concentration and got caught under the concentrater. The windows were forecasting doom for poor Jane
Few places seem to make trains look like small toys to the extent that the Columbia River does. Most railfans tend to concentrate on the Columbia Gorge (for good reason, the scenery is spectacular there). But over one hundred miles east of Wishram is the much less-photographed Wallula Gap, where BNSF's Fallbridge Sub parallels on the north and UP's Ayer Sub parallels on the south. A very brisk hike up from the car to the base of the Twin Sisters rock formation provided us with this view across the river as the regular eastbound morning Z-Portland-Chicago rolled through the Gap between Berrian and Yellepit.
- 3 cups puréed strawberies
- 2 cups fresh squeezed lemon juice (about 10 lemons)
- 3 cups sugar
Combine all ingredients in a pot and bring to 200 F (94 C). Pour into steralized jars and process for 15 minutes. Makes 7 250ml jars.
To use, mix 1 part concentrate with 3 parts (or to taste if you like it stronger/weaker) water, sparkling water, tonic water or ginger ale. Serve with ice and a wedge of lemon. So good!
Summer in a jar.
I have never been a ‘joiner’.
I refused categorically to join the Brownies, It was not open for discussion. I did not want to wear brown and sit in a dank wooden hut being bossed around.
In her attempts to socialise me my mother somehow got me to join a swimming club AND a ballet class in one of my weak moments. I was not happy. Dreading the afternoons where instead of going home and eating biscuits in front of cartoons I would be dragged off to yet more damp halls and have to change into more outfits.
I arrived at my first session of ballet expecting to be presented with a beautiful pearl encrusted bodice and tutu with shimmering satin point shoes. This was my biggest incentive to join. Instead I was given a pale blue, lycra-free leotard and disappointing looking, pitta bread shoes with elastic across the front. We sat in circles doing the ‘good toes naughty toes exercise’ for what felt like six months.
There was one solitary boy in our class. The poor bugger. I remember him looking like a Romanian orphan all little and frail with a number one cut and a black leotard. Nowadays I would much rather hang out with the boys than the girls but in those days girls were safe and didn’t have clammy hands. Being new and having no allies I was the one who had to dance with the boy. I think I spent the entire length of the hall that we had to prance down pulling away from him as hard as I could with thundering, angry stomps.
At the end of the lesson I pointed out to my mother that I was hugely unsatisfied; No fancy costume fit for the Nutcracker (regardless of whether I could actually even do ‘good toes’ yet), no fancy shoes. At the end of one long hour, I was not able to get my leg up as high as my head; I was not clonking around on point doing pliés, développés, grand fouetté en tournant, dégagés, grand rond de jambe, rond de jambe en l'air, coupés, battements tendus, attitudes, arabesques, and all types of pirouettes. Being subjected to the humiliation ‘clammy hands’ as my partner took the absolute biscuit (which he smelt of).
I informed my mother that I would be resigning herewith reasoning that I now wanted to concentrate my efforts on swimming.
Two weeks later I informed my mother that I would be resigning herewith from swimming because I wanted to concentrate on being alone and avoiding ‘joining in.’
It continued throughout primary school. I waged a war against ‘country dancing’. I trained a renegade band of girls not to join. We would continue to play ‘off ground touch’ and stealing the boy’s footballs and then kicking them in the shins in preference.
Little by little my gang shrunk. Each week another member slunk off to wear the apricot skirt of the ‘dancers’ until one day it was me, sat alone in the playground, not dancing and not kicking boys.
So I joined.
I hated to admit it, I loved it.
Naturally I had to bring a little of rebellion to it though and when we went ‘on tour’ to the school down the road I managed to start a country dancing riot against the girls who wore lilac skirts.
Why do some kids resist ‘joining in’ with such fervour whilst others happily accept every new membership to club and lesson?
I am still exactly as I was at 6 years old. I joined a running club last year and quit after a few months because I couldn’t see the point of waiting around all day to go running with a bunch of strangers making small talk when I could go running on my own whenever I felt like it, in silence and think hateful, angry thoughts to help me get up the tough hills and stop to stroke horses in fields and flirtatious cats if I so desired.
I cannot bear having some ‘thing’ looming at the end of my day that I must do, even if in theory I quite like what I will be doing. It ruins all the idle hours before, taints them with a countdown to the ‘activity’ and gives me time to build up dread.
So I want to know chaps, who is a joiner and who is an avoider?
My 1:800 LEGO model of the central station in Stuttgart, Germany, a railway terminus built in the 1920s by architects Paul Bonatz and Friedrich Eugen Scholer. It is a significant landmark of the city and an important example of the Stuttgart School. The model is fully lightable. The photo shows the view from the north.
You’ll notice that the model concentrates on the remaining parts of the original building and even more so places trees instead of train platforms right behind the terminal hall, as envisioned in Stuttgart 21. However, this was born more out of an aesthetic desire for a coherent model and a look towards the future rather than out of a clear political conviction for Stuttgart 21. The roof colours on the other hand are based more on the pre-renovation state of the building, simply because it brings a bit more variety into the model. In this way it’s a bit of a mix-and-match of the past and future of the building.
Building instructions and further details can be found on Rebrickable.
Traveling to a small village on top of a mountain known as Jiufen (九份) was truly a spiritual journey.
The latest Mojo challenge is up! This go around, it was to "redo" an old layout - whether your rip it apart and salvage, recycle the idea, or redo the page using the same pictures...and then use 5 of something! =)
I used 5 of those little brown paper circles from sushipotparts...and re-did an old page by starting it all over again. (the old page was "this".) I'm still not too ecstatic over this version of it..maybe some pictures aren't meant to be scrapped?? lol..come play along, Elle's Studio is the sponsor this time! www.scrapmojo.blogspot.com