15 July 2017, Lassen Volcanic National Park

On a 1.6-mile trail to a beautiful waterfall, a seven-year-old was trotting along singing a song he had just made up, ‘when you’re walking a mile…’. The night before, he had witnessed the Milky Way for the first time, and today, he was walking his first trail in a national park. As all passersby could tell from his lung-full song or incessant display of his newly acquired permanent incisors, he was happy. The kid was followed closely by his father, who did not know much about this trail or how his son would react to it. Turns out, both bloomed with wildflowers, the former literally, and the latter, with his red cheeks and happy lungs, metaphorically. After the hike and a hearty snack in the Kohm Yah-mah-nee visitor center parking lot, the father asked his son, ‘Should we do this again?’.

The son nodded his head with an emphatic yes.

The childish energy pervaded the father and pulled him out of his internal gloom.

‘Ah, ok, if this was fun, then should we visit all the US national parks? ’ the father goofily asked, not even knowing how many national parks the country had (59 in 2017) or would go on to have.

‘Yes!’, the little kid said, with a bright twinkle in his eyes and a warm smile on his flushed face. The father smiled in return.

Sometimes, innocence mandates the mighty. Sometimes, it becomes the mighty.

….

29 November 2025, Dry Tortugas National Park

A mighty late-afternoon thunderstorm is gathering strength above the sea off the Florida Keys. Hurrying past this storm back to Key West, the ‘Yankee Freedom’ catamaran is negotiating the salvo of angry waves much like a ping pong ball. At the stern, the father and son have found seats on two ice-chests to weather the emetic ride. The crew is playing some club tracks on the deck, and the son is jamming to the music. The storm light is drenching, as is the pelagic spray from the speeding boat. Wet in more than one way, their tired, bouncing bodies are somehow sustaining an earnest smile.

The father and son are now returning from Fort Jefferson in the Dry Tortugas, their 63rd and final US national park. Photo above.

All these interim years have been much like the ferry ride this morning: turbulent at times, treacherous at others. The COVID lockdown, family health scares, the teenage years… you get the idea. Nonetheless, the ride has been exhilarating!

Visiting all the national parks has felt like plucking and savoring experiences from several parallel lives, where colors are richer, sounds are fuller, and stories are deeper. “Ma’am, we do not ‘collect’ national parks, we experience them!”, the father had once protested to a park ranger, who had callously referred to her visitors as park collectors. Parks are not to be ‘collected’ but felt. Lived! As one lives a sweet memory. Again, and again, and again. Repeated sixty-three times. Weaved between the father and his son, these memories will outlive one of them and likely define the other.

“Can you believe this?” Hanging on to a railing of the speeding boat, the father asks, still coming to terms with this day of their long journey. The son warmly smiles back and nods his head. His smile is still the same, only the face is now lightly bearded. It feels unreal. As if the surrounding ocean is now spilling over the dams built to hold back all those meddling emotions.

Sometimes, the mighty mandates innocence. Sometimes, it becomes the innocent.

The annual autumnal Bengali extravaganza......Durga Puja celebrating the triumph of good over evil in the form of goddess Durga prevailing over demon king Mahishahura, usually takes place in the month of October spread over a period of four days. The Indian state of West Bengal, the country of Bangladesh and Bengalis spread over the rest of the world celebrate this festival with much gaiety and pomp. General bonhomie pervades the air in both rural and urban Bengal. Festivities range from utilitarian forms of worship involving a few to elaborate grand affairs involving entire communities.

The city of Kolkata, (West Bengal, India) comes forward as the place where the celebrations have managed to attain a separate dimension altogether in terms of style and grandeur. Still four days to go but the city's already making an effort to get us into the mood.

“To hear never-heard sounds,

To see never-seen colors and shapes,

To try to understand the imperceptible

Power pervading the world;

To fly and find pure ethereal substances

That are not of matter

But of that invisible soul pervading reality.

To hear another soul and to whisper to another soul;

To be a lantern in the darkness

Or an umbrella in a stormy day;

To feel much more than know.

To be the eyes of an eagle, slope of a mountain;

To be a wave understanding the influence of the moon;

To be a tree and read the memory of the leaves;

To be an insignificant pedestrian on the streets

Of crazy cities watching, watching, and watching.

To be a smile on the face of a woman

And shine in her memory

As a moment saved without planning.”

― Dejan Stojanovic

Own image 3717 and textures

location : Jakko-in Temple 　寂光院 四方正面の池と本堂

　　　　　　　Kyoto city , Kyoto prefecture ,Japan

Jakko-in Temple is a convent with a long history. Located north of Kyoto near the village of Ohara, the temple is secluded and the grounds are very quiet. Worn stone steps lead between a stand of old, thick trees en route to the front gate. There is a slight air of melancholy that pervades the place, which may be explained by its part in a sad history.

The temple is famous for its role in the story of the Empress Dowager Kenrei Mon'in, who was saved from death by drowning, only to lose her child and all of her immediate family when a sea battle against a rival led to the destruction of her entire clan in 1185. Widowed and dispossessed of all that she had once owned, she spent the remainder of her life at Jakko-in Temple, in a state of deep loneliness, praying for the souls of the deceased. Her remains are interred on the grounds.

Jakko-in Temple was home to a precious statue of Jizo, the protector of children, and its garden featured a 700-year-old tree. Unfortunately, both of these were lost when the main temple building fell to arson in 2000. In five years the temple was rebuilt, with a replica statue. In a parallel to the story of Kenrei Mon'in, the temple and its garden continues to survive, although much that had been dear to it has been lost.

