window

I've always envied people who sleep easily. Their brains must be cleaner, the floorboards of the skull well swept, all the little monsters closed up in a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed. -David Benioff

Kick the Dust up

Location: Mineral Ridge

All week long it’s a farmin’ town

They’re makin’ that money grow

Tractors, plows with flashing lights

Backin' up a two lane road

They take one last lap around

That sun up high goes down

And then it's on, come on

Girl kick it on back

Z71 like a Cadillac

We go way out where

There ain’t nobody

We turn this cornfield

Into a party

Pedal to the floorboard

Eight up in a four door

Burnin’ up a back road song

Park it and we pile out

Baby, watch your step now

Better have your boots on

Kick the dust up

Back it on up

Fill your cup up

Let’s tear it up, up

And kick the dust up

BOGART: "Hullo Danbo! Look! I have come visiting Mummy Marian's house to see you my best friend and Fuzzy my best friend. Bleep... luv Danbo!"

DANBO: *Looks up at Bogart, then back at Peter's Cuddly Bear that he holds.* "Bleep! Bugart... luv Bugart?" *Confused.*

BOGART: "Oh Danbo that isn't me." *Giggles.* "That is Peter's special bear, Cuddly Bear."

DANBO: *Looks up at Bogart, then back at Peter's Cuddly Bear that he holds.* "Bleep! Bugart... luv Bugart?" *Still confused.*

BOGART: "I know, Cuddly Bear looks like me. He could be my little brother. But he isn't me. I am me, and Cuddly Bear belongs to Peter."

DANBO: "Bleep... luv Puter... Bleep... luv... cludd..ly... bleep... blear... Luv Bugart!"

BOGART: "Oh I love you too, Danbo! Bleep... luv Danbo! Now please give Cuddly Bear back to Peter. Peter must miss cuddling him."

DANBO: "Bleep... kiss... Bugart?"

BOGART: "Oh yes, of course we can kiss, Danbo! Bleep... luv Danbo!"

DANBO: "Bleep... luv Bugart!" *Kisses Bogart.*

My bears Paddy, Scout Bogart and Jago have made very good friends with four bears in Holland called Peter, Oleg, Benny and Fuzzy (www.flickr.com/photos/40262251@N03/galleries/721577154558...) and their Mummy (www.flickr.com/photos/66094586@N06/) . Bogart has also befriended Danbo... well, I’m not quite sure what Danbo is, but Bogart seems to know (www.flickr.com/photos/40262251@N03/galleries/721577206753...). Danbo mistook Peter's special bear, Cuddly Bear for Bogart. I do see the similarities. So Bogart has come over to clear up the mistake Danbo has made about Cuddly Bear, and is making sure that Danbo returns the special little bear to Peter, his rightful owner. You can see this in the link here: www.flickr.com/photos/66094586@N06/52260805383/in/photost... or in the first comment below.

Bogart has travelled all the way from Georgia, via Alabama as a gift to me from a friend. He has lovely Southern manners and seems to be a fun and gentle soul with an inquisitive nature.

Thank you Marian Kloon (on and off) for the use of Danbo's photo in my collage of two images.

The demolition of a 19th Century building, with contrived "Street art style" poster's.

I assume that the work is by Himbad.

LR4254 © Joe O'Malley 2022

I remember still dozing in bed

One morning that crisp spring

Early sunlight shone on the floorboards

While the wind played with the drapes

I opened my eyes to the strident creak

Of the old French doors being pushed open

Blurry-eyed I caught a glimpse of her silhouette

Dashing out of the bedroom onto the porch, her hair tousled

She ran barefoot, her gait purposeful, the grass wet with dew

"Where ya going?" I managed to grumble

Without looking back nor breaking step

She teased in her alluringly nonchalant way

"Follow me"

#sliderssunday

#GiuseppeArcimboldo

Recently, while clearing the attic, I noticed something in one of the many obscured corners, something that I had overlooked in all the many years before. Not that I visit the attic often, it's terribly dark, dusty, full of cobwebs (and spiders!), and trodden floorboards that, every time they creak, make me jump – and all of a sudden the shadows come to life... Well, attic owners, I guess you know what I mean. But that new discovery made me overcome my fear of the dark. There was something carefully wrapped up in thick layers of old looking fabric, a square shape. When I looked at that wrapped-up shape I remembered that, when I was little, I'd overheard my grandfather speak of a "painted treasure" a few times, and everytime he noticed me, he made a shush gesture. I wondered... Could that be it? The painted treasure? With shaky hands, I carefully began to unknot the many knots of the old, rough cord that kept the fabric together. In some parts the cord was so frail that it crumbled when I touched it. When I finally had removed the cord and the heavy fabric, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a painting, an old painting, very old. But it looked so fresh, so... alive.

Carefully, I carried the painting down the narrow stairs to the living room to have a closer look. The style, the signature, they rang a bell. I did some quick online research, and soon found my suspicion confirmed: "Bingo!", I yelled, because this painting seemed to be the legendary, long-lost portrait of Aubrey Gina Melanzana I. of the Solanum empire, painted by no other than the famous Listada de Gandia, the only paintress among the old masters that had managed to come to fame at a time when female artists had not (yet) been appreciated. This find was a sensation. And I was rich :)

OK, friends, the truth: I live in an apartment, and the attic in the house I live in has been converted into flats decades ago. But there is a suspended ceiling in my hall, and it's sure crammed with stuff like suitcases, a few of my childhood stuffed animals, fabric rolls – and dust and cobwebs ;) My grandfather has also never talked about a painted (or any other) treasure hidden somewhere, but he loved to paint in oil, a passion (and talent) that he'd passed on to my dad. And while I've always preferred to draw (before I re-discovered the joy of photography), I do love eggplant :) When I saw this cute, small eggplant with its adorable "nose" last Saturday at the weekend market, I knew I had to take a photo of it before turning it into a delicious meal.

