View allAll Photos Tagged Expectation
We stood in great expectation as a parting in the cloud shone a strong light over the hills in the distance. I was hoping it might hit the ruined bothy, but the light began to difuse the closer it came.
"When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last, "what's the first thing you say to yourself?"
"What's for breakfast?" said Pooh. "What do you say, Piglet?"
"I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?" said Piglet.
Pooh nodded thoughtfully.
"It's the same thing," he said.
~Winnie-the-Pooh, A.A. Milne
Happy Furry Friday!
I'll try to catch up with you later today...
This amazing view I found with my camera on the walk in the Picos de Europa. Place where you would like to spend part of day and just listen the natural rules :)
ღ Fundada en 1693, la ciudad de Matanzas es la capital de la provincia del mismo nombre. Matanzas se encuentra a 90 kilómetros al este de La Habana, en la costa noroeste de Cuba. Matanzas es conocida por sus poetas, cultura, folklore afrocubano y es la cuna de la música y los bailes tradicionales danzón y la rumba. Matanzas también se llama " La Ciudad de los Puentes ", con sus diecinueve puentes que cruzan tres ríos.
ღ Founded in 1693, the town of Matanzas is the capital of the province of the same name. Matanzas is located 90 kilometres east of Havana, on the nothwestern coast of Cuba. Matanzas is known for its poets, culture, Afro-Cuban folklore and is the birthplace of the music and traditional dances of danzón and rumba. It is also called ‘The City of Bridges’ with its nineteen bridges that cross three rivers.
ღ Fondée en 1693, la ville de Matanzas est la capitale de la province du même nom. Matanzas est située à 90 kilomètres à l'est de La Havane, sur la côte nord-ouest de Cuba. Matanzas est connue pour ses poètes, la culture, le folklore afro-cubain et est le berceau de la musique et des danses traditionnelles danzón et rumba. Matanzas est aussi appelée « La ville des ponts » avec ses dix-neuf ponts qui traversent trois rivières.
Есть такое интересное растение белый ясенец, которое можно найти в северной Африке, центральной Азии и южной Европе, может самовозгораться в жаркую погоду. Воспламеняются лишь эфирные масла, которые выделяет само растение, но сам ясенец от этого не страдает.
-----------------------
There is such an interesting plant, white ash, which can be found in northern Africa, central Asia and southern Europe, which can ignite spontaneously in hot weather. Only the essential oils that the plant itself releases are ignited, but the ash tree itself does not suffer from this.
Wet paeony bud.
Well, it must be at least a week since I last published an image of a wet paeony. Too long, anyway :)
This is for the Wednesday Macro group. The bud is about an inch across I guess.
Thank you for taking the time to look. I hope you enjoy the image :)
The expectation of prosperity in the valley has no doubt been shattered, the bareness around with so little green grass has perhaps led to the demise of this little farm-stead. Possibly in today's world with modern irrigation systems it could have survived.
I will wait for you
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wf4GOfTC3GU
We never live
We are always in the expectation of living
Voltaire
© All rights reserved Anna Kwa. Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit written permission
"Tear yourself from this place of sorrow!" murmured the breeze that permeated his own swirls as he floated above the unrecognizable Island of the Cows.
The vast forests south of the capital, the hillsides slopping towards the northern ramparts, even the Tower of the Temple had vanished: not a single windmill's vane in this valley of the Seine, only a relief in stone as far as the eye could see, bristling with metallic carcasess all along both banks, a swarming blackness showing through the sulfurous haze.
The words he heard imparted a broader spiral to his expectation: "Is that you?" He unfurled himself to the beckoning of this familiar trembling in the air: he had recognized her, abandoning himself to the joy of having been recognized by her in turn:
"O breath of solace at the Vesperal hour when doubt besets our spirits! Tell me, how could so many plagues and wars not have overcome this greedy race? will it continue to perpetuate itself for long? Many are called and few are chosen, an ever variable number of births depending on whether life down there is more or less gentle or harsh, tranquil or murderous: does it now reserve for me a new throng of breaths in wait? Such chaos wastes my zeal! What can the Creator have in mind? The stars withdraw in desperate flight from this profusion of wasted souls! For as long as Judgment Day recedes from century to century, the older souls stake out more recent ones, and merging by affinity, they agree to obliterate their responsabilities in each other, or in twos or threes; mutually complicated, pretending to be an indissoluble whole, they come and go through my fortress, defying my scrutiny and reason! What lacerations there will be when they resurrect! If indeed each must forever recover his dust, his own, down there, to be judged for it here -as I strive in vain to make them understand during their detention, which it is my lot to guard!