- Kyoto city official travel guide

For some,modernity resulted in an increasing feeling is alienation as people began moving through spaces at a faster pace.Edward Hopper captured this transitory nature of modern life in paintings infused with a sense of isolation and estrangement.

Completed at the height of Hooper's career, this painting shows Macomb's Dam Bridge,which connects Manhattan and Bronx.There are no signs of life in the city.Instead,an eerie stillness pervades the scene,resulting in a disquieting mood

I enjoyed hiking to this waterfall so much last Saturday, I returned today to shoot a video and found the flow just a bit higher. I arrived later in the morning near noon, so the brightness of the sun was pervading. I was happy just the same to be here. I believe a video enhances the perception of the scale. On my way back out I also hiked down to the lowest cascade in confluence with the North Pacolet River. More to come on these.

no rules, no limitations, no boundaries it's like an art

© All Rights Reserved by ajpscs

The Japanese tea ceremony (茶の湯, chanoyū) is the ceremonial preparation and presentation of the powdered green tea known as matcha. The tea ceremony is highly ritualized and the manner in which it is performed or the art of its performance is known as sadō (茶道, also read as chadō). Zen Buddhism was integral to the ceremony's development, and its influence pervades many aspects of its performance.

Tea gatherings are known as chakai (茶会) or chaji (茶事). Chakai generally refers to a relatively simple course of hospitality that includes the service of confections, mild tea (薄茶, usucha), and perhaps a light meal (点心, tenshin), whereas chaji refers to a more formal gathering usually including a full-course meal called kaiseki, followed by confections, strong tea (濃茶, koicha), and mild tea.

Japanese tea ceremony

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

PLEASE, NO invitations or self promotions, THEY WILL BE DELETED. My photos are FREE to use, just give me credit and it would be nice if you let me know, thanks.

I stopped at this spot with all the prayer flags and white scarfs where I saw incense was still burning. A death ceremony probably took place there in the morning. Bodies are cut up and put in the river for the fish to eat – it is giving back to the earth.

The water burial is mainly for the poor, dead of disease and children, etc. On the other hand, in the marginal areas of the Tibetan culture, especially at the deep valleys in Southern Tibet where there are few vultures available, water burial becomes the main way for the local people.

Prayer flags are used to promote peace, compassion, strength, and wisdom. Tibetans believe the prayers and mantras will be blown by the wind to spread good will and compassion into all pervading space. Therefore, prayer flags are thought to bring benefit to all.

The White Scarfs (Khata) is a regular part of the life of a Tibetan, starting from his birth until his death and even those instances in between. This is also a good sign in recognizing the respect or love of one individual for another.

Cocoteros que bailan al son de la brisa marina , la luz se torna cobriza y brillos metálicos fluyen de espumosas olas. De tu amor Thea , brotó este brillo que impregna todo. Libraste la venda de los ojos del hombre, para que apreciara la luz de la verdad !!!.…F.O.G.

English :

Coconut trees that dance to the sea breeze, the light turns coppery and metallic glitters flow from foamy waves. From your love Thea, this shine that pervades everything. You freed the bandage from the eyes of man, so that he would appreciate the light of truth !!! ... F.O.G.

Lalitha Carbone is my alt. I created her for a new artistic project in Second Life.

Lalitā, the "Beloved", the "Charming", is in Shaktism a tantric manifestation of the goddess Durgā or Pārvatī, symbolizing the "Divine Joy pervading the Universe".

Visit The Carbone Gallery

Art gallery & café

Read Milena Carbone's Second Life stories on Medium

Actually this is far from perfect, but I did it with the feeling pervading me at this moment. For those of you that did not know what was my emergency of yesterday, you could read about it on my blog www.totally-useless.com Because I have not reacted as yet I am not naming the attonerney's office name, nor the company they are acting for, and I am still in the middle of planning how to do it and which steps to take. Thank you for the positive thoughts sent my way and I am asking for more of the same if you can. Thank you dear friends, and wishing you a splendid and nice Saturday... {{{HUGS}}}

More memories of Paris!

Le dome des Invalides etait comme un bijou dans cet ocean de batiments. J'ai ete inspire' par toutes les differentes sortes d'architecture que l'on pouvait voir, de l'ancien mur sans platre au premier plan, jusqu'au dome dore' des Invalides, et les buildings modernes a l'horizon !!

Montmartre is the highest hill in Paris, and a village atmosphere still pervades these ancient streets. There's a great description of it in Wikipedia if you like history: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montmartre

The building with the gold dome is part of Les Invalides. Here's an excerpt from Wikipedia: "Les Invalides in Paris, France consists of a complex of buildings in the 7th arrondissement containing museums and monuments, all relating to France's military history, as well as a hospital and a retirement home for war veterans, the building's original purpose. It is also the burial site for some of France's war heroes." You can read more about it here: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_Invalides

And here is the website of the Invalides and its Dome -- also known as the Museum of the Army. It is famously the location of Napoleon's tomb: www.musee-armee.fr/en/your-visit/museum-spaces/dome-des-i...

A feeling of quiet calm and peace now pervade, as the shadows grow even longer, slowly bringing yet another summer's day to a close, the birds, now at roost, are silent, just the trickling sound of the Rife, slowly continuing its everlasting journey can be heard, leaving us, with just the memories of another pleasant summer’s day.

