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On the hour, the windows clatter open for the roaring six-headed dragon to appear gnarling, gnashing and bashing at the railings. The cleverly convincing facade of the Maison de la Magie in Blois, holds a very French surprise. ( I think one head was either sleeping or slain when we there there, but you can find the dragon's tail.)
I saved the most emotional image of the series for last. For more information visit their website at www.world-memorial.org
View the entire set here: www.flickr.com/photos/rkligman/sets/72157605457412267/
When you arrange things, sometimes you forget how they will impact your life.
I mean, when I booked to go on the railtour, I didn't realise it would mean 20 hours spent travelling. And then having booked to go on an orchid site visit the day after the railtour I would drive over four hours back to Wales, and then on Monday drove the hour to the site, then have nearly six hours to drive home.
In the school holidays. And with traffic chaos in and around Dover still.
That was my choice.
THe reality was that there would be little time for rest, always on the move. Although on the railtour I would be sitting for the duration of the trip, looking out the window, so not doing anything other than looking for things to photograph, but 90 minutes driving before and after it.
So, Sunday morning.
And we had the chores we failed to do Friday and Saturday: washing, shopping, clearing up, before I would leave at one in the afternoon. One thing I learned for JOols is to prepare, so when she went to the beach for a swim, I had a shower, then packed my overnight bag, wrote down postcodes, directions and details of my stopovers, charged camera batteries.
The car was running on fumes, so we went out at ten to fill it up, now costs £90 from empty. And get wild bird food.
Back home for lunch of caprese, I had even made time to make a small focaccia loaf, which I popped in the oven, so come midday it was done and we could listen to Desert Island Discs while eating. It was Kate Moss, the model, and well, her life seemed so shallow. Name dropping inbetween tales of how she was exploited. She seems to have found happiness, which I guess is what we all deserve.
So, at one I packed the car and set off, having to get through the traffic chaos. In fact it wasn't too bad, but I still avoinded the port and Townwall Street, driving towards Whitfield before heading down the Alkham Valley. I only just made the turn as a lorry had sideswiped a Nissan Micra, and blocked the rest of the roundabout.
I turned off, unaffected, and was soon enjoying the open road driving towards Folkestone. THe on ramp to the A20 was open, and no traffic to really hold me up. On the other carriageway, no cars were allowed on the motorway after Maidstone Services, all traffic being sent down the A20, and that road was at a standstill. My worries already were of the journey back on Monday.
NO problems in etting to the top of the motorway before turning west and the M25. Traffic was heavy, and slow in places, bbut I had a layover planned, and a meet up with a fellow orchidist to see a new species for me.
There are between 50 and 60 orchid species, and I have seen many of them, so the weekend was offering me the chance to see two new species. The first of which was the one we had looked for the weekend before, Narrow Lipped Heleborine.
I turned off the motorway and was soon heading down leafy lanes, which partially hid what used to be called the stockbroker belt houses; huge mansions with electronic gateways, where money buys you privacy in a country mansion. The villages were pretty enough, and the chuches, none of which I had time to stop and look at. Nor the wooden village water well I passed either, even if it looked photogenic and ancient.
I had agreed to meet with Richard between half two and three, so after finding the car park for the reserve, I tried to call him, but turned out his phone had no signals. So I tried to make sense of my scrawled directions, with no luck.
I was in the process of calling other friends who had visited, when Richard called back.
He would come and meet me, he confirmed which path to take, so I wandered off and straight away came to a what was clearly an orchid rich area under huge beech trees and deep in leaf litter. Small orchid spikes dotted the woodland floor, and these were the Narrow Lipped Helleborines.
Richard came and showed me the best spikes, the hot weather had fried many of the others, but there were more than enough to snap.
We carried on walking, and came to a clearing where there were a good few Braod Leaved Helleborines, some were partially baked, but still had flowers, and were being visited by drunken wasps.
Time was getting on, so I had to say my goodbyes to Richard and make my way back to the car.
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The Narrow-lipped Helleborine is difficult to spot and its occurence may well be under-reported. In the British Isles it is thought to be confined to southern England, and even there it is localised and scarce. This species, which favours dark, shady spots and seems to be intolerant of bright sunlight, is found only in chalk or limestone woodland habitats, predominantly in beechwoods although it is also associated with yew and with hazel coppice. Epipactis leptochila has a short flowering time, between mid July and mid August, and the number of plants appearing each year is very variable. Once thought to be endemic to Britain, this orchid has since been found on the European mainland, where its range extends from Denmark in the north, south to Italy and eastwards across much of Central Europe.
