View allAll Photos Tagged Concussions
Back in the city
I'm just another girl in a sweater
Perpetual novice
Signature on a check made out to you
Took ten laps 'round the planet
To prove what I wasn't
And the door slams hard behind you
When you leave the house of judgment
Been waiting for regret to hit me
Some kind of reckoning
I waited for the drop, 'cause lately
The yang comes with yin
Back in the city
I'm just another girl in a sweater
Perpetual novice
Signature on a check made out to you
Now there's the sunset
Salt in the wound, yeah
Sometimes I don't know who I'm singing to
Who is the you who I sing to
When the house is empty?
You open the door
To another door, to another door
To another door, to another door
And I'm running through to you
You open the door
To another door, to another door
To another door, to another door
And I'm running through to you
And we're waking up sore and dizzy
From a ten year concussion
And the rainfall makes you miss me
Even though you say it doesn't
Back in the city
I'm just another girl in a sweater
Back in the city
Everything's different
When we're not together
You open the door
To another door, to another door
To another door, to another door
And I'm running through to you
You open the door
To another door, to another door
To another door, to another door
And I'm running through to you
Running, running, running, running
Running, running, running, running
Back in the city
I'm just another girl in a sweater
Perpetual novice
Signature on a check made out to you
Now there's the sunset
Salt in the wound, yeah
Sometimes I don't know who I'm singing to
Who is the you who I sing to
When the house is empty?
You open the door
To another door, to another door
To another door, to another door
And I'm running through to you
You open the door
To another door, to another door
To another door, to another door
And I'm running through to you
Running, running, running, running
Running, running, running, running
Running, running, running, running
Running, running, running, running
A cool, rainy spring in the Ozarks, but finally the weather is warming and flowers are popping out. The Hosta garden is lush, as is the kitchen herb garden, but just beginning are the butterfly garden, the wild prairie garden and the big veggie garden -- a good weekend to everyone. [Michael is still recovering from his concussion, but hopes to catch up with everyone soon]
Hello my amazing Flickr friends !
Today is a black and white day at Color my World Daily and we celebrate Sliders Sunday. Since we went apple picking yesterday, I decided to go with a flying apple. Strangely enough we never had a flying apple on this photostream. And I’m not talking about levitating apples ! I’m talking about an actual apple with wings and flying… I’m truly surprised but then again my gin and tonic soaked memory is … well…soaked in gin and tonic. So without any further delay: flying apple. Be carful, not to get hit by this flying apple !!
When an apple hits you in the head you might feel a little bit disoriented or lost for a while, some hurtful childhood memories may resurface. I'm talking from personal experience...once my son hit me with an apple by accident since his abilities to throw something at a moving target with success are as good as mine… It felt like I almost got a concussion !!
Mucho, mucho amor for you all !! And see you soon !!
Thank you so much for all your lovely comments / favs/ general support / happy thoughts!! Stay safe and well!!
Inspired by the theme of #smell for MacroMondays. I think I can smell this. I lost my sense of smell when my horse threw me when I was 13. Two too many concussions and a skull fracture later, I can now detect some aromas, but not sure if accurate.
He has made everything beautiful in its time. -Ecclesiastes 3:11
This was supposed to be for the April Focus Photo Contest (unjudged), but as some of you know I have been away for some time. I fell down a flight of stairs and landed pretty hard. My elbow took the initial impact, which broke my shoulder in 4 places including the humerus, tore tendons, bruises galore, as well as dislocation. Then, my head hit the floor giving me a concussion and whiplash. I was lucky to be found passed out...paramedics, ambulance trip to ER...12 painful days later I had Reverse Shoulder Replacement. I have a long road ahead, but I'm happy to be on this side of the ordeal. It's good to be alive! Spring is a season of new life. Stop and look for it all around you and appreciate it.
I couldn't find a precise ID for this small, cute little Jumper. I've not taken many bird photos lately--haven't had the luck, nor much of the ability. I didn't say much about my injuries, but suffice it to say I suffered a slight concussion. A lot of the photos I've taken lately are macro. Easier to look down than up. I need the practice anyway.
Thanks for Viewing.
Don't know how universal is the term "lounge lizard," but just trying to lighten the mood from all that's going on. . .sorry to be inactive lately, Flickr Friends -- still recovering from a concussion. Good weekend to everyone. M
Exposing for the light.
This calendula officinalis still bloomed outdoors in an area protected from wind. Now, of course, with two days of of freezing temperatures, I doubt we could find it from our walk several days ago.
Something to salute autumn's beauty on the first day of November.
Bit shallow depth of field because I wore my new climbing helmet for the walk. Must avoid further concussions...and the brim and camera did not agree.
Had in mind "Looking Close on Friday"
Theme: Orange
I've had this Adenium for well over ten years now, it needs sustained temps of around 100° C to bloom. Last summer, the heat in my cactus greenhouse got there in August, and it finally bloomed. In all I got four flowers in succession. Can't wait for this summer!
++++++++++
Sorry folks, but after a fall on the ice and a bad concussion three years ago, the headaches are keeping me off the computer more and more these days, so I'm on less and less, and only posting two or three times over a month. Some days are worse, some not as bad, so will just have to roll with it.
PLEASE: Do not post any comment graphics, they will be deleted. See info in my bio.
We thought we were home free. Our mission accomplished. We were just kilometers from the border with the documents in hand when we heard the roar of tank fire and the concussion of the blast.....
Featuring: [sau]Kuazi[lite][TMD][Olive]
Please, don’t try to reproduce this at home if you are not a Shaolin like me.
Lens : Helios 58mm f/2
Aperture: 2
My wife and I loved Brienza but it didn’t exactly return the favor, during the our passeggiata before supper my wife had a flip flop fail catching her death trap of foot wear in a sidewalk crack falling forward into a very solid bus bench made of some very hard steel which split her scalp open. We cannot say enough good things about the help of the locals, the farmacia supplying bandages and advice until the ambulance medics arrived that eventually closed her profusely bleeding wound.
Other than this life threatening incident that started our visit, we thoroughly enjoyed the city, it is a lovely place with a small cozy old town that surrounds a castle at its heart and peak built by the Lombards back in the 8th century from which the city grew around. We also enjoyed the our accommodations at a B&B called La Voce del Fiume (The Voice of the River) a lovely artisanal restored setting with amazing views over the countryside and a wonderful host who that I am sure we scared to death arriving back from our walk covered in blood and bandages.
The center piece of the city is its castle Caracciolo di Brienza and has been since its construction consisting of 365 rooms that follows the ancient tradition of building each room for a day of the year. The sight of the castle rising above the city during the daylight is wonderful but it truly comes into its own when evening falls and the fully illuminated fortress shines over the city like a beacon. This shot captures the castle at the end of the day and is one of the few we have of the city for the previous mentioned reasons I remained on concussion watch that evening
I took this on Sept 25, 2018 with my D750 and Nikon 28-300mm f3.5-5.6 Lens at 85mm 1/50s f`11 ISO 100 processed in LR, PS +Lumenzia, Topaz , and DXO
Disclaimer: My style is a study of romantic realism as well as a work in progress
205/365
Once again I have a lack of creativity, motivation and sunshine to take pictures... but at least today I was able to run again for the first time after the brain concussion.
Have been spending very little time on the computer or out with my camera as I battle the effects of a concussion. Thankfully I am starting to see improvement and hope to be back to normal soon. During this time I have been out for a number of drives with Bob. I got to shoot this shot from the window. The brownish bird is the common form of the juvenile Mute swan. The white bird is a White Morph but still a juvenile. You can tell it is a juvenile by the color of the bill. If it was the adult Mute swan, the bill would be orange. Hello to all my Flickr friends. Hope to get caught up on what you are doing over the next while.
Flocks of robins have been in my yard...they don't usually winter here but so glad some did; a joy to see 20-30 of them for three days in a row...