We are still in Atherton and suffering from wifi-itis! So I have just managed to upload this one shot and then I gave up. Tomorrow we move on so perhaps it will be better then and I can catch up with some of you. Maybe! A few days ago we were north of Mossman in Far North Queensland as they say, but where the line in the sand exists between these pretend geographics like Far North, North, Whitsundays etc I have no real idea! It's just north Queensland to me. This shot of a two foot gauge sugar locomotive, appropriately named "Daintree" as that's the next town north after which one crosses the river of the same name by barge and enters the real Cape York Peninsula area (far, Far North!!!) was taken in the very small town of Miallo. It is heading south to the mill in Mossman which is the only sugar mill north of Cairns and which I now know also takes cane from the newer growing areas of the Atherton Tableland, brought down by truck.

The Mossman mill wagons differ from all other mills in having two four wheel bogies on which cane containers are loaded. This gives more flexibility as these same containers are also hauled by truck in areas not served by the cane railway network. Being around the start of September, the crush is at its peak, about half over its early July to December season. Many fields are already harvested and readied for or already planted with next season's crop.

This train will pick up consists of wagons with chopped cane from sidings on each farm. It has done one already, another just down the road with yet another group of wagons further down the track. By the time it has picked up all its scheduled loads it will be a long and heavy train. The harvest and transport of cane is a well co-ordinated operation and all cane must be at the mill within 24 hours of harvest or it starts to lose its sugar content. Very little burning of cane is now carried out. It has a number of downsides (although spectacular at night) and these days very little goes to waste. A lot of the left over leaves are ploughed back in, sold in big bags at hardware stores for garden mulch or used with other left overs as bagasse and burnt in the mill's boilers. The smell of sugar syrup that pervades the air around the mills is not one to be forgotten, a special sweet aroma of a major industry. On the other hand the left over black mill mud from the crushing and crystallisation process is at the other end of the smell spectrum but is a great fertiliser which is dumped in the fields and ploughed in.

Lalitha Carbone is my alt. I created her for a new artistic project in Second Life.

Lalitā, the "Beloved", the "Charming", is in Shaktism a tantric manifestation of the goddess Durgā or Pārvatī, symbolizing the "Divine Joy pervading the Universe".

Visit The Carbone Gallery

Art gallery & café

Read Milena Carbone's Second Life stories on Medium

A close up of the alter in the crypt of St Mary's Church Lastingham on the North Yorkshire Moors.

The village of Lastingham lies amid the soft hills that fringe the southern edge of the North York Moors. Around AD 654 St Cedd founded a monastery here, in a place described by The Venerable Bede as 'where once dragons lay'

Around AD 725 the first stone church was built, and Cedd's remains were reburied beside the altar.

On entering the church you notice the unusual vaulted roof which dates from 1879 but the crypt is down below

It is amazing how simply descending the steep stairs to the crypt brings with it an air of stillness and calm. This is a place for hushed voices, for sitting quietly and absorbing the silence and the pervading aura of history. (Britain Express)

A wonderful historical church well worth visiting

Boiling mud pools and lakes are a feature of Kairua Park in Rotorua, NZ. Noted for these features plus geysers, and volcanic activity Rotorua is one of the top destinations for tourists visiting the country. A sulphur smell pervades the region

The rain eventually arrived early yesterday evening after no rain for the last three months. There were thunderstorms rattling around the area all afternoon and we thought they'd miss us but our patience paid off as we had a massive thunderstorm early evening and the heavens opened. So exciting (I get easily excited...)! We decided to get up and out for a walk earlier than usual this morning to take advantage of the fresher weather which has arrived following the thunderstorms and so we could discover a different wood next to a nearby village. Bob preferred this new wood and I must admit it was much better than our previous place (the one with a view to the monastery). The dampness was all pervading and gave off a beautiful pungent aroma of a mix of eucalyptus, pine, thyme and rosemary.

Another reason we gave the previous place for a walk a miss is because it's a public holiday in France today to celebrate the Feast of the Assumption (this 'marks the occasion of the Virgin Mary's bodily ascent to heaven at the end of her life') so because of the religious connotations we thought there might be pilgrims in the area we usually walk as it's a bit of a pilgrimage area walking between St Joseph's Monastery and the Shrine of Our Lady of Graces (church)

Happy Monday and have a great week ahead!

As the icy tendrils of winter creep across the land, the once vibrant harbor of Hel transforms into a serene, nocturnal tableau. Silhouetted against the inky canvas of the night sky, a fleet of weathered fishing vessels lies moored, their bows gently bobbing on the tranquil waters. The soft glow emanating from the harbor lights is reflected in the calm surface, creating a mesmerizing interplay of light and dark. A sense of tranquility pervades the scene, as nature and man coexist in harmonious stillness.

Flooding of the Seine, when the river pervade the city

“Always dear to me was this solitary hill,

And this hedge, which from so much

Of the ultimate horizon the view excludes.”

— Giacomo Leopardi, The Infinite

Palazzo Venieri, located in the historic heart of Recanati, is a precious symbol of the Marche region—one of the most enchanting areas in central Italy. This masterpiece of Italian architecture silently safeguards the cultural and artistic heritage of Giacomo Leopardi’s hometown, one of Italy’s greatest poets.

The photo captures a moment of contemplation: a human figure gazes at the horizon framed by the ancient arch of the palazzo, evoking the poetic atmosphere that pervades Leopardi’s landscapes. Bathed in soft, warm light, Palazzo Venieri is an ideal place for lovers of architectural photography and Italian art, offering unique and evocative perspectives.

To discover Recanati is to immerse oneself in the silent, timeless beauty of the Marche—a land where every stone tells stories of the past, and every view invites one to lose themselves in the poetry of Leopardi’s world.

“And shipwreck is sweet to me in this sea.”

