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View allAll Photos Tagged Descriptive,
The name "vaseux" is French, meaning muddy or murky, which is descriptive of the lake's silty water. The lake was likely named by French Canadian fur traders.
Vaseaux Lake features a variety of wetland and foreshore habitats that support large populations of migratory bird species along the inland portion of the Pacific Flyway. Bird species of note include trumpeter swan, great blue heron, western screech-owl, yellow-breasted chat, and the red-listed Lewis's woodpecker. It is for these reasons that the Canadian Wildlife Service designated the lake and its foreshore a Migratory Bird Sanctuary in 1923.
The semi-arid grasslands and forests surrounding the lake are also of ecological importance, and are protected within several different national and provincial protected areas. In 1956, the provincial government established Vaseux Lake Provincial Park at the northeastern end of the lake to providing space for recreation while also ensuring the ecological integrity of the lake's foreshore in this area is preserved.
In 1979, the Canadian Wildlife Service established Vaseux-Bighorn National Wildlife Area to protect winter rangeland for California Bighorn Sheep.[6] The provincial government added on to this nature preserve by establishing Vaseux Protected Area in 2001. (Wikipedia).
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Looking down the length of Vaseux Lake. It doesn't seem murky to me. We did see plenty of birds, though :-)
Vaseux Lake Provincial Park, British Columbia, Canada. June 2022.
... or 'Cuckoo Pint'. Many other 'folk' names for this, especially when in flower. A lovely surprise on my walk in our local park this morning. I haven't done much to this, just edited a little in Picmonkey. I hope you like it as much as I do !
I won't tell you why it's called "Lords and Ladies". You'll have to look that up for yourselves. It's a bit 'descriptive' to say the least 😃 !
Thank you my friends for all your kind comments and just for looking.
“Color is descriptive. Black and white is interpretive.” - Eliot’s Erwith
This is another attempt to do a black and white image. The wonderful play of light and shadow on the snowy hill seemed to lend itself to a monochrome edit. Happy Monochrome Monday!
The Royal Mile is a succession of streets forming the main thoroughfare of the Old Town of the city of Edinburgh in Scotland. The term was first used descriptively in W M Gilbert's Edinburgh in the Nineteenth Century (1901), "...with its Castle and Palace and the royal mile between", and was further popularised as the title of a guidebook, published in 1920.
From the Castle gates to the Palace gates the street is almost exactly a mile (1.6 km) long and runs downhill between two significant locations in the royal history of Scotland, namely Edinburgh Castle and Holyrood Palace, hence its name. The streets which make up the Royal Mile are (west to east) Castlehill, the Lawnmarket, the High Street, the Canongate and Abbey Strand. The Royal Mile is the busiest tourist street in the Old Town, rivalled only by Princes Street in the New Town. Wikipedia
Picture taken in Madrid, nearby the Plaza Mayor, under clear sky. Shadows of the small balconies are creating a powerful effect on the flat surface of the facade.
Many of the formations are given descriptive names – sculpted by the harsh desert winds into weird shapes which constantly change over time. There are ‘monoliths’ and ‘mushrooms’, ‘ice cream cones’, ‘tents’ and ‘crickets’, as well as the majestic conical flat-topped ‘inselbergs’, to name but a few of the formations.
Beyond this in the ‘New Desert’ which is only accessible by 4WD or camel, the landscape becomes even whiter. The boulders crowd together, are higher and larger and everywhere weird shapes appear that might remind you of a chicken or a hawk, a troupe of dancers or an old men wearing a hat. The shapes change constantly as the light changes and you move around them and as the sun begins to set they turn a softly glowing pink.
“Plicata” is a descriptive term for irises that have patterns of stitched, stippled or banded colors contrasting with the base color. I think that's a great description for this cattleya orchid. Seen at the 2017 San Francisco Orchid Exposition.
Hope you have a great weekend ahead! Thanks, as always, for stopping by and for all of your visits, comments, awards and faves - I appreciate them all.
© Melissa Post 2017
Very descriptive title there! I managed to make it to the Drune party today, and I am glad I did because...I won something in teh photo contest there!
This picture also featuring Sparkles name and lotsa random, half rezzed butts!
Very descriptive title, but well, it is in case someone is curious watching the thumbnail and theydont want to go all the way to the description.
