View allAll Photos Tagged Gleam
Woven Gleams - Metal curved bars form a canopy in an architectural detail of the Light Station in downtown Mesa next to the Mesa Arts Center, New Year’s Day in the early morning.
"Ever drifting down the stream,
Lingering in the golden gleam,
Life, what is it but a dream?"
Lewis Carol
A cow moose with a lovely shiny coat strides across a setting of mixed grass and willows in Roosevelt National Forest, Colorado.
The morning sun gets harsh pretty quickly at 10,000 feet, but hadn't reached peak harshness when I took this shot.
The first of two moose posts before we head out to find some more of these cool critters.
Cool midcentury aluminum (!) leaf-design server. Created in partnership by Royal Hickman, who designed work for Haeger pottery as well as on his own, and Bruce Fox, a metalsmith and sculptor in the late 30s through the 50s; both favored designs inspired by nature, often tropical. Aluminum was considered an “exotic” metal and was popular for home decor items, until it lost its appeal in the 60s. I love the lines and the luster of this one.
Leaves they shine, leaves they gleam
Dressing the trunk in robes of green
Ruling their kingdom , high in the sky
Where they blow ,where they fly
Through the rays of light they soar
Until they descend to the floor
Which they cover in a cloak of green
Below the tree, where they once did gleam
A selection of photos taken at West Dean house and gardens. The weather during the week had been shocking but an afternoon of sunshine allowed for some changes to capture the amazing flora, fauna and wildlife that is so abundant there.
... gleaming for a Happy Blue Monday!
Wood Forget-me-not / Wald-Vergissmeinnicht (Myosotis sylvatica)
in our garden - Frankfurt-Nordend
2023-09-28, Day 2
A stand of Quaking Aspen (Populus tremuloides) gleams in late afternoon light near a small creek in the Arc Dome Wilderness, Nevada.
We found faint and maddeningly intermittent hints of trail as we descended a small valley toward the uppermost headwaters of the Reese River. At this particular point in the watershed, the word "river" is quite generous. To get to this point, we unintentionally gravitated toward a route up a valley that, while sporting trail on the map, was acutely devoid of said trail on the ground. Wanting to avoid the willow and wild rose choked riparian zone, we opted instead to negotiate steep side hills that were dense with sage and Snakeweed (Gutierrezia sarothrae).
The very uppermost reaches of the watershed climbed more steeply still, and the vegetation finally gave way to a sparse Limber Pine (Pinus flexilis) forest, with occasional trees boasting diameters greater than one meter. To grow so large in a place so dry must require the better part of a millennium. The Limber Pines created an open, park-like understory with springy turf that rolled over the tops of some high ridges. It was a delight to walk through after pushing uphill for miles through so much brush.
i love the simple way light gleams on seashells. these are the first seashells that my son and I found on the beach.
A pair of sparkling C425s provide the power for LA&L's train from Lakeville, seen arriving at Genesee Junction.
Falls Creek splits into three dominant plumes as it cascades over the highest promontory of rock that initially bars its way, forming a gleaming trident of sorts, before it flirts with gravity and tumbles over the moss-robed basalt lip in the foreground, Gifford Pinchot National Forest, Washington.
Republican President Teddy Roosevelt and the U.S. Congress created the modern Forest Service in 1905, and part of Roosevelt’s motivation was to manage forests conservatively so that they could be harvested to benefit humanity in a more sustainable, generational manner. Roosevelt was also a keen outdoorsman, and he was able to appreciate the spiritual benefits of wild places.
The President appointed Gifford Pinchot as the first Chief of the U.S. Forest Service, and Pinchot’s name is now attached to this wild, cedar-drunk landscape. Here, the rains of springtime burnish emeralds that emerge from the vibrant, besotted moss. I am grateful for the political currents of a century ago, when being a conservative meant conserving something for the future. I fear greatly that today’s political opportunists have gaping holes in their spirits and cannot see the beauty of the world, and they cannot recognize what is good.
Originally I took for Burgundy, but try as I might I could not convince Dennis or myself that it was the right colour. Luckily a teasel came to our rescue for Burgundy - although you will need a magnifying glass.
Wind driven clouds fill with the ineffable gleam of sunrise over the southern-most extent of the Hielo Sur, Lago Dickson, Torres del Paine National Park, Chile.
On the previous night, the tightly stretched tent fly hummed a resonant song as the cold wind raced down the ice and buffeted all in its path. As the sun rose, it was too much to hope for water calm enough to produce reflections, but the wind had largely abated and the dense cap of vapor that obscured the ice was gone, revealing bright, glaciated contours. Of the 80-odd souls camped at Lago Dickson, evidently the thought of sunrise was compelling to nobody but me. While extricating myself from the sleeping bag in the dark never feels particularly delightful, whatever perceived pain that results typically resolves quickly and I am almost always grateful for the opportunities that follow.