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The Sun is long set from this earthly view and the night is rolling out and on behind that Sun not at all like a trailing cape with initially a leading edge around the neck full of rich refracted colours and that fade to a magical darkness the depths of which are possibly best revealed when over expanses many, many worlds away from this one Stars begin to beacon out the existence of furious flames so far distant that they can in their seeming stable pattern guide our travels across our little planet and in extended contemplation they act together to figure our knowledge of the almost infinite and potentially infinite til they grant us an insight into furtherance that either has, or has not an ending both more subtle and more complex than slings and arrows upon a stage not made for mortals to stand proud upon the supposed centre, but instead to be the elemental backdrop behind our every scene of life and living whether we have it nobly and notably in mind to perhaps appreciate that all encompassing Cosmic scene, or no?
© PHH Sykes 2023
phhsykes@gmail.com
The last part of our visit of the Romanesque churches in Le Puy-en-Velay (central France) takes us from today to the one that is possibly the most moving, and certainly the most spectacular of them all: the Saint Michael Chapel, perched on top of the Aiguilhe Rock, an enormous, 82 meters high geological dike made of hard basalt and left standing like a finger sticking out of the plain below by the erosion of all the sediment that once surrounded it.
There is only one way to get there: climb the hard, tall and uneven 268 steps carved out of the basalt, and in doing so, you will be following in the exact footsteps, not only of the millions of Compostela pilgrims that came here over the centuries, but also of innumerable historic figures, among which the Kings of France Charles VII, Louis XI and Charles VIII, who ascended the rock to pray under the humble vaults of the chapel.
According to persistent legends, the first edifice built on top of the rock of Aiguilhe (notice how close the name is to the French word aiguille, i.e., needle) was a Roman temple dedicated to Mercury. No trace of such a sanctuary was ever found by archæologists. The chapel that one can see today was built in two successive phases. First, the initial and very small square chapel, probably with three apses but only two remain today. This was built soon after 950, either by bishop Godescalc (who had been the first French pilgrim of Compostela in 950–51), or more probably by Truannus, dean of the canons of the cathedral chapter, duly authorized by Godescalc. I have not been able to find any definitive evidence pointing to one rather than the other. What is documented, however, is that the finished chapel was consecrated by the said bishop in 961. It was a pre-Romanesque monument.
Secondly, during the late 1000s, the primitive oratory was “surrounded” and augmented by a Romanesque chapel built on the flattened top of the dike. In the process, the probable third apse of the oratory was destroyed to open a way of access between the newly built “nave” and the square space of the oratory, repurposed as “choir”. The best way to understand the layout if to have a look at the floor plan drawn by architect Mallay in the 19th century, here: commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Plan_de_la_chapelle_Saint.... The imposing bell tower was also built at the same time.
The façade as you behold it at the top of the 268 steps. It is an impressive piece mixing divine and earthly themes, with lots of polychromic stones as is usual in Auvergne (Velay is a small neighboring province to big, influential Auvergne).
Note also the very faint traces of polychromy on the deeply carved motifs in the trefoil (very pale blue-green backgrounds), and the conspicuously bare tympanum. Olivier Beigbeder, in the Zodiaque book Forez – Velay romans, infers nothing from that fact; I do infer that the part that was obviously sculpted as well was destroyed or stolen at some point in time.
Venetian earthly life , washing on the line
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Nikon D90 + "16-85 f/3.5-5.6G ED VR"
Behold! Above the vast, unbroken horizon where the heavens' azure expanse melds with the rugged shoulders of the earth, the Ailsa Mountains ascend in defiant splendor. Between Fiordland and Otago, the raw hand of nature has chiseled a realm of ice and stone—a sanctuary steeped in ancient silence, untouched by the passing tempests of time. The glacier sprawls like a luminous labyrinth, its veins of crystalline frost weaving a quiet narrative of millennia, carried on the breath of the highland winds.
