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Whilst walking home, after having had our first pub lunch in 12 months, I came across these two taking a break from their bee keeping.
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A lung expanding clamber up the scree to the top of Black Rocks between Wirksworth and Cromford, Derbyshire. This image was taken at the halfway point, I made it without experiencing a cardiac ‘event’ #Viltrox 13mm f1.4 and Fuji XT5
For more details expanding image
NemO’s is an Italian street artist, known for his thought-provoking, dark comedy murals inhabited by characteristic human figures.
NemO’s large public pieces are almost always thought-provoking, displaying his critique towards our society’s modern values, selfish aspects of our society, with banal and thoughtless actions, or towards shallow and shock-addicted press and media.
NemO's es un "street artist" italiano, conocido por sus murales de comedia oscura y provocadores de la reflexión, habitados por figuras humanas características.
Las grandes obras públicas de NemO's son casi siempre estimulantes, mostrando su crítica hacia los valores modernos de nuestra sociedad, los aspectos egoístas de nuestra sociedad, con acciones banales e irreflexivas, o hacia medios y prensa poco profundos y adictos al sensacionalismo.
Fanzara (Castellón/ Spain)
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We finally got back to one of our favourite places to walk. After having to shelter under the trees whilst a rain storm passed over the rest of our walk was dry and most enjoyable.
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Local school playing fields.
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The campervan had to go to Worthing today for a software update mandated by the German Federal Motor Transport Authority. We walked into east Worthing for a coffee along the seafront, then back after recieving a phone call to say it was done.
The light was looking particularly good over the offshore wind farm.
When I admire the wonders of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands in the worship of the creator.
Mahatma Gandhi
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Treasure Hunt #24 ~ Crisp
Salt & Vinegar, my favourite...what's yours?
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Not as showy as the magnificent male but a beauty all the same.
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Taken a bit too far, for sliders sunday…
hss!
See the first comment box below for the standard version, the original from which all arose, and a screenshot of this version's photoshop file with the expanded layers panel and channels panel.
After converting to black and white in Lr, and cropping, it was brought into Ps. I liked the version edited as usual, but then decided to see what would happen if I slud things further.
I like the overlay glow that is often created with editing for an Orton effect. The first way I learned was from Tony Kuyper's tutorials. At the top of the layer stack a curves adjustment layer set to screen blend mode is created. Then create a merged up through it layer. Set it to multiply blend mode and use gaussian blur. Group those layers and possibly add a mask to the group, and possibly reduce opacity of the group.
I recently came across another way to do it in the Practical Photography magazine. They say duplicate the background layer a couple times but since I'd already done a lot of editing with quite a few layers, I created a new merged up layer at the top of the layer stack, then duplicated it. One of those layers is set to Multiply and blurred. The other is set to Screen and left as is. They are grouped and a curves adjustment layer is added to the group. The line is pulled up and left to lighten the group.
I ended up using both those ways of creating an Orton effect, and sliding opacity of each a bit for this.
Happy Sliding!
Calm Winds + Water = White Pocket Bliss! At Action Photo Tours, we are looking to expand our operations in the Southwest. If you're really into photography and would like to help us guide photo tours, just send us an email to info@actionphototours.com. We'd love to chat more with you about the opportunity!
And the girl said to her fairy godmother, “More than anything, I love kissing. If I could do just one single thing for the rest of my life, it would be kissing. Ahh. Kissing kissing kissing…” The girl trailed off into a song, and turned… face to the sky, arms outstretched… in small slow circles.
“Are you sure?” the fairy godmother asked.
“Why of course!” said the girl, still turning.
“Very sure?” the godmother asked.
“Yes!” said the girl. And stopped turning.
The godmother’s face was serious.
“This is serious,” the godmother said. “Fairies take things literally. Be careful what you wish for. We’re talking the rest of your life here.”
“But what could be better than kissing?” the girl asked, and closed her eyes.
She had, in fact, been kissed only once. Well, not one single kiss. But one occasion. With many kisses. Or one very long kiss. A matter of perspective, really. Either way, it had been unlike anything she’d experienced before. Her body sang. She soared. She swelled. She felt herself expand into waves of swirling static that filled the room, pressing up against the walls and ceiling. Everything was warm and dark. Nothing else existed.
Since then, she had thought of and wanted nothing else. And here, now, this magic fairy godmother seemed about to grant her a kiss that would last – would be – her whole life.