I have seen lovely portraits photographed to resemble the style of Rembrandt, Vermeer, Rubens here on Flickr, and thought I'd try an aubergine "portrait" in that style, and not to forget the magnificent Giuseppe Arcimboldo when it comes to "vegetable people", of course ;). Ingredients used were: juniper berries and pins with a green head, a blue napkin with a floral pattern / white lace doily as mantle and renaissance collar; the brooch is borrowed from my mom, it belonged to my grandmother; grape on fondue fork as sceptre; the small crown (for all over scale: it's 2,2 cm / 0,86 inches high) used to be a pencil's end cap, and I'd only bought the pencil because of the crown (at the museum shop of the German Historical Museum). As light I used my DIY soft box, placed on the right, and used a piece of golden coated cardboard (from a cookie box) as a handheld reflector on the left. Processed in DXO, Viveza, Color Efex, and ON1 2020 for the textures (Raw Hide, Brocade Black, Canvas) which I've only applied to the background.

Happy Sliders Sunday, Everyone!

P.S. The image is no art forgery, I had it checked at my greengrocer's ;)

Die Gemüsekönigin

Beim Aufräumen des Dachbodens unseres alten Familienanwesens – einer Tätigkeit, der ich nur sehr ungern nachgehe, weil der Dachboden düster, staubig und voller Spinnweben (und Spinnen!) ist und ich jedes Mal, wenn die alten, ausgetretenen Dielen knarren, einen Riesenschreck bekomme, weil die Schatten dann auf einmal zum Leben zu erwachen scheinen – machte ich eine Entdeckung, die mich meine Furcht vor der Dunkelheit mit einem Schlag vergessen ließ.

In einer der finsteren Ecken entdeckte ich ein rechteckiges Etwas, umhüllt von dicken Lagen alten Stoffs, etwas, das mir nie zuvor aufgefallen war. Plötzlich erinnerte ich mich daran, dass ich meinen Großvater manchmal von einem "gemalten Schatz" sprechen gehört hatte, als ich noch klein war. Diese Information war offensichtlich nicht für meine Ohren bestimmt, denn jedes Mal, wenn mein Großvater mich beim Lauschen erwischte, verstummte er und legte den Zeigefinger auf den Mund, "Psssst!", und schüttelte den Kopf dabei. Konnte dieses rechteckige Etwas etwa besagter "gemalter Schatz" sein? Die Form zumindest stimmte. Ich beschloss, das Familiengeheimnis endlich zu lüften. Vorsichtig holte ich das große Paket aus der Ecke hervor. Mit zittrigen Händen begann ich, die vielen Knoten der dicken Schnur, die die Stoffverpackung zusammenhielt, zu lösen. An manchen Stellen war die Schnur schon so brüchig, dass sie unter meinen Fingern zerbröselte, an anderer Stelle aber war die Schnur noch so robust und die Knoten so fest gezogen, dass ich sie kaum aufbekam.

Als ich nach einer Weile endlich die dicken Stoffschichten entfernen konnte, traute ich meinen Augen kaum: Das musste es sein, das Gemälde, um das mein Großvater so ein Geheimnis gemacht hatte. Und auf einmal verstand ich auch, warum. Der Malstil und die Signatur kamen mir irgendwie noch aus dem Kunstunterricht bekannt vor und das Bild wirkte auch so farbenfroh und frisch, als sei es gerade erst gemalt worden, dennoch war es offensichtlich sehr alt – das konnte doch nur von...

Vorsichtig trug ich das Bild die enge Treppe hinunter zum Wohnzimmer und schaltete meinen Computer ein. Nach einer kurzen Recherche fand ich meine Vermutung bestätigt. "Donnerwetter!", rief ich, denn was ich da vor mir hatte, war das in der Kunstwelt schon lange unrettbar veschollen geglaubte, einzige Portrait von Aubrey Gina Melanzane I., der Königin des Solanum-Reichs, gemalt von der berühmten Listada de Gandia, der einzigen "Alten Meisterin" unter Männern, die es schon zu ihrer Zeit – einer Zeit, in der Künstlerinnen weder akzeptiert waren noch echte Anerkennung erfuhren – zu Ruhm gebracht hatte. Dieser Fund war eine Sensation. Und ich war reich :)

Na gut, ich habe hier ziemlich geflunkert, denn wie Ihr Euch denken könnt, gibt es weder ein Familienanwesen noch einen verwunschenen Dachboden. Nur den Hängeboden im Flur, auf dem sich zwar allerhand Krams befindet, bestimmt auch jede Menge Spinnweben, aber garantiert keine wertvollen Gemälde – denn das wüsste ich ;) Mein Opa hat auch nie von einem "gemalten" oder irgendeinem anderen Schatz gesprochen, wohl aber malte er gern mit Ölfarben, eine Leidenschaft (und das Talent dafür), die er an meinen Vater weitergegeben hatte. Ich habe auch immer gerne gezeichnet (zumindest bis ich meine Freude an der Fotografie wiederentdeckt hatte) – vor allem aber mag ich Aubergine :) Und als ich dieses hübsche, kleine Exemplar mit der süßen Nase letzten Samstag bei mir auf dem Wochenmarkt entdeckt hatte, wusste ich nicht nur: "Das ist meine!", sondern auch, dass ich vor der Weiterverarbeitung zu einer leckeren Speise erst einmal ein Foto von ihr machen würde.

Die Zutaten hier waren: zwei Wacholderbeeren und Stecknadeln mit grünen Köpfen, eine royalblaue Serviette mit barock-floralem Muster, eine weißes Spitzendeckchen; die Brosche habe ich mir von meiner Mutter geliehen, sie gehörte meiner Großmutter. Und zu guter Letzt die kleine Krone (als Maßstab/zum Größenvergleich: Sie ist 2,2 cm hoch), die das Endstück eines Bleistifts war, den ich nur ihretwegen mal im Museumsshop des Deutschen Historischen Museums gekauft hatte; sie stellt wohl eine Hohenzollernkrone dar, was aber nicht sein kann, wissen wir doch, dass dies die Krone derer von Solanum ist ;)

Habt eine schöne Woche, liebe Flickr-Freunde. Und: Das Bild ist echt, ich habe es bei meinem Gemüsehändler überprüfen lassen :)

I read a text recently (Paul Weinfeld, Instagram). I think it’s worth thinking about ....

It keeps me thinking... About parallels here....

Here it is:

" The more I'm exposed to conscious communities the more clear is it to me how much they replicate social dynamics from the early childhood. People are dawn to the idea that life can be a permanent playground, only to find that there are rules about who gets to play with whom., who's in the inner circle of the sandbox etc. Mainstream society isn't any different, of course, but in conscious community, there's the added danger of people confusing the work of fitting in with the work of healing. People often talk about doing inner work for example, when that they mean is cultivating an image that will allow them to entrance into an inner circle.

