View allAll Photos Tagged Faintly
With the barns all but non-existent leading anymore, I don't usually check the work computer to see what is out and about. On a gut feeling and a whim, I decided to check, and the first train I saw was L500 backing into the yard in Durand with a grubby, weather beaten SD40-2W. I wasted no time getting dressed for the weather and raced off into the night. With only a few minutes to spare after setting up and testing, the distant clang of a mechanical bell and a faint horn prompted me to take position. Coming through Swartz Creek with a short train, I was thrilled that the local police didn't show up, as it would have been awkward to explain why I was on a ladder in a cemetery after dark.
フェニックスの葉っぱが夜空に淡い光を放っています。こんなイルミネーションのやり方は初めて見ました。
The phoenix leaves are shining a faint light in the night sky.I've never seen such an illumination method.
A boat trip to Staffa promised so much: minke whales, dolphins, basking sharks, orca, sea eagles and Fingal's Cave, the famous inspiration for Mendelssohn's Hebrides Overture. There was the faint hope of seeing a few puffin stragglers too.
But the weather was against us. Not hugely rough, but enough waves and swell to prevent our skipper putting us ashore to explore Fingal's Cave. We saw plenty seals, gannets and cormorants but little else. No dolphins, whales or orca. But there were beautiful views of the Mull coastline and deserted Treshnish Isles. Scotland has over 900 islands, though the exact number can vary slightly depending on how you define an island (some small tidal islets may or may not be counted). Of these 90-100 are inhabited
Located on the small Hebridean island of Staffa, Fingal's Cave is one of the country's most spectacular natural wonders. Formed entirely out of enormous hexagonal basalt columns, this sea cave is the backdrop of a fascinating legend.
When you visit Staffa, you can’t fail but be awestruck by nature’s creative forces. Impossibly dramatic and romantic, Staffa is best known for its basalt columns and spectacular sea caves. The most famous of these is Fingal’s Cave, also known in Gaelic as An Uamh Binn or the Cave of Music, immortalised by Mendelssohn in his Hebrides Overture. This name reflects the cave's exceptional acoustics and the sounds created by the crashing waves within.
Staffa is a volcanic island and the basalt columns formed when a single lava flow cooled around 60 million years ago. As the molten rock solidified, it also shrank, allowing gaps to form, which created the hexagonal-shaped columns seen today, similar to those found at the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland.
In addition to the cave, the columns form a dramatic cliff face which appears as colonnades or, as the Vikings saw them, the poles or staves (stafr in Old Norse) used in their buildings, hence the name Staffa. The columns are canted over at an angle of four degrees and it was this tilting that happened after they were formed, which allowed the sea to exploit natural fissures in the rock, hollowing out the cave over the millennia. Other caves on the island formed in a different way, when a softer layer of ash under the basalt columns was eroded by the sea.
Funnily enough, it wasn't Fingal who lived in this cave but his rival Scottish nemesis, Benandonner! Fionn MacCumhaill’s was a hero in Irish mythology and although a big lad, not a true giant. Separated by the Irish sea, however, Fingal felt brave enough to hurl insults over the sea to his rival, the giant Benandonner...
When the fight escalated, Fionn built the causeway across the sea to confront Benandonner. But when Fionn saw how enormous Benandonner was, he fled back to Ireland, destroying the causeway behind him. The remnants became the Giant’s Causeway and Fingal’s Cave, which is said to have been named after Fionn’s Scottish alias, Fingal, meaning ‘white stranger’.
It was the famous botanist, Joseph Banks, who, in 1772, first brought the feature to popular attention. Since then, a steady stream of visitors, including a list of famous names from the arts, have made a sort of pilgrimage to this ‘cathedral of the sea’.
Among those great artists was a young Felix Mendelssohn, who visited the cave in 1829. Duly inspired, Mendelssohn wrote the concert overture Die Hebriden, also known simply as Fingal’s Cave, which he finished in 1832. Coincidentally, JMW Turner’s painting “Staffa” was also first exhibited in the spring of the same year. Today, Mendelssohn on Mull, a Scottish chamber music festival, continues to draw inspiration from Staffa. The event brings together young musicians for a week of musical exploration and concerts inspired by the wild beauty of Staffa, Mull and Iona.
Along the west the golden bars
Still to a deeper glory grew;
Above our heads the faint few stars
Looked out from the unfathomed blue;
And the fair city's clamorous jars
Seemed melted in the evening hue.
~ William Belcher Glazier
Faint whisper - Hauling the Northern Belle on the return trip from Carlisle, Battle of Britain Class locomotive 'Tangmere', coasts over Arten Gill Viaduct with just a faint whisper of steam on a warm and sunny spring afternoon.
This is pure 100% Settle-Carlisle country; Arten Gill is situated high above Dentdale with terrific views of the Yorkshire Dales and Cumbria.
Arten Gill Viaduct, Cumbria, Yorkshire Dales National Park
Yesterday. It should be spring but nature decided to give us winter.
I realized the falling snow looked just like the kind of snow I learned to make in Photoshop (thanks Phlearn). Good to know! This one here is real though, taken at 1/250 sec (f2.8). I took some images at slower speeds but the snow looked less good the longer the exposure. At 1/40sec you could hardly make out the tree anymore, it was just a white wall. I called it faintly green because under the tree snow takes the longest to stick.
Hours of waiting, but clouds came and ruin the perfect clear sky. Maybe next time is better.
5 shot panorama.
Nikon D3100, Nikkor 17-55mm f/2.8G @ 17mm, 20sec, f/2.8, ISO800.
Trinity Churchyard
The title is inspired by the last lines of James Joyce's "The Dead"
"His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead."