Below, as if cradled in the palm of the mountains, a lake shimmers—a basin of liquid opal, almost too vivid for earthly realms. Its waters, born from the melting tears of ancient ice, pulse with an almost surreal radiance, a color caught between dream and waking. It glows as though illuminated from within, a quiet defiance against the stoic, charcoal spines that encircle it. This glacial bloom, hewn by the patient hand of eternity, does not merely reflect the sky—it seems to pull it inward, swallowing the heavens and holding them captive in its depths.
To the distance, the brooding heights of Fiordland loom like a whispered myth. Their forms are steeped in shadow and majesty, rising with a primordial weight that both stirs and stills the soul. Between their vast ridges lie deep ravines carved by forgotten cataclysms, their emptiness heavy with an almost sacred quiet. These peaks do not merely exist—they brood, they question, they endure. They are not sentinels, but witnesses, bearing silent record of the earth’s slow, deliberate pulse.
To stand here is to be unmade and remade, to feel one’s edges blur into the unyielding vastness. The heart, raw and unguarded, beats in rhythm with the ancient breath of this wilderness. Here, within this austere beauty, one does not merely observe; one is confronted. The glacial winds strip away all pretense, revealing the fragile flicker of humanity against the timeless canvas of stone and sky. This is not merely a place—it is a reckoning, an invitation to see not just with the eye, but with the soul, where nature reveals its truths in fragments that words can scarcely contain.
- Rosa's Garden of Earthly Delights, Keefer Lake, Ontario, Canada -
It's -36C this morning ... the dogs are getting dressed to go for their walk. :)
A geranium to warm us along the way.
To stand at the edge of the sea,
to sense the ebb and flow of the tides,
to feel the breath of a mist moving over a great salt marsh,
to watch the flight of shore birds that have swept up and down the surf lines of the continents for untold thousands of year,
to see the running of the old eels and the young shad to the sea,
is to have knowledge of things that are as nearly eternal as any earthly life can be.
~ Rachel Carson ~
Tonight I processed photos from our day, beginning in our dining room after setting my "fall" table.
I honestly did not know what to post, as my choices were so varied yet all taken so close to home!
Thought I'd start with a scene of a gorgeous salt marsh,
less than 2 miles from our house. I love the "matted, swirling grass" in the lower right hand corner, colored by touches of red.
After the rain, I could not see stars in the sky due to the thick
cloud but saw many bright stars on the road.
SIGMA 10-20mm f4-5.6 EX DC with Nikon D3100
July 11th, 2014
Horikiri Junction, Adachi Ward, Tokyo, Japan
The Sun is long set from this earthly view and the night is rolling out and on behind that Sun not at all like a trailing cape with initially a leading edge around the neck full of rich refracted colours and that fade to a magical darkness the depths of which are possibly best revealed when over expanses many, many worlds away from this one Stars begin to beacon out the existence of furious flames so far distant that they can in their seeming stable pattern guide our travels across our little planet and in extended contemplation they act together to figure our knowledge of the almost infinite and potentially infinite til they grant us an insight into furtherance that either has, or has not an ending both more subtle and more complex than slings and arrows upon a stage not made for mortals to stand proud upon the supposed centre, but instead to be the elemental backdrop behind our every scene of life and living whether we have it nobly and notably in mind to perhaps appreciate that all encompassing Cosmic scene, or no?
© PHH Sykes 2023
phhsykes@gmail.com
The earthly belonging of a homeless person in New York City.
I'm reminded of a steamer trunk that my grandmother gave me when I was in art school, she preface the gift by saying it had been her father's and that he brought all his earthly belonging in that trunk when he immigrated from County Cork, Ireland.
Prompt: create digital fine art of a surreal, cinematic fantasy scene at sunset, where a young girl stands at the edge of a rocky cliff overlooking a calm ocean covered in soft, rolling mist. The sky glows with deep blues and warm golden light as the sun sinks below the horizon, casting shimmering reflections across the water. Massive ethereal whales made of stardust and glowing nebula-like particles glide through the sky as if they are swimming through a cosmic ocean. Their forms are detailed and luminous, with soft bioluminescent highlights and gentle particle trails dispersing into the clouds. The environment blends celestial and earthly elements: dense, dramatic clouds illuminated from within, stars scattered through the atmosphere, and a dreamlike sense of scale and wonder. The scene should evoke awe, serenity, and magical realism, with soft volumetric lighting, high detail, and a painterly yet photorealistic finish. Use a sweeping wide-angle composition and rich atmospheric depth. Vertical aspect ratio
This digital fine art was created using Nano Banana AI and Photoshop
They just keep coming. Seems we've had one beautiful sunset after another. Caught this one off the back porch.
