View allAll Photos Tagged Contented
Side A - Contented
Side B - Me For You and You For Me .
Recorded late 1951 at Blackstone Hotel, Broadcast Hill, Fort Worth, Texas. Produced by label owner Jim Bulleit.
J-B Records - In late 1952, established record producer Jim Bulleit of Nashville announces plans to form a new label to be called J-B Records. Bulleit formerly ran Bullet Records also out of Nashville in the post war years and had two major hits with pianist and band leader Francis Craig - "Near You" and "Beg Your Pardon" with vocals by Bob Lamm. Bullet also featured tunes by Cecil Gant. The first releases are #1500 "Contented " / "Me For You, You For Me" by country singer Jimmy Mathis, #600 - Jimmy Smith with the Red Calhoun Orchestra - "My Love For You" / "Well", #601 - Jack Dixon with Red Calhoun - "Move Over Baby" / "My Blues And Me" and #602 "Pay Day Lover" / "I Want To Know" by R & B duo Vivian Verson and Jimmy Smith. J-B release #603 is by budding R & B superstar Eddie "Guitar Slim" Jones - "Feelin' Sad" / "Certainly All" and #606 'High Tone Mama' by Walter 'Tong' Smith. At the end of the year Bulleit joins forces with Sam Phillips to form a new label to be based in Memphis called Sun Records, and because of this important new endeavor, the days of J-B Records are over.
Kneading the air with her tongue out.
I'm fostering this lovely cat for a local shelter. If you live in Los Angeles and are interested, let me know or contact Sante Dor!
Just happy to be out, and exploring! I think she practices her cute face in front of a mirror! Definitely has all the qualities of a professional model!
Christer Johansson raises elk for milk, not for meat. It is made into cheese, similar to feta.
The elks are incredibly docile creatures and let you stroke them as much as you like, but their coats were sodden with oil as they were between winter and summer.
This contented soul seems to be the pet of a shopkeeper in a tourist section of Athens, Greece in the Monastiraki neighborhood near the Acropolis.
Amusing to me, is the dog's resemblance to a typical guard dog and its disinterest as it naps on the front sidewalk towards the hundreds of passers-by, many stepping within inches of his nose and the box of souvenir Greek coins.
A devotee of the "let-sleeping-dogs-lie" school, I quickly snapped this image on my way past.
A particularly lovely cat outside the Imhotep Museum at Saqqara, who seemed to be on good terms with the guard there and enjoyed our attention!
“Nine requisites for contented living:
Health enough to make work a pleasure.
Wealth enough to support your needs.
Strength to battle with difficulties and overcome them.
Grace enough to confess your sins and forsake them.
Patience enough to toil until some good is accomplished.
Charity enough to see some good in your neighbor.
Love enough to move you to be useful and helpful to others.
Faith enough to make real the things of God.
Hope enough to remove all anxious fears concerning the future.”
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
This one had Kathryn and I poring over it, looking at it and then each other (with straight faces) to try to determine whose features he's got.
Except the two of us never have a straight face, so it makes it tough.
Margaret wife of Richard Cornwallis of Ockenhill Hall Badingham
Margaret was the only heiress daughter of Lionel Louth 1532 www.flickr.com/photos/52219527@N00/13925024374/ and Elizabeth eldest daughter of Sir Thomas Blenerhasset of Frenze www.flickr.com/photos/52219527@N00/5947101270/ who m2 Francis Clopton of Long Melford
She was actually the heiress of her great grandfather Thomas Louthe at the age of 4, her father and grandfather having died in his lifetime
husband Richard was the third son of Sir John Cornwallis of Brome and Ann Sulyard www.flickr.com/photos/52219527@N00/9392326031/ - his father having willed " To my son Richard my ward Margaret Lowthe which I bought of my lord of Norfolk, to marry her himself if they both will be so contented but if not that he should have the wardship and marriage of her, with all advantages and profits."
Children -
1. Sir Thomas of Horsley d1618 buried at Porchester www.flickr.com/photos/sic_itur_ad_astra/6969389764/ m Elizabeth daughter of John Molineux of Thorpe Nottinghamshire
2. John of Earl Soham d1615 www.flickr.com/photos/52219527@N00/13925081844/ m1 Catherine d1584 www.flickr.com/photos/52219527@N00/14191224484/ daughter of John Blennerhasset of Barsham; m2 Elizabeth Wolsey widow of William Tuthill
3. Elizabeth d1624 m Edmund son of John Bacon of Hessett 1567 by Barbara Jermyn of Rushbrooke
4. Anne d1612 www.flickr.com/photos/52219527@N00/527517488/ m Thomas Dade of Tannington
Richard was buried at Shotley. Margaret lived at Badingham buried here d1603. Before her death she erected her monument and that of her husband and father.