Thank you for visiting, flickr friends....Pat xo
************
I was in an auto accident on Jan. 5 and while I was not injured, I was badly shaken up. My car was totaled. I'm still waiting for insurance to complete the claim and need to buy a new car.
Today has been my best day since then, and I have the energy to post. So...hello to you:)
Since I fell again and got ANOTHER concussion (I think I'm going to start wearing a helmet!) I'm still working on old stuff. I posted this one a year or so ago, but reprocessed it, and moved it here.
Sweet Baby, (male offspring of Big Red and White-Paw)
I took a header off my bike onto the concrete and ended up covered in blood in the emergency room with a concussion, cracked rib and many bruises. All that biking in snow and ice and I wipe out on clear pavement, silly me. Could have been much worse, and I am slowly recovering :)
My lens can focus again! Woohoo! 🙌 Limited my screen time because I was recovering from a concussion. Way to end a year and start a new one, right? Happy to report I ventured out today, camera in hand and able to “see” clearly - I think. 😂😳☺️ Looking forward to a healthy, creative and accident free 2018! .
The half-inch/1.27 cm red glitter ball hangs from a third hand. I just found the miniature ball in my MacroMondays box. Behind it stands a slide light table, with two studio lights angled behind the camera.
I'm sorry I've not commented much lately. I fell last week and landed on my head, the landing zone for most of my falls. After two concussions and a skull fracture in my teens, I decided to label this latest a heckova sore head and shoulder without the help of a physician.
Many thanks for looking.
©Jan Timmons 2020
Prototype "Bageraset" A-Class Interceptor
Manufacturer: TriCorp Industries, based on RZ-1 A-Wing Interceptor by Kuat Systems Engineering
Speed: 1,300 KPH atmospheric speed
Capacity: Single pilot
Armament: Heavy Blaster Cannon (x2), Concussion Missile Launcher (x2), Concussion Missiles (x12)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Bageraset A-Wing was constructed for use by TriCorp Industries during a brutal war with another corporation, both vying for the commission of the Empire to sell tractor beams for Star Destroyers. One prototype and eleven final models were created to destroy rival space facilities and starfighters, however eleven spacecraft were quickly taken out, leaving only the prototype and Squadron Leader Davsant "Spiff" Extoh. TriCorp soon learned that Davsant was all that was needed, as he was a master starpilot who greatly incapacitated TriCorp's enemy. Though Spiff eventually disappeared, he still managed to carve a way into the conversations of Rebel A-Wing pilots- and some say that he never existed at all.
Outtakes and leftovers! I hope all are having a fine week, so far.
We toured Old New-Gate Prison & Copper Mine -- worth a quick stop, if you're in the area. I didn't take many pictures after giving myself a minor concussion on the copper mine tour. Turns out I am not that short, by 18th century standards. Unless you're tall enough (or smart enough) to know better, or under about 5"3', wear a bike helmet in there.
note to self: Nikkor AF-D 20mm f2.8
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Tonight however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham, the heir, their eldest son Leslie, and his wife Arabella. Lettice, her fiancée, Sir John Nettleford-Hughes, and his recently widowed sister returned from France, Clemance Pontefract, are visiting the Chetwynd family for Christmas and have stayed on to celebrate New Year’s Eve with them as well before heading off in a few days’ time to Rippon Court, Sir John’s vast ancestral estate in Bedfordshire, where he, Clemance and Lettice all have business.
Old enough to be Lettice’s father, wealthy Sir John was until recently still a bachelor, and according to London society gossip intended to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. After an abrupt ending to her understanding with Selwyn Spencely, son and heir to the title Duke of Walmsford, Lettice in a moment of both weakness and resolve, agreed to the proposal of marriage proffered to her by Sir John. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them.
Christmas has been and gone, and with it, Lettice’s elder sister Lalage (known to everyone in the family by the diminutive Lally), her husband Charles and their children and Lettice’s Aunt Eglantine, leaving the house emptier and significantly quieter, especially in the absence of the children. It is New Year’s Eve 1925, and nearly midnight as we find ourselves in the very grand and elegant drawing room of Glynes with its gilt Louis and Palladian style furnishings where Lettice has gathered with her fiancée and future sister-in-law, her father, mother, Leslie, Arabella and the parents of her oldest childhood chum, Gerald Bruton, Lord and Lady Bruton. An eight course New Year’s Eve dinner prepared by the Chetwynd’s cook, Mrs. Casterton, and the Glynes kitchen staff, has been consumed, and the party have repaired to the drawing room to enjoy champagne, wine and for the more daring, cocktails. The gilded chinoiserie rococo galleried table has been moved to in the midst of the sumptuous drawing room by Bramley, the Chetwynd’s beloved butler, and he has covered it in glasses and bottles of alcohol, ice and soda syphons for his master, mistress and guests. A bottle of champagne from the Glynes’ well stocked cellar which has been chilling in a silver coolers is almost empty as the New Year looms.
“Oh, I am sorry to hear you won’t be staying in the county for Twelfth Night* celebrations, Sir John.” Lady Gwenyth remarks sadly. “Such a pity! Mrs. Maingot’s Glynes Village Players are really rather excited about their Twelfth Night performance this year.”
“Even though I am a relative newcomer to the district, Lady Gwenyth, having only acquired Fonengil Park last century,” Sir John replies with his nose crumpling in distaste as he gesticulates with his highball glass of hock and seltzer in his right hand. “One thing I do know from my experience of the Glynes Village Players, is that the more excited they are about their performance, the ghastlier it is sure to be!” He pulls an overexaggerated face of mock horror. “I shall be only too glad to be far away from Mrs. Maingot and her amateur dramatics.”
“Oh,” Lady Gwenyth replies with both a sad and startled face in response to Sir John’s harsh remarks. “I rather enjoy their performances each year, Sir John.”
“Well, I’d hardly compare their amateur dramatics to the plays produced in London’s West End, Lady Gwenyth.” Sir John retorts smugly, before sipping from his glass.
“Yes… well,” Lady Gwyneth says with distain as she takes a sip of her own champagne, peering with repugnance over the top of her glass with beady eyes at Sir John in his smart Jermyn Street** tailored set of tails, white dinner vest and bow tie, a large Glynes hot house red rose in full bloom serving as a rather overly garish boutonnière*** in his lapel. “I’ll have to acquiesce to your greater experience in these matters, Sir John. I haven’t been to the capital since the Jersey Lily**** made her debut on the London stage in ‘She Stoops to Conquor’.
“Indeed.” Sir John murmurs as he looks Lady Gwenyth up and down critically, eyeing her elegant, if somewhat old fashioned Edwardian beaded evening gown in pastel pink crêpe de chiné.
“Still, it will be a pity too, that the Glynes villagers will not have the opportunity to wassail***** you and dear Lettice,” Lady Gwenyth goes on, either ignoring Sir John’s rudeness politely, or simply not noticing it. “Especially now that you two are officially engaged.”
“Oh,” Sir John heaves a rather heavy sigh and waves his hand about, as though shooing an irritating insect away. “There were a great many wassails and good wishes to us both from the villagers over the festive period since Lettice and I motored down from London to spend Christmas here at Glynes.”
“Oh that must be rather nice for you and dear Lettice, Sir John.” Lady Gwenyth remarks. “I still remember all the good wishes I received from the villagers when Algernon brought me to Bruton Hall all those years ago as a new bride. It was lovely, and endeared me to them.”
“Endeared you to them? Indeed Lady Gwenyth?”
“Yes. It really was wonderful. As part of local gentry, you really should spend more time down in the village when you are at Fontengil Park, Sir John. You spend far too much time in London.”
“Ahh, but that is where my business requires me, Lady Gwenyth, not enfolded in the soporific bucolic bosom of the Wiltshire countryside.”