Select one descriptive word here:
List A
1. Striped
2. Jagged
3. Delicate
4. Curved
5. Metallic
Select one object to photograph:
List B
1. Pottery
2. Insect
3. Stone
4. Brush
5. Basket
Metallic brush : Found in my husband's hobby workshop ! :-)
Pity that collembola do not belong to the insect group, otherwise there would certainly have been a springtail here !!!
Zerene stack : 50
"Sapsucker," is an appropriate descriptive name for this woodpecker. It consumes insects, arthropods, fruit and seeds, but its usual and main source of food is the sap of a tree. This is attained by drilling shallow holes in a tree called "sap wells," and using its specially adapted, brush tipped tongue, to lap up the syrup.
The Sapsucker is highly territorial of its sap tree and often nests in or near the tree. I have seen maple trees with so many Sapsucker holes in it that portions of the tree above the holes were dying because of the loss of sap. Josephine Co., OR
A stamped metal wall on which the letter M is attached, illuminated by the sun on the side. I stood in such a way that I was looking exactly at the front of the letter, which was unfolded only by the shadow. The shadow cast makes the semantics. Isn't that worth noting?
Castildetierra is the descriptive name of an incredible geological formation of the type known as Cabezo that is part of the semi-desert landscape of the Bardenas Reales Natural Park and Biosphere Reserve, located southeast of Navarra.
Castildetierra es el descriptivo nombre de una increíble formación geológica del tipo conocido como cabezo que forma parte del paisaje semidesértico del Parque Natural y Reserva de la Biosfera de Bardenas Reales, ubicado al sureste de Navarra.
a descriptive medium, one which in a single picture can give certain kinds of description in a way that is wholly beyond the power of words :-)
Ralph Evans
HSS!! Character Matters!
chrysanthemum, 'Shizu Aki', sarah p duke gardens, duke university, durham, north carolina
The descriptive name stems from the cliff's distinctive multitudinous check lines in cross-bedded white sandstone which give the impression of a checkerboard. The horizontal lines are caused by cross-bedding, a remnant of ancient sand dunes. The vertical and sub-vertical lines formed by the contraction and expansion of the sandstone caused by temperature changes, freezing and thawing cycles, in combination with wetting and drying.
This is probably the best descriptive word I can think of when being in the mountains. You feel small. In comparison, everything around you is so much bigger and towers above you, leaving you breathless and small. This is one of those moments where I truly understand when the Psalmist writes, “What is man that You think of him and a son of man that You are concerned of him.” (Psalm 8:4) Creation is so big, so vast, and if you look out on the stars and galaxies, they go beyond what the eye can see or the heart can imagine. We are less than a spec in comparison to the universe, yet God cares for you more than any other part of creation! He cares for mankind, the people He made in His image, above all other aspects of His creation. What a marvelous truth that we can dwell on for all of eternity and still never fully grasp!
The descriptive term morro is common to the Spanish (e.g. El Morro in Havana), Portuguese and Italian languages, and the word is part of many place names where there is a distinctive and prominent rock formation. Note that the similar Spanish descriptive word "moro" indicates a bluish color rather than a shape. Morro Bay is on the Central California coast.
Health is but a victim of it's own success
that cauldron of foreboding recess
withering for all the world aspires to -
it's surely not too soon to hope for what is due
aggravated by the fire burning away my Soul
I'm at pains to understand this far-flung goal
challenging me in a bid for it's own gold
when I feel bronzed at best, for my medal's already sold
giving strength at every peaceable endeavour
I'm now as weak as the days call, 'whenever'
a case of what the hell for the mismatch
made in Heaven that left the gates off the latch
and that's where a glimpse crept in and saw
something so incredibly pure even pain couldn't ignore
the trial of it's hindering contempt of well-being
resulting in hurts own admission of defeat in foreseeing
the restoration of the right of way to vigour
in the role of duty to survive this life of rigour.
by anglia24
15h15: 21/04/2008
©2008anglia24
"Color is descriptive. Black and white is interpretative." - Elliott Erwitt
My husband has been doing some amazing black and white images and the ones that truly surprise me are the ones he does of flowers. I am always drawn to the colors of the blooms but he has shown me that the patterns and textures are more visible when done in B&W. This is going out of my comfort zone to try a purple Iris in monochrome. Although the original color is beautiful, I was mainly enticed by the speckled lower petal on this bloom. By taking away the color, that pattern shows up much better. Thanks to my hubby for the inspiration and a few tips to try. I shall need some practice. :)
You can check out some of Bert's work here:
[https://www.flickr.com/photos/80987623@N00]
Descriptive label from a 1.5 lb jar of white sand that is in my collection of props for table-taop photography.