Happo-One, Hakuba Nagano Japan
Chubusangaku National Park
中部山岳国立公園 八方尾根 八方池
長野県 白馬村
D90*DX Nikkor ED 18-55mm F3.5-5.6G*C-PL*Cokin P121M
Masaccio (Tommaso di Ser Giovanni di Mòne di Andreuccio Cassài -Castel San Giovanni in Altura, December 21, 1401 - Rome, June 1428) - The Expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Earthly Paradise (1423 circa) - Brancacci Chapel - Santa Maria del Carmine, Florence
Nel 1268 un gruppo di frati giunti da Pisa fonda a Firenze la chiesa della beata Vergine del Carmelo. I lavori di costruzione vengono portati avanti con il contributo del Comune e delle più facoltose famiglie fiorentine e si protraggono anche oltre la data della consacrazione (1422), terminando soltanto nel 1475.
Nel 1423 il ricco mercante Felice Brancacci , di ritorno dall’Egitto, commissiona l’esecuzione degli affreschi. Alle Storie di San Pietro, santo a cui era in origine intitolata la cappella, lavorano insieme Masolino e Masaccio; a causa della partenza del primo per
l’Ungheria e del secondo per Roma, nel 1427 gli affreschi rimangono però incompiuti.
In seguito all’esilio del Brancacci (1436), caduto in disgrazia per le sue simpatie antimedicee, i frati del convento fanno cancellare i ritratti di tutti i personaggi legati alla sua famiglia e nel 1460 intitolano la cappella alla Madonna del Popolo, inserendovi la venerata tavola duecentesca.
Soltanto negli anni 1481-1483 Filippino Lippi effettuerà il ripristino e il completamento delle scene mancanti. I dipinti rischiano più volte di andare perduti: nel 1680 la Granduchessa Vittoria della Rovere si oppone al proposito del marchese Ferroni di trasformare la cappella in stile barocco, ma alla metà del Settecento vengono effettuati interventi di ammodernamento che distruggono le pitture della volta e delle lunette. Scampata all’incendio che nel 1771 devasta l’interno della chiesa, la cappella è acquistata nel 1780 dai Riccardi, che rinnovano altare e pavimento. Gli affreschi, trascurati per tutto l’Ottocento, vengono sottoposti a spolveratura nel 1904; l’intervento di restauro effettuato negli anni Ottanta del Novecento ha finalmente permesso di recuperare la loro limpida e brillante cromia.
In 1268 a group of friars from Pisa founded the church of the Blessed Virgin of Carmel in Florence. The construction works were carried out with the contribution of the Municipality and of the wealthiest Florentine families and went on even beyond the date of the consecration (1422), ending only in 1475.
In 1423 the rich merchant Felice Brancacci, returning from Egypt, commissioned the execution of the frescoes. Masolino and Masaccio worked together on the Stories of Saint Peter, the saint to whom the chapel was originally dedicated.
because of the departure of the first for Hungary and of the second for Rome, in 1427 the frescoes remained unfinished.
Following the exile of Brancacci (1436), who had fallen into disgrace because of his anti-Medicean sympathies, the friars of the convent had the portraits of all the personages linked to his family erased and in 1460 they entitled the chapel to the Madonna del Popolo, inserting in it the venerated 13th-century panel.
It was only in the years 1481-1483 that Filippino Lippi carried out the restoration and completion of the missing scenes. The paintings were in danger of being lost several times: in 1680 the Grand Duchess Vittoria della Rovere opposed the intention of the Marquis Ferroni to transform the chapel in Baroque style, but in the middle of the eighteenth century are made modernization interventions that destroy the paintings of the vault and of the lunettes. Escaped the fire that devastated the interior of the church in 1771. of the church, the chapel was purchased in 1780 by the Riccardi, who renovated the altar and the floor. The frescoes, neglected throughout the nineteenth century, were subjected to dusting in 1904. 1904; the restoration work carried out in the 1980s restoration carried out in the eighties of the twentieth century has finally allowed to recover their their clear and bright colors.