This is of course an exercise in re-traumatization not healing. Peter Livine defines re-traumatization as the act of putting yourself in an environment that deregulates your nervous system in the hope of discharging that uncomfortable energy only to fail once again, at doing so. This is the reason many people continue to choose toxic relationships or unsafe situations. For many of us whose earliest traumas include being bullied or socially excluded (myself included) it's especially important to be aware of bodily feeling of being unwelcome and not try to 'do the work' if what that means is trying to get others to like us.

In AH they say it simply 'Go where the warmth is' Find people, places and things that make you feel seen, welcome and worthy. If you can to do that with your social circle, you can do that with all of your experience.

You can see, for example, that you don't need to 'sit with' painful emotions (that's a terrible advice). You can put your attention instead on something that feels good. Your breath, your blessings, the ease in your body. As Ajaan Lee said, if you see a rotten floorboard walk around it, don't put your weight on it. On the same way, don't put your weight on painful thoughts and stories and don't put your weight on people who reinforce them.

If you want to be a spiritual warrior, you have to learn the first move in many martial art: the ability to retreat"

Another view of an abandoned house seen recently on our travels around Berkshire/Surrey. My contribution to Halloween. I hadn't noticed the turret on our last visit but we had more time to wander around yesterday and managed to get up to the second floor which was a tad dangerous as the floorboards were rotten.

© This photograph is copyrighted. Under no circumstances can it be reproduced, distributed, modified, copied, posted to websites or printed or published in media or other medium or used for commercial or other uses without the prior written consent and permission of the photographer

Bemerkung: Die Aufnahme entstand mit einer Nikon F2 Photomic auf Ilford HP5 Plus.

---

Note: The picture was taken with a Nikon F2 Photomic on Ilford HP5 Plus.

“Ladybird, ladybird fly away home,

Your house is on fire and your children are gone,” – traditional English nursery rhyme.

The theme for "Looking Close… on Friday" for the 29th of November is "matchsticks". At first, I was going to create a pattern on black using matchsticks to show up their red heads, but then I was suddenly struck by the old warning that "children should not play with matches" and I very quickly created this tongue in cheek tableau using pieces from my Playmobil collection. I think this is a time when we might be happy for the children to play with matches. What do you think? I hope you like my choice for this week’s theme, and that it makes you smile.

Two of the wonderful things that attract people, young and old alike, to Playmobil are their vibrant colours and the array of different items that are produced.

Playmobil is a line of toys produced by the Brandstätter Group, headquartered in Zirndorf, Germany. Production began in 1974. Playmobil began to be sold worldwide in 1975, and by 2009, approximately 2.2 billion Playmobil figures had been sold. The signature Playmobil toy is a 7.5 cm tall human figure with a particular smiling face. A wide range of accessories, buildings and vehicles, as well as many sorts of animals, are also part of the Playmobil line. Playmobil toys are produced in themed series of sets as well as individual special figures and playsets. New products and product lines developed by a 50-strong development team are introduced frequently, and older sets are discontinued. Promotional and one-off products are sometimes produced in very limited quantities. These practices have helped give rise to a sizeable community of collectors.

Cast Iron Bed leaning against wall

14/365: I bought the bias binding in a lovely little vintage craft shop in Melbourne, so it brings back wonderful memories. I've been wanting to use my bonsai scissors that I bought around Christmas time so put a few other bits on my suitcase to try to get my pic reasonably early in the day. It's another dull day here so there wasn't much chance of getting anything outside.

tonight's prose…

Photo taken at the beautiful, Susurrous - Blue Water Cove.

♪ vibe ♪

following my own path.

conjuring nirvana.

learning to sit with uncertainty.

living in questions, rather than answers.

choosing survival over healing.

embracing impermanence.

training the dragon in my heart.

reflecting on the mind - so excitable,

so uncertain, so difficult to control.

walking in trauma… the journey of my lifetime.

exploring this nondualistic universe.

surrounded by mystery.

inhale love… exhale doubt.

❣️ 💙 📷 🐄 🐾 🐎 💋

🌼 ❄️ 🎼 ✍️ 💕️ ✨

a soldier of peace

in the army of love.

Pose- {Caress} Saddled Rest

Taken @ Walsh County

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Campton/80/159/23

www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_E3YirOWMs

Lyrics:

Hold me but I don't recommend that you adore me

If you do, don't say I didn't warn you

Trust me, I know how to start a fire from a flame

Oh, I always

Leave before the curtain hits the floorboard

When I hear you talking like you know me

You don't know me, you don't know me

Wish that I could not go crazy

Wish that I could make you hate me

Maybe I should change my name and run

So I don't have to hold on

Maybe you and I would make it

It ain't the kind of risk I'm taking

Maybe I should change my name and run, run, run

So I don't have to hold on

Hold on, hold on

I'm only human and I get a little lonely

But I don't wanna hit you while I'm falling

While I'm falling, while I'm falling

Wish that I could not go crazy

Wish that I could make you hate me

Maybe I should change my name and run

So I don't have to hold on

Maybe you and I would make it

It ain't the kind of risk I'm taking

Maybe I should change my name and run, run, run

So I don't have to hold on

Hold on, hold on

Wish that I could not go crazy

I wish that I could make you hate me

Maybe I should change my name and run

So I don't have to hold on

Maybe you and I would make it

It ain't the kind of risk I'm taking

Maybe I should change my name and run, run, run

So I don't have to hold on

Hold on, hold on

Looks like the tenants may be a bit wishful as the linoleum is a bit past its prime.