" In memoriam Margaritse relictae Richardi Cornwaleis armigeri hoc posuit Johannes filius Shotleia busta viri, sed conjugis ossa sacellum Hoc tenet : unanimes corpore, morte duo. Parturiit, fovit geniali foedere sola Tergeminam prolem ; junxit, adauxit opes. Namq. lares coluit viduas labentibus octo Lustris, et nono mortua viva jacet. Et tu nate tuse priscos venerate Penateis Matris, qua vivis, vivere morte jubes. Obiit 4 die Septemb. 1603".
By a deed of 34 Eliz. 16th Jan. Margaret Cornwallis of Badingham, widow, late wife of Richard Cornwallis esquire deceased, with John Cornwallis her eldest son, &c., recites a settlement on John 23 Dec. 30th Eliz. of the manor of Sawtrye in Huntingdonshire, to the use of Margaret for life; to John for life; to such wife as John may leave him surviving during her life ; to Philip son of said John, and his heirs male ; to Thomas son of said John, in tail male ; to Francis, &c. ; to the heirs male of John ; to Thomas son of Margaret, and his heirs male ; to the heirs of Margaret in fee.
The manor of Kettlebers in Cretingham descended in the family of Cornwallis until 1701 when Mary Cornwallis, the heiress of this branch, married John Rabett gent,
A contented calm has fallen over Granhaven in anticipation of the coronation ceremony. The captain of the guard, Linas Everstead, has decided to use the opportunity of this lull in activity to send two of his newest recruits into the hinterland to patrol some remote paths and make contact with the Garhims that brave life beyond the sturdy walls of the city.
Falki and Gunnar rose before dawn, eager to prove themselves worthy of the task set before them. They first donned their padded cloth tunics, kept warm beneath their covers during the night, and then their shirts of woven mail. The only solid steel armor that these two young recruits possessed were their domed helmets, but these they left at the foot of their bunks. The weight of the metal would slow them on their march, and the restriction in their field of vision was a disadvantage that two lone scouts could not afford.
The guardsmen sang the songs that were popular at the nightly coronation festivities in Granhaven to pass the time as they marched, but as the road became narrower and more rutted the further they drew from their home, the songs became less frequent. Soon the sound of their spears tapping against the path to warn animals of their approach was their only intermittent companion.
After carefully picking their way over a particularly dubious stretch of road, the two guardsmen finally drew within sight of a welcoming orange glow emitting from a small cave.
"At last!" Said Gunnar. "This must be the home of the hermit that Captain Everstead told us about."
"I believe you're right," replied Falki. "This must be the cave of Arvid the Hermit. We have a few small supplies that he might find useful, and we should see what information he can provide us with as well."
As the pair approached the entrance of the cave, Gunnar cried out in pain. Falki turned to see the remnants of a tightly packed snowball running down his companion's face.
"Who goes there?" came a voice from the bushes.
"I guess we should have worn our helmets after all, Gunnar," chuckled Falki as he turned to address the voice.
"No need to worry Arvid, your friend Captain Everstead sent us. Come out and let's talk."
"Lieutenant Everstead, you mean?" said Arvid as the emerged from his place of concealment. "Or has it really been that long since Linas last traveled this way? I suppose that his duties keep him in Granhaven these days, however. Now, what can an old man do for you?"
Falki produced some bread from the guardsmen's satchel and the trio talked of the hermit's life.
"I do well enough for myself in this cave," said Arvid, "but the nights chill me to the bone."
"You have a delightful fire going now," mentioned Gunnar. "Doesn't it keep you warm at night?"
"Fires at night are a liability as of late," replied the hermit. "I have had to bar myself inside the cave each night to avoid the pack of wolves that is troubling this region. They only come at night, but as I was sealing the entrance to the cave one evening, I saw one of the beasts. It was twice the size of any wolf I've seen before, and what's more troubling… I could swear that I heard men traveling with the pack last night, shouting orders. Please, return to your captain and tell him of my worries."
"Will you not come back with us, Arvid?" asked Falki.
"No. This is my home, and I shall stay here, whatever the cost. I thank you for the supplies, the trousers in particular will brace me against cold nights huddled by the embers of yesterday's fire. Go well, my young friends."
