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Point Reyes, nördlich von San Francisco" ist eine wilde Halbinsel. Berühmt berüchtigt ist sie u.a., weil der Andreas-Graben, der das schwere Erdbeben von 1906 verursachte, mitten durch dieses Gebiet läuft.
Pigeon Point Light Station or Pigeon Point Lighthouse is a lighthouse built in 1871 to guide ships on the Pacific coast of California. It is the tallest lighthouse on the West Coast of the United States. It is still an active Coast Guard aid to navigation. Pigeon Point Light Station is located on the coastal highway, 5 miles south of Pescadero, California, between Santa Cruz and San Francisco. The 115-foot, white masonry tower, resembles the typical New England structure. Because of its location and ready access from the main highway, Pigeon Point entertains many public visitors.
Small Romanian Point Lace ornament, about 3.5". When it is washed and stiffened, it could be hung on a Christmas tree. The braids are ecru #20 Cebelia, and the fillings are #30.
About 90 minutes before sunset. The wind was whipping and the fog was moving in, so I didn't stick around, returning instead to the city for moonrise and sunset. It was a good choice as it was a beautiful pink one to the north.
Some of you may have noticed that, unfortunately, owing to the fact that a certain person who sells truck photos on eBay commercially has been lifting my images from this album and selling them I have had to remove 2300 photos that didn't have a watermark. I have now run around 1700 through Lightroom and added a watermark with the intention of bulk uploading them again. Rather than watermark the existing (hidden) files in Flickr one at a time it will be easier to do it this way. I definitely won’t be adding individual tags with the make and model of each vehicle I will just add generic transport tags. Each photo is named after the vehicle and reg in any case. For anyone new to these images there is a chapter and verse explanation below. It is staggering how many times I get asked questions that a quick scan would answer or just as likely I can’t possibly answer – I didn’t take them, but, just to clarify-I do own the copyright- and I do pursue copyright theft.
This is a collection of scanned prints from a collection of photographs taken by the late Jim Taylor A number of years ago I was offered a large number of photographs taken by Jim Taylor, a transport photographer based in Huddersfield. The collection, 30,000 prints, 20,000 negatives – and copyright! – had been offered to me and one of the national transport magazines previously by a friend of Jim's, on behalf of Jim's wife. I initially turned them down, already having over 30,000 of my own prints filed away and taking space up. Several months later the prints were still for sale – at what was, apparently, the going rate. It was a lot of money and I deliberated for quite a while before deciding to buy them. I did however buy them directly from Jim’s wife and she delivered them personally – just to quash the occasional rumour from people who can’t mind their own business. Although some prints were sold elsewhere, particularly the popular big fleet stuff, I should have the negatives, unfortunately they came to me in a random mix, 1200 to a box, without any sort of indexing and as such it would be impossible to match negatives to prints, or, to even find a print of any particular vehicle. I have only ever looked at a handful myself unless I am scanning them. The prints are generally in excellent condition and I initially stored them in a bedroom without ever looking at any of them. In 2006 I built an extension and they had to be well protected from dust and moved a few times. Ultimately my former 6x7 box room office has become their (and my own work’s) permanent home.
I hope to avoid posting images that Jim had not taken his self, however should I inadvertently infringe another photographers copyright, please inform me by email and I will resolve the issue immediately. There are copyright issues with some of the photographs that were sold to me. A Flickr member from Scotland drew my attention to some of his own work amongst the first uploads of Jim’s work. I had a quick look through some of the 30 boxes of prints and decided that for the time being the safest thing for me to do was withdraw the majority of the earlier uploaded scans and deal with the problem – which I did. whilst the vast majority of the prints are Jims, there is a problem defining copyright of some of them, this is something that the seller did not make clear at the time. I am reasonably confident that I have since been successful in identifying Jims own work. His early work consists of many thousands of lustre 6x4 prints which are difficult to scan well, later work is almost entirely 7x5 glossy, much easier to scan. Not all of the prints are pin sharp but I can generally print successfully to A4 from a scan.
You may notice photographs being duplicated in this Album, unfortunately there are multiple copies of many prints (for swapping) and as I have to have a system of archiving and backing up I can only guess - using memory - if I have scanned a print before. The bigger fleets have so many similar vehicles and registration numbers that it is impossible to get it right all of the time. It is easier to scan and process a print than check my files - on three different PC’s - for duplicates. There has not been, nor will there ever be, any intention to knowingly breach anyone else's copyright. I have presented the Jim Taylor collection as exactly that-The Jim Taylor Collection- his work not mine, my own work is quite obviously mine.