North Pier, Blackpool

Featuring ~

Out Now At Velvet Boheme

Sass (Rustic Ember Mirror)

Sass (Rustic Ember Feathers)

Sass (Rustic Ember Beads & Lace)

Finca Bohemian Trunk Dining Set

{anc} Paper Flower

DaD "Whimsical Bamboo Pumpkin 03"

Other Credits ~

dust bunny . rock wall panels . whitewash

dust bunny . wisteria bar cart . white

Apple Fall Harvest Pumpkin - Fairytale, White

Apple Fall Harvest Pumpkin - Buttercup Stacked

Apple Fall Euphorbia Cactus

(luc) Ficus Potted Tree V1

(luc) Ficus Potted Tree V2

floorplan. diamond frame / thriving

Pitaya - Bohemian Desert - Coffee table light

Pitaya - Bohemian Desert - Rug light

FINCA - Mimbre hanging lamp

Elm. Thistle Cottage Interior Kit//Floorboards

HISA - Flora wildflower grass - Mixed Greens

HPMD* Sweet Garden Grass08

Heart - Wild Flowers - Quenn Ann's Lace - P2

Titans - The Timeworn Tree - 1

I do a minimal amount of work in this garden because it is tucked away out of sight. I do like to have a wander around when the colours are good or the azaleas are flowering.

I came along one day a couple of years ago with my camera. A public footpath runs alongside the garden and there was a family having a picnic sat on the edge of the Summer house. I was getting the feeling that they thought I was invading their space, which was a bit rich considering they were trespassing. I politely asked them not to go into the Summer house because of the dangerous rotting floorboards and roof. They got the message and left.

Later they called on my Dad asking if they could buy the old oak Summer house door. They offered £100 (a cheap new door + hinges etc would cost almost as much)

I got my brother to take the door off, so it is now stored somewhere dry. He also blocked access to the building for fear of someone going in there, having an accident and suing us.

It is a privilege to live on a beautiful estate, but it's not easy to get income to cover maintenance costs.

My family moved here in 1960 for the poultry farming opportunities.

The photo in the first comment box will have been taken in the mid 1960's. Plus a pic of that door

Ezekiel Congregational Methodist was built in 1899 and at one point had a one room schoolhouse beside it. There is a "sister church" located a few miles away that is still cared for and still holds services to this day. That church is old Ruskin Church.

A quick story about this one: while I was exploring the inside I fell through the rotten floor and my hand landed directly on a rusted nail while one of the floorboards flew up and hit me in the face....talk about adding adding insult to injury :)

Historic Rural Churches of Georgia Project

Taken with my OM-D E-M10 and processed with Luminar.

DAISY-MAUD: “Where are you little ones? You are very, very good at hiding Scout, Rosie and Peter!”

PETER: *Giggles.*

ROSIE: *Puts paw to mouth.*

SCOUT: “Shhh!”

PETER, ROSIE and SCOUT: *All giggle.*

DAISY-MAUD: “Are you hiding underneath the table?” *Looks under the table.* “No.”

PETER, ROSIE and SCOUT: *All giggle.*

DAISY-MAUD: “Aha! I can hear you!” *Puts paw to mouth and scans the room.* “I bet you are hiding behind the sofa!” *Looks behind the sofa.* “No?”

PETER, ROSIE and SCOUT: *All giggle.*

DAISY-MAUD: “I can still hear you little ones, so you can’t be far!” *Ponders.* “Are you behind the curtains?” *Looks behind curtains.* “No? Hhhmmm.”

DADDY: “Hullo Daisy-Maud!”

DAISY-MAUD: “Oh hullo Daddy!”

DADDY: “What are you doing Daisy-Maud?”

DAISY-MAUD: “Well, I am playing hide-and-seek with Scout, Rosie and Peter. You know how good they are at hiding!” *Winks at Daddy.* “I can hear them giggling, but I just can’t seem to find them, no matter where I look.* “Winks knowingly at Daddy again.*

DADDY: *Spies Scout, Rosie and Peter hiding behind a corner and smiles.*

PETER, ROSIE and SCOUT: *All shake their heads at Daddy and put paws to mouths.*

DADDY: “Oh yes! I know Daisy-Maud.” *Winks knowingly back at Daisy-Maud.* “They are such clever hiders! Maybe if you keep looking for a little bit longer.”

PETER, ROSIE and SCOUT: *All giggle again.*

DAISY-MAUD: “I will Daddy!” *Smiles cheekily.*

PETER, ROSIE and SCOUT: *All giggle again.*

DADDY: “Well there is no rush to find them, as long as you are all having fun.”

DAISY-MAUD: “Oh we are Daddy!”

DADDY: “And when you do find them, please tell them that it is afternoon tea time. I have some delicious home made biscuits fresh out of the oven for everybear.”

PETER, ROSIE and SCOUT: *All gasp.*

DAISY-MAUD: “But won’t the tea go cold and the biscuits get gobbled up by everybear if I don’t find their hiding place, Daddy?” *Winks at Daddy and smiles again.*

PETER, ROSIE and SCOUT: *All look anxiously at one another as they rub their grumbly tummies silently.*

DADDY: “Oh don’t worry, Daisy-Maud, I won’t serve afternoon tea until you find them!”

PETER, ROSIE and SCOUT: *All sigh quietly with relief.*

DAISY-MAUD: “Oh thank you Daddy!”

DADDY: “My pleasure, Daisy-Maud. I wouldn’t want ay bear to miss out on filling their grumbly tummies!” *Walks away smiling.*

DAISY-MAUD: “Where are you little ones? I am going to find you!”

PETER, ROSIE and SCOUT: *All giggle again.*

My bears Paddy and Scout have made very good friends with two bears in Holland called Peter and Oleg www.flickr.com/photos/40262251@N03/galleries/721577154558... and www.flickr.com/photos/40262251@N03/galleries/721577233464... and their Mummy Marian Kloon (on and off) . Peter and Scout are very similar and have become best friends. Peter loves Rosie and Rosie loves Peter, so they have become prince and princess to one another. Oleg and Paddy are very similar and have become best friends too. Peter has come to stay at our house, whilst Paddy stays at Mummy Marian’s and visit’s Oleg.

Scout was a gift to Paddy from my friend. He is a Fair Trade Bear hand knitted in Africa. His name comes from the shop my friend found him in: Scout House. He tells me that life was very different where he came from, and Paddy is helping introduce him to many new experiences. Scout catches on quickly, and has proven to be a cheeky, but very lovable member of our closely knit family.

Rosie is Scout's cousin, because like Scout, she is a free trade knitted bear from Africa. She was made in Kenya by one of the Kenana Knitters, Martha Wanjira. She is made from home spun and dyed wool. She was a gift to me from two very dear friends, including the one who gave Scout to Paddy.