“Thinking of the countryside,” Lady Gwenyth remarks, coughing a little awkwardly at Sir John’s lightly veiled implication that she, her family the families of the other landed gentry live sleepy and dull lives. “I was a little surprised that you’re not spending New Year’s Eve with my son at Miss Fordyce’s country retreat. It sounds far more smart and select for an exciting man about London like yourself, than our dull, bucolic parties.” Lady Gwenyth cannot help herself as she adds an acerbic taint to her comment. “Gerald was rather thrilled by Miss Fordyce’s invitation to her private party in Essex, especially after the last one, which he said was frightfully enjoyable. You were there too, as well as Lettice, I believe, Sir John.”
“I was. My sister Clemance and I are very good friends of Sylvia’s.”
“Yes, Lettice told me that. She led me to believe that Mrs. Pontefract and Miss Fordyce went to finishing school together, or something like that.”
“We were hosted by the same German family, Lady Gwenyth,” Clemance utters clearly, correcting the Chetwynd’s neighbour politely as she steps up to join the conversation. “So, I’ve known Sylvia since we were fifteen years old.
“Clemmie, Lettice and I all received invitations from Sylvia for tonight’s bash, as it happens, Lady Gwenyth,” Sir John explains. “However, since we will be leaving in a day or two to go to Bedfordshire, and knowing Lettice enjoys the tradition of spending time with her family during Christmas, we erred on the side of coming down here to Glynes, rather than going to Sylvia’s.”
“I think I’m enjoying this party far more than I would have Sylvia’s anyway, Lady Gwenyth.” Clemance remarks. “Sylvia has always surrounded herself with all these rather passionate and loud performers and artists. There are bound to be high spirits and hijinks this evening – a spirited scavenger hunt about Belchamp St Paul****** no doubt.”
“Oh indeed.” chuckles Lady Gwenyth.
“No. This is a much more agreeable. I must also say that it was very good of Cosmo and Sadie to put Nettie and I up for Christmas and New Year.” Clemance adds gratefully.
“Yes. It saved me the fuss and bother of having to open up Fontengil Park just for a few days.” Sir John adds.
“Oh,” Lady Gwenyth responds, shuddering as she ignores Sir John’s rather tactless remark and focusses upon Clemance instead. “Cosmo and Sadie are always such gracious hosts at any time of the year, Mrs. Pontefract, especially at Christmas time. I’m sure they were only too delighted to welcome you, Mrs. Pontefract.” She allows herself to give Sir John a momentary hard stare. “However, I was just remarking to Sir John that it is a pity you have to leave before the Twelfth Night festivities.”
“Oh I know. It is a great pity. However, a Royal command is not one my brother can readily ignore, Lady Gwenyth,” Clemance answers. “Or refuse. And since the Prince of Wales has specifically expressed his wish to meet Lettice again as John’s fiancée, I am going simply as chaperone.”
“I am surprised that His Royal Highness would want to leave Sandringham*******,” Lady Gwenyth opines. “I would have thought he would have stayed on the Sandringham Estate with Their Majesties for the duration of the festive season.”
“Somehow, I think Rippon Court offers more entertaining pursuits for His Royal Highness than watching his father play with his postage stamp collection******** or his mother fuss over her Fabergé eggs*********.” Sir John says in a superior fashion.
“Our father was a fine rider, a mad keen steeplechaser********** and a bloodthirsty hunter.” Clemance explains with a shudder. “Mother was too. Between them, they established the Rippon Hunt.”
“Being a keen steeplechaser and foxhunter himself, His Royal Highness has expressed his wish to ride in the Rippon Hunt***********, so however reluctantly, I am taking up my official duties as host of the hunt.”
“Not Master of the Hounds************, Sir John?” Lady Gwyneth queries politely.
“Our parents were the Nettleford-Hughes with hunting in their veins, Lady Gwenyth.” Clemance explains kindly. “They couldn’t understand why Nettie didn’t enjoy, nor have the aptitude for, the outdoor sports they embraced with such gusto.”
“We’re a little more cerebral in our pursuits, rather than Neanderthal*************” Sir John adds. “No, I’m far better placed to entertain His Royal Highness and his coterie after their hunting pursuits in the comfort of Rippon Court, and Lettice as my intended will be offering the winners’ trophies.”
Across the room by the white marble fireplace in which a fire roars, keeping the cold of the Wiltshire winter at bay, the Viscount, Lady Sadie and their eldest son and heir chat together, with Lady Sadie in her usual seat in a gilt Louis Seize armchair, her husband on the high backed gilt salon chair embroidered with delicate petit-point by his mother, and their son standing next to his father, warming his backside as he faces out to the room. Across from Lady Sadie in a matching armchair, Lord Bruton snores deeply.
“Looks like Lord Bruton’s had a bit too much of your firewater**************, Pappa.” Leslie opines, nodding at their neighbour slumped in his seat with his head lolling to his left heavily, his mouth hanging slightly open. “I’d best go wake him.”
Lady Sadie glances up at the dainty ornamental rococo clock on the mantelpiece. “No, no, Leslie.” she fusses. “Let poor Algernon sleep. It’s only a quarter to midnight. Your father or Gwenyth can wake him just before midnight, not that I think he’s care too much if he missed the start to 1926, judging by how tired he looked tonight.”
“Too many unpaid bills keeping him awake at night I’d say.” Leslie remarks.
“Still?” Lady Sadie asks. “I thought all that was behind them now with that last sale of pockets of land to that London man.”
“I think it will take more than that to solve the Bruton’s cash flow problems.” Leslie remarks. “Wouldn’t you agree, Pappa?”
The Viscount doesn’t reply.
“Father?” he asks again.
“Cosmo?” Sadie asks her husband, as she gently reaches out and places a bejewelled hand upon her husband’s left knee.
“Eh? What?” the Viscount blusters.
“You’re miles away, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie says with disappointment, shrinking back into her seat and picking up her nearly empty champagne flute. “You aren’t listening to Leslie or I at all, are you?” She pouts petulantly as she lifts the glass to her lips. “You could at last pretend to be listening to me.”
“Just listen to him, that superior sounding old lecher.” the Viscount seethes, seemingly unaware of his wife’s statement as he nods towards Sir John who stands in his cluster with Lady Gwyneth and Clemance near Lady Sadie’s Eighteenth Century painted drawers, his back turned to the Viscount.
“Cosmo!” Lady Sadie hisses. “Quiet! He’ll hear you.” She looks aghast at her husband. “Like him or not, he’s our guest.”
“He won’t hear me,” mutters the Viscount in a comfortably assured reply. “Not over the sound of his own deafening pomposity.”
Leslie and Lady Sadie exchange knowing glances over the top of the Viscount, Lady Sadie cocking an eyebrow and Leslie rolling his eyes, both silently acknowledging that the Viscount is the pot calling the kettle black***************.
“Oh, His Royal Highness is a fine hunter and steeplechaser,” the Viscount mimics Sir John’s statement in a mewling voice. “As if we didn’t all know it’s more about like being drawn to like, with our wastrel future King seeking a sympathetic audience and place to sleep with his mistress, that damnable trollop Freda Dudley Ward****************, rather than doing his duty and staying at Sandringham with his family.”
“Ahh, the worst kept secret in England*****************.” Leslie ventures.
“The poor King and Queen.” Lady Sadie opines with a sigh. “I pity them.”
“I pity us!” the Viscount retorts. “Having to tolerate that damn philanderer under our roof, as long as Lettice insists on being churlish and keeping up the pretence that this ill-fated marriage will be anything other than a disaster, the magnitude of which we have never seen the likes of in the Chetwynd family before.”
“Pappa!” Leslie exclaims, looking over to Lettice, who luckily for the Viscount, is involved in an animated conversation with Leslie’s wife Arabella on the sofa nearby.
“Stop being so melodramatic, Cosmo,” Lady Sadie chides. “It doesn’t become you, as head of the household. And I say again, keep your voice down, for goodness’ sake. Sir John may be completely hedonistic and self-absorbed, but our youngest child is not.”
