View allAll Photos Tagged Deepened
Lake District, England, UK
Wast Water or Wastwater is a lake located in Wasdale, a valley in the western part of the Lake District National Park, England. The lake is almost three miles long and more than one-third mile wide. It is a glacial lake, formed in a glacially 'over-deepened' valley. It is the deepest lake in England at 258 feet.
Once you leave the eastern side of the Cascades you start your travel through central Oregon. It is a completely different eco system. The land is more arid and the long stretches of prairie aren't broken up by much. Even with all that, mother nature still finds a way to keep your interest. We found patches of lupine blooming everywhere. I just liked the contrast of the old barbed wire and fresh flowers. I toyed with idea of deepening those colors and adding more contrast, but this is what the area actually looked like, so I went with the natural look.
- sunset happens over our back garden
- this one started slowly and unusually lasting a long time deepening to this rich colour
thank you for all visits to my photostream
Enjoying in Large clicking the letter L.
"Feliz despertar con el Pájaro de Fuego".
Created for the Artistic Manipulation Group's new MIXMASTER CHALLENGE #16 with Chef Temari 09 ...
➤ Your image must portray a positive feeling (love/happiness/kindness, etc.).
➤ It must be in landscape (horizontal) format.
➤ It must include one or two (not more) CAMOUFLAGED (but still recognizable) animals and/or people.
➤ It must include a colorful circular shape (fractal, mandala, peace symbol or similar).
➤ No tiny animals or people. In other words, you cannot camouflage an elephant by making it tiny; and you cannot use something like a butterfly unless you enlarge it to at least an eighth the size of your canvas.
Entered also in Abstract Textures Challenge - Creative Digital Art Community - April 2017 (Ends in May 15)
Images and textures of my own.
"Thank you all my kind Flickrs Friends. Your comments and invitations are much motivating and appreciated".
Querétaro - México.
© All rights reserved.
© Leanne Boulton, All Rights Reserved
Street photography from England.
Captured in a Warwickshire market town in April 2017. Treats for our beloved four-legged friends may become rare with the ever deepening cost of living crisis.
Behind the photo of the leaf (prior shot) the sky started to rapidly transform into this colourful orange sunset at Datai Bay, deepening by the minute to this final form. Nirvana!
One of the reasons to return to Datai Bay resort was to see the amazing sunsets :-) Hope you enjoy to, thanks for visiting 🙏
The Jiangbei Catholic Church (天主教堂) in Ningbo stands quietly under the deepening blue of twilight. Built in the 19th century by French missionaries, its Gothic architecture rises gracefully with pointed arches, twin spires, and ornate detailing that glows warmly under the lamplight. Nestled in a peaceful square near the riverfront, the church reflects Ningbo’s blend of historic charm and cultural depth.
The wishes of the dead
Follow the light of the living
The freedom to breathe
Fights with the need to forgive
The longings of the heart
Can deepen our prayers against anger
But words unsaid and hurts remembered
Battle with our need to let the past go
Forgiveness can be difficult to reach
But the sweet silence of peace
Brings a balm to the soul
And a healing to the hereafter
*****
This simple wooden cross that marks the grave of a vicar of Glynde in Sussex, UK, who passed away in 1965 aged 84, was once a serving officer who joined the 1st Gurkha Rifles seeing service in India and Palestine during the Great War. He was invalided out of the army in 1923 and was eventually ordained at York Minster in England in 1932.
Alexander returned to India as a clergyman, serving as an Army Chaplain in Delhi during the Second World War. On returning to England he became at one time the Vicar of Glynde 1951-55.
The Inscription on the cross reads:
“In memory of Rev Lt Col: A.F. INGLIS. Vicar of Glynde 1951-55 died September 9th 1965 Aged 84 years.
Also his wife Anne 1888-1983.
His ashes, along with those of his wife, are buried under this simple cross in the churchyard at Glynde. He lies here with other war dead of the First World War.
What is so incredibly poignant, is that this memorial cross is carefully looked after, varnished and maintained against the weather, and has been all these years. On the anniversary of his death, there is often a posy of flowers laid at the foot of the cross.
For me, Alexander must have found a way to reconcile what he witnessed while serving as an officer and the forgiveness required as a clergyman. His faith must have been of great solace to him and such understanding that we are all humbled in the face of death meant that all he required was a wooden cross, rather than any other more ornate memorial, at the time of his passing.
To forgive we have to be humble. To be humble is to walk away from war and your pride and begin to truly live.
Never Forget.