— Giacomo Leopardi, The Infinite

The Outer Hebrides - also known as the Western Isles - stretch for 130 miles and look out on their western side to the Atlantic Ocean.

Here on the edge of Europe is a striking mix of landscapes from windswept golden sands to harsh, heather-backed mountains and peat bogs. An elemental beauty pervades each of the more than two hundred islands that make up the archipelago, only a handful of which are actually inhabited.

Lewis and Harris form the northernmost island in the Hebrides. Though actually part of the same land mass, they are thought of as different islands and each has its own distinctive culture, traditions and heritage. Lewis in the north is the largest island in the group and its main town of Stornoway is a busy centre of island life, its natural harbour a thriving fishing port.

Harris is home to the world-famous Harris Tweed, which has to be made on these islands if it carries the name. Across a narrow isthmus from the more mountainous North Harris lies South Harris, presenting some of the finest scenery in Scotland, with wide beaches of golden sand trimming the Atlantic in full view of the mountains and a rough boulder-strewn interior lying to the east.

Further south still sit a string of tiny, flatter islands including North Uist, Benbecula, South Uist and Barra. Here breezy beaches whose fine sands front a narrow band of boggy farmland are mostly bordered by a lower range of hills to the east. Uniquely, one of the beaches on Barra also doubles as a landing strip for the scheduled flights from the mainland!

The Hebrides remain the heartland of Gaelic culture, with the language spoken by the vast majority of islanders, though its everyday usage remains under constant threat from the national dominance of English. Its survival is, in no small part, due to the influence of the Free Church and its offshoots, whose strict Calvinism is the creed of the vast majority of the population, with the sparsely populated South Uist, Barra and parts of Benbecula adhering to the more relaxed demands of Catholicism.

The natural environment of the Hebrides make it ideal for walking and cycling of all standards while the superb Atlantic beaches draw surfers from around the globe. Fishing for salmon and trout, as well as sea angling, is also highly popular and of the highest quality. The clear, pollution-free Hebridean waters, also produce some of the best seafood in the UK.

Lying offshore into the Atlantic, the remarkable deserted Island of St Kilda, a World Heritage Site, is a major attraction which can only be reached by day boat or live-aboard cruise vessel, subject to weather conditions and the permission of its owners, the National Trust for Scotland.

Well worth a look in Lightbox

www.jimroberts.co.uk

www.flickriver.com/photos/jimborobbo/popular- interesting/

© Jim Roberts JR's Gallery

The Wintered Soul Among Wisteria

One need not read her horoscope to know

this woman's fate, and though wisteria

cascades sweet blooms of lavender like snow

outside her door, it's still Siberia

pervading the dimensions of her mind,

for not one fickle thought or patch of moss

can thrive where bleakest shadows are enshrined.

No bittersweet, no dew drops. . . only loss

surrounds her heart. She tries to reminisce,

but like a barren continent grown cold,

she can't perceive one particle of bliss.

She's clasping grief and cannot be consoled!

Wisteria's perfume is in the breeze,

but in her soul remains a winter's freeze.

[ by Andrea Dietrich: www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/best/17482/andrea_dietrich ]

I am very struck by the essence of this woman's poetry!

Camden Town, London

textures=mine+topaz+picmonkey

EXPLORE

*

"Selon les bouddhistes tibétains, le vent caresse les formules sacrées imprimées sur les drapeaux, les disperse dans l’espace et les transmet aux dieux et à tous ceux qu'il touche dans sa course."

"Traditionally, prayer flags are used to promote peace, compassion, strength, and wisdom. The Tibetans believe the prayers and mantras written on the prayer flags will be blown by the wind spreading the good will and compassion into all pervading space.

lindabortoletto.com/mon-blog/2016/2/22/les-drapeaux-prire...

I havn't touched the colours of this..what you see is what I saw..an incredible beauty pervading the sky

This was the shot I set out to get on Sunday morning and as usual you end up with something else far better (see previous two uploads). The shot kind of worked as I wanted but I wasn't too happy about the grey cloud that had pervaded the scene (it had been totally clear sky when I left the house).

Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf.

- Rabindranath Tagore

But let there be spaces in your togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

- Khalil Gibran

Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=EkHTsc9PU2A

I'M YOURS by JASON MRAZ

Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKRFQ-QmHsQ

Connie Francis - Quizas, Quizas, Quizas

CREATE THE FUTURE YOU WANT TO FACE

June days are sunny days full of endless possibilities

roses bloom and their perfume pervades the sun warmed air

my step is light my thoughts are free

and both can wander by the sea

in boundless joy I skip and dance along the sands to new romance

collecting sea glass green and blue and pretty shells in every hue

pebbles tumble as the ebb and flow

of summer tides reaches my toes

and cries of seagulls overhead lumber through the skies well fed

on chips and ice-cream discarded by the kids of tourists passing by

the golden hour comes at last and I revel in the breezy blast

of cooler air and silence reached when only I am on my beach

the best part of the day for me when I am where I want to be

walking dawdling in idle fashion along the shore that is my passion

meditating deep in thought worry free my dreams are caught

between the ocean and the sky

sweet taste of freedom hopes are high

no need to dwell on past mistakes begin again release the brakes

the universe sends angel signs white feathers found along the lines

among the stones and grains of sand

yin and yang drawn by some hand

another hopeful hearted soul left a message where I stroll

perhaps the message was meant for me

or someone else who is fancy free

whatever else it warms my heart to see that angels will impart

the gift of love and precious signs that fill my soul and so entwine

my destiny and fate in one and make me feel I've just begun

the great adventure of my life

where once was empty now is free from strife

and filled with promises of dreams

still yet to come; soft flowing streams

and fill my senses with songs to strum beating time my fingers drum

and pluck my guitar newly strung

to play the songs that must be sung

and songs my heart has memorised

since time began and I surprised

my soul that nestled softly dormant waiting for an end to torment

awakens with simplicity forgets it once knew duplicity

and rises up to join my heart to sing and dance a brand new start

rises with the silvered moon the dancing can't begin too soon

tomorrow was always meant to be a gift to match eternity

an endless joyful day and night to uplift my spirits never fight

or dampen down the joy I send

to a stranger who may become my friend

and return the gift of love tenfold

to a heart and soul that had foretold

the future like a crystal ball reflected in the eyes of all

that gaze upon a love so pure and appreciate the sweet allure

of unconditional love and more

when love comes knocking on my door

- AP – Copyright remains with the author

'copyright image please do not reproduce without permission'