“I’ve a mind to go over there, punch the cad in his snooty nose, and fling him out of the house by the ear.”
“Oh no you won’t, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie disagrees calmly and matter-of-factly, slapping him on his knee this time. “It would be the wrong thing to do, and even in the pique of a fit of rage, you know it. It would be too, too embarrassing to conduct such a scene before a houseful of guests, even if most of them present are family: for Sir John, Leslie, Arabella, me, you,” She lowers her voice and adds sadly. “For your favourite, Lettice.”
“It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to.” the Viscount mumbles under his breath between gritted teeth.
“You aren’t alone in that, Pappa. We’d all like to.” Leslie says, looking down to his father. “But he is Lettice’s fiancée, and it is New Year’s Eve after all.”
“What the devil has that to do with anything, Leslie?” the Viscount barks.
“Well, you know, Pappa, the season of peace, good will to all men and that all that.” Leslie elucidates with animated gesticulations directed towards the Christmas tree, its golden glass baubles, ribbons and tinsel****************** sparkling and glowing in the drawing room light.
“Good will to all men be damned!” the Viscount retorts in a fiery fashion.
“Language, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie scolds her husband.
“I fail to understand how a man as odious, hedonistic and self-obsessed as Sir John, can have such a lovely and selfless sister like Clemance.” Leslie remarks. “She is kind, considerate, generous of her time, and utterly charming.”
“Perhaps she is compensating for her brother’s character flaws,” Lady Sadie suggests. “I determined that I was going to despise her when I met her up in London, but try as I might, I can’t help but like her.”
“Why can’t Lettice see what a vile old lecher Sir John is?” the Viscount ponders in exasperated disbelief. “I mean, she’s not dim, is she? She’s got the brains and the nous to establish her own very successful business, in spite of everyone, including us, suggesting it was folly, and that she’d fail. How can she be so blind? Has she lost the use of her eyes, or worse yet, her senses?”
“I don’t think Lettice has lost either, my dear Cosmo,” Lady Sadie soothes purringly. “And furthermore,” she adds with a satisfied smile. “I do believe the sheen is starting to rub off this quixotic******************* engagement to Sir John.”
Both the Viscount and Leslie turn and look at Lady Sadie, her son smiling knowingly, and her husband gazing at her in disbelief.
“Alright Sadie.” the older man says. “You have my full and uninterrupted attention.” He heaves a sigh. “Go on. What do you know that I don’t?”
“I told you the day she announced her engagement to Sir John to us almost twelve months ago, that we were going to have to play the long game with Lettice.” Lady Sadie explains.
“You did.” the Viscount buts in. “And we have. What of it?”
“Well, it’s finally starting to pay dividends without our intervention in the matter, thus preventing Lettice from being driven further into Sir John’s arms because of our perceived interference and bias against the match. I can see by your response, Leslie darling, that being the perceptive young man you are, like me, you too have noticed a change come over Lettice and her attitudes to Sir John.”
“I have Mamma.” Leslie admits. “A definite cooling”
“What the devil do you mean, Sadie?” the Viscount splutters in exasperation. “What’s all this about Lettice’s attitudes towards that ghastly old lecher? Stop being so damn cryptic, woman!”
“I’m not quite sure when exactly, but it seems that at least since her return from that decorative arts exhibition in Paris, Lettice has taken a cooler attitude towards her fiancée, Cosmo. When they arrived to stay, I asked Lettice whether she and Sir John have settled on a date for the wedding yet, and she fobbed me off with some fanciful story that they haven’t had time to settle on one yet. It’s all nonsense of course.” Lady Sadie scoffs. “A happily engaged couple would have settled on one by now, no matter how busy they were. You mark my words.” She holds up a wagging bejewelled finger. “She’s stalling, and I am quite sure she is reconsidering her engagement. Furthermore,” she adds. “If you think about how she was when their engagement first became public, Lettice hung off Sir John, and his every word. Not a cross word was had between them.” Lady Sadie nods, steeling her jaw as she speaks. “Yet now look at her. She’s sitting with Arabella.”
“Tice hasn’t stood next to him all this evening.” Leslie adds. “Haven’t you noticed, Pappa?”
The Viscount sits up more straightly in his seat as he glances between Sir John and Lettice, who sits on the sofa with Arabella, her back clearly turned to her fiancée. “No,” he says, a brightness lightening his gruff tones, his glower lifting a little. “I can’t say I have.”
“And she’s given him critical, or even openly hostile glances when he’s said things she doesn’t like or agree with since they both motored down from London to stay.” Lady Sadie adds. “It’s not the look a happily engaged woman gives her fiancée, Cosmo.”
“Bella even told me last night before bed that Tice confided in her the other day that she and Sir John had the fiercest argument up in London over the Prince of Wales’ visit and their need to leave here just after New Year. Apparently, she told Sir John he could jolly well go on his own, Royal Highness or not, as she was staying here until after Twelfth Night like usual. It was only because of Clemance’s imploring that she recanted and agreed to go with them to Rippon Court the day after tomorrow.”
“Really?” Sir John asks, whilst Lady Sadie gasps and smiles at their son’s revelation.
“According to Bella, and she’s less of a Sir John despiser than we are, so I can’t imagine her fabricating or gilding such a tale.”
Just at that moment, Arabella scuttles past her husband and in-laws, vacating her seat as she goes to the side of the fireplace and rings the servants’ call bell by turning the metal and porcelain handle discreetly built in under the mantle. “We must call for Bramley!” she exclaims excitedly. “We need fresh champagne. It’s nearly midnight!”
Seeing an ample opportunity to talk to Lettice, Leslie leaves his parents’ side and moves over to talk to her.
“To your health, little sister.” Leslie says, slipping down onto the seat vacated by his wife on the Louis Quinze sofa, raising his champagne flute to Lettice’s.
“To your health, dear Leslie.” Lettice parrots, raising her own glass so that it clinks merrily against his.
Leslie settles back against the soft embroidered gold satin upholstery back of the sofa and appraises Lettice as she sits opposite him, arrayed in a simple sleeveless tube frock of madder coloured satin with a drop waist and an asymmetrical hemline designed for her by Gerald. The colours warms her pale complexion and accentuates the golden tones of her marcelled waves******************** Her elbow length white kid evening gloves make for a nice contrast to the bright colour of the frock’s fabric. A diamond bracelet, a gift from Sir John to Lettice, winks and sparkles expensively under the illumination of the Glynes electrified drawing room chandeliers above.
“What?” Lettice asks her brother.
Leslie doesn’t answer straight away, which causes Lettice to blush and glance down to see if she has inadvertently spilt something from New Year’s Eve 1925’s dinner onto her gown, where it has remained unnoticed by her.
“What is it, Leslie?”
“You’re up to something.” he replies matter-of-factly after a moment of deliberation.
Lettice laughs in startled surprise at Leslie’s effrontery. “No I’m not, Leslie!”
“Yes you are, Tice.” Leslie retorts before taking a sip of gin and tonic. “Do you remember when you were six and I was sixteen, and I caught you coming out of the barn on the home farm********************* with that pail********************** of molasses for the cows***********************, which you intended to pour into Lionel’s bed?”
“He deserved a taste of his own medicine, after he deliberately poured water on my mattress, making it look like I’d wet the bed.” Lettice defends herself. Nanny Tess was fit to be tied, and I received such a dressing down and a punishment of no nursery tea for a week.” She scoffs and rolls her blue eyes. “You stopped me doing it.”
“I wouldn’t have stopped you, if you hadn’t been so Janus-faced************************ when I asked you whether you were going to try and reciprocate punishment on Lionel, and you said you wouldn’t. I immediately suspected foul play, so I followed you, and as it turns out, I was right.”
“You stalked me, Leslie.” Lettice takes a sip of her own champagne, the bracelet of gemstones sliding down her raised forearm until it comes to a gentle halt where its circumference and that of her arm match.