Plant: 15 to 60cm tall, occasionally to 70cm; stem green and hairy in the upper part. Plants are normally single-stemmed, but occasionally up to 5 or 6 stems can arise from a single rootstock.
Leaves: up to 7 semi-erect bright-green opposite leaves in two rows on the stem; they are rather limp in appearance.
Bracts: narrow and pointed; on the lower part of the stem they are longer than the flowers and hang noticeably downwards; higher up they are shorter.
Flowers: up to 35 on a lax, one-sided inflorescence; fresh green to yellowish, they are relatively large and pendulous. The sepals are triangular with extended tips, pale green on the outer surface and whiter on the inside. Petals are similar but smaller and whiter, sometimes flushed pink with darker veining. The lip is divided into two sections. The inner part (hypochile) is pale green on the outside with pink flushing, and pale on the inside with a dark reddish-brown centre that contains nectar. The outer part (epichile) is white to green, arrow-shaped with a distinctively long tip. Two small smooth bosses at the base of the lip are flushed pink or purple.
Subspecies: none.
Varieties: Epipactis leptochila var. cleistogama has been reported from Gloucestershire, but it may now be extinct. Epipactis leptochila var. cordata is characterised by a shorter, heart-shaped lip, but this variety has also not been recorded for some years.
Hybrids: none.
www.hardyorchidsociety.org.uk/HOS%201012/orchidphotos/epi...
Cagliari (CA) - Sony α A700 + Sigma 8-16mm f/4.5-5.6 DC
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Forget the past, and have more fun, to have a new future.
#secret 9~30 [ I've afraid of horror partys in amusement park. ]
Trauma de infância.
Eu tinha uns sete anos e estava no playcenter nas "Noites do Terror". Ainda não tinha uma parte reservada para crianças onde os "mostros" não iam.
Daí todo lugar que eu olhava tinha um monstro, e eu estava chorando muito, quando uma mulher fantasiada segurou minha mão e me levou até o camarim onde eles se arrumavam.
Nem preciso dizer que eu comecei a chorar mais quando vi aquela concentração de pesssoas com fantasias horripilantes, né?
© Rosie Nixon all rights reserved.
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Forget me not
When I am gone.
My memories in stone.
When day is done
And you are all alone
Forget me not
For good times shared.
The nights we were but one
Forget me not.
With each rising moon
And the setting of the sun
Forget me not.
As you grow old
The days, they just seem longer.
Remember with each passing moment
My love for thee is stronger
-author unknown-
“Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.”
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
NO INVITES with BIG SPARKLY GRAPHICS. PLEASE, TRY TO RESPECT MY WISHES.
I prefer simple honest comments, rather then a copy & paste of an award code.
Many thanks!
ワスレナグサです。
日本ではこの花の小さい鉢植えを買うほど大好きな花でした。
こちらでは、タンポポなどに混じって、普通に道ばたに咲いています。
Tämä kukka ostetaan japanissa, mutta suomessa onneksi nähdään tienvarsilla.
Belgium.
National Botanic Garden.
Myosotis (/ˌmaɪ.əˈsoʊtɪs/;[1] from the Greek: "mouse's ear", after the leaf) is a genus of flowering plants in the family Boraginaceae (or Cynoglossum family)[2] that are commonly called Forget-me-nots. Its common name was calqued from the French, ne m'oubliez pas and first used in English in c. 1532. Similar names and variations are found in many languages.
After the a catching triumph, the dog from the previous photo looked a bit distracted. He was strutting off while forgetting his prize blue ball.
In Moe's Tavern at Universal Studios. Forget Barney the dinosaur, *this* is the Barney I like to hang out with at Universal!
Forget-Me-Not
"Forget me not," I thought you said,
and your gaze was straight and true.
I wondered, by your garden's edge,
could I disremember you?
The light refracted at your heart:
a warmth that radiated through.
"No, I dare not let them fade:
those powdered hues of pink and blue."
"Forget me not," I hoped you said
as the summer bleached to white:
it was the hope that startled me,
like a swallow, into flight.
"Forget me not": I know it's true,
little flower of grace and light.
The time must come, whate'er I do
when I remember in the night.
"Forget me not," I know you said,
and I was aching with the need
to cry that I could not forget -
so deeply planted was the seed
that it would germinate in drought
or in soil too choked by weeds
for any other plant. "Forget
me not," you said - and I agreed.
Lyric by Giles Watson, 2013.