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Just for you Alpha I go out in this 5F weather with the 10iv. Hope this makes you happy--me with frozen fingers!
Rain for us this weekend but may we all enjoy our first August weekend! All the best my friends! ~Sam
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMnjF1O4eH0 Just a nice weekend rockin tune ~
The White Canvas Gallery presents an open challenge to enable you to stand united for peace. Lets disown the mindless violence around us and lets DO something about it as artists. Rules of this challenge are pretty simple.
RULES
1. Post one pic on your flickr stream with this theme in mind. All creative decisions are yours. You can post more if you like, no ones gonna shoot you *grins*.
2. Nominate at least 3 other of your friends to post a pic with this theme. Tag them on the pic if you like.
3. All pics done for this challenge can be posted to this group.
www.flickr.com/groups/istandforpeace
4. Please add the text between the lines in your description of your picture so that anyone who wants to join the challenge knows how to.
5. If anyone not tagged here wants to do this challenge, tag yourself here and do it :).
I nominate anyone who have the heart on the right place
Tourbière de Lispach, Vosges, France.
Thanks for your comments!
My 500 px : 500px.com/pierrenivoliers
To see all my gallery in one click : portfotolio.net/pierrenivoliers
I found this lovely small staircase going up into someone's garden. I hadn't really noticed it before, but it's lovely.
Better viewed large and thank you for your favourites. :O)
Joe Public gets very basic stone steps down to the beach.
However if you happen to be the owner of a seafront house you get the stairs to the beach that you like best!
Thank you for your favourites. :O)
People watching and I found some steps at the same time!
Better viewed large and thank you for your favourites.
This morning she found her way to leave life.
It was my mom who asked me once why I did not share my pictures with others. She was a fan of mine, though she found my beginnings so terrible.
She had an eye for the beautiful moments and that's how she lived her life. I see you in my dreams, Mom ;-))
Day 170 of the 365 days of photography project.
The bird bath and orange poppies in our side garden
Discovered in Stacksteads, Lancashire
Panasonic FZ82
Thanks for all your visits, faves, and comments. Much appreciated.
Nobody's perfect.
But have you noticed some people are so obsessed they look for perfection in everything? Maybe we all have a lil' bit of crazy that craves the immaculate. I, myself, have had a nervous fit over odd numbers, things in the wrong position, situations that don't fit in perfect timing, and even broken families used to bug me (though I grew up in one). But one thing I learned early in life is... you can't expect people to be perfect. People will always hurt and disappoint you. It's up to you to figure out what's worth putting up with. I've wasted a lot of time thinking I could be a perfect person for those willing to love me. But perfection doesn't exist. There's always something in me that's going to upset someone, or make people yell at me.
This realization sank in hard, and made me retreat from everything. I needed a break from sl, flickr and all social networking. But I'm back! \o/ Can I promise I'll be around as often as I can? Yeah! :D
However... RL has been demanding my attention more than usual. I took this break as an opportunity to visit the doctor's, have myself tested and checked out. Turns out things aren't as good as I thought. I need to go through a biopsy. *shrugs* Who knows what's coming from those results? So.. let's make the most of our time together, shall we?
Listening to: youtu.be/NID-2orTN8U
If I wait for him next to the window, will he see me earlier?
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Para el grupo 52 anónimos: Reto "Navidad modo ON".
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Sony A7 + Helios 58mm f2.
Mt. Pisgah Cemetery, Cripple Creek, CO.
www.visitcripplecreek.com/events/mt-pisgah-speaks-cemeter...
Note: This is actually the back of the grave marker. The headstone and front of the cross reads "Teresa Ann Kehr 8.1.1957 - 9.5.2000"
My first Star Wars build, created for a contest on Lego Ideas...which was just an excuse I came up with to procrastinate on my other builds and fulfill my dream of building something with Mimban Stormtroopers! They're so cool!
Head on over to Eurobricks for more in depth images.
This build will be on public display at Brickworld Chicago 2019
Sorry for the out of focus contribution this week. My camera started having issues and this is the best we could get whilst trying to figure that out.
I have big plans for the coming week's photo though! Hope I can pull it off!
Hope everyone had a wonderful Turkey Day with family and friends.
For my video; youtu.be/_J7r12W3H70?si=TvqxneN9o6sdH4kI,
Burnaby highrises,
Coast Mountains,
North arm of the Fraser River.
River Road, Lulu Island, Richmond, British Columbia, Canada
For my friend NatuurfotoRien/Rien in Holland, who loves corvids.
I had this odd notion that when I retire I would carve a totem pole, and so over the years, I learned more and more about northwest coast art, culture, and carving. One of the pieces I studied was this - a huge cedar sculpture carved by the great sculptor, Bill Reid, to whom the telling of this ancient story is credited.
Bill Reid was a Haida indian (Haida is their word for “human”). The Haida tribe lives in the Queen Charlotte Islands off the coast of northern Canada (below Alaska), in a special place they call Haida Gwaii. Bill is widely credited for reviving the arts of the northwest coast - he was an amazing sculptor. I am disappointed I will never meet him.