Focus stack (18 images) Shot with single off-camer strobe (Godox AD200Pro/Godox XPro II L trigger), round head, camera right 30 degrees 45 degrees bove table aimed at 8 x 10 inch white reflector camera left, angled toward front of subject, 4 x 5 inch mirror on table surface in front of jar. Reflectors used to minimize hot-spots on label.
Shot for Macro Mondays - "ONE WORD"
subject area 25 mm (h) x 53.5 mm (w)
Swamp rat is a rather descriptive nickname for the Nutria. They are large rodents that live in fresh water habitats across several mostly coastal states. Native to South America they were brought to the U.S. by fur traders in the 1800's. When the fur markets started to collapse in the mid 1900's, nutria farmers released their animals and they have thrived in the wild. They are now considered to be one of the most harmful invasive species.
I photographed this one munching on some floating vegetation in Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge, North Carolina.
Not the most descriptive title....anyone want to help me out on what buildings these are? I liked the vast difference in their architecture up there.
Thanks Zoltaan and CB804! These are: 333 North Michigan - Aon Center - Two Prudential Plaza - London Guarantee Building
For my official site and inquiries, please visit photography.JosephLekas.com
Some butterflies have very descriptive names. This is a male Mexican bluewing (Myscelia ethusa), also known as the blue wing and it is mainly found in Mexico though strays can be found quite far north in Texas and as far south as Costa Rica. The "blue wing" part, I'm sure you agree to be very obvious.
This was, as most of my shots from the Haga Ocean butterfly house, shot using a tripod and a wired remote shutter to allow for longer exposure times without blur. Me and Mr. Bluewing here had a little trouble syncing our movements so it took a while before I got an acceptable shot.
Once I had set my rig up and gotten focus just right on the eyes, he decided to sit with the wings closed for a while - or simply move a bit, forcing me to start over.
It came out fine in the end though.
One descriptive word
1. Striped
2. Jagged
3. Delicate
4. Curved
5. Metallic
One object
1. Pottery
2. Insect
3. Stone
4. Brush
5. Basket
The Tantalus Range is a subrange of the Pacific Ranges of the Coast Mountains in southern British Columbia, Canada. The range is easily viewed from the "Sea to Sky Highway" that travels from Vancouver to Squamish and Whistler. To Squamish people, the local indigenous people of the area, the name of the Tantalus Range is Tsewílx'.
The range's southern end is on the western edge of Squamish and it runs only about 35 km northwest on the west bank of the Squamish River and is less than 16 km wide at its widest. It is about 460000 ha (4600 km² or 1775 mi²) in area. Mount Tantalus 2603 m (8540 ft) is the highest in the range.
The origin of the name, as well as the names of many of its peaks, are from Greek mythology. Tantalus was doomed in Hades to be half-submerged in cold water with fruit dangling close but not close enough to eat, which is where the word tantalize has its root. Allegedly the name was conferred by a local mountain climber who was "tantalized" by the sight of the range's impressive spires and icefalls from across the turbulent waters of the Squamish River.
Alternately, another version of the legend has Tantalus and his family frozen before a banquet, unable to move - very descriptive of the ice-draped and somehow regal character of the peaks and icefields of the range.
The Tantalus Range is a favourite with climbers, and also with photographers and filmmakers. The best views of it can be had just north of Squamish from the Brohm Ridge and Cheakamus Canyon stretches of BC Highway 99 (the Sea-to-Sky Highway).
An appropriate descriptive for the Wood Anemone (Anemone quinquefolia), one inch beauties popping up in batches as the first of the wildflowers highlighting the northern landscape.
The title is pretty self-descriptive. Balanced Rock, Arches National Park, Utah.
Once again, I had a wonderful time with some amazing people. You know who you are. Thank you!!
Not much to report from this location. It's a stunning drive through Arches National Park and Balanced Rock is right off the road but just because it is, does it make it less worth shooting than other locations which require some hiking to get to? No, definitely not, but it requires some extra effort to get something new, something that has not been done a million times before, but only 3729 times.