And if you would like to see more of my work, have a look at my website at:
To follow: an attempt to prompt a civil (hopefully productive) dialogue about a subject central to photography, most especially, street photography.
I took this photo from a vantage point on the cliff high above the beach. I like a number of things about the photo, the geometry formed by the rocks and their shadows, the pattern formed by the footprints in the sand, the pseudo drone-like aerial perspective, the edge to edge warm monochrome brown colour and most of all the juxtaposition of the dog and the suntanning woman. For me there is a subtle humour to the photo and I chose the title specifically to capitalize on that. However, I knew when I made the photo that there would be some who adamantly believe the photo is an invasion of another person's privacy and that I should not have taken it much less post it in a public forum.
I believe I could make cogent arguments both pro and con regarding this matter (I have thought it through many times and I revisit my thinking any time I photograph people on the street and in public places). I have drawn a personal 'line in the sand' on when and under what circumstances I can photograph people in public (and more importantly when I can't) but I am hard pressed to put into words exactly how I make that decision that will help inform others. I would never knowingly take or subsequently post a photo that I think could embarass/demean/ridicule or hurt in any way the person/people in the photo. I also, in my 'about' section on Flickr, have made a promise to anyone who recognizes themself, family members or friends in my photos to take down any picture they are in immediately on request - no explanation required. Please comment below (in a civil and thoughtful manner) what your thoughts are on the issue. I am very interested in deepening my understanding and improving my approach to photographing people on the street and in public places generally.
A second photo of the same scene is in the first comment box below.
Cheers, Michael
- Praia Pequena, Portugal -
I got to this spot just as the sun was beginning to set. Already the shadows were coming in the canyon area, but it served to deepen the greens and the blue of the water. I like how this came out just using my phone.
So this is my 'Guardian of the Galaxy' photograph which I have today, Thursday 26th December, 2024, re-edited to deepen the blue in the sky.
I took this photograph from my favourite rock platform at Kirribilli, on Sydney Harbour. It is accessible via a forest of giant figtrees. You don't actually see the rock platform until you get right down to the harbour level.
The girl in the image is Zoe. I discovered Zoe at sunset and bizarrely she was carrying a lamp. She held the lamp up to the harbour as the dusk descended in some kind of esoteric, enigmatic, gesture.
And for Zoe, here is 'The Cult' with 'She Sells Sanctuary'.
A bit like Zoe, lol. And she likes this song.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCOSPtyZAPA
My Canon EOS 5D Mk IV with the Canon EF 16-35mm f/2.8L II USM lens.
Processed in Adobe Lightroom and PhotoPad Pro by NCH software.
Domicile, Saint-Hippolyte, Québec.
Merci énormément pour vos commentaires, ils sont toujours très appréciés.
De retour à Saint-Hippolyte, Comme j'ai beaucoup travaillé sur la maison l'été passé et durant l'hiver, j'ai naturellement beaucoup moins voyagé, alors j'ai une quantité limitée de sujets aviaires à présenter… Mais d'un autre côté, j'ai eu l'occasion d'approfondir mes connaissances sur ces oiseaux et de parfaire mes connaissances.
Je vous reviens donc avec ce magnifique Grand-pic qui m'a offert tellement de superbes occasions photographiques.
Home, Saint-Hippolyte, Quebec.
Thank you so much for your comments; they are always greatly appreciated.
Back in Saint-Hippolyte, since I worked a lot on the house last summer and during the winter, I naturally traveled much less, so I have a limited number of avian subjects to present to you… But on the other hand, I had the opportunity to deepen my knowledge of these birds and perfect my skills.
So, I'm back with this magnificent Pileated woodpecker, which has provided me with so many superb photographic opportunities.
My darkness was a sealed chamber, heavy with secrets, impossibilities breathing in silence. I feared not only what others might see, but what it revealed about me—truths I had hidden even from myself. My inner light pressed against that door, not with force but with patience, and patience was pain. To wait, to listen, to not force—this was the hardest choice.
The silence deepened. It pressed against me like words I could not speak, like a love I could not name. I carried it, and still I listened. Night stretched until silence became everything—breath, pulse, horizon. I wondered if it would ever yield, or if I would dissolve into its hush, waiting for a dawn that felt impossibly far.
Yet in that long restraint, something shifted: darkness became soil. From it rose fragile shoots of inspiration, nourished by the ache itself. Hidden within that ache was a warmth haunting in its tenderness, like a secret love living only in shadow.