The northwest coast tribes have many gods - all animals. Raven is the Haida equivalent of “fox”. Tricky, playful, smart, inquisitive - these are all qualities of Raven, whose play and trickery created the stars in the sky, the sun, the ocean and man.
The man-size (literally) sculpture is inside the University of British Columbia museum in Vancouver, Canada. When it was installed, Bill had the children of Haida Gwaii come to the installation - each with bottles of sand from the beach at Haida Gwaii, so Raven, could be installed in his native soil.
Here is his telling of their genesis myth - one of the most sacred stories in Haida culture:
The Story of the Raven Creating Man by Bill Reid
The great flood which had covered the earth for so long had receded, and even the thin strip of sand now called Rose Spit, stretching north from Naikun village lay dry. The Raven had flown there to gorge himself on the delicacies left by the receding water, so for once he wasn't hungry. But his other appetites - lust, curiosity and the unquenchable itch to meddle and provoke things, to play tricks on the world and its creatures - these remained unsatisfied.
He had recently stolen the light from the old man who kept it hidden in a box in his house in the middle of the darkness, and had scattered it throughout the sky. The new light spattered the night with stars and waxed and wane in the shape of the moon. And it dazzled the day with a single bright shining which lit up the long beach that curved from the spit beneath Raven's feet westward as far as Tao Hill. Pretty as it was, it looked lifeless and so to the Raven quite boring. He gave a great sigh, crossed his wings behind his back and walked along the sand, his shiny head cocked, his sharp eyes and ears alert for any unusual sight or sound. Then taking to the air, he called petulantly out to the empty sky. To his delight, he heard an answering cry - or to describe it more closely, a muffled squeak.
At first he saw nothing, but as he scanned the beach again, a white flash caught his eye, and when he landed he found at his feet, buried in the sand, a gigantic clamshell. When he looked more closely still, he saw that the shell was full of little creatures cowering in terror of his enormous shadow.
Well, here was something to break the monotony of his day. But nothing was going to happen as long as the tiny things stayed in the shell, and they certainly weren't coming out in their present terrified state. So the Raven leaned his great head close to the shell, and with the smooth trickster's tongue that had got him into and out of so many misadventures during his troubled and troublesome existence, he coaxed and cajoled and coerced the little creatures to come out and play in his wonderful, shiny new world. As you know the Raven speaks in two voices, one harsh and strident, and the other, which he used now, a seductive bell-like croon which seems to come from the depths of the sea, or out of the cave where the winds are born. It is an irresistible sound, one of the loveliest sounds in the world. So it wasn't long before one and then another of the little shell-dwellers timidly emerged. Some of them immediately scurried back when they saw the immensity of the sea and the sky, and the overwhelming blackness of the Raven. But eventually curiosity overcame caution and all of them had crept or scrambled out. Very strange creatures they were: two-legged like the Raven, but there the resemblance ended. They had no glossy feathers, no thrusting beak. Their skin was pale, and they were naked except for the long black hair on their round, flat-featured heads. Instead of strong wings, they had thin stick-like appendages that waved, and fluttered constantly. They were the original Haidas, the first humans.
For a long time the Raven amused himself with his new playthings, watching them as they explored their much expanded-world. Sometimes they helped one another in their new discoveries. Just as often, they squabbled over some novelty they found on the beach. And the Raven taught them some clever tricks, at which they proved remarkably adept. But the Raven's attention span was brief, and he grew tired of his small companions. For one thing, they were all males. He had looked up and down the beach for female creatures, hoping to make the game more interesting, but females were nowhere to be found. He was about to shove the now tired, demanding and quite annoying little creatures back into their shell and forget about them when suddenly - as happens so often with the Raven - he had an idea.
He picked up the men, and in spite of their struggles and cries of fright he put them on his broad back, where they hid themselves among his feathers. Then the Raven spread his wings and flew to North Island. the tide was low, and the rocks, as he had expected, were covered with those large but soft-lipped molluscs known as red chitons. The Raven shook himself gently, and the men slid down his back to the sand. The he flew to the rock and with his strong beak pried a chiton from its surface.
Now, if any of you have ever examined the underside of a chiton, you may begin to understand what the Raven had in his libidinous, devious mind. He threw back his head and flung the chiton at the nearest of the men. His aim was as unerring as only a great magician's can be, and the chiton found its mark in the delicate groin of the startled, shell-born creature. There the chiton attached itself firmly. Then as sudden as spray hitting the rocks from a breaking wave, a shower of chitons broke over the wide-eyed humans, as each of the open-mouthed shellfish flew inexorably to its target.
Nothing quite like this had ever happened to the men. They had never dreamed of such a thing during their long stay in the clamshell. They were astounded, embarrassed, confused by a rush of new emotions and sensations. They shuffled and squirmed, uncertain whether it was pleasure or pain they were experiencing. They threw themselves down on the beach, where a great storm seemed to break over them, followed just as suddenly by a profound calm. One by one the chitons dropped off. The men staggered to their feet and headed slowly down the beach, followed by the raucous laughter of the Raven, echoing all the way to the great island to the north which we now call Prince of Wales.