Having thus spoken, he rose high above the towers of Notre Dame. But the breeze carried him far from the murmurs of that cursed site:
"For a long time have I awaited this weary and bitter moment, I who never cease to be moved by your great patience in teaching the expired breaths, O Grand Master of the Temple! Nor I have wished to disturb your faith in the task assigned you by the Thrones and Dominions. But a cycle of events has here run its course. The time has come at last to warn you that the ranks of the elect are closed. Henceforth humankind has changed in substance: it can be no more damned than saved. Thus the endless pullulation that you find so baffling. so heavy is the weight of these expired souls taht it upsets the equilibrium of the spheres. this vast number of souls is forever turning over on itself in vain. I would have you know that whenever the breaths escape your vigilance and discover a being of the flesh, they infiltrate it not in twos or threes, as when they merge themselves, but in fives and sevens in a single uterus, eager to arrogate themselves an embryo upon which to discharge their former sins and recuperate new virtues: Most often it begins in the womb of some poor madwoman; a body too fragile is called upon to forge the apparent unity of a complex of seven souls and thus, a stormy, exuberant, intractable nature comes to suffer the tumult of so many breaths, exhaled so many times -differing in origin, age and lot- and even takes on their fortunes as its own! this body, sorely tried, is soon destroyed; its breath rises up here, divides itself according to its different components, which at once begin to quarrel, pursue each other, and finally disperse themselves in others more violent than they! This is why rapes and debauchery are redoubling, multiplying tenfold, one hundredfold in the lower world, and yet this still does not suffice to acommodate such travesties; and however much the births increase, the number of expired souls that want to be reborn will always exceed the number of babies born in both good years and bad. For this reason, rather than attempting this bastard solution, most expired souls prefer rapes and debaucheries on high, which sully your fortress. Until the day God deigns to create new species, your task will only become more and more toilsome: the souls' turbulent anarchy, their adulteries, their incests in the circle assigned to you will only grow in size and number! For as soon as most of them no longer feel obliged to resurrect, God abandons them to their own judgment."
Excrept form The Baphomet. Pierre Klossowsky. Marsilio Publishers. New York. 1988. (I/39-41).
This picture was taken before the first signs of spring were showing up. So...last minute for uploading I think :-)
Many thanks to Skeletal Mess for his texture: www.flickr.com/photos/skeletalmess/5474699141/
2024-09-11, Day 5
Expansive views of the Donjek River valley and the Donjek Glacier unfold below the heights of Expectation Pass, Kluane National Park, Yukon.
To leave the Glacier and its remote environs, one must find a way to ascend to Atlas Pass. The helpful Parks Canada route description indicates that the most popular way to do this is to follow Bighorn Creek upstream and then head north along the first tributary one encounters. There is a narrow canyon in the lower reaches of Bighorn Creek and passage can be difficult if the water is high. Given the time of year, we didn’t expect elevated water levels but we knew for certain that crossing the creek would be cold if such a thing were required. The alternative is to find the narrow mouth of Expectation Creek as it exits the mountains and then ascend steeply to Expectation Pass by way of the constricted crease of its watercourse. From Expectation Pass, it is then possible to contour around the upper reaches of the watershed and finally to gain the summit of Atlas Pass. The route description suggested exceptional views might be on offer if one were to choose the second option and climb to Expectation Pass. Further deliberation felt unnecessary.
Breaking camp, we walked parallel to the Donjek River until we encountered the floodplain of the small creek that can be seen to the right of center. We chose to follow this floodplain upstream and toward the mountains until it became necessary to turn off and into the trail-less forest to begin the search for Expectation Creek. Following a climb through willow, moss, and spruce, we eventually intersected the Creek and located the beginning of the narrow, steep ascent to the Pass (down which we look in the photo). Curiously, where the climb began in earnest and the landscape opened up down below, we noticed half a dozen or more skulls littering the underbrush, the remnants of Dall Sheep. One had a significant length of spinal cord still attached and fur around the base of the horns. I picked it up for a closer look and instantly regretted it as the stench of death had not yet left and now clung stubbornly and putrescently to my fingers. We surmised that the sheep had died somewhere upslope and then been funneled down the narrow cleft in the landscape as snows slid, shifted, and melted. It seemed impossible that so many had simply died in the same small place.