Daisy Maud is Jago's little sister and was made by the same friend in England who made him. She is made of German mohair with floral fabric cotton paw pads that match her pretty sunhat, and glass eyes. A sweet and loving little girl bear, she is happy to be reunited with her big brother, Jago, and enjoys being spoiled by her Daddy.

Thank you to Marian Kloon (on and off) for the use of her photo of Peter in my photo montage.

It was a sunny 10C December day and everyone seemed to be heading to Porteau Cove.

Roadmaster (2015– )

The Indian Roadmaster was introduced at the 2014 Sturgis Motorcycle Rally shortly before the Scout. The Roadmaster is a Chieftain with an added trunk, front fairing lowers, heated seats, heated grips, LED headlights, passenger floorboards, and a rear crash bar.

Cornelia is ready to dance. She has dressed in her very best tutu, tied a ribbon through her plush, and brushed her fine pink mohair to a soft sheen. Now all she needs is the music. Being a sensitive little girl, she only wants the music to be played softly.

The theme for "Looking Close on Friday" for the 5th of May is "soft texture;. As soon as I read the theme, I knew what I wanted to photograph: the newest member of my bear family: Cornelia. Cornelia is made of beautiful soft mohair in mottled shades of pink on purpose to give her a vintage look. She is wearing a tutu made of strips of soft organza netting that was a gift to my bear family from a dear Flickr friend, and I think it suits Cornelia very well. I hope that you like my choice for this week’s theme, and that it makes you smile!

Cornelia, I found in an antique and vintage market quite recently. She is a vintage edition Russ Bear from their Mohair Collection. She is made of deliberately mottled mohair to give her that vintage look. One of a limited edition of 10,000, she was designed by artist Carol Hosfstad and is completely handmade.

Dom and I had brought up the idea of a trip to Norway almost a year ago, with the planning stepping up a gear around Christmas time in 2024. Dom would drop pins on google maps of places that would be great to visit in Norway, and I contributed here and there. We soon realised that we would need a couple of months just to do the southern half of my neighbouring country to the west! As such, we zeroed in on a smaller area - Rondane national park with more and more pins dropped inside the park boundaries of our shared map. During the coming months we would trawl the internet for images, blogs and YouTube videos about Rondane and then share them with each other over WhatsApp. This soon started to happen so often that my wife would get worried and ask if I had heard from Dom that day, thinking that we might have fallen out if my phone wasn’t plinging enough :D

I should say here that we found a great Norwegian photographer on YouTube by the name of Stig. He has a small channel that is starting to grow but honestly he deserves so much credit and praise from us as he was so helpful. We’d lap up all his videos, especially the ones where he was in Rondane, but also enjoy his videos from other locations just as much. This usually involved a long hike up a mountain to a jaw-dropping view over a fjord. Though how anyone can stand that close to an edge with a drop of hundreds of meter and talk naturally to camera is beyond me. My knees turn to jelly just watching him. We would fire questions to him via YouTube and his website over the months leading up to our trip and Stig would always answer back providing great insight and tips for us. Seriously we couldn’t have done half of what we did without his help. I’ll provide a link to his website here…

www.stigfloberghagen.com/

…. And to one of his videos that shows off Rondane through the seasons here. Seriously, it needs to be watched and enjoyed for the photos he takes.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=BwR3Rwc5IKs

It was time to head off to Norway, after months of planning and what felt like years of waiting. But which way should we go??? I decided that instead of driving via Oslo (more road tolls) we would drive a few hours in Sweden before taking a left turn into Norway. We crossed the border without any fuss and after a while we headed in a more northerly direction. Hamar, then Lillehammer (of the winter olympics fame - they were still milking that for all its worth 31 years later) passed us by. Once we had driven through Lillehammer we noticed the scenery started to change. The mountains were becoming more vertical, taller and more impressive. It was also worryingly very green here, with no sign of autumn colours. We commented on this but by the time we got to the small hamlet of Mysusæter where we were staying we didn’t need to be concerned.

So we had arrived at our cabin. Over nine hours of travel. What a wonderful, quirky cabin it was - perfect as a base for us to venture into Rondane. After settling in for the night I woke up early the next morning to be greeted by a cloud inversion in the valley where we had started our ascent to Mysusæter, which is over 1100 meters above sea level. Should I wake Dom up? I recalled he might have said that even if the cabin was on fire he didn’t want to be disturbed so I let him sleep. I tried to get dressed as quietly as possible but all the floorboards creaked and groaned when you put pressure on them. Still he slept. Sadly by the time I headed out to photograph the cloud inversion, rain clouds and fog had swept in “spoiling” the view. This was really the only time it rained on one of us during our time here. We saw plenty of rain but never did we really get wet like I did on the first morning. Still it did provide me with this atmospheric opportunity to shoot a few cabins in Mysusæter. It would have been rude not to. The fog stayed around to provide some amazing conditions at our first photography location, Ulafossen, later on that morning. But that’s for another story….

Ana tossed her belongings hastily into her hat box and suitcase, shoving clothes and trinkets into place without much care. The morning rush left her little time for neatness. Her music blared from the record player, the beat sharp and loud, a deliberate wall of sound to keep Maddy from barging in with questions or complaints. The grey phantom toad, her peculiar companion, sat balanced on the spinning vinyl itself, blinking slowly as it turned with the record, watching her frenzy with eerie calm.

She huffed as she knelt to close her suitcase, bouncing on top of it until the latch finally snapped shut. The hat box wobbled in her hand, threatening to spill open with the last-minute things she had thrown inside—scarves, quills, even a half-finished sketch rolled haphazardly. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth it down, though the effort was mostly wasted.

“Right, that’s it,” she muttered to herself, voice half drowned by the music.

Snatching her suitcase handle, she cut the record short with a sharp flick, sending the phantom toad leaping off the vinyl with a disgruntled croak. It clung stubbornly to the edge of her hat box as if it refused to be left behind. Ana rolled her eyes but allowed it, too pressed for time to argue with the creature.

The clock on the wall reminded her how little time she had left. Her heart gave a nervous leap. Gathering everything, she dashed out the door, the echo of her shoes on the floorboards matching the quick rhythm of her pulse.