My darkness did not vanish—it became depth, story, dream. And at last, dawn gathered. The long silence thinned, and in its fragile light, inner light and darkness breathed as one. I am not defined by the dark. I am defined by the way I endure it—by the way I let inner light and darkness speak until they become one. And in that union, a voice rises—haunting and tender, like a loved one’s whisper, hidden yet brought to life in the dawn of my inspiration.
Lost
Shot as square, so didn’t crop. First used normal oil painting effect at 70%. Then remained on that screen and used the overlay setting, which deepened the golden hue. Finished with a thin wavy border.
Wild came to mind while I was viewing this scene, I can easily see why it is grizz country. This is where I'd be if I was a grizzly bear far away from people....
“Those who have packed far up into grizzly country know that the presence of even one grizzly on the land elevates the mountains, deepens the canyons, chills the winds, brightens the stars, darkens the forest, and quickens the pulse of all who enter it. They know that when a bear dies, something sacred in every living thing interconnected with that realm… also dies.” — John Murray
The trees stand dark against a sky on fire, A jagged silhouette in crimson light. The day exhales its last and slow desire, As shades of evening deepen into night. The branches reach like frozen, smoky lace, To hold the last bright ember of the sun, A perfect, silent end in this wild space.
"He who attempts to act and do things for others or for the world without deepening his own self-understanding, freedom and integrity and capacity to love, will not have anything to give others.
He will communicate to them nothing but the contagion of his own obsessions, his aggressiveness, his ego-centeredness, his delusions about the ends and means, his doctrinaire prejudices and ideas.”
- Thomas Merton, Contemplation in a World of Action, p. 164.
As Autumn deepens the morning sun through windows lights unexpected places. Like this beam that for just long enough to grab the camera glowed its colours.
Finally the early spring leaves are deepening as we move from late spring to summer colours. Their appearance has been quite quick to change recently as the cold / rain has given way to sun / warmth
With so many fields having been stood in water crops are late being planted but the grass and wild flowers doing well.
This is Whixley Field Lane which passes Whixley Field House on its way to Score Ray in North Yorkshire, England
For a long time I avoided the village and its memories. They were good memories - the happiest of my childhood in fact, but all of that was gone after the cottage was sold. I didn’t want to be reminded of what we no longer had, so I put it all in a box, to be opened from time to time, the contents gazed upon through misty eyes. The cottage from another era at the end of the lane with the stream running along one side, the quiet village with its nodding flowers, a clear blue sky full of summer swallows, trees as old as time and those bright green fields spattered with cow pats were my whole world during those summer visits. The evening walk to the pub, past barns that filled the air with the heady scent of farming. The uphill trudge along the path beside the brook, through the trees to the Combe and the refreshing waters of the mill pond where we swam in the afternoons. And then there was the Tavy, coursing down from the high ground, foaming over shiny smooth boulders coated in shades of treacherous green, racing noisily through rattling pebble beds, darkening and deepening into secretive browns and blacks across silent stretches beneath the huge oaks that grew along its banks. So cool and quiet in comparison to our home in a hot, irritable, crowded Falmouth in August. It’s where I forged a lifelong bond with the landscape and the natural world. A place where I learned the value of my own company. The Tavy was my first love, the deepest love that I had to say goodbye to, fighting back the tears on a gloomy October afternoon when Mum had taken us out of school for a final stay before the keys were handed to the new owner. In the next forty-two years, although I still visited the moor regularly enough, I barely saw the village at all - a passing pub lunch, an hour up by the Mill Pond. It didn’t feel the same. I stayed away from the lane where at the far end, the white cottage lay hidden out of sight. It was too much.
But this year Mum had a milestone birthday, and wanted to mark the occasion with an adventure we’d all remember. Somewhere to bring back those old memories. The campsite, a mile out of the village had always seemed like a poor substitute when we were able to stay in my great grandmother’s cottage, but those of us who could, booked our spots for an early summer gathering. I reserved a riverside motorhome pitch for Ali and myself. Suddenly the inevitable was at hand. We’d be waking each morning just a few yards from the Tavy. Maybe at last I’d lay the demons to rest and find a new way to love the place just as much as before, even if much of what we once had was now off limits. Nobody ever batted an eyelid at us kids charging around the fields from the farmyard next to the cottage, dodging cow pats all the way down to the river as we went. But times have changed - or perhaps it’s just us that have changed, filling the world with boundaries that weren’t there before as we grow old. Still, the great thing about campsites at this time of year is that they’re practically empty - just a few harmless pensioners about as keen on causing a riot as we are. As long as you’re not unfortunate enough to arrive and find a school summer camp in residence that is. We weren’t this time.