At 07:17 the sun was barely showing an interest in its earthly duties and the veld, and these impalas, were still peacefully going about their business.
Dikhololo
Brits Rural Area
Northwest Province
South Africa
The impala (Aepyceros melampus) is a medium-sized antelope found in eastern and southern Africa. The sole member of the genus Aepyceros, it was first described to European audiences by German zoologist Hinrich Lichtenstein in 1812. Two subspecies are recognised—the common impala, and the larger and darker black-faced impala. The impala reaches 70–92 centimetres (28–36 inches) at the shoulder and weighs 40–76 kg (88–168 lb). It features a glossy, reddish brown coat. The male's slender, lyre-shaped, horns are 45–92 centimetres (18–36 inches) long.
Active mainly during the day, the impala may be gregarious or territorial depending upon the climate and geography. Three distinct social groups can be observed: the territorial males, bachelor herds and female herds. The impala is known for two characteristic leaps that constitute an anti-predator strategy. Browsers as well as grazers, impala feed on monocots, dicots, forbs, fruits and acacia pods (whenever available). An annual, three-week-long rut takes place toward the end of the wet season, typically in May. Rutting males fight over dominance, and the victorious male courts female in oestrus. Gestation lasts six to seven months, following which a single calf is born and immediately concealed in cover. Calves are suckled for four to six months; young males—forced out of the all-female groups join bachelor herds, while females may stay back.
The impala is found in woodlands and sometimes on the interface (ecotone) between woodlands and savannahs; it inhabits places close to water. While the black-faced impala is confined to southwestern Angola and Kaokoland in northwestern Namibia, the common impala is widespread across its range and has been reintroduced in Gabon and southern Africa. The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) classifies the impala as a species of least concern; the black-faced subspecies has been classified as a vulnerable species, with less than 1,000 individuals remaining in the wild as of 2008.
Etymology
The first attested English name, in 1802, was palla or pallah, from the Tswana phala 'red antelope'; the name impala, also spelled impalla or mpala, is first attested in 1875. Its Afrikaans name, rooibok 'red buck', is also sometimes used in English.
The scientific generic name Aepyceros (lit. ‘high-horned’) comes from Ancient Greek.
Taxonomy and development
The impala is the sole member of the genus Aepyceros and belongs to the family Bovidae. It was first described by German zoologist Martin Hinrich Carl Lichtenstein in 1812. In 1984, palaeontologist Elisabeth Vrba opined that the impala is a sister taxon to the alcelaphines, given its resemblance to the hartebeest. A 1999 phylogenetic study by Alexandre Hassanin (of the National Centre for Scientific Research, Paris) and colleagues, based on mitochondrial and nuclear analyses, showed that the impala forms a clade with the suni (Neotragus moschatus). This clade is sister to another formed by the bay duiker (Cephalophus dorsalis) and the klipspringer (Oreotragus oreotragus).
A rRNA and ß-spectrin nuclear sequence analysis in 2003 also supported an association between Aepyceros and Nesotragus.
~This photo appeared on the Nikon Russia official page in VK social network~
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This shot was taken at the Gergeti Hill, on top of which the Gergeti Trinity Church is situated. This is one of the most sacred places in Georgia. The majestic silence of the Caucasus Mountains. The age-old hush of the titan Kazbek. The ancient temple standing here for seven hundred years already. The monks who devoted themselves to prayers and contemplation.
The athmosphere here takes you from your troubles and worries somewhere above, where only bliss and felicity are felt. You are above all the human distresses, burdens, uneases. You are over the Earthly Vale.
Is anyone getting tired of mantis shots? This is yet another individual, a female Chinese. Compared to the male, her head is huge, and her claws are deadly (if you are a bug). Doesn't she look like an alien?!