My artwork is a compilation of 2 of my photographs

Men give me some credit for genius. All the genius I have lies in this: When I have a subject in hand, I study it profoundly. Day and night it is before me. I explore it in all its bearings. My mind becomes pervaded with it. Then the effort which I make is what the people call the fruit of genius. It is the fruit of labor and thought.

-Alexander Hamilton-

Everything will be be okay in the end.

If it's not okay, it's not the end

- John Lennon

With every single passing day, where grim news pervades the constant news-stream, it may seem we are in a hopeless place. While some countries have already started to turn the tide and have started pushing back, the epidemic has plenty of room to grow, and it'll be a long while before the last waves of this pandemic washes on the shores of humanity.

How the nations react, and how the people come together (by going apart) in this time will determine how impacted we become. Separated, we stay united in the fight against this invisible invader. I appreciate the steps the state and the country have taken to encourage social distancing. But, deep in my heart, it pains to have the wilderness separated from humanity.

I hope that this too shall pass.

Olympic National Park

WA USA

There can't be that many places in the world where you can sit on a hillock at the edge of a small town car park and gaze northwards towards a horizon filled with mountains and glaciers as you cradle a cup of hot coffee in your hands. If that's the sort of thing that appeals to you, Hofn in South East Iceland is one such place.

Lee and I arrived here as the weather began to show the first signs of breaking after more than twenty-four hours of worsening conditions. The day before, we'd driven for what seemed like an eternity from Husavik in the far north of the country in a clockwise direction as far as Hvalnes, where we parked in front of the Eystrahorn mountain range. Even now I shudder to think how many delights we missed, both in our sense of purpose to keep to our itinerary and the grey pervading mist which left fjord after fjord in the far south east more or less invisible. At Eystrahorn the stunning vista I'd watched Mads Peter-Iversen and Nigel Danson produce some of the most inspiring shots imaginable remained hidden more or less entirely by cloud. Eventually I gave up and took a grumpy shot across the black sand into the disappearing mist.

www.flickr.com/photos/126574513@N04/49435483326/in/album-...

From Eystrahorn we moved along the coast the following morning to the famous Stokksnes, where the iconic Vestrahorn range reaches down to the sea. Many of you have made wonderful images of it and shared them with the rest of us in these pages. We saw nothing, the entire bulk of the range left to our imagination as it hid under a shroud of grey. I don't believe a morning has ever brought quite so much disappointment, although ironically it delivered my most viewed image of this year when I posted it in the spring. Maybe you liked the story all about Brian the Snail, our accommodation and transport for the week. Perhaps it's because it's not your usual composition from Stokksnes.

www.flickr.com/photos/126574513@N04/49476904751/in/album-...

And so we ended up at the small town of Hofn, almost 300 miles from Reykjavik, where we stocked up on pasta and Haribo before pulling up at a patch of unpaved ground at the edge of the sound, which served as a car park. It was the first town we'd stopped in since Husavik, also almost 300 painstaking miles distant, yet in the opposite direction. All of this was coming at the end of an especially forgettable twelve months in my life, so putting the disappointment of our morning setbacks into perspective came easily. After the non stop travel of the last few days the simple pleasure of pulling a camping chair out of the van and sitting in the open air drinking coffee and gazing across the water at this view seemed both novel and refreshing.

As I write this I can't really account for why we didn't double back to Vestrahorn now that the sky was beginning to clear. It was only a short drive away. Perhaps we weren't on speaking terms with it - we needed some time before we'd forgive it for hiding from us. Maybe we were just looking at our watches in the knowledge that time, our ever present enemy was against us and the glacier lagoon of Jokulsarlon and Diamond Beach were next on the agenda. There's another story, and a much happier one too.

I would love to return and spend much longer in Iceland, but sadly it's not the sort of place where the budget will hold out for too long. How long for and when remains impossible to answer for now, but one day I'm going to stand in front of those two mountain ranges and gawp at them open mouthed as I wonder where to plant the tripod first.

It has been quite a while since my last post, and during this period, my life seems to have undergone significant upheaval. I have never had a clear vision of my future, but at present, I find myself grappling with a complete lack of direction. Uncertainty pervades my mind, leaving me unsure of my path, what actions to take, and where I am headed.

XVII_Le Stelle

"Il suo manto era pervaso da sfumature così meravigliosamente disposte da non poter definire il colore; il collo era più bianco della neve, la groppa più verde di un trifoglio ... Appeso al collo portava un piccolo sonaglio, il cui tintinnio era così gaio, così limpido e dolce che, nell'udirlo, il cuore di Tristano si intenerì, si placò, e la sua pena si dissolse."