I am not claiming there was no Photoshop involved. So there, purists! Blend of two exposures. One for the foreground: 15 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 400. One for the Milky Way: 20seconds, f/2.8, ISO 800.
Sometimes even the most simple descriptive titles sound like a Dr. Seuss poem.
This shot is from mid-February during the very early part of the “superbloom” that is taking over many of the desert areas out west. Bluebonnets are a type of lupine. Compared to the lupines we have here in Maine and New Hampshire they are quite a bit smaller, but just as beautiful when they cover an otherwise barren desert. This was my first time seeing flowers in the desert, and it was quite a sight.
The Milky Way didn’t really get up above the hill here until just after astronomical twilight started before sunrise, so the sky is very blue from the scattered sunlight (like daytime) since it was not full darkness.
Nikon Z 6 with FTZ adapter and NIKKOR 14-24mm f/2.8 lens @ 14mm. Blend of 12 total images. The sky is from 10 exposures at ISO 3200 @ f/2.8 and 10 seconds each, star stacked with Starry Landscape (Mac only) for pinpoint stars and low noise. On Windows you can use Sequator for star stacking with landscapes. Photoshop can do it but it’s a manual pain in the butt and doesn’t always work. The foreground is from 2 exposures, both at f/11 and 30 seconds, but one was at ISO 800 and the other was at ISO 100. I pulled in focus to get the very close bluebonnets in focus in one of the shots. The scene was getting bright quickly as the sun was approaching the horizon, and in the 6 minutes that passed between the foreground shots that I ended up using (I was taking another foreground shot in between and checking out previous shots, etc) there was enough light that I could do ISO 100 at 30 seconds instead of 800 at 30 seconds. I kept the foreground exposures to 30 seconds to minimize any movement in the flowers from the wind, but I was lucky and it was just about dead calm, which was almost eerie in a very dark place in the middle of nowhere without any noise other than my own movements.
Visit my website to learn more about my photos and video tutorials: www.adamwoodworth.com
To see in colour is a delight for the eye but to see in black and white is a delight for the soul.
Andri Cauldwell
www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8xbkMqsE8A
Color is descriptive.
Black and white is interpretive.
© All rights reserved Anna Kwa. Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit written permission
Very descriptive of my mood today and although Halloween is over a month away it just seemed appropriate to start decorating, if that's what I would call it.
With the rain and the storms, cabin fever, and turmoil it does seem as if the walls are closing in on me. I hope sunnier days are ahead. I wish I could stop the rain.
The descriptive term morro is common to the Spanish (e.g. El Morro in Havana), Portuguese and Italian languages, and the word is part of many place names where there is a distinctive and prominent rock formation. Note that the similar Spanish descriptive word "moro" indicates a bluish color rather than a shape. Morro Bay is on the Central California coast.
Nothing like a descriptive title eh? :o)
I loved this abandoned house as it had so much character with the porch and the small round window, but I can't help thinking that the add on garage kind of let it down a bit.
Chrome Update for those of you who are interested...
It's only been a day, and already I have had issues with stats and contacts images loading. So I find myself alternating between browsers for different functions...Joy! It appears I only have issues with Flickr, all other websites are fine in any of the 3 browsers I now have on the go....So Thanks Flickr!
On the plus side my images don't look as soft in Chrome in here.
Midwinter in Bowland. Ward's Stone from above Crossgill. Lee Graduated Neutral Density 0.6 Hard Grad filter. Not letting go of traditional descriptive landscape and using the conventional apparatus of tripod and rectangular 100mm system filters.
A Prowling Affair
“A time for everything: A time to relax, and a time to be busy. A time to frolic and a time to labor. A time to give and a time to receive. A time to give, a time to begin and a time to finish.”
…Jonathon Lockwood Huie
“A time to lose and a time to gain. And for all these things, there is a first time, which is now.”
…Unknown
I’ve never cared for the rather unimaginatively given name of
“Pickpocket.”
Personally, I prefer the term “lifter” as a more adequately descriptive definition of what I was really into at the time.
Lifting as in from a pocket, purse, and beyond.
Beyond being lifting something specifically being worn by the person, such as a watch, bracelet, brooch, necklace, and even earring(s).