Arvid disappeared back within the cave. The guardsmen exchanged a worried glance, and set off for Granhaven without a word.
It's a little hard to wrap your mind around the fact that a brown bear's diet is mainly vegetarian. Here, the cub takes a break from foraging among the lupin. OTR from Congdon Creek Territorial Park, Canada, to Tok, Alaska. June 20, 2016. Yahtzee #40.
This is a wonderful carving of one of the gardener's at Gray's Court. It is carved out of a tree trunk. Pity I didn't get the spade he is leaning on
A contented calm has fallen over Granhaven in anticipation of the coronation ceremony. The captain of the guard, Linas Everstead, has decided to use the opportunity of this lull in activity to send two of his newest recruits into the hinterland to patrol some remote paths and make contact with the Garhims that brave life beyond the sturdy walls of the city.
Falki and Gunnar rose before dawn, eager to prove themselves worthy of the task set before them. They first donned their padded cloth tunics, kept warm beneath their covers during the night, and then their shirts of woven mail. The only solid steel armor that these two young recruits possessed were their domed helmets, but these they left at the foot of their bunks. The weight of the metal would slow them on their march, and the restriction in their field of vision was a disadvantage that two lone scouts could not afford.
The guardsmen sang the songs that were popular at the nightly coronation festivities in Granhaven to pass the time as they marched, but as the road became narrower and more rutted the further they drew from their home, the songs became less frequent. Soon the sound of their spears tapping against the path to warn animals of their approach was their only intermittent companion.
After carefully picking their way over a particularly dubious stretch of road, the two guardsmen finally drew within sight of a welcoming orange glow emitting from a small cave.
"At last!" Said Gunnar. "This must be the home of the hermit that Captain Everstead told us about."
"I believe you're right," replied Falki. "This must be the cave of Arvid the Hermit. We have a few small supplies that he might find useful, and we should see what information he can provide us with as well."
As the pair approached the entrance of the cave, Gunnar cried out in pain. Falki turned to see the remnants of a tightly packed snowball running down his companion's face.
"Who goes there?" came a voice from the bushes.
"I guess we should have worn our helmets after all, Gunnar," chuckled Falki as he turned to address the voice.
"No need to worry Arvid, your friend Captain Everstead sent us. Come out and let's talk."
"Lieutenant Everstead, you mean?" said Arvid as the emerged from his place of concealment. "Or has it really been that long since Linas last traveled this way? I suppose that his duties keep him in Granhaven these days, however. Now, what can an old man do for you?"
Falki produced some bread from the guardsmen's satchel and the trio talked of the hermit's life.
"I do well enough for myself in this cave," said Arvid, "but the nights chill me to the bone."
"You have a delightful fire going now," mentioned Gunnar. "Doesn't it keep you warm at night?"
"Fires at night are a liability as of late," replied the hermit. "I have had to bar myself inside the cave each night to avoid the pack of wolves that is troubling this region. They only come at night, but as I was sealing the entrance to the cave one evening, I saw one of the beasts. It was twice the size of any wolf I've seen before, and what's more troubling… I could swear that I heard men traveling with the pack last night, shouting orders. Please, return to your captain and tell him of my worries."
"Will you not come back with us, Arvid?" asked Falki.
"No. This is my home, and I shall stay here, whatever the cost. I thank you for the supplies, the trousers in particular will brace me against cold nights huddled by the embers of yesterday's fire. Go well, my young friends."
Arvid disappeared back within the cave. The guardsmen exchanged a worried glance, and set off for Granhaven without a word.
When I was 7 or 8 years old my father who was a sergeant in the Canadian Army shipped off to the Korean War. He was a tank mechanic. His tank, the Contented Cow had no large gun on the front and was fitted with a crane on the back. Kind of like a tow tank. They had to go in and repair damaged tanks and get them back into action. He is standing in the foreground, in the water, to the right of the tank
I recently came across a few old photos of him and the tank.
They were pretty faded but PhotoShop can do wonders.
Again the expansive contented mood of Picasso, once more in love, is expressed with a new artistic style. In this work, another of the Marie-Therese Walter series, we see her asleep, her body resting between the two powerful polarized color blocks of red and green, whose oppositional forces accentuate her stillness. The face is denuded of expression and character, adopting the heavy mask of the gargantuan monolithic woman so typical of Picasso's 1920s neo-Classical period.