Leggenda di Tristano e Isotta

XVII_The Stars

"His coat was pervaded with shades so beautifully arranged that the color could not be defined; his neck was whiter than snow, his rump greener than a clover... Hanging around his neck he carried a little rattle, the jingle of which was so gay , so clear and sweet that, upon hearing it, Tristan's heart softened, calmed down, and his pain dissolved."

Legend of Tristan and Isolde

www.amazon.it/cane-nei-tarocchi-78-carte/dp/8841281219

Bing Image Creator

If now and then

we could see the present

for all it's timeless worth

would we be contented

with such a sunlit berth

pervading our heart's

as it selflessly does

from midday's delightful tangent

come mensurable shadows

softening, shortening, so stringent!

which way do we turn

when seasons justify themselves

all at once

a kick, a swoop, emotive proof

I was there in substance

as if we should wonder

at the reliquiae of so much essence

untouched, even unnoticed

by the scent of time filling the air

dancing it's way, the present has resurfaced

trust found in letting go

hope discovered in opening up

beauty found without cosmetic throes

faith rediscovered in natural worship

to revel in whatever path's transpose

your call or mine, it matters not

direction for the aimless moods

ambition befall negativity's musk

humour the sulk of skulking vendetta

the bane of heroes in vain till dusk

drive on my lovelies drive on!

for continued reading brings the conclusion

what once was is now our valediction

proliferate chances on Opportunist way

for the surprising journey brings with it definite reason.

by anglia24

15h50: 05/03/2008

©2008anglia24

Taken By : ME ,,,

& Some effects in the photo shop ,,,

______________________________________

I don't have a choice My DEAR when you became the picture & My eyes the Pervade how can i forget ,,,

______________________________________

At the edge, lost in an all pervading haze. The morning light rises with a falling breath, clearing a nebulous path.

My good fortune extended to avoiding some very obvious orographic cloud activity, which as you can see here, pervaded one or two nearby celebrity peaks.

Why some hills become engulfed like this, whilst near neighbours, often higher, remain totally clear is somewhat of a head scratcher.

Very localised wind eddies combined with pockets of moisture are part of the answer, possibly.

weather.com/storms/hurricane/news/tropical-storm-harvey-w...

Venice was born on the island of Torcello in the 5th century. While there is archaeological evidence of Roman glass-making on Torcello, it wasn't inhabited until the 5th century as the place to flee from the barbarians. As it remains today, with very few residents, it has a quiet, spiritual air about it. It is a strong spiritual refuge for me.

textures are mine

I don’t quite know how, but this song, www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6E6GcS_4uM, slipped into my playlist, a theme song of the 60’s orchestras, and it took me back to a summer place in my memory, of those quite evenings when my father opened the large lid of the turntable cabinet, and with solemn ritual, took the vinyl from its cover, may well be this very orchestra and, then, the music flooded the lounge with colour and smell notes... yes, smell, because music and smell pervade my whole memory... and this music also smells to a cake baked by my mother to serve with the coffee klatch, in that quite summer evenings, when the sea was calm and eternally innocent... unable to hurt anyone and claim a seaman victim, his annual tribute... as the same memory, in those evenings, in that quite summer place, days of innocence no longer return, that remain still in my remembrance, like that sea, unable to hurt anyone...

We visited Gandhi’s residence , Mani Bhavan, in Mumbai some years ago now and this image has been retrieved from my archive of unpublished shots.

What struck us both was that although the site where he lived is off great historical worth, it was quite neglected and appeared to be rather off the tourist trail. Dust, peeling and faded paint and a general air of what a good spruce up and thorough clean would achieve pervaded our visit. Perhaps the situation has changed now.

XVII_Le Stelle

"Il suo manto era pervaso da sfumature così meravigliosamente disposte da non poter definire il colore; il collo era più bianco della neve, la groppa più verde di un trifoglio ... Appeso al collo portava un piccolo sonaglio, il cui tintinnio era così gaio, così limpido e dolce che, nell'udirlo, il cuore di Tristano si intenerì, si placò, e la sua pena si dissolse."

Leggenda di Tristano e Isotta

XVII_The Stars

"His coat was pervaded with shades so beautifully arranged that the color could not be defined; his neck was whiter than snow, his rump greener than a clover... Hanging around his neck he carried a little rattle, the jingle of which was so gay , so clear and sweet that, upon hearing it, Tristan's heart softened, calmed down, and his pain dissolved."

Legend of Tristan and Isolde

www.amazon.it/cane-nei-tarocchi-78-carte/dp/8841281219

Bing Image Creator

A Modern Tribute to Pulp Fiction's Iconic Moment

This photograph captures the essence of Quentin Tarantino's legendary film, "Pulp Fiction," through a modern tribute. The focal point of the image is a young lady confidently holding a cigarette, flawlessly imitating Uma Thurman's iconic pose from the movie. Her poise and demeanor echo the charismatic presence of Thurman's character, Mia Wallace.

The careful arrangement of lighting adds an intriguing dimension to the composition, amplifying the film noir atmosphere that pervades the scene. The Kinoklub Split, a renowned venue for artistic endeavors, serves as the backdrop for this meticulously crafted photograph. The setting contributes an authentic cinematic ambiance, enhancing the overall homage to Tarantino's masterpiece.

The photograph was taken with meticulous attention to detail, as it was a part of a lighting workshop organized by the Kinoklub Split. The workshop aimed to explore the artistry of lighting in visual storytelling, allowing participants to experiment and refine their skills. This particular image stands as a testament to the photographer's artistry and their ability to recreate iconic cinematic moments with finesse.

Through this thoughtfully executed composition, the viewer is transported to the world of "Pulp Fiction" and invited to reminisce about the unforgettable characters and captivating narrative that have made the film an enduring classic.