The fairy godmother could have said: You’re young, you haven’t lived yet, there’s much to be discovered; there will be other boys; there will be other kisses. But she didn’t. Not her job to judge or give advice. She merely granted wishes. (And was not legally, morally or financially responsible for consequences.)
“Last chance to change your mind,” she said to the girl as she raised her sparkly wand.
“Do it!” said the girl. And the wand was waved. And suddenly the girl was looking down a long brown country road with trees and fields and puffy white clouds in the blue summer sky.
And then she was moving. Wind in her face. Nice. And then… faster and faster… it was not nice any more.
And there was more than wind. There were insects – wings, legs, mandibles, pollen sacs, thoraxes, stingers; there were rocks and sand, dirt, grit, debris of all kinds. The girl thought, “Jesus Christ. What the hell happened?” And when she tried to turn her face away from the gritty wind, she couldn’t. She was fixed in place, clad forever in a chrome gown, hair coiled tight at the base of her neck, bare feet gripping for eternity the hood of a tan Rolls Royce sedan.
She kissed the wind. For thousands of miles. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Kissed so long and hard and with such great passion that she wore her lips right off… all gone.
All these years later, she’s still kissing wind. The girl whose dream came true.
This clock used to be near the old entrance on Orange Avenue. It is relocated to the new entrance. It is not as prominent.
thecoronadonews.com/2025/02/hotel-del-coronado-nears-comp...
For 137 years, the Hotel del Coronado has stood as a monument to Gilded Age opulence, a place where presidents brushed shoulders with Hollywood’s glitterati, its Victorian architecture a timeless symbol of grandeur.
Following a $160 million restoration on track to be completed by June, the hotel’s historic Victorian neighborhood will be revitalized, blending its 1888 heritage with contemporary luxury.
The Victorian neighborhood’s restoration is part of a $550 million project, a transformation extending across its five distinct neighborhoods — bringing the resort’s total accommodations to 938 guest rooms — as well as its culinary offerings, front porch and lobby, ballrooms and more.
. . . . .
“People think they want an 1888 room,” Petrone remarked, “but I tell them, ‘No, you don’t.’”
The original rooms were sparsely furnished, with hard wooden chairs, small beds and minimal conveniences.
The redesigned interiors now feature botanical-inspired artwork, round mirrors, period-appropriate headboards, plush bedding and expanded bathrooms, marrying historical charm with contemporary luxury.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hotel_del_Coronado
The Hotel del Coronado, also known as The Del and Hotel Del, is a historic beachfront hotel in Coronado, California, just across San Diego Bay from San Diego. A rare surviving example of an American architectural genre—the wooden Victorian beach resort—it was designated a California Historical Landmark in 1970[4] and a National Historic Landmark in 1977.[3][5] It is the second-largest wooden structure in the United States (after the Tillamook Air Museum in Tillamook, Oregon).
When the hotel opened in 1888, it was the largest resort hotel in the world.[6] It has hosted presidents, royalty, and celebrities, and been featured in numerous films and books.[7]
San Diego 2025
Happy Bench Monday, HBM,
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Out walking in one of my favourite places today to take advantage of one of the last really warm days of the year.
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Thank you to everyone who pauses long enough to look at my photo. All comments and Faves are very much appreciated
I just love how this abstract one turned out! A macro shot of oil in water with a coloured background placed underneath the bowl of water!
Very close fly by - this heron was unphased by my presence. He just flew few feet from me and he landed about 20 ft from me. He was on a mission. As soon as he landed, he grabbed something. I should have continued to shoot but simply stopped and did not react in time to grab a photo of him and his prey.
Compositionally Challenged
Week 34 Hacks and Tricks
Two "hacks/tricks" were used during the creation of this image:
Firstly the lens cells of this tiny enlarger lens, which usually has an aperture of f/4, were removed and put into the body of a similar lens with longer focal length, which expands its wide open aperture to f/2.
Secondly the limited image circle of this (originally half-frame) lens was used in order to create a strong vignette on full frame, allowing for a very different "spotlight-like" composition, which could be done in post-processing, though I vastly prefer to see most of the final result already in-camera.
Shot with a Schneider Kreuznach "Componon 28 mm F 2 (modified)" (enlarging) lens on a Canon EOS R5.
For my friend NatuurfotoRien/Rien in Holland, who loves corvids.
I had this odd notion that when I retire I would carve a totem pole, and so over the years, I learned more and more about northwest coast art, culture, and carving. One of the pieces I studied was this - a huge cedar sculpture carved by the great sculptor, Bill Reid, to whom the telling of this ancient story is credited.