“I saved you from your own impetuousness, Tice.”
“Says you.” Lettice laughs. “We’ll never know now. I was so guilty being caught red handed as it were by my own big brother, whom I worshipped and adored, that I did as you told me and suffered my punishment in silence without retribution upon Lionel.”
“He would have done something even worse to you, Tice. You know he would.”
“Perhaps.”
“Lionel’s depths of depravity and evil were evident long before he was seven, Tice my dear.”
“True.” Lettice admits begrudgingly.
“Anyway, you are being Janus-faced now. Mamma noticed it, and so did I.” Leslie remarks. “So, what is going on between you and sleazy old Sir John? You’re saying all the right things, but Mamma and I both sense a shift in you, ever since you came home from Paris.” Leslie looks his sister directly in the eyes. “Is the sheen of your ill-considered engagement to Sir John finally wearing off?”
Lettice laughs again at Leslie’s impudence. “Why don’t you say what you really think, Leslie darling.”
“Is it?” Leslie persists.
“I’m not six any more, Leslie. I don’t need rescuing.” Lettice assures her sibling, reaching out her empty glove clad left hand and patting him on the knee consolingly. “I’m twenty-five, and I can manage this situation myself, and I am, in my own way.”
The concern painted on Leslie’s handsome face give away his misgivings. “I just hope, whatever you are up to, you’re doing the right thing.”
“I appreciate you wanting to come to my aid, Leslie darling, but I don’t need my knight in shining brotherly armour this time.”
Leslie sighs in tired exasperation. “You always were the most independent of all the Chetwynd children, forging your own destiny: not like Lally, who married well as Mamma intended, or me who as the heir apparent has grown up with his future mapped out for him.”
“Lionel, for all his faults, is independent too.” Lettice suggests.
“Yes, but stupid too with all his hedonistic actions to end up having his fate chosen for him against his will, shrouded in scandal, by being banished to British East Africa************************* by Pappa.”
“Please trust me on this, Leslie darling. I know what I’m doing this time.” Lettice promises Leslie. “Whether the outcomes are good, bad or a mixture of both. I’m prepared. I’ll be fine.”
“What are you two talking about over there?” the Viscount calls over to Lettice and Leslie from the drinks table, holding aloft one of two chilled bottles of champagne supplied by Bramley. “Come! It’s almost midnight. Time to toast to 1926.”
“Yes, Pappa.” the siblings say, arising from the sofa and walking over to the table where they join all the other guests and their hosts.
The Viscount hands them both fresh glasses of cool, sparkling French champagne.
The clock on the mantle chimes midnight prettily, in the distance the Glynes Church of England bell rings out across the quiet night and the muffled sound of cheers drift up from the servant’s quarters.
“Happy New Year!” Viscount Wrexham cheers. “Happy nineteen twenty-six!”
“Happy nineteen twenty-six!” everyone echoes as they raise their glasses and clink them together happily.
*Dating back to the fourth century, many Christians have observed the Twelfth Night — the evening before the Epiphany — as the ideal time to take down the Christmas tree and festive decorations. Traditionally, the Twelfth Night marks the end of the Christmas season, but there's reportedly some debate among Christian groups about which date is correct. By custom, the Twelfth Night falls on either January 5 or January 6, depending on whether you count Christmas Day as the first day. The Epiphany, also known as Three Kings' Day, commemorates the visit of the three wise men to baby Jesus in Bethlehem.
**Jermyn Street is a one-way street in the St James's area of the City of Westminster in London. It is to the south of, parallel, and adjacent to Piccadilly. Jermyn Street is known as a street for high end gentlemen's clothing retailers and bespoke tailors in the West End.
***A boutonnière or buttonhole is a floral decoration, typically a single flower or bud, worn on the lapel of a tuxedo or suit jacket. While worn frequently in the past, boutonnières are now usually reserved for special occasions for which formal wear is standard, such as at proms and weddings.
****Emilie Charlotte, Lady de Bathe, known as Lillie Langtry and nicknamed "The Jersey Lily", was a British socialite, stage actress and producer. Born and raised on the island of Jersey, she moved to London in 1876, two years after marrying. Her looks and personality attracted interest, commentary, and invitations from artists and society hostesses, and she was celebrated as a young woman of great beauty and charm. During the aesthetic movement in England, she was painted by aesthete artists. In 1882, she became the poster-girl for Pears soap, and thus the first celebrity to endorse a commercial product. In 1881, Langtry became an actress and made her West End debut in the comedy She Stoops to Conquer, causing a sensation in London by becoming the first socialite to appear on stage. One of the most glamorous British women of her era, Langtry was the subject of widespread public and media interest. Her acquaintances in London included Oscar Wilde, who encouraged Langtry to pursue acting. She was known for her relationships with royal figures and noblemen, including Albert Edward, Prince of Wales (the future King Edward VII), Lord Shrewsbury, and Prince Louis of Battenberg.
*****Wassail refers to a hot, mulled holiday punch, traditionally made with spiced cider or ale, and also to a winter solstice custom of visiting orchards to bless the trees for a good harvest. The word "wassail" comes from an Old Norse phrase meaning "be in good health" and is a salute to good health.
******Belchamp St Paul is a village and civil parish in the Braintree district of Essex, England. The village is five miles west of Sudbury, Suffolk, and 23 miles northeast of the county town, Chelmsford.
*******The Prince of Wales, later Edward VIII and Duke of Windsor, celebrated Christmas 1925 at Sandringham House in Norfolk, which was, and remains, the traditional Royal Family location for the festive season. His father, King George V, was the reigning monarch at the time, and the family gathered at their country estate for the festivities.
********King George V was a very enthusiastic and obsessive stamp collector who amassed a world-class collection. He began collecting stamps as the Duke of York in the late 1800s and continued obsessively throughout his life. He was so passionate about it that he declared, "I wish to have the best collection and not one of the best collections in England". He made high-value purchases to build his collection, including setting a world record at the time by paying £1,450.00 for a Mauritius two pence blue stamp in 1904. He famously acknowledged that he was the "damned fool" who paid such a high price. He had his collection housed in 328 albums, and it was focused on British Empire stamps. His private collection formed the foundation of the Royal Philatelic Collection, which is now considered one of the most valuable stamp collections in the world.
*********Queen Mary collected a wide variety of objects, including Eighteenth Century furniture, lacquerware, gold boxes, and jewellery. She also collected miniatures, enamelwork, and Fabergé eggs, and was particularly interested in restoring and acquiring pieces that had previously been part of the Royal Collection. Her collection was eclectic and also featured items like the famous Queen Mary's Dolls' House and a significant number of photo albums documenting her life and travels.
**********A steeplechase is a long-distance race involving both galloping and jumping over obstacles, primarily fences and water jumps. In horse racing, steeplechases involve horses jumping over various obstacles like fences and ditches.
***********During the 1920s the Prince of Wales, later Edward VIII and Duke of Windsor, was ranked among the most daring horsemen in England. Having forged an impressive reputation in the hunting field for courage, determination and skill, he moved on to steeplechasing furthering the indignation of George V and Queen Mary who urged their son to abandon the dangerous sport. Unheeded Edward broke his collar bone, blacked his eyes and suffered concussion with what seemed to be alarming regularity. The Prince’s addiction to his hazardous hobby even caused the Prime Minister Ramsay Macdonald to request discontinuance. The prince stubbornly refused. Only after the near fatal illness of the King in 1928, did the he finally renounce the sport and order the sale of his entire stud.
************The Master of the Hounds was in charge of the hunt and supervised the field, hounds, and staff. The huntsman, who had bred the hounds and worked with them, would be in charge of the pack during the hunt. Once the group was assembled, the huntsman would lead the pack of hounds and field to where a fox might be hiding.
*************The term "Neanderthal" was first used in 1864 when Irish geologist William King proposed the species name Homo neanderthalensis for the fossils found in Germany's Neander Valley. However, the first known use of "Neanderthal" to describe the fossil itself dates to 1874 in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary.
