Markers
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I wanted you to see the size of this place. When I found out it was purchased by and designed by the developers out of Austin, Texas, I wasn't surprised. The place is huge and they tried to touch on everything. It's positioned so people can sit out on the farthest deck and watch the sunset. Of course, small bars are out positioned in different areas of the deck. And sure, live bands..;) Sooooo Austin. Don't get me wrong, it's a great setup. It doesn't fit the rest of the city or coastal area, but that's the way it goes. I wonder how the locals feel about it?
Split Rock, marking a narrows in Lake Champlain, was an ancient boundary between the Algonquin people and their Iroquois neighbors to the south. After the French and Indian wars it became a French-English boundary, and later it marked the line between Quebec and New York before the Revolutionary War. Here it is shown from the New York shore, looking east towards the Green Mountain of Vermont.
LR & PS with textures from Topaz.
Last week we had some foggy days. There was a time i would have stayed at home, edting pictures instead of taking pictures. But whenever there are clouds, mist, or even rain, i will certainly go out now. Just getting out of bed early seems to be the hardest part :P
Thank you for watching, kind regards, Christophe.
We've reached the marker cairn, and a short rest. Ahead lies the steepest part of the climb which takes us up on to the summit plateau before we eventually reach An Socach. It will take us about 30 minutes so I'll see you up there!
After a few test runs and weeks of chiropractic care on my back, it's finally time to start the climbing season with a climb up An Socach. An Socach (pronounced An S-Oh-Ack) is my 17th Munro and stands at 944 meters (3097 feet), and although not the longest of climbs parts of it are very steep.
The same marker cairn we passed on the way up An Socach now offers a great view of Glen Baddock as we descend back down in glorious sunshine.
After a few test runs and weeks of chiropractic care on my back, it's finally time to start the climbing season with a climb up An Socach. An Socach (pronounced An S-Oh-Ack) is my 17th Munro and stands at 944 meters (3097 feet), and although not the longest of climbs parts of it are very steep.
Marker Wadden is a cluster of five new, uninhabited natural islands, which were artificially created in the Netherlands from 2016 to 2021 || Marker Wadden is een cluster van vijf nieuwe, onbewoonde natuureilanden, die van 2016 tot 2021 kunstmatig zijn aangelegd in Nederland
The name of my village, Markyate, refers to boundaries ('mark' and 'gate'). When you mark something out, you are drawing boundaries around it. Markers are signs pointing to these boundaries, many of them imaginary. There are plenty of these in the village.
This marker at the end of a wall is a kind of polyglott, its language will be understood around the world in various ways. What does it tell you?
When I captured this scene back in July, it was just the onset of yet another summer thunderstorm. One of countless similar images collected over the course of a seemingly endless stream of summer evenings. But they weren't endless. And looking back, this moment, like so many others, has forever escaped my grasp. I didn't post this photo in the moment because I figured there would be a better time, a better storm, better light, or maybe a better frame of mind for me to capture the scene. None of those conditions came to pass. And as it turns out, all of those better things existed only at the precise time I spent gazing across the meadow at this lone tree. I passed by this meadow the other day. The tree is still there. But nothing about the scene looks or feels the same as it did on that stormy July evening back when summer felt endless.
I have been painting my rocks and so I put a few orange markers together.
Smile on Saturday - Orange
Partway up the path that leads to the summit of Mount is this marker Cairn. You can see where we've come from with Glen Tanar below but there's still plenty of climbing to do, so no time to dilly-dally!
Mount Keen is my 11th Munro and this is my second time of climbing it. It is the most easterly of all the Munros and stands at 939 Meters (3080 feet), forming an almost perfect cone. A 7 mile cycle up Glen Tanar gets us to the foot of the 2 mile ascent up the mountain.
The beauty of the 50mm lens (and this AF-S Nikkor 50mm f/1.8G is a beautiful lens) is that it clarifies everything to a specific point of view. If you want to increase your field of view, you have to walk backwards. Or in this case you become part of the landscape itself. You can't zoom in, you just have to get in there among the wide grasses on the river bank. For me the highlight was capturing that green channel marker.
Macro Mondays 'sewing notions' theme.
I have set of these pretty sterling silver chakra stitch markers; really not a necessary purchase but it was one of those impulse buys when they caught my eye. I wasn't even looking for stitch markers at the time. However they have come in useful for my current knitting project which will end up with 562 stitches on the needles and needing a stitch marker every 17 stitches. I think I will be using every stitch marker that I own!
The image measures 2.25" in width
The name of my village, Markyate, refers to boundaries ('mark' and 'gate'). When you mark something out, you are drawing boundaries around it. Markers are signs pointing to these boundaries, many of them imaginary. There are plenty of these in the village.
This one, the rubbish bin, constitutes one of the strongest markers referring to the elapsing time - at least, when you are old as I am. The bins have to be put out weekly, and this is the rhythm of time you are part of, and this time is elapsing.
An object dies when the gaze that lights on it has disappeared.
Thank you for watching,
Kind regards
Christophe
Bridge over the river Olne. At the Rickmansworth Aquadrome (near London). Mitakon Speedmaster manual lens at F 0.95. Edited in macOS High Sierra.