Due to the time constraints we faced, we had a limited window to meticulously set up the lighting and scene. Nonetheless, we put our utmost effort into ensuring that every aspect was meticulously arranged, and we are hopeful that the end result has successfully captured the essence we intended to portray.

Nina's insta: www.instagram.com/ninasodan/

The loft is one of the most unique spaces, and is a delightful combination of aesthetics and functionality. It was formerly a service area for the tenants of the building and housed laundry rooms, storage areas, etc.

It is characterised by the simplicity of its shapes, its Mediterranean influence through the use of the colour white, and its all-pervading light. It features a series of 60 catenary arches, creating a space which evokes the ribcage of an animal.

#AB_FAV_PANORAMA_TOWERS_

It is always good to drive through West Flanders, through the Polders, through the fertile flat land.

Dotted with small villages, the church in the middle and surrounded by houses.

Like a cluster.

The road is behind the coast and dunes.

We pass quite a few farms and typically, in this flat land, they are surrounded by tall sweeping trees, to protect from the eternal wind.

These images depict the essence of my motherland.

Flanders’ natural beauty is best found in the polders of the Flemish lowlands.

An atmosphere of peace and tranquility pervades.

THANK you, M, (*_*)

For more: www.indigo2photography.com

Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved

Trees, flat, farm, house, church, reeds, canal, scape, landscape, sky, colour, Flanders, Belgium, horizontal, "Nikon D7200", "Magda indigo"

Once again the time of various mid-winter festivals pervade the place.

During the reign of Henry VIII, Father Christmas was pictured as a large man in green or scarlet robes lined with fur. He typified the spirit of good cheer at Christmas, bringing peace, joy, good food and wine and revelry. As England no longer kept the feast day of Saint Nicholas on 6 December, the Father Christmas celebration was moved to 25 December to coincide with Christmas Day.

2015 04 26 09245600000000 Splash

Explore 27th December 2015 #112

An industrial landscape that almost feels Victorian in era and operation, what you don't get from the pictures is the smell that pervades the area, for a solid distance all around.

[Whyalla in the morning_4of5_steel works + air pollution_IMG_8979]

So, what is it?

No, you’re not meant to look at the tags, that’s cheating. Besides I’ve posted one of these before so you already have a clue!

This sort of thing produces some very interesting results. The basic approach is to manually focus the camera on a suitable distant target (near but not at infinity) and set the camera to Bulb mode or equivalent, so you open the shutter by pressing the button and close it when you release.

Wait for something to happen and then wiggle the camera. When something stops happening release the shutter. Repeat. A hundred or so times...

You may need to check the aperture and ISO settings to make sure you are recording light somehow, and also keep checking the results for focus as it’s easy to knock it off accidentally.

Every November in Britain we have a national festival where we commemorate an attempt some four hundred-odd years ago to blow up parliament. We do so with aerial (and other) displays of pyrotechnics.

Each year our village hosts one of the larger local displays, free for all with donations for charity. We tend to watch from the upper rooms of our home and, as a mark of our bourgeois decadence, we are usually equipped with glasses of wine (we tend to be eating the evening meal when the aerial stuff goes off).

This was taken during the last display in 2019. Bored and frustrated with the pursuit of capturing the ideal starburst, I started wiggling the camera… just to see what happened. Well what fun. Serendipity is still the queen of the results, but there are some interesting effects...

I’ve always found it amusing that as the society that invented parliamentary democracy that is the model for so many others worldwide we have buried deep within our corporate psyche the desire to blow up the very thing.

And the celebration of the last attempt involves every level of society and every political persuasion. The consensus is that if we blow the whole lot up and start again there would be a net benefit...Such is the deep irony that pervades our nation :)

And I am so grateful that I can say that sort of thing in a public forum without fear of being sent to some Stalag or Gulag or even the Tower dungeon.

Hang on… there’s someone knocking at the front door; I’ll go and see who it is - I’ll be back in a mo’...

...

Thank you for taking the time to look. I hope you enjoy the image :)

QUANDO L'ANTICO ED IL MODERNO FANNO A PUGNI

Bandiera Arancione del Touring Club Italiano, il borgo medioevale, molto ben conservato, di rara bellezza e di grande impatto scenografico, è in grado di affascinare tanto chi lo scorge da lontano dominare la vallata, quanto chi lo esplora da vicino aggirandosi fra i suoi viottoli e le sue case medioevali in sasso, ottimamente conservati e oggetto di recupero.

Già prescelto come location per alcune produzioni cinematografiche (“Lady Hawke”), di recente è entrato a far parte dei "Borghi più Belli d'Italia". Si fregia inoltre della classifica di “Città del Vino”.

Castell’Arquato è un borgo d’arte di rara bellezza pervaso di atmosfere d’altri tempi. Ha basse case a schiera color mattone e vicoli stretti in acciottolato che portano alla cima del colle, dove si apre l’ampia piazza monumentale.

Nella piazza si resta affascinati anche dal gruppo absidale della collegiata, una delle chiese più antiche del territorio, già esistente nel 756 con funzione di pieve battesimale, ricostruita dopo il terremoto del 1117 e consacrata nel 1122.

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WHEN THE ANCIENT AND THE MODERN THEY DO PUNCHES

Orange Flag of the Italian Touring Club, the medieval village, very well preserved, of rare beauty and of great scenographic impact, is able to fascinate both those who see it from afar dominating the valley, as well as those who explore it closely by wandering through its lanes and its medieval stone houses, well preserved and recovered.