Bill Reid was a Haida indian (Haida is their word for “human”). The Haida tribe lives in the Queen Charlotte Islands off the coast of northern Canada (below Alaska), in a special place they call Haida Gwaii. Bill is widely credited for reviving the arts of the northwest coast - he was an amazing sculptor. I am disappointed I will never meet him.
The northwest coast tribes have many gods - all animals. Raven is the Haida equivalent of “fox”. Tricky, playful, smart, inquisitive - these are all qualities of Raven, whose play and trickery created the stars in the sky, the sun, the ocean and man.
The man-size (literally) sculpture is inside the University of British Columbia museum in Vancouver, Canada. When it was installed, Bill had the children of Haida Gwaii come to the installation - each with bottles of sand from the beach at Haida Gwaii, so Raven, could be installed in his native soil.
Here is his telling of their genesis myth - one of the most sacred stories in Haida culture:
The Story of the Raven Creating Man by Bill Reid
The great flood which had covered the earth for so long had receded, and even the thin strip of sand now called Rose Spit, stretching north from Naikun village lay dry. The Raven had flown there to gorge himself on the delicacies left by the receding water, so for once he wasn't hungry. But his other appetites - lust, curiosity and the unquenchable itch to meddle and provoke things, to play tricks on the world and its creatures - these remained unsatisfied.
He had recently stolen the light from the old man who kept it hidden in a box in his house in the middle of the darkness, and had scattered it throughout the sky. The new light spattered the night with stars and waxed and wane in the shape of the moon. And it dazzled the day with a single bright shining which lit up the long beach that curved from the spit beneath Raven's feet westward as far as Tao Hill. Pretty as it was, it looked lifeless and so to the Raven quite boring. He gave a great sigh, crossed his wings behind his back and walked along the sand, his shiny head cocked, his sharp eyes and ears alert for any unusual sight or sound. Then taking to the air, he called petulantly out to the empty sky. To his delight, he heard an answering cry - or to describe it more closely, a muffled squeak.
At first he saw nothing, but as he scanned the beach again, a white flash caught his eye, and when he landed he found at his feet, buried in the sand, a gigantic clamshell. When he looked more closely still, he saw that the shell was full of little creatures cowering in terror of his enormous shadow.
Well, here was something to break the monotony of his day. But nothing was going to happen as long as the tiny things stayed in the shell, and they certainly weren't coming out in their present terrified state. So the Raven leaned his great head close to the shell, and with the smooth trickster's tongue that had got him into and out of so many misadventures during his troubled and troublesome existence, he coaxed and cajoled and coerced the little creatures to come out and play in his wonderful, shiny new world. As you know the Raven speaks in two voices, one harsh and strident, and the other, which he used now, a seductive bell-like croon which seems to come from the depths of the sea, or out of the cave where the winds are born. It is an irresistible sound, one of the loveliest sounds in the world. So it wasn't long before one and then another of the little shell-dwellers timidly emerged. Some of them immediately scurried back when they saw the immensity of the sea and the sky, and the overwhelming blackness of the Raven. But eventually curiosity overcame caution and all of them had crept or scrambled out. Very strange creatures they were: two-legged like the Raven, but there the resemblance ended. They had no glossy feathers, no thrusting beak. Their skin was pale, and they were naked except for the long black hair on their round, flat-featured heads. Instead of strong wings, they had thin stick-like appendages that waved, and fluttered constantly. They were the original Haidas, the first humans.
For a long time the Raven amused himself with his new playthings, watching them as they explored their much expanded-world. Sometimes they helped one another in their new discoveries. Just as often, they squabbled over some novelty they found on the beach. And the Raven taught them some clever tricks, at which they proved remarkably adept. But the Raven's attention span was brief, and he grew tired of his small companions. For one thing, they were all males. He had looked up and down the beach for female creatures, hoping to make the game more interesting, but females were nowhere to be found. He was about to shove the now tired, demanding and quite annoying little creatures back into their shell and forget about them when suddenly - as happens so often with the Raven - he had an idea.
He picked up the men, and in spite of their struggles and cries of fright he put them on his broad back, where they hid themselves among his feathers. Then the Raven spread his wings and flew to North Island. the tide was low, and the rocks, as he had expected, were covered with those large but soft-lipped molluscs known as red chitons. The Raven shook himself gently, and the men slid down his back to the sand. The he flew to the rock and with his strong beak pried a chiton from its surface.