And now here we were again, in my case bringing the person I love most to the place that still holds so many powerful emotions. For three days we traced the same route, across the fields on the far side of the river thanks to a public footpath that was perhaps always here, past gazing cows and scurrying sheep, climbing over stiles, listening for the cry of a lone buzzard, watching the swallows swooping and racing low across the green spaces at our feet, dodging cowpats just like we did all those years ago. Stopping at the river by the bridge beneath the old whispering oaks and beeches to watch and listen, before heading on towards the pub and a pint of something warm and foaming. And then we’d walk through the village, the lane from the pub full of dried manure that had been squashed and splatted into crusty layers on the tarmac by tractors and the odd passing car .
There have been some changes. The village shop is now a holiday cottage, and there’s an old peoples’ home, discreetly tucked away along the main street. Sadly the mill pond is just an empty concrete bowl and there’s a seemingly redundant no swimming sign at one end. But so much more remains the same. The pub garden is exactly as it was, as are those dried cowpats in the lane and the cluttered old farm buildings beside it. I could close my eyes, breathe in the surroundings and be transported back in time to childhood. Perhaps at last the ghosts had been sent to their slumbers. When the time came to leave, the urge to stay here was as strong as it ever was. We agreed to return to the campsite and do it all again soon.
There are places to see the past, and there are places to experience it. Some dwellings are fragile and need to be protected. I get that and I agree. Some Anasazi/Ancient Puebloan structures are over 1000 years old. They command respect. However, I have to say, the visits that are most special to me are the places where you are allowed to roll up your sleeves and walk through them. Chaco Canyon, Mesa Verde, and here, the Lowery Pueblo in Canyon of the Ancients National Monument. My understanding and respect only deepens when I get a chance to walk through these fantastic structures. Yes, this take s a toll, but most of the places where you are allowed to walk through them have usually had a significant degree of arrested decay restoration- meaning the structures are re-built and in some cases fortified to preserve these structures in spite of the droves of love they are getting from those who want to learn.
Here the Feds have places a roof over a series of dwellings in Colorado, and they invite you to crawl through some of the structure. Seriously exciting.
Have you ever watched a rose as it fades away; the color becomes deeper as the petals dry. That's how my love for you deepens as the days go by.
(Anonymous)
One of several beautiful storms near Norton, Kansas on May 26, 2021. This supercell spun into the deepening twilight as lightning crawled up its sides.
Fluff ears of Miscanthus sinensis (Japanese silver glass, ’Susuki’ in Japanese) against the belt of Venus (pinkish glow).
The season of fresh greenery
Looking at the lush green young leaves always refreshes my mood. And We deepen love, too.
Silent Melody - www.flickr.com/photos/201486112@N02/
In the heart of the whispering ocean lies Silent Melody. A picturesque island where each corner reveals a hidden nook, a tranquil spot to sit and savor the peace to silent melodies, as the world outside fades into a distant murmur.
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Silent%20Melody%202/217/13...
Luca
[Deadwool] Luc shirt - Legacy - petrol green
[Deadwool] Hart trousers - Gianni - slight break - white
WINGS-TF0505-HAIR
//Ascend// Charlie Loafer Shoes - Legacy
[Deadwool] Enigma glasses (v3) - silver
[ kunst ] - Jagger pipe (left)
[Deadwool] Blue moon - platinum/cream - 41 mm - mat. ON
Lulu
(fd) Forever Love Top - Canary
(fd) Frilly Bow Shorts - Baby
tram P0608 hair / HUD-C
Pose
SP - Let's Walk Together (POSESTAND)
HM VB 130 White_1.00
[Danielito] Great Dane
“It was that time of dusk when there is a—deepening of the interior shadows. It is a melancholy time: all you need do is switch on one lamp and the inside and the outside will separate, held apart by the reflections in the glass, and evening will begin.”
Rudolph Delson, Maynard and Jennica
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© Copyright Natalie Panga - All rights reserved.
After a long day hiking and exploring Yosemite Valley, I noticed thick mists floating over the Sierra Nevada as I drove home along the winding canyon roads. As golden-hour light broke through the haze on the horizon, I pulled off near Yosemite West and took a few frames before the glow slipped away. The stacked ridgelines and shifting haze formed soft ombrés that deepened gently as dusk settled in.
The glorious mix of spring greens are just beginning to deepen into early summer colours
This is the path from Goker Beck to Grassgills near the village of Marton, North Yorkshire.