Down at Shelda creek the last few nights. Moderate kp index and under 50% cloud cover. There was a faint green color explosion that stretched over Lake Michigan. It was a very distinct line that shaped like a rainbow. Over the course of an hour it got brighter but pretty much stayed like this the whole night.
The Eurasian Coot is a black water bird with a white beak. The bird can be seen in the water, with its body floating on the surface and its head erect high.
The water in which the Eurasian Coot floats is calm, with a slight ripple that creates faint reflections of the bird and the reeds. The water color is a light, bright blue, which contrasts well with the black plumage of the bird.
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Le foulque macroule est un oiseau aquatique noir avec un bec blanc. On peut voir que l'oiseau dans l'eau, avec son corps flottant à la surface et sa tête dressée haut.
L'eau sur laquelle flotte le foulque macroule est calme, avec une légère ondulation qui créé de légers reflets de l'oiseau et des roseaux. La couleur de l'eau est d'un bleu clair et lumineux, ce qui contraste bien avec le plumage noir de l'oiseau.
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Nikon Z9
nikkor 200-500mm f/5.6
Once again I find myself in the ever changing city of Kamloops. This time, fires from adjacent areas send smoke that distort one's view. This leaves a local mountain, shrouded in a costume of smoke. A log that was floating along the river, is now lodged in dirt that should be the bottom of that very same river.
Together, they create a story of disturbing change. The air is now fowl with the scent of burnt wood. There is no rain and little glacier run off. A howling wind leaves terrible damage in its wake. It all makes one wonder but, it does make for an intriguing photograph.
Title: The Final Voyage of the Trawler Hawser and the Rusty Old Shackle
Once upon a briny dusk in the forgotten harbor of Crumpet’s Cove, an aging trawler named Hawser stirred from a decades-long nap. Her hull groaned like a grandmother with gout, barnacles clinging to her underbelly like stubborn regrets.
Beside her, hanging limply from a creaking bollard, was Shackle—a rusty, irritable hunk of iron with a temper like a wet matchstick and a voice like someone gargling gravel and moonshine.
"I’ve been thinking," muttered Hawser, her anchor winch twitching with vague purpose, "what if we just... left?"
Shackle squinted. “Left? We’re antiques, Hawser. Artifacts. Fish laugh at us. Seagulls use my eyelet as a public restroom.”
“Exactly,” said Hawser with a glint in her fog-light. “Let’s go out not as scrap, but as legends. One last voyage—for self-discovery!”
Shackle spat out a fleck of rust. “You’ve been listening to the tide-poets again, haven’t you?”
But deep down—beneath the barnacles and the tetanus—they both yearned for something more. Something wet and dramatic.
With a wheeze, a belch of diesel, and an illegal amount of enthusiasm, Hawser heaved herself off the dock. The ropes gave way with a theatrical snap, and Shackle clanged into place like a rusty exclamation mark.
They sailed into the open sea, where waves greeted them with surprise and mild concern.
“Where to?” asked Shackle, now vibrating slightly with existential dread.
“North-by-northeast-by-chaos,” said Hawser. “We follow the jellyfish. They know things.”
Three days in, they found a floating disco run by philosophical squid. Shackle got in a dance-off with a bioluminescent cuttlefish named Kevin and realized he’d been clenching his metaphorical jaw for 43 years. Hawser learned how to feel the ocean, instead of just floating above it. She cried bilge water for the first time since '79.
They sailed further.
They survived a romantic entanglement with a lovesick lighthouse, narrowly avoided being recruited into a pirate-themed reality show, and at one point, accidentally entered a whale’s book club. (Moby-Dick was panned.)
At the edge of the world—a place cartographers refuse to acknowledge due to tax reasons—they met The Great Crustacean, a sentient lobster the size of a small village, who challenged them to a riddle contest.
Shackle won by accident when he sneezed out a bolt that landed perfectly in the lobster’s weak spot. Hawser screamed, “THIS IS WHAT GROWTH FEELS LIKE!” and accidentally triggered her emergency foghorn, summoning every sea creature within 50 nautical miles.
Together, the duo was declared “Honorary Ocean Elders” and gifted a sash made entirely of kelp and unsolicited advice.
They never returned to Crumpet’s Cove.
Some say Hawser became a floating spa for therapy seals.
Others claim Shackle was last seen hosting a podcast about corrosion and emotional vulnerability.
All we know is, somewhere out there on the misty blue, a trawler and a shackle are still discovering themselves—and possibly reinventing maritime jazz.
Fin. And some people about Ai taking their jobs
On a deserted farm place, faint tracks hint at a former busy life centered around this deteriorating barn. Wrinkles lining a face, calloused hands and haltingly recalled memories are often the faint tracks in an older person that suggest they lived an active life during a time in America long gone.
the stars may be seen distinctly before the sun rises, but as His light advances their rays are gradually absorbed by His, and they become invisible. Not from the want of light in themselves, but from the superior effulgence of the chief luminary.
The case is similar here, for there is a strong and universal light which absorbs all the little distinct lights of the soul. They grow faint and disappear under its powerful influence and self activity is now now longer distinguishable.
Three ewes look on from a rocky knoll overlooking Glen Lyon. The glens shoulders look quite faint in the morning haze. These sheep certainly have a huge area to graze.
Larry and I have been waiting to get into the mountains for a short while - we've been under a nice period rain. On this hike, we went to one of our favourites, Nihahi Ridge, a relative easy hike/scramble. The first part is a lovely walk on a cliff along the Little Elbow River and through forests and meadows. The route then gains elevation to the approach ridge, with its magnificent views. The approach ridge ends with some fun scrambling up good rock to the summit ridge itself. The summit ridge has steep drop-offs on each side, not for the faint of heart...