The morning air hit her like a rush of cold water as she stepped outside, weaving through the busy street with her luggage bumping along behind her. Each step brought her closer to King’s Cross Station, closer to the hidden barrier between platforms nine and ten. She could already imagine the scarlet steam engine waiting beyond, the crowd of witches and wizards bustling, owls hooting in their cages, the mingled smell of smoke and sweets in the air.

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters awaited, and Ana was determined not to miss it.

_______

Taken for Mischief Managed Roleplay. Mischief Managed is a Harry Potter Roleplay sim that invites students from ages 11 - 18 and adults of all ages to join and experience the Magic of the Wizarding World. For more information check out www.mischiefmanagedsl.net

A quaint little cottage with lovely features. A broken beam and rotten floorboards, though, rendered our look upstairs virtually impossible bar a peek from the top of the stairs. x :)

Would you dare to walk this lane,

Where shadows crawl and souls remain?

Could you pass the crypts at night,

With no more glow than ghostly light?

Would you, could you feel the chill,

Of voices hushed and time grown still?

Would you hear the silence speak,

From hollow walls and floorboards weak?

Would you wander, heart in throat,

Past names that time no longer wrote?

Would you, could you touch the stone,

And find you're not quite so alone?

Would you breathe the heavy air,

And sense that something still is there?

I would not dare, I must confess,

But you might try… in moonlight’s dress.

And he who stands behind the lens,

Sees what lies beyond the end.

Not just a photo, dark and deep,

He wakes the ones the rest let sleep.

----------------------

Cementerio Católico - Black and White Photo - Topaz Studio 2 - BW - LR_upscayl_2x_realesrgan-x4plus

The theme for “Smile on Saturday” for the 9th of July is “from the ground” (and look straight ahead). The thought that struck me for the theme was to have a toy left on the floor, forgotten and neglected, but being the old softie that I am, the idea of a neglected toy was too much for my kind heart. So I decided that rather than neglected, my toy should be waiting… patiently… as all good toys do, for when you need them for unconditional love, a cuddle, or to forget the worries and woes of the world, embrace your inner child and just play with them.

For anyone who follows my photostream, you will know that I have a teddy bear family who spend a great deal of time having adventures. There is however another member of my plush family whom I love dearly who comes out on special occasions. If you haven’t met him previously, please allow me to proudly introduce Chippy the monkey whom I have had since I was four years old (that’s a long, long time ago). The morning I photographed him, I knew the dappled sunlight from my garden would stretch into my office for a short while, so I waited until the time was right, just as Chippy waits for me to come and give him a cuddle or tell him a secret. Although Chippy is brown, I added a subtle sepia tone to give my shot more of a reminiscent feel. I hope you like my choice for the theme and that it makes you smile.

Chippy the monkey came to live with me when I was four. His name is derived from his innards, which are broken chips of hazelnut shells. He was made in America some time in the mid Twentieth Century. He features beautiful brown glass eyes, a felt face, hands and feet. He was given to me by one of my Grandfather's friends who worked in a small high street toy shop which sold a mixture of new, vintage and antique toys. Chippy was vintage at the time, and had been well loved prior, so with a few holes, some worn plush and patches, he was too worn to be sold, but my family friend knew that my gentle nature and respect for my toys meant he could find a new home with me for a long time. All these decades later, she was proven right, for he still lives with me; a bit more loved, a bit more worn and with a few more patches. He also has some red chalk marks on his right hand which I remember putting on him by accident when I was six! He wanted to draw a rose on my chalkboard and I helped him do it!

Hyde Park Barracks Museum, Sydney. A clever way to show what was found under the floorboards at what was "originally built to house 600 male convicts. The Barracks also served as a women’s immigration depot and asylum ..."

for Smile on Saturday: Wearing Shoes

It was table-top photography night tonight at camera club and a few members had brought in some objects, flowers and food for everyone to set up their own still-life scenes.

I had a play with some dahlia and some squashes and experimented with low key photography which is something I like to look at but never managed to get right.

At home I have brightened some areas and darkened some shadows, added a texture and some floorboards to give them a base and adjusted the colours to make them seem warmer.

I'm quite happy with them (though I'll probably look at them again in a year or two and change them!)

"There's A Ghost"

There's a ghost, she's wearin' my face

At parties being introduced with my name

Just a skeleton of bones, wearing nothing but clothes

And she is paralyzing

The human soul is a treacherous place

Beneath the mask we wear a dark and twisted labyrinth laid

Secrets locked and closets closed never surface

While we keep composed come out of hiding

There's a sound, it's haunting my dreams

Like children laughing in the distance and I don't know what it means

Am I afraid to be alone, that nobody will ever know

This death I'm dying?

There's a heartbeat under my floorboards

Charging me guilty and I don't know what for

There's a black bird over my door singing nevermore

Nevermore, nevermore, nevermore

***

Music by Fleurie - There's a Ghost

youtu.be/5Iqrrm_daS8

Many people have a small amount of money put aside as a nest egg in case one runs short. Something that can be taken a bit to excess when stored under floorboards as represented in film! For the Snap Happy theme of Eggs proposed by Lisa- Red Stilletto. Happy Snap Happy Monday.

FFF+ Snap Happy is a group Lisa (our wonderful FFF+ leader) created for the FFF+ for images that reflect positivity, happiness, joy and beauty only. This must also be reflected in any titles, captions and comments.

- No mention of Coronavirus and no references to it either

- No negativity

- No references to the plight of the world or the situation we all find ourselves currently in.

Re-working some very old guitar image variations that I did in Photoshop way back in 2000. I've been wanting to do something with these for a long time. The original image comes from a guitar magazine ad for a guitar / Midi attachment. The device uses the signals from the instrument and sends them through a synthesizer to tremendous effect.

In my teens, 20's and 30's I was a rabid guitar player and synth user. At one time I had 4 guitars, 1 bass and 2 synthesizers.

There are a LOT of these in the can, so I'll be doing a few of these variations on variations.