But then, that is just me being me.
So those statements being said, they are not really important to this story I am about to tell. For it was this occasion that “lifted” me into a whole different level of thievery.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I was at one of my favorite haunts, a wedding reception. This one is very upscale and quite richly delicious.
Almost like I had walked into the aftermath of two rooms being completely dumped onto a third one full of people. One room was full of expensive designer attire, the other full of over-the-top expensive jewellery.
Hopefully, you get the picture of what I was seeing.
I was dressed for an evening out, wearing a sexily short-skirted black satin dress with loose ruffles down the open neckline, a gold belt, and gold dangling earrings. My long red hair was straight down with a curl at the ends. I carried my long black velvet shoulder purse.
The reception was supposed to be a private affair but had so many guests that it was not hard for strangers like myself to mingle in.
It was a late evening affair, held in the huge basement area of a five-star hotel, with an interior entrance and one large exterior front entrance. Both of which had manned security booths set up. However, in the far backside, we’re two long corridors. One had the ladies' loo and a door at the end that led to outside gardens. The other contained the gentleman’s loo with a door at the end leading to a back parking lot, not fenced in.
Neither outside door was watched, or locked. And people were going in and out of those doors regularly. Didn’t make much sense not to be watched, but that was how I gained a surprisingly easy entry.
Cautiously I entered, immediately spying a pair of sweet sixteeners coming out of the loo ahead of me. They definitely were not sisters. They were also definitely royally decked out. Both were wearing long sequined satin gowns(blue and peach)with matching gloves. The gowns were fitted, designer, made, and had obviously been bridesmaid’s dresses for a different wedding each. Both wore their long silky hair elegantly up, held by mother-of-pearl clasps. The twittering pair also were jewelled up, sporting sweet gleaming sets of real matched pearls that swayed with a mesmerizing motion to the girl’s perky gait.
They paid no heed to me, and I lazily followed them inside the main chambre.
Contemplating that if the young adults were dolled up like this, what must the legal adults be wearing?
I had my answer soon enough, and my first few minutes inside is what plopped the rooms being dumped together thought of mine which I wrote about at the beginning.
It was delicious, moving in and out as I canvassed the room,admiring the sumptuous attire of the men and ladies present, expensive jewellery beckoning, plump purses, and fat wallets invitingly everywhere. I was ever on the lookout for opportunities to use my skilled fingers over.
My first opportunity looked to come my way as I whimsically found myself following a short brunette wearing a simply lovely gown that I actually owned a non-designer version of in the same colour , which is what caught my eye.
It was a green gown with a tight velvet bodice and free-falling taffeta skirt. I wish I looked as good in my copy as she did in her fitted one.
She was handsomely sporting a dazzling teardrop emerald pendant surrounded by diamonds hanging from a solid gold braided chain. It was bouncing from her perky breasts as she walked, creating quite the taunting show.
I could well imagine myself looking into a mirror wearing my version of that gown while also wearing that emerald and diamond set pendant.
As a plus, her long hair was up, exposing the gold clasp of the necklace she wore. Since I was still getting my feet wet, I was content with just stalking and seeing if it led to something.
It did, but not for her necklace.
As I was following the brunette I spotted a gorilla of a man wearing a far too-tight tux. He was showing off by lifting a squealing lady over his head like one would lift a set of weights.
Three of the lady's girlfriends, dressed in gowns of lavender, maroon, and neon lime, formed a half circle as they all watched laughing, pushing, and pawing against one another’s well-dressed figures as they cheered the bloke on.
With a twinge of reluctance, I decided to pass on the brunette for this much easier opportunity.
So I left her to go on her hip-swaying way, then got in with the half circle of sumptuously dressed ladies and joined in with the touchy-feely fun.
As he was bending over to put her down, I saw his jacket was lifted exposing a thick wallet now protruding from his hip pocket.
The girl joined her friends and as the “gorilla” watched with a half-pleased smile, I left them and walked past him, patting him on the rear with a slight squeeze.
I easily helped his wallet out the rest of the way as I patted his rear while saying to the prat’s backside…
“That has to be more fun than working out in a gym, eh laddie?”
Ok, so that was picking a pocket. But I still prefer the phrase lifting.