Already a little overgrown with the wet spring growth it reaches the higher ground before, at present, disappearing in the last field before Park House Farm
Best viewed large
During her university days, she vividly recalled encountering sketches of a peculiar disc-shaped device. It must have been in the library. The drive there was short, but the search was long—an afternoon spent flipping through countless volumes, chasing the memory of that elusive image.
Time slipped away, and as the library neared closing, her persistence was finally rewarded. In an aged book titled Quantum Physics Theory, she found it—a sketch, carefully reproduced from an ancient manuscript. Below it, the caption read: “An ancient vortex distortion device—capable of bending space and time.”
She read further. The device was referenced in ancient texts, yet no evidence of its existence had ever been found. Dismissed as myth, it remained a mystery. But that was it, the following pages had been torn out.
A chill ran through her. Could this truly be the same device? And if so… why was it in that store? And why was she being watched while she was examining it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is an A.I. image generated using my SL avi.
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(Part 3: A Growing Friendship)
The Wolpertinger has become my loyal friend, visiting me regularly as if our bond was meant to be. As it grew older, our connection deepened, and each visit felt like a reunion of old souls, bound by a magical understanding.
The party is over.
But our fun begins now.
Let's spend tonight deepening our love.・・・・
Empire Hotel
The Empire is more than "that one big tower", it's a memory filled hotel with luxury experiences, comfort around every corner and romantic surrounding. From our unique and dedicated restaurant dining reservations to an astonishing four bar locations, the Empire Omerta will reconnect you with simple luxurious experiences everyone thought dead.
Known for beautiful luxurious suites, the Empire provides the go to romantic experience. Guests are sure to head up to the top of the Empire to enjoy the "Tower of Records" music venue for live immersive entertainment. The fun may just continue in "Freaks Game Room" where guests can enjoy some laughs while beating each other in board games over cocktails. Empire Hotel has everything needed to enjoy a beautiful and memorable stay.
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Omerta/150/102/24
omertacity.com/empireomerta.html
Luca
[Deadwool] Sean jacket (duke) - Gianni - glen ash
[Deadwool] Sean trousers (duke) - Gianni - (mid) - pow ash
[Deadwool] Oxford shoes - Gianni - mahogany
WINGS-ER0225-HAIR
[Deadwool] Blue moon - platinum/cream - 41 mm
Joy
Dress Azul - Maude[VIVID] Ruby
Hair - *S.E LELUTKA X FELL IN LOVE BLACK 04
Necklace - Orsini Jewelry HW AURORE Necklace
Bracelet - MICHAN - Melanie Bracelets
Earrings - VOBE - Jolie Earrings Gold
Pose
Secret Poses - Addams Love
Special thanks to my love Joy♪
I cropped and post-processed the photo using Apple’s Photos photo editor to emphasize contrast, deepen the shadows, and enhance sharpness and definition.
Winter exhales,
a whispered chill across the earth.
Bare trees shiver,
their skeletons etched against a pale sky.
Silence deepens,
and I am holding my breath,
waiting for the thaw.
by bes~•
.... Houses by the River Great Ouse hold on to the last remnants of light before turning to silhouettes in front of the deepening colours of sunset.
Views of the shore are something that I have rarely done from this point of view, hundreds of times I pass through this place but I am always busy talking with someone and the important point of view and the content of it always escapes, maybe I have some photos in my gallery, but the point of view slips out of hand. Hopefully, you like this, I know that maybe I should use the focus using the magnification, but many details that I think interesting in the area will escape with that action.
This area is called Government Cut is a manmade shipping channel between Miami Beach and Fisher Island, which allows better access to the Port of Miami in Miami, Florida. Before the cut was established, a single peninsula of dry land stretched from what is now Miami Beach to what is now Fisher Island, and boats destined for the port at the mouth of the Miami River had to pass around Cape Florida, to the south of Key Biscayne.
Opened in 1905, the cut across the peninsula that is now Miami Beach was authorized by the U.S. government (hence the name), in order to provide a direct route from the Atlantic Ocean on the east to the seaport on Biscayne Bay to the west, without having to detour southward. The cut across the mangroves and beach at the southern end of the peninsula created Fisher Island, which except for the extreme northeast corner, is part of unincorporated Miami-Dade County, Florida. The now-famous South Beach is to the north of the cut.
Government Cut was authorized by the U.S. Congress in 1902, after the Committee on Rivers and Harbors of the U.S. House of Representatives approved it on June 13 of that year. Dredging began in 1903 and finished in the summer of 1905. Fill from the dredging was used to add to the privately-owned Fisher Island. Later dredging to widen and deepen the cut also added land area to the Port of Miami, and created the foundation for the MacArthur Causeway (east of Interstate 395).