Entered into the "Award Tree" Group's new challenge "Music Works".

www.flickr.com/groups/awardtree/discuss/72157707063052805/

____________________________________________________

Music Links:

1.) "K-Scope" - Phil Manzanera, from his album "K-Scope" ( 1978 ). Phil Manzanera came to fame as the guitar player for Roxy Music. It was he who brought Brian Eno with him into the band. In recent years he helped David Gilmour with a number of Pink Floyd and David Gilmour solo projects, accompanying Gilmour on his famous 2006 tour as second guitarist.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=dDkbQEqaMGs

2.) "One of These Days" ( Live ) - David Gilmour ( guitarist, lead vocalist for Pink Floyd ), from "David Gilmour, Live at Pompeii" ( 2016 ). An extraordinary contemporary performance of the 1971 classic from Pink Floyd's "Meddle" album. Here Gilmour pushes it right to the floorboards with his outstanding pedal steel guitar work. The song never sounded better.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXaXKfyI7tQ

____________________________________________________

© Richard S Warner ( Visionheart ) - 2000, 2019. All Rights Reserved. This image is not for use in any form without explicit, express, written permission.

____________________________________________________

well, i would like to find the answers i was always rudely denied... series

____________

You buried me

Right where I belonged

You buried me

Right where I belonged

And still, I'm waiting there

I'm waiting there

I'm waiting there

On Division St.

I would like to find the answers

I was always rudely denied

I would like to find the answers

I was always rudely denied

A song so sweet

From back when I was born

The loving creak

Of floorboards by the door

Hopeful I waited, hopeful I called

But no one would answer at all

On Division St.

Well, I would like to find the answers

I was always rudely denied

I would like to find the answers

I was always rudely denied

On Division St.

On Division St.

Well, I would like to find the answers

I was always rudely denied

I would like to find the answers

I was always rudely denied

(On Division St, Nation of Language, 2020)

"Richard waits.

In the hush of the basement, where the air tastes of dust and forgotten prayers, he stands — mask gleaming like a secret, wings unfolding in silent rebellion.

A single light flickers overhead, throwing his shadow across the walls like some fallen saint of a forgotten gospel. The inverted cross in his hand is neither threat nor promise, but something far more dangerous: an invitation.

The floorboards sigh. The door at the top of the stairs creaks. And Richard… Richard simply smiles behind the mask.

Some doors are closed for a reason.

And some souls only learn that too late."

The style card and credits here

In collaboration with:

BIRTH / -Birth- 'Wildmantle Masks' - Ironwood @ TMD new release

MAZZARO / [Mazzaro] ELENO Set @ New item in Equal10

VILE / [Vile] Satans Coming Cross Box @ NEW RELEASE

KOKOS-RINGS - GARVIN(LEGACY) @marketplace or main store

[Grazed] Fract Wings {SINGLES}@Manhood 1st Anni 2025

FaeTal Unpacker - Ear 04 - XL Male @Manhood 1st Anni 2025

Synnergy.Tavis//Old Basement {360} Backdrop @ group gift

{EP} Creeping Seamonster Undead Companion Gift @ Shop & Hop - Halloween 2022

🌸 S P O N S O R S 🌸

OMY

✔️Pose: [Omy] Kennedy Bento Animated & Breathing

Omy Mainstore

She stood there, on that old porch overrun by nature, a place heavy with memories. Arms crossed, as if shielding herself from the wind or the thoughts swirling in her mind, she let her eyes drift toward the horizon. Every creak of the wooden floorboards beneath her feet echoed moments from the past, promises made under this very roof. And yet, beyond the melancholy, she felt a strength rising within her, as if the soft light filtering through the trees whispered that every ending carries the seed of a new beginning…

The interiors of Japanese-style rooms follow fairly fixed patterns; the ceiling will be of wooden boards, the walls of plaster, and the floor of tatami laid on wooden floorboards.

Quick getaway

(Bemerkung: Die meisten der kleinen Geschichten des Sekretärs sind in sich abgeschlossen. Diese ist eine Ausnahme und bezieht sich auf flic.kr/p/2qM2fY6.)

Zum Schluss hat es also auch noch mein Haus erwischt – wenigstens ein bisschen. Mein schönes Haus, in dem ich so gerne alt geworden wäre. Wer immer in sogenannten bürgerlichen Verhältnissen gelebt hat, kann gar nicht ermessen, was es für mich bedeutete. Eigentlich kann es mir nun ja völlig schnuppe sein, aber schade ist es doch irgendwie. Immerhin: Der Geldschrank, mein mit Abstand wichtigstes Möbelstück, hat überlebt und altert ungestört vor sich hin.

Wie die Muschel eine wertvolle Perle umschloss er einst meinen wertvollsten Besitz, die Grundlage meines Erfolgs. Wissen, festgehalten in einer über die Zeit stetig gewachsenen Sammlung von Kladden, in meiner krakeligen und orthographisch durchaus mängelbehafteten Handschrift. Wissen darum, wer wen kennt, wer bei wem noch einen Gefallen gut und wer mit wem noch eine Rechnung offen hat – sei es im wörtlichen oder übertragenen Sinne. Das Wissen um ein paar kleine schmutzige Geheimnisse natürlich auch; für den Fall, dass es einmal nicht anders ginge – doch es ging immer anders und letztlich zum Vorteil aller. Schliesslich – gewissermassen als Allerheiligstes – das Wissen darum, wer was braucht oder liefern kann und zu welchen Bedingungen, was gerade händeringend gesucht oder angeboten wird und von wem – sei es ein edler Cognac oder Geschmeide, um die Lieblingsgespielin bei Laune zu halten; Zertifikate und Urkunden, an deren unbedingter Echtheit keine Amtsperson auch nur zu zweifeln wagen würde; ein dringend benötigtes Spezialmessgerät; Medikamente; industrielle Rohstoffe der raren Art: Ich trieb es auf und lieferte – gegen eine angemessene Aufwandsentschädigung, versteht sich. Für jemanden, der als kleiner Schieber in dunklen Hinterhöfen am alleruntersten Ende der Hackordnung begonnen hatte, eigentlich keine schlechte Karriere.

Als mein Bruder gänzlich ungeplant mein Leben und damit auch mein Haus übernehmen musste, war es der Inhalt des Geldschrankes gewesen, der es ihm nach kurzem, aber intensivem Studium ermöglicht hatte, meine Geschäfte praktisch nahtlos weiterzuführen. Mein eineiiger Zwillingsbruder, mit dem ich als einzigem Menschen der Welt jemals das Wissen um den Geldschrank und den Zugang zu seinem Inhalt geteilt habe.