That first troop of male humans soon disappeared behind the nearest headland, passing out of the games of the Raven and the story of humankind. Whether they found their way back to the shell, or lived out their lives elsewhere, or perished in the strange environment in which they found themselves, nobody remembers, and perhaps nobody cares. They had played their roles and gone their way.
Meanwhile the chitons had made their way back to the rock, where they attached themselves as before. But they too had been changed. As high tide followed low and the great storms of winter gave way to the softer rains and warm sun of spring, the chitons grew and grew, many times larger than their kind had ever been before. Their jointed shells seemed about to fly apart from the enormous pressure within them. And one day a huge wave swept over the rock, tore them from their footholds and carried them back to the beach. As the water receded and the warm sun dried the sand, a great stirring began among the chitons. From each emerged a brown skinned, black-haired human. This time there were both males and females among them, and the Raven could begin his greatest game: the one that still goes on.
They were no timid shell-dwellers these, but children of the wild coast, born between the sea and land, challenging the strength of the stormy North Pacific and wresting from it rich livelihood. Their descendants built on its beaches the strong, beautiful homes of the Haidas and embellished them with the powerful heraldic carvings that told of the legendary beginnings of great families, all the heros and heroines and the gallant beasts and monsters who shaped their world and their destinies. For many generations they grew and flourished, built and created, fought and destroyed, living according to the changing seasons and the unchanging rituals of their rich and complex lives.
It's nearly over now. Most of the villages are abandoned, and those which have not entirely vanished lie in ruins. The people who remain are changed. The sea has lost much of its richness, and great areas of land itself lie in waste. Perhaps it's time the Raven started looking for another clamshell.
They have been seening one another on and off for two years, although if you ask either of them they'll only admit to having been going out for six months. They get on very well and many of their friends say they are perfect for one another. However 'The Sleeping Policeman' has no idea that his lover has four children in Barnsley, two wives in Nuneaton and a slightly podgy yet ever so attractive simian lover on the more violent side of South Central L.A.
Penguin looking for the land ice, when the frozen ground from approximately 238 to 126 ka ago at Tankenberg went away,
Creative with a penguin, Piece stump, and some leaves. :)
If you got time, Take a look on my FB page, :)
Created for Photoshop Contest ~ Week 940 ~ Trumpet Vine ~
Thanks to Amba Coltman for starter image.
All work done in Photoshop Beta23. Background texture created in Fotosketcher, from original photo
Best viewed Large
Thank you very much for your comments and faves, regretfully, I am finding it increasingly difficult to reply to your comments, because of my very limited time on the internet, due to constant power interruptions in South Africa. I do read and appreciate every one of them! Thanks again!!
Hedgerows for nature's wildlife..Hedgerows are a well-loved feature of the British countryside that create important corridors and much needed connectivity for wildlife. They have been used to form parish, road and land boundaries and help farmers enclose livestock as well as provide them with shelter and forage. There is even archaeological evidence pointing to the likely use of hedgerows for keeping in livestock dating back to the Bronze Age
Rarely do I see Rooks posted online by wildlife photographers because they are common. But for me they are one of the most interesting birds we have in the UK.
Photo for my friendo, Manchester -- Wilf Rau! x
He's probably wearing Deadwool? Feel free to leave a comment below if you can identify the designers, for credit.
PHOTO: G.G.
...and with that I realised there wasn't anything I could do.
It was an odd feeling, a little too much like relief if you ask me, but that was how I felt, and this was the way it was. I asked my Dad for a moment alone, said my goodbye's to my Uncle and then walked quickly away.
I've never been fond of saying goodbye. That awareness of time, emotion and all that you didn't quite appreciate while you had it always hits me far too hard.
Not this time though, this time I was neither in the past or the present and I'll be damned if I could even think of a future. This was now and I was lost in it, I felt gone, wasted as if my life had just slipped out of focus.
Now, for the 3rd year running, we have another 3 young House Martins developing fast. These are the 3 egg shells found in the garden, 2 on the 29th May with an interesting fine pattern inside, (showing through the light) and the last one found 2 days later on 31st May with no patterning inside?
The shells are incredibly delicate and only the size of a small fingernail. Alas, since this photograph was taken, the birds have not visited again since 2020.
Shooting has been incredible lately. I feel like there is a new force pushing me along. It is overcast today so I'll be out shooting for most of it, and I can't wait. I've never felt so motivated to pick up my camera and click.
Over a year ago I did a photo using fake snow, and I said to myself that i'd never use fake snow again in place of fake cobweb...but when it came down to it, I had a ton of fake snow this year (I was trying to emulate the christmas spirit as seen in Pennsylvania) so I had to put it to use :)
Model: Christopher John Hills V
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