As in the solid silver Cartier watch, and the loosely worn emerald gemstone cocktail ring I lifted off two of the three watchers as we giggled together, and I happily stroked my fingers along their too soft sleek gowned, giggly warm, unsuspecting bodies.
With three scores now under my belt, my fingers deliciously tingled as I continued meandering my way amongst the happily partying guests, biding my time as I enjoyed the showy glamour of the reception halls’ guests.
The first dance time for the Bride and her Consort came.
Lights dimmed.
I began pressing up from behind against the couples in front. Seeing a sea of arms wrapped around silken waistlines. I eased off a man’s Rolex from his wrist as he held it against his wife’s satin-gowned waist. Similarly, I then relieved a lady’s gloved wrist of a gold jewelled bracelet as I pressed the fingers of my free hand against the side of her delightfully tingling feeling taffeta gown. My apologies to her were accepted as my other hand pocketed the bracelet.
Then as the wedding party held the floor, another hip pocket of a male watcher was relieved of a fat billfold.
Two picks and a lift for you language police out there.
Then the dance area, with the lights still dimmed, erupted as couples swarmed onto the floor. I went with the flow. Lifting a plump wallet from a swinging purse in the process as I cut through.
I then stationed myself in the outskirts watching the dancers. A fast dance tune started up and many of the men retreated leaving mostly ladies in shiny flowing gowns and swinging long shimmery skirts gyrating and jostling to the fast beat.
I spotted a lady wearing a taffeta gown with a diamond broach holding at the side of her waist.
I started to swing to the beat myself, wading in.
I worked my way to her, passing in the process the two sweet sixteen-year-olds and their swinging ropes of pearls. Brushing alongside them I spotted my prey. I zeroed in and jostled against her sweaty figure. Managing to easily pluck off her pricey broach as I slipped past.
Love the feel of an expensive taffeta gown.
I briefly considered leaving at that point. But there was still one traditional part of the reception I was waiting for, the Bride’s Bouquet throw.
Think of the potential.
A group of jostling, well-dressed ladies all focused on one thing. With someone like myself focused on another. There is no other opportunity like this, with the possible exception of midnight on New Year’s when the lights are dimmed over a swarming sea of guests.
So I behaved myself, catching a smoke and a free drink as I waited with anticipation.
Finally, it was announced and all of us single girls went out onto the dance floor.
I watched and like a lioness in the bush, circled around in the back.
I saw a young lady of twelve coming out to take part. She was a darling, dollied and dressed up like an adult. She was wearing blue mascara, that matched the colour of the long flowing blue satin gown she adorably was wearing. A fancy Long rhinestone necklace of diamonds and sapphires, were glistening down the front of her gown as she boldly made her way in.
When she passed me I cut her off and bumped right into her. As she wobbled on her blue leather pumps, my right hand shot up, lifting the front of her necklace as my left unsnapped the simple clasp. I pulled her necklace off with my right hand as she went off an apologetic ”Sorry miss ” like it had been her fault.
I had taken her necklace because I felt peeved that anyone not of marrying age would feel she should be allowed to take part, spoiling the tradition. Like having a cap and gown graduation for preschoolers, complete with diplomas. Kinda of ruins the meaning for those of us graduating after long years of schooling.
Sorry, but really, was a twelve-year-old going to be the one to marry next?
Oh by the by, the young girl's obviously wealthy mum was not wearing jewellery, otherwise, I would have targeted her instead to make my silent point.
So after that random encounter, I went back on the prowl, quickly choosing a likely victim and legitimately eligible participant.
I happily positioned myself.
The girl I had chosen was a tall thin blonde tightly encased in a white silk dress. Her jewels consisted mostly of 14K gold chains. Except for a gold tennis bracelet set with diamonds and rubies which is what I had my sights on.
Then, who should pop up next to the blonde? Why it was the short brunette wearing that simply lovely green velvet and taffeta gown like the one I had back in my closet at the flat.
Also wearing that delectable dazzling pendant.
I had not seen her since I had first started to follow her, and truth be told, had almost forgotten all about her.
I immediately wedged against the girl next to me(a nice lady in a silk gown with pearls) and got behind the brunette
The brunette chick's hair was still up, exposing the gold clasp of the necklace she wore, with that expensively flashy jewelled pendant at its bottom. She was short, the neckline of her gown coming up to my chin. It was now all a matter of timing.