Gar nicht so viel später hatte er dann das objektiv wohl Unvermeidliche getan: Den Geldschrank leeren und mit seinem Inhalt eine spontane Reise Richtung Westen antreten. Gerade noch rechtzeitig, bevor das Haus einer Einheit der Roten Armee im Wege gestanden und zumindest teilweise in eine Ruine verwandelt worden war. Danach diente es und dient bis heute nur verschiedenstem Getier als Behausung – und gelegentlich für einige Nächte einem Menschen, der keine andere hat. Die Tür zu meinem Arbeitszimmer im Obergeschoss wurde von meinem etwas pedantischen Bruder bei seiner Abreise abgeschlossen und erstaunlicherweise seitdem von keinem Menschen mehr geöffnet. Und so steht auch der Geldschrank unbehelligt an seinem Platz auf den Dielen und fest verankert an der Wand mit der vor sich hin gilbenden Tapete. Eigentlich in ganz gutem Zustand, auch wenn wegen eines eingeschlagenen Fensters Wind und Wetter ihre Spuren hinterlassen.

Spätestens beim Ausräumen wird mein Bruder neben den Kladden und einem doch recht ansehnlichen Bestand an Bargeld, Schmuck und goldenen Uhren auch auf das Bild gestossen sein, von dem ich ihm erzählt, aber das ihm zu zeigen ich keine Gelegenheit mehr gehabt hatte. Die Photographie, die mir unerwartet in die Hände gefallen war, als ich – einzig bekannter Anverwandter – nach ihrem Tod die wenigen Habseligkeiten meiner Mutter zusammenzuräumen hatte. Die Photographie einer recht hübschen jungen Frau, in der ich unzweifelhaft meine Mutter erkannte hatte. Mit zwei Säuglingen links und rechts im Arm hatte sie mich erschöpft, aber glücklich angelächelt. Auf der Rückseite mit Bleistift notiert ein Datum wenige Tage nach meinem Geburtstag. Kurz darauf war mein Vater, ein strebsamer und fleissige Maschinenschlosser, bei einem Arbeitsunfall zum Invaliden geworden und sich daraufhin in bemerkenswert kurzer Zeit zu Tode gesoffen.

Meine letzte Nacht auf Erden habe in im Hotel recht schlecht geschlafen. Ich war aufgestanden und angezogen, lange bevor ich mich wie verabredet zum morgendlichen Spaziergang durch das verschlafene Städtchen aufgemacht hätte. Das letzte, wovon ich weiss, ist der charakteristische Klang schwerer Motoren in der Luft, wahrlich kein seltener Klang in dieser Zeit. Dann das Krachen, die Flammen der Explosion und die Druckwelle der detonierenden Fliegerbombe. Und dann war alles dunkel geworden.

(Teil der Serie: "Ein Bild und eine Geschite". Copyright Der Sekretär. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.)

---

(Note: Most of Secretary‘s little stories are self-contained. This one, however, is an exception and refers to flic.kr/p/2qM2fY6.)

So in the end, my house got hit too – at least a little. My beautiful house, which I would have loved to grow old in. Anyone who has always lived in so-called privileged circumstances can't imagine what it meant to me. I couldn't really care less now, but somehow it's a shame nevertheless. At least the money cabinet, by far my most important piece of furniture, has survived and continues to age in peace.

Like a sea shell does with precious pearl, it once encased my most valuable possession, the foundation of my success. Knowledge, written in an ever-growing collection of notebooks in my scribbly and orthographically flawed handwriting. Knowledge of who knows whom, who is still good for a favor and who still has a score to settle with whom – be it literally or figuratively. The knowledge about a few dirty, little secrets too, of course, just in case there was no other way, but it always worked out differently and ultimately to everyone's advantage. Finally – as the inner sanctum, so to speak – the knowledge of who needs or can supply what and on what terms, what is being desperately sought after or offered and by whom – be it a fine cognac or jewelry to keep a favorite playmate happy; certificates and documents the absolute authenticity of which no official would even dare to doubt; an urgently needed special measuring device; medicines; industrial raw materials of the rarest kind: I tracked it down and delivered – for a reasonable recompence, of course. Not a bad career for someone who had started out as a small-time pusher in dark back alleys at the very bottom of the pecking order.

When my brother had to take over my life and my house entirely unplanned, it had been the contents of the money cabinet that had made it possible for him to virtually seamlessly continue my business after a brief but intensive study. My identical twin brother, wo was the only person in the world with whom I have ever shared the knowledge of the safe and access to its content.

Not much later, he had done the objectively unavoidable: emptied the money cabinet and embarked with its contents on a spontaneous westwards journey. Just in time before the house stood in the way of a Red Army unit and was at least partially turned into a ruin. After that, it served and still serves as a dwelling for various animals – and every now and then houses for a few nights a person who has no other place to stay. The door to my study on the upper floor was locked by my somewhat pedantic brother when he left and, surprisingly, no one has opened it since. And so the money cabinet stands undisturbed in its place on the floorboards, firmly anchored to the wall with the yellowing wallpaper. It is actually in a quite good condition, even if wind and weather have left their mark due to a smashed window.

During the clear-out at the latest, in addition to the notebooks and a considerable amount of cash, jewelry and gold watches, my brother will have come across the picture that I had told him about, but which I hadn't had the chance to show him. The photograph that had unexpectedly fallen into my hands when I – the only known relative – had to gather up my mother's few belongings after her death. The photograph of a quite pretty young woman in whom I undoubtedly recognized my mother. With two babies on her left and right, she had smiled at me, exhausted but happy. On the back, written in pencil, was a date a few days after my birthday. A little later, my father, a hard-working and diligent machinist, had become an invalid due to an accident at work and had drunk himself to death in a remarkably short time.

In my last night on earth, I slept quite badly at the hotel. I was up and dressed long before I would have set off for my pre-arranged morning stroll through the sleepy little town. The last thing I remember is the characteristic sound of heavy engines in the air, not an uncommon sound at these times. Then the crash, the flames of the explosion and the pressure wave of the detonating aerial bomb. And then everything had gone dark.

(Part of the series: "A picture and a Story". Copyright by Secretary. All rights reserved).

The only natural light in one of the cells in Cardiff Castle, where prisoners were kept.