Unfortunately, many truck spotters have swapped and traded their work without copyright marking it as theirs. These people never anticipated the ease with which images would be shared online in the future. I would guess that having swapped and traded photos for many years that it is almost impossible to control their future use. Anyone wanting to control the future use of their work would have been well advised to copyright mark their work (as many did) and would be well advised not to post them on photo sharing sites without a watermark as the whole point of these sites is to share the image, it is very easy for those that wish, to lift any image, despite security settings, indeed, Flickr itself, warns you that this is the case. It was this abuse and theft of my material that led me to watermark all of my later uploads. I may yet withdraw non-watermarked photos, I haven’t decided yet. (I did in the end)
To anyone reading the above it will be quite obvious that I can’t provide information regarding specific photos or potential future uploads – I didn’t take them! There are many vehicles that were well known to me as Jim only lived down the road from me (although I didn’t know him), however scanning, titling, tagging and uploading is laborious and time consuming enough, I do however provide a fair amount of information with my own transport (and other) photos. I am aware that there are requests from other Flickr users that are unanswered, I stumble across them months or years after they were posted, this isn’t deliberate. Some weekends one or two “enthusiasts” can add many hundreds of photos as favourites, this pushes requests that are in the comments section ten or twenty pages out of sight and I miss them. I also have notifications switched off, I receive around 50 emails a day through work and I don’t want even more from Flickr. Other requests, like many other things, I just plain forget – no excuses! Uploads of Jim’s photos will be infrequent as it is a boring pastime and I would much rather work on my own output.
The first multiplex cinema in the UK, now just a rusting shell, a fallen icon. The times certainly have changed, and not for the better.
I visited in hope and it was realised. These 3 species joined my @22 folder for species/races taken this year.
The promise of clear skies and an early morning moonrise saw me head out to The Avenue with the hope of getting a few star trail images. Sadly despite having so many great monuments around the countryside we are plagued with light pollution. Swindon, Salisbury, Marlborough, Calne and Bath have us surrounded and fill the night sky with the orange glow from their sodium street lights.
I contented myself with a view across The Avenue with the point of one of the great marker stones pointing up towards Jupiter (the bright star) and no star trails.
The slight orange glow in this image is a combination of the bright lights of Bath some 22 miles away and Melksham about 10 miles away.
A 20 sec exposure - Canon 24mm TS-E lens at F3.5, ISO 800, was a little too long to capture all the stars sharply, the ones on the left of the image have slight trails. I am quite pleased with the light painting of the foreground though.
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from the highest point,
the world seems so small.
i created a new blog in which i'll talk about photography related things. Take a look!
[explore #258]
my profile | facebook page | formspring | blog | tumblr.
© don't use or blog my photos in any way without my written permission!
It was good to get a WA coded F-35A visiting Lossie this week for the Point Blank exercise. I think this is the first USAF one to actually have landed here. Even practice diversions are rare up here from Lakenheath based jets. Bring back the F-111 with their regular visits.
This shot was processed with Nik, ColorEfex. It was a total experiment and ended up settling on this version.
Penlee Point (Cornish: Penn Legh, meaning stone-slab headland) is a coastal headland to the southeast of the village of Rame in southeast Cornwall, England, UK. The point lies at the entrance to Plymouth Sound.
There is a medieval chapel present at the site, in side are many hidden coins in the cracks.
White-point moth, Mythimna albipuncta. 1 June 2024. Ealing, London, England, UK.
Please contact me to arrange the use of any of my images. They are copyright, all rights reserved.
Zabriskie Point in Death Valley National Park. DSC7076A
If interested in purchasing this photograph, please contact me for prices.
© 2015 Mark Whitt Photography
The narrative mode (also known as the mode of narration) is the set of methods the author of a literary, theatrical, cinematic, or musical story uses to convey the plot to the audience. Narration, the process of presenting the narrative, occurs because of the narrative mode. It encompasses several overlapping areas of concern, most importantly narrative point-of-view, which determines through whose perspective the story is viewed; narrative voice, which determines the manner through which the story is communicated to the audience; narrative structure, which determines in what order events are presented; and narrative tense, which determines with what sense of time the story is expressed, whether in the past, present, or future.