Now, if any of you have ever examined the underside of a chiton, you may begin to understand what the Raven had in his libidinous, devious mind. He threw back his head and flung the chiton at the nearest of the men. His aim was as unerring as only a great magician's can be, and the chiton found its mark in the delicate groin of the startled, shell-born creature. There the chiton attached itself firmly. Then as sudden as spray hitting the rocks from a breaking wave, a shower of chitons broke over the wide-eyed humans, as each of the open-mouthed shellfish flew inexorably to its target.
Nothing quite like this had ever happened to the men. They had never dreamed of such a thing during their long stay in the clamshell. They were astounded, embarrassed, confused by a rush of new emotions and sensations. They shuffled and squirmed, uncertain whether it was pleasure or pain they were experiencing. They threw themselves down on the beach, where a great storm seemed to break over them, followed just as suddenly by a profound calm. One by one the chitons dropped off. The men staggered to their feet and headed slowly down the beach, followed by the raucous laughter of the Raven, echoing all the way to the great island to the north which we now call Prince of Wales.
That first troop of male humans soon disappeared behind the nearest headland, passing out of the games of the Raven and the story of humankind. Whether they found their way back to the shell, or lived out their lives elsewhere, or perished in the strange environment in which they found themselves, nobody remembers, and perhaps nobody cares. They had played their roles and gone their way.
Meanwhile the chitons had made their way back to the rock, where they attached themselves as before. But they too had been changed. As high tide followed low and the great storms of winter gave way to the softer rains and warm sun of spring, the chitons grew and grew, many times larger than their kind had ever been before. Their jointed shells seemed about to fly apart from the enormous pressure within them. And one day a huge wave swept over the rock, tore them from their footholds and carried them back to the beach. As the water receded and the warm sun dried the sand, a great stirring began among the chitons. From each emerged a brown skinned, black-haired human. This time there were both males and females among them, and the Raven could begin his greatest game: the one that still goes on.
They were no timid shell-dwellers these, but children of the wild coast, born between the sea and land, challenging the strength of the stormy North Pacific and wresting from it rich livelihood. Their descendants built on its beaches the strong, beautiful homes of the Haidas and embellished them with the powerful heraldic carvings that told of the legendary beginnings of great families, all the heros and heroines and the gallant beasts and monsters who shaped their world and their destinies. For many generations they grew and flourished, built and created, fought and destroyed, living according to the changing seasons and the unchanging rituals of their rich and complex lives.
It's nearly over now. Most of the villages are abandoned, and those which have not entirely vanished lie in ruins. The people who remain are changed. The sea has lost much of its richness, and great areas of land itself lie in waste. Perhaps it's time the Raven started looking for another clamshell.
Film: Fuji Velvia 100iso
Camera: Canon A1
Shot: July 2,2015 4:42pm
F-stop: F4
Shutter: 1/250
Lens: 50mm
Location: Maligne Canyon, Jasper Nation Park, Alberta, Canada
365/2021 - Expanding Horizons - Day 84 Mar 25 - This piece of driftwood always reminds me of a Sea Serpent guarding the beach!
As more and more Boomers retire, scenes similar to this will be a normal occurrence.
In a month I will be moving back to Wyoming after experiencing this reality first hand.
Although the desert environment can be quite beautiful with its unique ecosystem, seeing it consumed like this is just plain sad.
Expanded or exfoliated vermiculite is utilized based upon its intended application which would determine the size/quality of material (or grade) to be used. For example, smaller grades may have been used in acoustical ceiling/wall treatments and small-to-moderate flakes might have been used as an additive in surfacing plasters or in the once popular spray-applied fireproofing materials, such as proprietary Monokote with Libby-vermiculite produced by WR Grace.
Also shown in background are a few examples of Zonolite advertisements and marketing tools. Celebrity endorsements seem to add a touch of credibility to their featured products, such as using Bing Crosby's face on a Zonolite "leveling rake", even despite the later proven toxic nature of Zonolite.
Well, I might as well have a slice of Battenberg Cake with my coffee this morning ... sometimes, we all need a nice little treat!
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Stay Safe and Healthy Everyone!
Thanks to everyone who views this photo, adds a note, leaves a comment and of course BIG thanks to anyone who chooses to favourite my photo .... Thanks to you all!
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Another warm, sunny day and another countryside walk. We seemed to climb over an awful lot of these stiles today, some requiring high levels of athleticism to be able to get over them!