The steepest part of the climb to Expectation Pass gains 1600 ft (500 m) in approximately 1.2 miles (2 km). We stopped part-way up amongst the boulders and drew a pot of water for tea from the small, splashing stream. Crackers, cheese, dried fruit, and cookies all made an appearance as we opened the food bags and leaned back into the packs, relaxing and waiting for the water to boil. I looked up from the stove and glanced down the canyon - a Grizzly Bear was about 400 meters away and climbing steadily up the canyon toward us. Interesting. It had not yet seen us but food was spread out everywhere, there was nowhere for us to go but up, and we could only manage a relatively slowly escape due to the grade. Lunch was hastily re-packed, hunger seemed all but forgotten, and I readied the canister of bear spray should we find ourselves bereft of luck. Climbing up and away from the bear as quickly as we could manage, I was relieved to see it angle off along the hill slope (on the left in the photo) and disappear from sight.
We gained the Pass an hour or so later and felt that another go at tea and lunch was in order. Backpacking is all about having a cuppa and biscuits in extraordinary places. As we supped, a band of 30-40 Dall Sheep dotted the meadows and talus above us, providing some confirmation as to where the skulls down below might have originated. Of course, there was also the fact that a Grizzly was likely not far away and could reappear whenever it liked. Wild country, indeed.
There is something to be said about the intrinsic link between failure and expectation. It seems to me that a key component of failure is expectation. Try to imagine failure without expectation? It's tricky. Because in order to fail, you have to have somehow defined what failure is. And we do this with expectation in hand all the time, be it consciously or otherwise. This image is an example of just that. I set it up, had a shot in mind, calculated my exposure, sat on the tracks counting that exposure off mentally, got up closed the shutter and wound the film. All with an expectation of something. Part of that something was a vague notion of how I wanted the image to look. Another part of that something was the expectation that I calculated the technical aspects of the image correctly - focus, exposure, etc. Yet another part of that something was the expectation that the film would be processed correctly. And so on. You get the idea of how something like this is built off a chain of expectations, even when we don't necessarily think of those expectations. Then, when something doesn't go as expected, for example I somehow blew the exposure and overexposed the frame by several stops thereby producing a more faded, washed out image with a bit of a color cast. Well, that goes against my expectation of how I thought this would turn out. My initial reaction was, "Well, blew that one" and mentally began the process of writing this image off. It was just one photo after all and I make a lot of photos. Also, I am no stranger to "blowing it". I often tell people I could bury them with the boxes of throwaway sample prints from "failed" images that I have accumulated over the years. But then again, as I implied above, what is failure really, other than unmet expectations? And if that is really a key to failure, can failure not be converted to something else merely by either tweaking those expectations or simply by not handcuffing yourself to them. It is fine to have expectations, it is also fine to set them aside. After a day, and a second visit to this negative, I gave my initial expectations of this photo a rest and what was left behind was something that was neither expected nor failed. I don't know what it is, nor do I really need to. It is another image in my collection that has something that intrigues me, that has given me something to consider and think about. I used to remark to students that if a every photo you make teaches you something, are there really bad photos?
Anyway, just some thoughts inspired by my misexposure in the making of this particular image. And no, I still don't quite know how I goofed this one up. But I am ok with that too. If I knew, I might want to do it again and that wouldn't be nearly as fun as when it happens incidentally.
Hasselblad Flexbody
Silberra Color 160
Website - www.damianpiorko.com/
Insta - www.instagram.com/damianpiorko/
FB - www.facebook.com/pages/Garage-Stories/225411440997856?ref=hl
flickr: best resolution - www.flickr.com/photos/126070884@N06/
500px - 500px.com/maxwell61
A consistent expectation for power upgrades (in the eyes of us railfans) to the annual Canadian CP spray train during its time west of Winnipeg was reinforced no less back in 2023, as the latest cowl to get a dunk in the second available golden beaver paint re-powered the train for its branchline runs. Starting from Vancouver to all-over the prairies via southern interior BC, it conducted spraying of the US-connecting Weyburn Sub in early July. Here it is passing Mile 40, whose post is almost perfectly centred relative to the Richardson International grain facility directly south of the main.
As CPKC painted power start to roll out of the ongoing Mayfield overhaul projects (at the time of writing, 3 Gevos and 1 GP38 have been subject to the latest repaint specs), CP 9014 seems more and more likely to be the last of 5 40Fs to recieve the 2-letter branding. Getting them checked off while the paint is still fresh will never fail to satisfy my capturing of the rare breed of GMD motive power.