The solid black outline around the girl's hands and profile is a feature of the series recalling the Fauvist's black binding of color blocks. The emphasised leonine hands with claw-like fingers give the figure an animalistic primitivism, which becomes a feature ofthis short style change. However, this impression of bestiality is juxtaposed by the graceful lyricism of the body's contours. It is a weird combination of beauty and ugliness, another theme that continually fascinated Picasso.
The Surrealists's dream world is intimated, but the viewer is witnessing external materiality rather than the model's subconscious mental processes. The work is more a reflection of the artist's sub-consciousness and an insight into the Andalucian concept of mirada fuerte - the erotic gaze - in which the voyeuristic eye become a sexual organ.
A contented calm has fallen over Granhaven in anticipation of the coronation ceremony. The captain of the guard, Linas Everstead, has decided to use the opportunity of this lull in activity to send two of his newest recruits into the hinterland to patrol some remote paths and make contact with the Garhims that brave life beyond the sturdy walls of the city.
Falki and Gunnar rose before dawn, eager to prove themselves worthy of the task set before them. They first donned their padded cloth tunics, kept warm beneath their covers during the night, and then their shirts of woven mail. The only solid steel armor that these two young recruits possessed were their domed helmets, but these they left at the foot of their bunks. The weight of the metal would slow them on their march, and the restriction in their field of vision was a disadvantage that two lone scouts could not afford.
The guardsmen sang the songs that were popular at the nightly coronation festivities in Granhaven to pass the time as they marched, but as the road became narrower and more rutted the further they drew from their home, the songs became less frequent. Soon the sound of their spears tapping against the path to warn animals of their approach was their only intermittent companion.
After carefully picking their way over a particularly dubious stretch of road, the two guardsmen finally drew within sight of a welcoming orange glow emitting from a small cave.
"At last!" Said Gunnar. "This must be the home of the hermit that Captain Everstead told us about."
"I believe you're right," replied Falki. "This must be the cave of Arvid the Hermit. We have a few small supplies that he might find useful, and we should see what information he can provide us with as well."
As the pair approached the entrance of the cave, Gunnar cried out in pain. Falki turned to see the remnants of a tightly packed snowball running down his companion's face.
"Who goes there?" came a voice from the bushes.
"I guess we should have worn our helmets after all, Gunnar," chuckled Falki as he turned to address the voice.
"No need to worry Arvid, your friend Captain Everstead sent us. Come out and let's talk."
"Lieutenant Everstead, you mean?" said Arvid as the emerged from his place of concealment. "Or has it really been that long since Linas last traveled this way? I suppose that his duties keep him in Granhaven these days, however. Now, what can an old man do for you?"
Falki produced some bread from the guardsmen's satchel and the trio talked of the hermit's life.
"I do well enough for myself in this cave," said Arvid, "but the nights chill me to the bone."
"You have a delightful fire going now," mentioned Gunnar. "Doesn't it keep you warm at night?"
"Fires at night are a liability as of late," replied the hermit. "I have had to bar myself inside the cave each night to avoid the pack of wolves that is troubling this region. They only come at night, but as I was sealing the entrance to the cave one evening, I saw one of the beasts. It was twice the size of any wolf I've seen before, and what's more troubling… I could swear that I heard men traveling with the pack last night, shouting orders. Please, return to your captain and tell him of my worries."
"Will you not come back with us, Arvid?" asked Falki.
"No. This is my home, and I shall stay here, whatever the cost. I thank you for the supplies, the trousers in particular will brace me against cold nights huddled by the embers of yesterday's fire. Go well, my young friends."
Arvid disappeared back within the cave. The guardsmen exchanged a worried glance, and set off for Granhaven without a word.
He looks very much at peace with the river. Taken near the mouth of Difficult Run on the Virginia side of the Potomac.
a quick collaboration with thereza rowe who sent me some contented cats......so I added some words to her super illustration
This was one of a small herd of horses grazing at the Bar W Guest Ranch in the Stillwater Valley, five or six miles northwest of Whitefish.
View my collections on flickr here: Collections
Press "L" for a larger image on black.
Day 17 - This big guy was losing leaves pretty rapidly, but now seems to have reached a somewhat dormant state. I think I'm going to try some root tabs with it when I make it to the aquarium store, because some of the leaves look like they are longing for an extra boost of iron.
Little boy sitting in his seat during a flight playing contentedly with a tablet computer in an airplane watched by his mother You can purchase this photo for commercial use in high-res and without watermark here: j.mp/greycoastphoto || If you have any issues with finding specific image, please contact me: danr@yandex.com