Italy was enchanting, beautiful, earthly and at times insanely hot! Nonetheless, I had a good couple of weeks spreading my time among the quaint mountains of the Venetian Alps, the ever enchanting city of Venice, Pisa and its leaning tower in Tuscany to the hot but monumentally structured Rome...
Driving in Italy was fun too in that it almost reminds me of driving back home where people seem to be in a hurry most of the times. The last time I checked Italy was in financial stress and trying to implement austerity measures. But if you look at the autostrade and the gazillion tunnels they have built, you would not be able to relate to much of the financial stress at all! The roads are spectacular and for driving in the autostrade, you pay about 1c/Km which isn't that bad actually considering the alternative is usually slow and meanders a lot through old towns. I did a mix of both to get the real flavour of the country side.
This was shot in Lago di Carezza in the Dolomites in South Tyrol. A beautiful alpine lake with stunning blue waters and a thick blanket of coniferous trees. It is a small, emerald green mountain lake, in which the Catinaccio and Latemar are reflected. According to legend, once upon a time there was a beautiful mermaid living in the lake, which wizard Masaré was in love with. In order to seduce her, the witch Lanwerda advised him to dress up as jewel merchant and throw a rainbow from Catinaccio to Latemar. That is what he did, but he forgot to dress up and the duly mermaid detected him and forever disappeared in the lake. The wizard was angry and threw all the pieces of the rainbow as well as the jewels into the lake. That’s why it still features rainbow colours…
The lake is fed by subterranean springs from the Latemar mountian chain and the water level is constantly changing. The highest level is achieved in spring, the lowest level in October. In summer months the lake is fed by snow melt.
EXIF - f/16 ISO200 164 secs 20mm
Thanks for viewing and have a lovey week ahead!
In those ancient times so much decried in our days, the rigors of earthly existence, including the wickedness of men, were on the whole accepted as an inexorable fatality, and their abolition was with good reason believed to be impossible; in the midst of the trials of life, those of the hereafter were not forgotten, and it was admitted moreover that man needs suffering as well as pleasure here below and that a collectivity cannot maintain itself in the fear of God and in piety by contact with nothing but the agreeable; such was the thinking of the elite at all levels of society. Miseries, whose deep-seated cause is always the violation of a celestial norm as well as indifference toward Heaven and our final ends, are there to restrain the greedy illusions of men, rather in the same way as the carnivores are there to prevent the herbivores from degenerating or multiplying to excess, all this by virtue of universal equilibrium and the homogeneity of the world; to be aware of this is part of the fear of God. In light of this elementary wisdom, a progress conditioned by spiritual indifference and an idolatry of well-being taken as an end in itself cannot constitute a real advantage, that is, an advantage proportioned to our total nature and our immortal kernel; this is evident enough, but even in the most “believing” environments, people go so far as to claim that technical progress is an indisputable good and that it is thus a blessing even from the point of view of faith. In reality modern civilization gives in order to take: it gives the world but takes away God; and it is this that compromises even its gift of the world.
In our day there is a stronger tendency than ever to reduce
happiness to the level of economic well-being—which is moreover insatiable in the face of an indefinite creation of artificial needs and a base mystique of envy—but what is completely lost sight of when this outlook is projected into the past is that a traditional craft and a contact with nature and natural things are factors essential to human happiness. Now these are just the factors that disappear in industry, which demands all too often, if not always, an inhuman environment and “quasi-abstract” manipulations, gestures with no intelligibility and no soul, all in an atmosphere of frigid cunning; we have arrived beyond all possibility of argument at the antipodes of what the Gospel means when it enjoins us to “become as little children” and to “take no thought for the morrow”. The machine transposes the need for happiness onto a purely quantitative plane, having no relation to the spiritual quality of work; it takes away from the world its homogeneity and transparency and cuts men off from the meaning of life. More and more we attempt to reduce our intelligence to what the machine demands and our capacity for happiness to what it offers; since we cannot humanize the machine, we are obliged, by a certain logic at least, to mechanize man; having lost contact with the human, we stipulate what man is and what happiness is.
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Frithjof Schuon: Light on The Ancient Worlds