**************Referring to a strong alcoholic drink like whisky or gin, the origins of the use of the word “firewater” came from two sources: one started with the adulteration of alcohol with tobacco juice, hot peppers or opium, and the other began with the custom of testing the proof of alcohol by throwing it in the fire, if flammable alcohol would be acceptable for purchase.
***************Referring to hypocrisy, highlighting a situation where someone criticises another person for a fault that they themselves share, the idiom originated in the early 1600s from the Spanish novel “Don Quixote”, which was translated into English by Thomas Shelton in 1620.
****************Winifred May Mones, Marquesa de Casa Maury, commonly known by her first married name as Freda Dudley Ward, was an English socialite. She was best known for being a married paramour of Edward, Prince of Wales, who later became Edward VIII. She was twice married and divorced. Her first marriage was on 9 July 1913 to William Dudley Ward, the Liberal MP for Southampton. Her first husband's family surname was Ward, but 'Dudley Ward' became their surname through common usage. They divorced on the ground of adultery in 1931 and were the parents of two daughters. Although married in 1913 to William Dudley Ward, Freda was also in a relationship with Edward, Prince of Wales from 1918, until she was supplanted by American Thelma Furness from 1929 to 1934 before he then took up with Wallis Simpson, whom he eventually married and abdicated for.
*****************Freda Dudley Ward was the Prince of Wales's paramour for many years, with their affair beginning in the early 1920s. Their relationship was not a secret; it was openly acknowledged by their social circles, families, and the public. His parents the King George V and Queen Mary were concerned about the Prince of Wales's affair with Freda Dudley Ward, as it was a public relationship that threatened to cause scandal and damage his reputation, especially given the expectation that he would marry a foreign royal. They disapproved of the affair, viewing it as a public scandal and hoping the situation could be managed and kept out of the papers to protect the monarchy and the future king. It was a source of considerable tension between father and son. The constant disapproval from his father contributed to Edward's already existing resentment and hatred for his royal role and the constraints it placed upon him.
******************One of the most famous Christmas decorations that people love to use at Christmas is tinsel. You might think that using it is an old tradition and that people in Britain have been adorning their houses with tinsel for a very long time. However that is not actually true. Tinsel is in fact believed to be quite a modern tradition. Whilst the idea of tinsel dates back to Germany in 1610 when wealthy people used real strands of silver to adorn their Christmas trees (also a German invention). Silver was very expensive though, so being able to do this was a sign that you were wealthy. Even though silver looked beautiful and sparkly to begin with, it tarnished quite quickly, meaning it would lose its lovely, bright appearance. Therefore it was swapped for other materials like copper and tin. These metals were also cheaper, so it meant that more people could use them. However, when the Great War started in 1914, metals like copper were needed for the war. Because of this, they couldn't be used for Christmas decorations as much, so a substitute was needed. It was swapped for aluminium, but this was a fire hazard, so it was switched for lead, but that turned out to be poisonous.
*******************Taken from the name of the hero in Miguel de Cervantes 1605 novel, “Don Quixote”, to be quixotic means to be extremely idealistic, unrealistic and impractical, typically marked by rash and lofty romanticism.
********************Marcelling is a hair styling technique in which hot curling tongs are used to induce a curl into the hair. Its appearance was similar to that of a finger wave but it is created using a different method. Marcelled hair was a popular style for women's hair in the 1920s, often in conjunction with a bob cut. For those women who had longer hair, it was common to tie the hair at the nape of the neck and pin it above the ear with a stylish hair pin or flower. One famous wearer was American entertainer, Josephine Baker.
*********************A "home farm" is typically a farm that is part of a large country estate and provides food for the main house. In a British context, it was historically the land farmed directly by the landowner or an employed manager, often while the rest of the estate was rented out to tenant farmers.
**********************Although often assumed to be American, the word “pail” is actually an English word that originated in the Middle English period (1150 – 1500) and is used in both American and British English, though it is considered more common in American English today, where it is often synonymous with "bucket". While "bucket" is the more dominant term in British English, "pail" is still understood and can be considered a more old-fashioned or regional variant.
***********************In farming, molasses provides an energy-rich supplement for livestock, helps them to better digest fibre in their feed.
************************Arising in the late Seventeenth Century, referring to the Roman deity of beginnings and endings often depicted with two faces, “Janus-faced” refers to deliberate deceptiveness especially by pretending one set of feelings and acting under the influence of another.
*************************The Colony and Protectorate of Kenya, commonly known as British Kenya or British East Africa, was part of the British Empire in Africa. It was established when the former East Africa Protectorate was transformed into a British Crown colony in 1920. Technically, the "Colony of Kenya" referred to the interior lands, while a 16 km (10 mi) coastal strip, nominally on lease from the Sultan of Zanzibar, was the "Protectorate of Kenya", but the two were controlled as a single administrative unit. The colony came to an end in 1963 when an ethnic Kenyan majority government was elected for the first time and eventually declared independence as the Republic of Kenya.
This festive upper-class scene is not all that it may appear to be, for it is made up entirely of pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The champagne glasses are 1:12 artisan miniatures. Made of glass, they have been blown individually by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering and are so fragile and delicate that even I with my dainty fingers have broken the stem of one. They stand on an ornate Eighteenth Century style silver tray made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The wine cooler is also made by Warwick Miniatures. The Deutz and Geldermann champagne bottle is also an artisan miniature and made of glass with a miniature copy of a real Deutz and Geldermann label and some real foil wrapped around their necks. It was made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The clear glass soda syphon and porcelain ice bucket and tongs was made by M.W. Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures. The cranberry glass soda syphon was made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures. The remaini g bottles of alcohol were made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures. The gilt tea table in the foreground of the photo on which they all stand is made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.
The Chetwynd Christmas tree, beautifully decorated by Lettice, Harold and Arabella with garlands, tinsel, bows golden baubles and topped by a sparking gold star is a 1:12 artisan piece. It was hand made by husband and wife artistic team Margie and Mike Balough who own Serendipity Miniatures in Newcomerstown, Ohio.
The Palladian console table behind the Christmas tree, with its two golden caryatids and marble top, is one of a pair that were commissioned by me from American miniature artisan Peter Cluff. Peter specialises in making authentic and very realistic high quality 1:12 miniatures that reflect his interest in Georgian interior design. His work is highly sought after by miniature collectors worldwide. This pair of tables are one-of-a-kind and very special to me.
The gilt chair to the right of the photo is made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq, but what is particularly special about it is that it has been covered in antique Austrian floral micro petite point by V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, which also makes this a one-of-a-kind piece. The artisan who made this says that as one of her hobbies, she enjoys visiting old National Trust Houses in the hope of getting some inspiration to help her create new and exciting miniatures. She saw some beautiful petit point chairs a few years ago in one of the big houses in Derbyshire and then found exquisitely detailed petit point that was fine enough for 1:12 scale projects.
The elegant ornaments that decorate the surfaces of the Chetwynd’s palatial drawing room very much reflect the Eighteenth Century spirit of the room.
On the console table made by Peter Cluff stands a porcelain pot of yellow and lilac petunias which has been hand made and painted by 1:12 miniature ceramicist Ann Dalton. It is flanked by two mid Victorian (circa 1850) hand painted child’s tea set pieces. The sugar bowl and milk jug have been painted to imitate Sèvres porcelain.
On the bombe chest behind the Louis settee stand a selection of 1950s Limoges miniature tea set pieces which I have had since I was a teenager. Each piece is individually stamped on its base with a green Limoges stamp. In the centre of these pieces stands a sterling silver three prong candelabra made by an unknown artisan. They have actually fashioned a putti (cherub) holding the stem of the candelabra. The candles that came with it are also 1:12 artisan pieces and are actually made of wax.
The sofa, which is part of a three piece Louis XV suite of the settee and two armchairs was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, JBM.
