View allAll Photos Tagged Expectant
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'Expectant'
Camera: Mamiya RB67
Lens: Mamiya-Sekor 3.8/90mm
Film: Ilford Pan F+
Process: PMK; 1+2+100; 7.5min
Adams County, Washington
May 2021
This handsome, powerful Mule Deer buck is stretching after getting up from a rest. He has half a dozen does in this field, off to the right, out of the frame, and a little closer to me - so he is watching me carefully.
I was sitting in my car on a backroad. After a few minutes the big guy decided I wasn't going to cause any trouble, and after that he ignored me as he made his rounds, sniffing expectantly, hoping to get lucky. I'm sure he did (get lucky), but not while I was present.
The Mule Deer rut is the last big wildlife event of the season, and the best entertainment out there until it abruptly ends in early December.
Photographed near Val Marie, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2022 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
You've only to look at the face of a dog, watching intently for its owner's return, to witness true devotion.
ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ sᴍᴀʟʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴍs ᴏғ ᴡʜᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴜs, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴍᴍᴇɴsᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛs
She moved through the house like a quiet melody, soft and lingering, her presence weaving through the stillness he had left behind. The rooms sighed in his absence, not desolate but expectant, holding onto the promise of his return.
At night, she stood before the window, the moonlight pooling at her feet like a silver tide. She wore his favorite heels, the ones he always noticed, though he never said why. The curve of her reflection in the glass mirrored the rhythm of her thoughts - soft, longing, but certain. The faint tap of her heels against the wooden floor was the only sound, a quiet reminder of how she filled the space they shared.
The kettle hissed again, its melody familiar, almost comforting. It had always been their ritual, the quiet clink of porcelain cups, the steam spiraling between them as they shared the stillness of the morning or the weight of the evening. Tonight, she poured two cups out of habit, his mug placed beside hers on the counter. She didn’t drink it; she simply let it sit, the warmth seeping into the air as if to hold space for him.
The chair he favored beckoned to her as always, the cushion molded to the shape of his easy presence. She touched it lightly, her fingers brushing over the fabric like a whispered hello. His scent still lingered, cedar and something faintly spiced, a tether that reminded her he wasn’t far, just away. The thought settled in her chest, a quiet ache of missing bound tightly with the comfort of knowing.
Later, as the night deepened, she let the heels slip from her feet, their gentle clatter echoing in the silence. She climbed into bed, wide but not lonely, its edges folded into the promise of his return. Tomorrow, he’d be home. She could already imagine the sound of his key in the door, the weight of his arms wrapping her into the embrace she missed most.
She closed her eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips, and let the quiet cradle her one last time. The house, too, seemed to hold its breath, knowing that the stillness was about to break - that soon, his laughter would spill into the rooms again, sweeping the quiet away like morning fog beneath a rising sun.
Wish you a most peacful, expectant weekend!
( this is my last Iranian Photo..........hugs)
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"Build a House for men and birds.
Sit with them and play music.
For a day, for just one day,
talk about that which disturbs no one
and bring some peace,
my friend,
into your beautiful eyes.”
Hāfez-e Shīrāzī (Persian: خواجه شمسالدین محمد حافظ شیرازی) (1325/26–1389/90).
Psalm 5:3
In the morning, O Eternal One, listen for my voice; in the day’s first light, I will offer my prayer to You and watch expectantly for Your answer.
Summer morning sings a sultry song.
"Indian Sisters" · Suzanne Teng · Gilbert Levy
Introducing another of my friendly (and demanding) garden birds, Alfred (the great tit)!
He and his partner were always part of the enthusiastic and expectant mob that appeared every time I opened the door over the summer (and they still fly in now). They don't land on my hands like some of the others, but they do land and flit about so close that I could grab them (if I were that way inclined 😅).
A wise couple with a plan, Alfred and his partner selected a prime nest box with a great view to our front door, only a few metres away, and raised a brood of chicks there over the summer, with a little help from me!