Thank you to everyone who pauses long enough to look at my photo. All comments and Faves are very much appreciated
expanding...
developing...
increasing...
dedicated to Judy
I hope, you like this POV too ;-)
f 6,3
1/125 s
ISO 100
60 mm
IMG_5705PSXstrtAtoLvl
For maximum effect, click the image, to go into the Lightbox, to view at the largest size; or, perhaps, by clicking the expansion arrows at top right of the page for a Full Screen view.
Don't use or reproduce this image on Websites/Blog or any other media without my explicit permission.
© All Rights Reserved - Jim Goodyear 2017.
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On our walk today I spotted some lovely rambling roses climbing through the trees. After the rain of yesterday most were quite battered but this one seems to have weathered the storm.
Thank you to everyone who pauses long enough to look at my photo. All comments and Faves are very much appreciated
Burrowing Owl
The Burrowing Owl (Athene cunicularia) is a small, long-legged owl found throughout open landscapes of North and South America. Burrowing owls can be found in grasslands, rangelands, agricultural areas, deserts, or any other open dry area with low vegetation. They nest and roost in burrows, such as those excavated by prairie dogs. Unlike most owls, burrowing owls are often active during the day, although they tend to avoid the midday heat. Like many other kinds of owls, though, burrowing owls do most of their hunting from dusk until dawn, when they can use their night vision and hearing to their advantage. Living in open grasslands as opposed to forests, the burrowing owl has developed longer legs that enable it to sprint, as well as fly, when hunting.
Burrowing owls have bright eyes; their beaks can be dark yellow or gray depending on the subspecies. They lack ear tufts and have a flattened facial disc. The owls have prominent white eyebrows and a white "chin" patch which they expand and display during certain behaviors, such as a bobbing of the head when agitated.
For more info: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burrowing_owl
From the Cornell Lab: www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Burrowing_Owl/overview
M27 can be found in the constellation of Vulpecula, which is high overhead in summer months. This planetary nebula lies at a distance of about 1227 LY from earth. It's a very bright object easily visible in binoculars. As a result, it's a favourite for stargazers. What we see is the remains of a star like our sun that grew through its red giant stage and cast out its outer shell, leaving little more than its core behind as a white dwarf to irradiate and illuminate the expanding shell of gas. This will be the fate of our own sun in a few billion years.
Since it's cold and the weather is not conducive to going out into the field, I'm looking back through older data I'd collected to process with new tools and techniques. In this case, I combined data from 2 separate sessions shot in the summer of 2019.
-=Tech Data=-
-Image Details-
Hα & OIII: 252 minutes of 3 and 5 minute exposures
-Equipment-
Imaging Scope: Sky-Watcher Quattro 250P
Mount: Celestron CGX
Imaging Camera: ZWO ASI 1600MC-Pro
Focus: Pegasus Astro Dual Motor Focus Motor & Controller
Guide Camera: Orion SSAG
Guide Scope: Orion mini guide
Filter: STC Astro Duo-Narrowband filter (Hα and OIII)
Power: Pegasus Astro Pocket Power Box
-Software-
Acquisition / Rig Control: Sequence Generator Pro
Stacking: Astro Pixel Processor
Processing: PixInsight
Post Processing: Photoshop CC
-Location-
Shot at the Dark Sky Viewing Aread and Camden Lake Provincial Wildlife Area near Moscow in South Eastern Ontario.
Hasbro - Star Wars Expanded Universe Ships
Speeder Bike, Cloud Car, and Airspeeder
Shown closed and open with pilots
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On National Trust Land, this imposing and isolated lodge is available to rent out. Fabulous views but I'm not so sure about being there at night.
Thank you to everyone who pauses long enough to look at my photo. All comments and Faves are very much appreciated
…find freedom, aliveness, and power not from what contains, locates, or protects us, but from what dissolves, reveals, and expands us.
~ Eve Ensler, Insecure at Last: Losing it in Our Security-Obsessed World
Ópera de Lyon, Lyon, Auvernia-Ródano-Alpes, France.
La Ópera de Lyon es la sede de la Ópera Nacional de Lyon, situada en Lyon, Francia .
De estilo italiano, con forma de herradura y seis líneas de palcos en cascada, fue diseñado por Jacques-Germain Soufflot, creador del Panthéon de París e inaugurado en 1831. Entre 1985 y 1993, el arquitecto Jean Nouvel amplió el edificio.
The Lyon Opera is the headquarters of the Lyon National Opera, located in Lyon, France.
Italian in style, with a horseshoe shape and six lines of cascading boxes, it was designed by Jacques-Germain Soufflot, creator of the Panthéon in Paris and inaugurated in 1831. Between 1985 and 1993, the architect Jean Nouvel expanded the building.