As the bridal bouquet of roses was thrown and everyone lunged forward my fingers snaked up the backside of her soft gown and reaching the necklace I lifted the clasp and with a perfectly executed lift, opened it, slipping off her necklace almost before her high-heeled feet were firmly back on the ground.
I pulled away with my prize. And she with hers, for my victim had actually been the one catching the bouquet.
I turned, almost bumping into the pair of sweet sixteens in the satin bridesmaids' gowns who had been standing off to one side of us trying their luck at catching the bouquet.
We exchanged smiles and actually started walking off in the same direction. I pulled back and discreetly followed them.
Watching with interest as their gowns were richly fluttering along their svelte youthfully pointed figures. They then entered the same back corridor where I had first encountered them.
I saw one pulling out a pack of cigarettes as they whispered between themselves.
Happily, I overheard that they were sneaking off for a smoke.
For I saw opportunity knocking.
Following the girls I stood at the door of the loo as they slipped out the back door.
I turned and followed.
I was anticipating a chance to use their fear of being caught by me outside smoking, to allow me to chum right in and once I told them I saw no reason why they shouldn’t be smoking, receive relieved hugs from them as I left. Relieving each of them in turn by trimming off some of their pearled baubles.
At least that was the scenario that played out in my head.
One that had worked for me before. Except for that last time, three well-dressed younger ladies had been outside sneaking drinks from a flask. A pair of diamond earrings, a gold braided necklace, and a stunning diamond pin, had been my relieving picks from them.
So deciding that an opportunity for a pearl lift may be at hand I circled out and just followed the giggling and smoke signals emitting from their hidden roost.
I maneuvered up, unseen, behind them. And once again, I was that lioness hidden in the bush, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
As I waited, watching their adorably gowned and pearled figures as they giggled and gabbed on freely, I easily overheard the pair of sweet ones talking about their planned sleepover at the one girl's house.
The pretty pair were going to be alone since both parents were staying overnight at the hotel next to the reception.
I thought to myself how lovely it would be to burgle that house. To acquire all of the girl's delicious pearls, and possibly more?!
Then an epiphany as new as it was intriguing shot into my mind.
Why not try it?
I already had a nice haul for the evening. So if I could not pull it off I stood to lose nothing.
It was a gamble I was willing to take.
I stood there and watched, listened until the pair finished and swished their way back inside, none the wiser that they(and their pricy jewellery)had been watched in close proximity by a thief.
In a total bit of whimsy I went back to my sports coupe parked across an empty street from the lot. Once there I lit a cigarette of my own and stood vigil over the back parking lot.
There I could see several fancy cars parked. Including the fire-red Porsche that I had learned the one girl would be driving herself and her friend home in for their sleepover. The sports car was a sixteenth birthday gift from her parents.
All I received on my sweet sixteen was a summons to the head mistress’s office.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
It was nearly two hours before I spied the fetchingly pretty pair walking out across that parking lot, smoking cigarettes like petite geysers.
They were vulnerably alone, their shiny long gowns flowing along svelte youthful figures with an air of elegance that called out to be noticed.
And with those gorgeous pearls, they were wearing, both clueless chicks presented a pair of prettily attired targets for a thief.
Fortunately, there were no muggers around. Only me, a thief with quite different aspirations on acquiring pearls this evening.
Seeing the girls leaving I got in my coupe and followed the red Porsche as it turned the corner.
It was easy to follow them. The driver was inexperienced enough not to have a lead foot.
The Porsche finally turned into the secluded driveway leading to a large two-story gothic stone structure, with small balconies outside the upper floor windows. As was a common sight with these large houses, a metal flower trellis reached up one side in between two balconies.
I found a place to pull over and quickly got out to sneak up and scout the grounds surrounding the house.
I saw a light go on upstairs, conveniently on the trellis side. Thankful my dress was tightly form-fitting, I went over and climbed up far enough to peek inside the upper-floor window
It was a bedroom, walls painted pink. Both girls were inside, starting to undress. Totally so into themselves that the pretty things had no idea a thief was eyeing them with sinister intent.
Licking my lips I watched the pair removing thier delicious pearls and piling them up on the vanity next to an open oak jewellery case, the contents shimmering in the light.