The Hepplewhite chair with the lemon satin upholstery you can just see behind the Christmas tree was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.
All the paintings around the Glynes drawing room in their gilded frames are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States and V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, and the wallpaper is an authentic copy of hand-painted Georgian wallpaper of Chinese lanterns from the 1770s.
Woodpecker holes on a Douglas fir. I didn't check to see if different trees had consistently different drilling patterns.
Meanwhile you can amuse yourself reading about why woodpeckers don't get concussions, and how they use their body to peck holes
journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone...
www.researchgate.net/publication/276454877_How_does_a_woo...
My dad was discharged from the hospital on Friday afternoon. This morning, I received a call from his retirement residence that he had a fall around 5 in the morning and was sent to the hospital by ambulance. Nothing broken, no concussion, but they're keeping him for observation (again).
Our friend E. lost her best friend this week. Angel was a sweet gentle soul and a beautiful horse. She helped my wife with her concussion recovery, which is around the time when I took this. She will be dearly missed.
The wonder of getting out into nature displaying a fresh blanket of snow is so delicious as to be unbelievable! This is the first time in over a month I've been out walking around a bit since sustaining a concussion in an auto accident. This scene begged to be photographed and I gladly obliged.
This big horn sheep buck has his head lowered ready for a clash. That just blows me away as I get a headache just looking at it , and yet they can ram each other many times. Unlike the NHL , they don't get checked for concussion syndrome.
This photograph shows a small section of a mural displayed in the 'National Museum of the History of Ukraine in the Second World War'. It depicts people trying to escape the rapidly advancing front line.
In the early days of summer 1941, the Germans were moving quickly through Ukrainian territory. The invasion began on June 22, 1941, and by September 19, 1941, Kyiv was already occupied. By the end of the summer of 1942, the entire territory of Ukraine had fallen under occupation.
In all wars, civilians often suffer more than soldiers. They become powerless victims of the warring sides — and that’s exactly what happened here.
One of my grandfathers was still a child at the time, and his family found themselves under occupation. While he was alive, he told me various stories of what he had seen and remembered. He had to leave home and wander in search of food, so he saw a lot...
My other grandfather was a a tank crewman. He was severely wounded closer to the end of the war and suffered a concussion, spending a long time in the hospital. He was a tough man and didn’t like to talk about the war. I only saw him cry once — on May 9th, which our family celebrated together—when he remembered his fallen comrades. His own brother was killed in action.
I've not commented much after a fall about two weeks ago. I landed on my head, which seems to be the general landing pattern. After two concussions and a skull fracture when in my teens, and another fall and semi-concussion racing around with our Labradors, I diagnosed this most recent fall as just an owwie. I know what you might think, but I haven't had a drink for more than 32 years.
Immediately purchased a treadmill—for off-balance days—that my wonderful husband managed to drag and heft into the living room and assemble.
But I digress. The sun or at least some sunlight popped out at noon and I raced out to capture rain drops and red...hawthorn, perhaps. Then I took a little liberty with the warmth. Otherwise as shot from RAW.
Many thanks for looking, and again, apologies for not commenting much lately.
Edited book cover, Game Changer by Neal Shusterman.
One hard hit on the football field, Ash's life has since moved to a new dimension.
Sydney
March 3, 2018
This Cardinal hit our slider during the storm,. He knocked himself out, and I really didn't think he was going to make it. With warmth and quiet time, however, he was able to regain his strength and senses to get back on the field same day! Concussion protocol is a bit more lenient for birds than athletes!!
March 2018 Nor' Easter: March 2nd through March 4th (5 high tides).
Brewster, Massachusetts
Cape Cod - USA
Photo by brucetopher
© Bruce Christopher 2018
All Rights Reserved
...always learning - critiques welcome.
Tools: Canon 7D & iPhone 6s.
No use without permission.
Please email for usage info.
As I worked on this image I couldn’t help but reflect on some of the stories I have heard about the falls. Niagara Falls is best known as a family oriented tourist attraction and a favoured destination for honeymooners. However, it has a very rich history, full of many dramatic events which at times does have a dark side as well.
The most stunning survival and rescue story I have heard of is that of seven year-old Roger Woodward and seventeen year old Deane Woodward. In July 1960 Roger and his sister Deanne were in a 12-foot (3.7 m) aluminium fishing boat helmed by their family friend, James Honeycutt. Honeycutt hit a rock shearing the cotter pin which holds on the propellor some 1.8 kilometres (1.1 mi) above the falls. With no propulsion, the boat was pulled into the rapids and subsequently capsized.
The currents took Deanne towards the American falls and as hundreds watched she was being rapidly swept toward the edge of the falls. John R. Hayes, a truck driver and an auxiliary police officer from Union, New Jersey climbed over the rail, stretched out his arm and pleaded with Deanne to take his hand. Deane later said that his pleading voice made her swim harder and she caught his thumb just before going over the Falls. Fearful the current would break his hold on the young girl, he shouted for help, Climbing over the railing, John Quattrochi of Pennsgrove, New Jersey came to the rescue and the two pulled her to safety. Deanne was pulled from the river just 20 feet (6.1 m) from the brink of the American falls and suffered no injury other than a cut on her hand.
Roger and Honeycutt meanwhile were both swept over the horseshoe falls which at 51 meters is equivalent to falling from a 12 story building. Roger, who was wearing a lifejacket remained buoyant and was not sucked down into the plunge pool. He ended up floating at the base of the falls and most remarkably was conscious. The Maid of the Mist also happened to be at the base of the falls and the veteran Captain, Clifford Keech, maneuvered his boat so that the crew could pick up the boy on the starboard side. After two unsuccessful throws, a life preserver landed within reach of the crying youngster. Lifted safely on board the vessel, he was taken to the hospital in Niagara Falls where he was treated for a mild concussion. He was the first person ever known to survive the falls unprotected. Unfortunately, Honeycutt was not as lucky and he died. HIs body was recovered 4 days later.
The earliest recorded fatality is also a very dramatic tale. In July of 1853, Avery and two other men had been working on a scow and drinking. They attempted to row from Goat Island to the mainland when their boat capsized. The two other men went over the American Falls immediately, while Avery grabbed onto a tree trunk jammed between two rocks just east of Chapin Island where despite the heavy currents he hung on for eighteen hours. Several attempts were made at rescue the next morning and a boat tethered to the Goat Island bridge was guided downstream to reach Avery. He was able to climb onto the boat, but it immediately capsized throwing Avery back into the water before he went over the falls. Following Avery's death, the rock from which he clung became known as "Avery's Rock".
Avery’s predicament was actually captured in a daguerreotype and published in the papers of the time. While the image is crude by today’s standards it is chilling to view it and consider the eventual outcome. It is also apparent that the water flow in those days; which was long before the construction of the control dams upstream was much more robust than it is today. It can be seen at the link below:
www.loc.gov/resource/cph.3g04771/
Standing just feet away from the brink of the falls and looking down it is hard to credit that anyone could survive going over the falls. The reality, is that of the 5,000 people between 1850 and 2011 who are estimated to have gone over the falls, there are only 17 reported survivors of which only 4 were not in a barrel or some protective device. It is also estimated that 25 people per year commit suicide by going over the falls. Estimates are all they have because bodies are not always recovered as some simply do not reappear after entering the 100 foot deep plunge pool at the bottom of the horseshoe falls or the rocks at the base of the American falls.
The beauty and majesty of the falls is undeniable and worth seeing. But in addition, the area also has a rich and fascinating history as well full of daredevils, heroes, fortune seekers, historic battles, miracles and disasters. If you are a history buff it is a fascinating place.
_DSF2773-RAF
Taking a break and sitting back and taking in its surroundings.
Yes, I agree, we all live together in a pretty amazing place.
(After falling and giving myself a concussion while attempting to get to a better location along a river while away last month, I am finally back to processing photos.