Reposting a new edit of Milly's expectant face. She loved all sorts of cakes and fatty foods...
First posted 2013 and again 01.02.2015. Reposted 25.07.2020 for the "Happy Caturday" theme "Food".
Ronjas Milly (Norwegian Forest Cat), 05.10.2008
Olympus E-400 Digital Camera.
2J06, 0703 Whitlocks End to Stourbridge Junction approaches its destination while expectant passengers await their service to Birmingham and beyond. Work for some, last minute Christmas shopping for others. The final Saturday before Christmas 2019.
I'll take this opportunity say thanks for all the views, comments and faves over the last twelve months, they really are very much appreciated.
Finally I'd like to wish everyone a Very Merry Christmas! Have a good 'un!
The young princess stood at her balcony, cradling a small, glistening green frog in her hands. His wide, golden eyes stared up at her, almost expectant, as if he knew the thoughts swirling in her mind.
She had heard the stories—the legends whispered by firelight, of enchanted princes trapped in frogs’ bodies, waiting for a kiss to break the spell. But could it be true? Could this tiny, damp creature truly be a prince? Or was she simply being foolish, letting fairy tales cloud her judgment?
The princess bit her lip, tilting her head as she examined the frog. “What if this works?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart fluttered at the thought of a dashing prince appearing before her, his eyes filled with gratitude and love. But then, another thought crept in—what if it didn’t work? What if she kissed the frog and nothing happened? Worse yet, what if something unexpected happened?
The frog blinked. He let out a quiet croak as if urging her forward.
With a deep breath, the princess closed her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. “Alright,” she whispered. “Here goes nothing…”
She leaned in, lips barely brushing the frog’s cool, smooth skin, and in that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
The scene in the Indian River just before sunrise on August 28, 2015 at 6:55am. Photo taken from a hurricane Erika expectant Melbourne, on the East Coast of Florida.
Expectantly , we watched as the silent , hungry fish suddenly leaped skyward for tempting flies as the frisky Loons and Canada geese flew flapping from us ; a memorable end to a giddy , unforgettable and unusual hot Spring day ...
24 C it was lovely
This expectant "Scrubby" was hoping for a peanut in this image taken in one of two Red Silk-Cotton (Bombax ceiba) trees.
Pretty much every evening, if I walk to the bottom of the garden, I turn around and there he is. He makes a LOT of noise. He DEMANDS food, although he's more polite than he used to be because his orders are now always accompanied by head biffs. I would love to know where he lives, and why he keeps visiting, because he's still a complete mystery. Handsome, though. :)
There are two mud-islands in the Bear Swamp Pool with Black-necked Stilt nests.
Hopefully they have verified the high tide levels.
Bombay Hook NWR, Delaware.
In the morning lord you hear my voice, in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.
Psalm 5:3
Estamos los zamoranos expectantes por la reconstrucción del puente de origen medieval. En esta foto se muestra como está quedando el pretil de piedra que sustituye al que había de metal. Pronto volveremos a pasear por este puente tan emblemático: el puente de Piedra.
SUGERENCIA: Ampliad la foto para ver el detalle de la piedra así como las palomas que han elegido este arco para posarse.
We, the people of Zamora, are waiting for the reconstruction of the medieval bridge. This photo shows how the stone railing that replaced the metal one is coming along. Soon we will return to walk across this emblematic bridge: the Stone Bridge.
TIP: Zoom in on the photo to see the detail of the stone as well as the pigeons that have chosen this arch to perch on.
Suddenly the smell of mimosas
like a breathing torch
or like an immemorial wave
that kisses the expectant nudity of the beach.
It's just the door
that opens, but sets in motion
an air where it curdles
all the sweetness of this precarious autumn.
by Jorge Riechmann
::Bella's Lullaby:: www.flickr.com/groups/14818647@N22/, Forks (125, 128, 30) - Moderado