Already chosen as a location for some film productions ("Lady Hawke"), it recently became part of the "Most Beautiful Villages in Italy". It also boasts the classification of "City of Wine".

Castell’Arquato is an art village of rare beauty pervaded by atmospheres of yesteryear. It has low brick-colored terraced houses and narrow cobbled alleys that lead to the top of the hill, where the large monumental square opens up.

In the square one is also fascinated by the apsidal group of the collegiate church, one of the oldest churches in the area, already existing in 756 with the function of baptismal parish, rebuilt after the earthquake of 1117 and consecrated in 1122.

CANON EOS 600D con ob. SIGMA 10-20 f./4-5,6 HSM EX DC

So many memories here in Rhode Island,

breathing in the Atlantic Ocean

and enjoying the serenity that pervades one's soul

when bare feet are tickled by the sand.

Happy Bench Monday, Everyone!

After fifteen years, Michael Raedecker returns to The Hague with a major solo. Not everyone is offered the most beautiful place - downstairs, next to the garden room - but his work is unique. No one embroiders so ingeniously and effectively: highlighting a painterly sketch or downright obstructing it.

MICHAEL RAEDECKER EMBROIDERS

FURTHER THAN ANYONE ELSE

Regular visitors know. The first painting behind the glass entrance door sets the tone. Do not seek guidance in the introductory text that brings up too many side issues. Just look carefully and take the time to ask yourself a few open questions. Does the image grab you by the throat? Or does it make you sink in thoughts? Does the painter want to hurt your eyes, or does he want to seduce you? He may even avoid you a little, every artist has his own strategy. Rest assured; you can trust your intuition. Answers will follow. The subconscious immediately goes to work.

The Raedecker exhibition starts with a swimming pool. Private, that is, so we zoom in on the 'American Dream'. Is that dream still attractive? A nervous, somewhat ominous atmosphere lingers around the blue water. A diving board tries to lure you into a foolish act, be careful not to hit the bottom or the side. Making a bomb may be a better idea. A few bounces up and down the board and then a big splash. But after a few times, the fun wears off. Is there any fun in pools like this? The seat at the edge lends itself to a bathrobe and a towel but is not lazy enough to sit on for long. The steps to climb out of the water are also tiny. Everything considered, it is a worthless swimming pool. Why would anyone want something like that in his backyard?

Anyone who reaches a certain status in life seems to be condemned to it. A house with a swimming pool, expensive cars on the driveway, and perhaps an extramarital lover to take the stress away. It's all part of the attainable dreams of a wealthier class. However, the situation Raedecker describes is far from relaxed, the black plants even look threatening. The fact that pink and yellow shine through only makes it more sinister. Where is everyone? This is a false idyll, and the exhibition title hammers the cause into your brain with two sharp blows: MATERIAL WORLDS. Behind such words lies social criticism in wait.

MATERIAL PAINTER

Michael Raedecker (1963, Amsterdam) leaves all interpretations to the viewer. He looks from above, at our concerns on this planet, and what he thinks about them he hides in ambiguous titles (always in small letters). It’s a game to penetrate the ideas behind it. Material Worlds evokes the much vaunted and loathed 'global economy' dominated by a materialist ideology. The system has shameless winners and elsewhere (outside our view) entire tribes of people who are exploited without scruples. Not to mention the consequences for nature and the climate. These aspects are discussed time and again in disguise.

However, viewed up close, 'Material Worlds' also applies to the technique he developed as an artist. He uses an ingenious mixture of paint and fabrics. For scaling up he uses printing techniques. Most strikingly, however, is the sewing and embroidery. Technically speaking, he is a 'painter with matter' and a confrontation with his work becomes a physical sensation. Viewed from a distance, the whole image seems clear, but you are automatically drawn in and viewed up close, the use of materials provides additional information: the swimming pool discussed appears to contain 'mirrors and beads'...

More famous artists work with fabrics, but with Raedecker you sense the need to exploit the material in a new, completely original way. After a fashion study, he went to Paris. However, the world of Haute Couture, in which everyone is a manic work slave, did not suit him. He quit after just three months. In terms of character, he is a pure soloist. A necessary quality to lead an artistic life. Via the Dutch Rietveld and Rijksacademie, he ended up at the Goldsmith Academy in London and got stuck in that metropolis. It earned him a nomination for the famous Turner Prize in 2000. Although he did not get it, international contacts opened up. His gallery operates worldwide.

ALL ALONE

The Art Museum in The Hague provides a balanced picture of the past thirty years. The tests with which he was accepted at the National Academy already testify to his originality. What many people underestimate is the price you pay for success. At great heights, you are completely alone. That is reflected in all his work.

But isn't that true of every mortal? We communicate all our hopes, gains, and misfortunes on our smartphones, yet everyone arrives at the finish line alone. That realization is a major constant in Raedecker's work. Again, where is everyone? There is no living soul to be seen in his paintings, while traces of human presence can be found everywhere. Anonymous bungalows are situated in empty landscapes, often with double garages. Because of movies that almost no one can avoid these days, the bungalow - a typical American form of architecture - quickly evokes dramatic stories. What is about to happen is unclear, but Raedecker directs the emotions toward fearful suspicions with all-pervading colors and well-aimed details. When such a lonely bungalow is swallowed up by the dark blue night, five stiff trees are enough to evoke a thriller. Why is the garage left wide open? Brightly lit and empty…

Anyone who walks back to the beginning of the exhibition – highly recommended! – stumbles upon a nighttime swimming pool. Nobody uses it.

My review was published in The Hague Central on April 25. Retrospective in het Kunstmuseum. On show until August 11, 2024.