Then they pulled off their gloves and slipped out of their gowns, wearing only long slinking silk slips. Both girls, long hair now down, slipped into fancy satin robes and giggling, headed out the door.
I slipped back down the trellis and skirted the house. A light in the basement came on.
Crouching in the shadows I peeked in. The handsomely satin-wrapped pair were sitting on a couch in the furnished basement. Passing back and forth a clear bottle containing an amber-coloured liquor. Scotch I presumed.
Seeing they were becoming quickly intoxicated, I rose and with a feeling of utter confidence, went back to the trellis and climbed back up to the window.
It was conveniently left unlatched.
Piece of cake this burgling business apparently could be.
Turned out, It was a piece of cake.
Beginner’s luck, we’ll see.
I slipped over the sill and into the bedroom they had changed in.
The young lady's pearls piled on a vanity, next to the open jewellery case were my first target.
As the clueless young pair in the furnished basement was getting drunk, I put on a pair of satin evening gloves found on one of the gowns and lifted(or picked) the bedroom clean of valuables.
No persnickety housemaid could have done a more efficient job of picking clean that bedroom, or as quickly, as I did that early morning.
Then I left the room to hit the parent’s master bedroom.
It was the one on the opposite side of the hallway.
Inside I found a tall Jewelry Armoire. I opened it up and my eyes were dazzled by the display of pricy day jewelry it held. Or had held for another ten minutes until I emptied its contents into my already bulging purse.
I knew the mum would be wearing the good stuff at the wedding, the rest may be inside a safe, which was beyond my skill level in picking.
I briefly wondered if the owner of the red Porsche knew her parent's safe combination.
I thought of taking the time to find out. But shook my head no. Time to skedaddle.
Then I saw it. In my rush, I had almost missed a solitary piece of jewellery laying out on a nightstand.
It was a dazzler. An almost 7-centimeter wide bracelet, set with 7 strands of diamonds. Three strands of round stones each flanking a centre strand of pear-shaped stones. Vulgarly expensive.
But why was it out? A trap?
I edged up to the nightstand and looked around. Nothing else appeared out of place.
Except for that expensively flashy diamond bracelet.
Looking around, I carefully eased it off the nightstand. Nothing happened, not that I knew what could have happened.
I stuffed the bracelet inside my purse, still looking warily around.
I shrugged my feelings of danger off and left the room. Though perhaps a tad bit quicker than necessary.
I went back to the pink bedroom, then climbed back out the window and down the metal trellis
I stopped by the basement window for one last peek. The young shiny attired darlings were intensely hugging each other. The bottle of scotch was now almost empty.
Suddenly a naughty picture popped inside my head, with no proper rhyme, nor reason.
In that picture, I saw the pair still dressed voluptuously up in their satin gowns, tied up gagged, and sinister hands groping as the haplessly squirming sweet sixteeners were being relieved of pearls. Then long feminine fingers were tickling in the girl’s sensitive areas until a safe opening combination was coughed up.
It was a picture that would not go away. I shook my head to get them out and left.
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I ruined the dress I was wearing, but I realized I had gotten away with enough small pricey valuables that gave me a profit that more than doubled my pickings combined over the previous 4 months.
As I drove home I experienced such a rush of euphoria that I decided the experience just had to be relived.
When I got back to my rooms, I changed into my satin pjs and empty my purse onto the black satin sheets of my bed.
I lifted the pearls and couldn’t stop fingering them as my euphoria overwhelmed me with sweeping hot flashes of giddiness over my accomplishments.
It was a lovely feeling. Both sensuous and a bit of hard sexual desires.
Not really sure where the bound and gagged fantasy picture came from. Or what it was foretelling if anything.
But the reality of tonight’s experience lay in glittering heaps on my black satin sheets.
I picked up the far to valuably shimmering diamond bracelet.
Pondering.
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I bring that last memory up because years later I may have found out why the diamond bracelet had been left out.
For apparently some of the ultra-wealthy, as a ruse, will leave out several pieces of valuable jewels as a deterrent. Hoping the inexperienced thief will grab those and flee without searching further. Which is exactly what I did.
It also means that those two sweet sixteeners may have been the only barrier between me and a potentially small fortune in hidden jewels.
So maybe that fantasy vision I had about tickling to find a safe combination could have been an unrealized sixth sense moment?
One never knows.
Fini