Boulder = 1 Janis = 0, they are very hard!)
I have tasted and seen that the Lord is good! I can truly testify to this in all aspects of my life, but I will highlight a few from this trip. To start off, we were not likely even going to go on this trip, but we were able to stay with some very sweet and generous friends of ours with a 2 day advance notice of our coming. Next off, the Lord protected us from a lot of wildlife which has been much harder for me to see at night do to having three concussions over the past year. He also provided and created some stunning conditions for us to enjoy and take in. Truly He had His hand all over this trip!
A Golden-olive Woodpecker (Colaptes rubiginosus) pummels away at the bark of an immortelle tree. Another one of my backyard surprises by the way!
Ever wondered how come woodpeckers don't suffer from concussions?
see here:
www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-15458633
www.livescience.com/19586-woodpecker-skull-concussions.html
as the article suggests the study can assist in preventing brain injuries to humans?
Modified Heavy A-Class Interceptor
Manufacturer: Kuat Systems Engineering, heavily modified by Mon Calamari associated with The Survivors Rebel Group
Size: 6.7 meters long, 4.48 meters wide
Speed: 1,500 KPH atmospheric speed
Capacity: 1 Pilot, life support, 1 week consumables
Armament: Heavy laser cannon(2), Light blaster cannon(2), Concussion missile launcher(2), Concussion missiles(18)
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The Modified A-wing interceptor was powerful in dogfights, easily outclassing the speed of nearly every starship in existence. The "Event- Horizon" engines had been nearly doubled in size from the original model, giving the interceptor immense speed. While incredibly fast, the ship did not necessarily have to travel at such speeds, as it could be hard to maneuver the craft quickly enough, and incredible reflexes were necessary in dogfights. Another downside to the craft was its small cockpit, but the overall power of the weapons and the craft's speed easily made up for this.
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I built this MOC yesterday and I wanted to share! I don't feel like I've gotten to build enough starships for The Survivors RPG, so here's a really cool vehicle! Enjoy!
-MWBricks
p.s. Note for the admin- my landspeeder will be in the same style as the A-wing.
My oldest graduated from high school. An hour before I was supposed to arrive to her graduation ceremony, I slipped and fell face first on the sidewalk in front of my home. I was in pain and a little disoriented, but I knew that I didn't want to miss another event in her life. Because this was such an important day, I ignored my fresh physical injuries and made it just in time.
Note: I found out later that as a result from my fall, I had suffered a concussion. Oh well! At least after missing eighteen years of events, I was able to be there for her on this special milestone. :)
On Axiom5, Adrienne and Kayla worked alongside the Arcturiaen science team as they scanned for signs of the reptilian nest.
The concussion of missiles being intercepted and detonated rattled through the ship. Lights flickered and a hint of acrid smoke crept into the room. The ship had not returned to level since an earlier missile impact and listed to one side.
“That makes 126 sites across the southwestern United States that we have scanned,” reported Edlon, the lead science officer, his voice clipped with fatigue. “No anomalous heat signatures. Not a single viable nest candidate. Shall we widen the search?”
Adrienne leaned forward. “How deep can your sensors penetrate?”
“Maximum depth is approximately one sector,” he replied. “That’s about one of your miles. Sensitivity depends on local density and magnetic properties of the soil.”
Kayla’s brow furrowed. “That won’t be enough.” She shot Adrienne a look—tight, frustrated. “The nest could be buried far deeper.”
Adrienne turned back to Edlon. “Then maybe we’re looking in the wrong way. What if we trace the underground tunnel networks instead? Look for a central hub—something accessible, strategic.”
“I’ll have my team run the overlay,” he said, as he stood walking down to another team member.
Kayla’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Just as I feared. They’ve got no data on reptilian biology. No nesting behavior. If their scans can’t reach it, we’re flying blind.”
Adrienne nodded grimly. “Then we need the coordinates of every site they’ve scanned. We jump back, investigate ourselves. At least we’d have something more to work with.”
“Over here,” Edlon called. “This site—look.” He pointed to the screen. “Thirty-two tunnels converge across four adjacent zones. And it sits directly on the intersection of two ley lines.”
Kayla’s eyes lit with recognition. “Of course! They’d be drawn to ley lines. What are the coordinates?”
Adrienne studied the map lit on the computer screen, which lacked identifying boundaries or names. “I’m not positive but judging by those rivers I think that’s Arizona. "What are the coordinates?”
Before he could answer, the ship’s alarm system erupted. A voice boomed through the comms: “Missiles inbound. Brace for impact”
Axiom5’s defense systems intercepted and detonated missiles but were unable to stop them all.
A direct hit. And another. The ship lurched violently. Adrienne and Kayla clung to the console as Edlon barked, “hang on!”
Two, more intense explosions followed—one dangerously close. The ship rolled to the side, tossing everyone.
The lights flickered. Then darkness.
Emergency systems kicked in, casting the room in a red glow.
But the screens stayed dark—blank. After a few moments Adrienne’s voice cut through the silence. “Eldon, did you get the coordinates of that site?”
Edlon shook his head, grim. “The system crashed before I could retrieve them. We’re trying to get the computers back.”
Adrienne retrieved her VDD, brow furrowed. The device pulsed in her hand, a strange light flickering on its surface.
Adrienne whispered to Kayla, who leaned over to look. “It vibrated… and that light—I’ve never seen it before.”
Kayla squinted at the display, then gasped. “It’s detected another VDD!”
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You can view Quantum Fold episodes in order from the beginning in her album titled, Quantum Fold:
www.flickr.com/photos/199076397@N02/albums/72177720326169...
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This is an A.I. image generated using my SL avi.
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Here's a link to my other Flickr photos/ images:
for 365 and FGR invades Guerrilla Graffiti.
Inspired by a silly song from Ben Harper
The cheesy heart shape of our hands makes me giggle. We're such dorks.
Today's Random Fact
Katie fell off the trampoline today. Probably has her third concussion in her four short years of life. Fun times. wheeee!
In Montreal, La Ronde, is the big amusement park for those who have iron stomachs. And for those of us who don't, we stay with our two feet firmly planted on the ground!!!
This is the ride "Vampire", and it scared me more than any Bela Lugosi movie :)
They are a wee bit bigger now, but still cute and rambunctious in a 2-year old child kind of way. . .thanks for your well wishes. . .Michael is much improved from his concussion.
Spring means power-washing the netting and windows at the back of the house. The netting seems to protect most birds from hitting the glass. This measures less than 3 inches / 7.62 cm., but looks quite large. (Cropped.)
Decals did nothing to prevent deadly bird concussions the year we moved here.
This is a closeup with the micro/macro lens against the glass to catch the water and net in an abstract way.
The goldfinches cling to it to peer inside our house, it seems. During February when temperatures became so record-breakingly cold, hummingbirds perched on top of the string out of the wind.
This is NOT for MacroMondays! This was more blue, but that looked cold. I warmed it up ;)
This 16 year old boy has my heart. Old age has given him a few knocks on the ass but he keeps getting up and fighting. About a month ago he suffered a horrible fall. He jumped and hit his head very hard on bricks. He gashed open his mouth, knocked the two remaining front teeth loose and most likely suffered a concussion. This past weekend he was knocked down again with Vestibular Disorder. It's very much like a stroke but he has a chance to recover and if not fully it should be enough to live a pretty good rest of life. Each day has improvement. We are on 24/7 care to protect him from further harm. Just trying to give him the best of what time he has left.
My first return to photo shoots on a beach was a bit of a disaster. I travelled to Olympic National Park from New Mexico with the intention of shooting Ruby Beach after a 10 year gap. Turns out, Ruby is closed until September of 2022. So I shot at Beach 4 as my return debut. After sunset, I ended up falling on a rock outcropping while climbing to the trail. Broke my shoulder and gave myself a good concussion. It was the end of a long awaited return to the coast.
Beach 4, Olympic National Park. Forks, Washington USA