View allAll Photos Tagged False
one of the highlights on a scenic motorcycle tour around the Cape Peninsula is the view over the False Bay and down to Simon's Town with the harbor and naval base
Simon's Town, Western Cape Province, South Africa
False Oxlip (hybrid of Primrose and Cowslip) somewhat frost or wind damaged. Deep Dale, Derbyshire Peak District.
Captured with a Canon DF 50mm f5.3 Macro.
This is an image of a Rapala original F09 RTL Live Rainbow Trout.
LARGE ON BLACK (press F11 for full screen view)
42nd Street and Park Avenue, across from Grand Central Terminal--typically one of New York's busiest intersections--becomes Hopperesque.
Canon EF 135mm f/2L USM
©2012 Patrick J Bayens
Caught up in a really laid-back town. A place, exactly opposite of what Manhattan gives.
Learning that life is not meant to be wasted for we can always be chasing the sun hiding behind these foggy curtain-like sheets.
Me and my travel-partner (my wife) just can't let it slip away no matter what and don't mind coming back a thousand times just to see it once again.
An infrared Photography- False Colors
Brooklyn, New York. June 5, 2012.
False just did the Carnage Handstyles Series, along with Hert, Rate, Gable and Atak - they look great - check 'em out!
I found this little 8-legged friend in the upside down water bowl in my bearded dragon's outdoor enclosure. I was just cleaning it out today and getting it ready for whenever it's going to be warm enough for the dragon to stay out there for the summer, and you can imagine my surprise when I saw this! It was really pretty and I'm pretty sure I have the correct ID, but please correct me if I'm wrong! She was relocated to the front yard away from the dogs and lizard.
Long Island, NY
A small semi-translucent species (1.5 cm) that I've seen occasionally in the Pathumthani area just north of Bangkok. .
This shot was on my bucket list and it was a fun trek. Unlike the pandemonium I experienced at Mesa Arch, this site was quiet and there was only four of us sharing this area. The hike was listed as strenuous and it was a nice aerobic workout.
Responding to recent newsfeeds explaining how four heatwaves and low rainfall this summer created the conditions for a “false” autumn in August.
As we were getting ready for our trip to New England and south eastern Canada almost everyone commented about the beautiful colors we would be seeing. We weren't really going just for the fall colors, but to enjoy the area. I was afraid we were a little early for the best colors and unfortunately I was right. However, we did see some. I captured this one on our last day before we caught the flight home.
The new version of Lightroom does a pretty good job of stitching together images and it's faster than Photoshop. It also merges HDR much quicker than PS. Lightroom handle one set (kept messing up the blends) but three others that I ran worked well. Anybody else have trouble with it?
Melitaea diamina/ Baldrian-Scheckenfalter/ Woudparelmoervlinder/ False heath fritillary. Typical for this butterfly is that the upperside of the hindwings (hardly visible here) are very dark with very few spots.
"They were to have been a love gift,
but when she slit the paper funnel,
they both saw they were fake; false flowers
he'd picked in haste from the store's display,
handmade coloured stuff, stiff as crinoline.
Instantly she thought of women's hands
cutting in grimy light by a sweatshop window;
rough plank tables strewn with cut-out
flower heads: lily, iris, primula, scentless
chrysanthemums, pistils rigged on wire
in crowns of sponge-tipped stamens,
sepals and petals perfect, perfectly
immune to menaces from the garden.
Why so wrong, so...flattening? Why not instead
symbols of unchanging love?
Yet pretty enough,
she considered, arranging them in a vase
with dry grass and last summer's hydrangeas
whose deadness was still (how to put it?)
alive, or maybe the other side of life.
Two sides, really, of the same thing?
She laughed a little, such ideas were embarrassing
even when kept to oneself,
but her train of thought
carried her in its private tunnel through supper,
and at bedtime, brushing her teeth,
she happened to look up at the moon.
Its sunlit face was turned, as always, in her direction.
The full moon, she couldn't help thinking,
though we see only half of it.
It was an insight she decided she could
share with him, but when he joined her
and together they lay in the dark,
there seemed no reason to say anything.
The words, in any case, would be wrong,
would escape or disfigure her meaning.
Good was the syllable she murmured to him,
fading into sleep. And just for a split second,
teetering on the verge of it, she believed
everything that had to be was understood."
-- Anne Stevenson