The person who is used to tell the story is called the "narrator," a character developed by the author expressly for the purpose of relating events to the audience. The experiences and observations related by the narrator are not generally to be regarded as those of the author, though in some cases (especially in non-fiction), it is possible for the narrator and author to be the same person. However, the narrator may be a fictive person devised by the author as a stand-alone entity, or even a character. The narrator is considered participant if an actual character in the story, and nonparticipant if only an implied character, or a sort of omniscient or semi-omniscient being who does not take part in the story but only relates it to the audience.
Ability to use the different points of view is one measure of a person's writing skill. The writing mark schemes used for National Curriculum assessments in England reflect this: they encourage the awarding of marks for the use of viewpoint as part of a wider judgment.
The narrative mode encompasses not only who tells the story, but also how the story is described or expressed (for example, by using stream of consciousness or unreliable narration).
[panorama created from five photos]
Zabriskie Point is a part of Amargosa Range located in east of Death Valley in Death Valley National Park in the United States noted for its erosional landscape. It is composed of sediments from Furnace Creek Lake, which dried up 5 million years ago — long before Death Valley came into existence.
[from wikipedia]
V-Point Grocery which recently closed is on Murchison Road in Fayetteville, North Carolina in Cumberland County.
A digital watercolor of Pigeon Point Lighthouse, located in Pigeon Point Light Station State Historic Park, is a historic landmark on the California coast. It is known for its 115-foot tall lighthouse tower, one of the tallest in the United States, and its stunning coastal scenery. The park offers hiking, tide pool exploration, and views of the Pacific Ocean.
Prompt: A highly detailed, watercolor illustration painting with brush strokes on white canvas, of Pigeon Point Lighthouse. The tall, elegant white tower rises from a rugged, rocky bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Its black lantern room gleams softly in the sunlight. Below, waves crash dramatically against the jagged rocks, sending sprays of white foam into the air. The small keeper’s cottage with a red roof and twin chimneys nestles beside the lighthouse, adding charm and character to the scene. Fine details, weathered stone, tufts of coastal greenery, and rippling reflections on the water give the scene depth and authenticity. The atmosphere feels serene yet powerful, evoking the timeless beauty of the California coast. --ar 5:4 --v 7.0
This is the beautiful Point Cartwright on the Sunshine Coast.
Canon EOS60D, one shot RAW HDR, 0.3s, f/22, ISO100 @18mm, photomatix and cropped and editing in PSE.
Feel free to add constructive criticism!
Selon la légende, ce lac aurait englouti, il y a fort longtemps, une belle et riche ville qui s'étirait sur les bords du Doubs vers la fin de la période gallo-romaine.
Dans la cité de Damvauthier, la vie était alors heureuse, insouciante. Comme partout en Gaule, la paix romaine avait apporté prospérité. De somptueuses et confortables demeures avec leurs murs décorés de peintures et de fresques ou revêtus de marbre se dressaient le long de la rue principale. Au centre se trouvait la vaste place, encadrée de portiques et entourée de magnifiques monuments: théâtre, thermes ou bains publics... Depuis des siècles, les habitants avaient délaissé le costume et les modes gauloises de leurs ancêtres. Cheveux courts et visage rasé, les hommes se chaussaient de sandales, se drapant dans un long manteau, la toge. Leurs épouses très coquettes portaient des robes de tissu fin et les plus aisées se paraient de bijoux, bagues, bracelets, colliers.
Ils vivaient dans la paresse, l'oisiveté et passaient leurs journées à festoyer, à donner des réceptions, à s’amuser ...
Un jour d'hiver, la neige se mit à tomber abondamment, comblant les fossés, coiffant les sapins. Personne n’osait s’aventurer à l’extérieur de la cité. Dans les maisons, tous se rapprochaient du feu et continuaient à rire, à manger, à boire, à chanter et à danser...
Dans la bise glaciale, sous les flocons blancs, cheminait péniblement une pauvre femme, les vêtements en lambeaux et les pieds à demi‑nus. Respirant difficilement, elle portait avec précaution un précieux fardeau qu'elle essayait de préserver du froid. Elle oubliait son propre malheur pour ne songer qu'à son unique trésor, son petit garçon. Elle cherchait à le protéger avec son châle. Souffrant du froid et de la faim, le marmot avait longtemps pleuré. A présent, il geignait et ses plaintes, quoique affaiblies, déchiraient le silence de la nuit.
Les premières maisons de Damvauthier avec leurs étroites fenêtres et leurs cours intérieures étaient en vue. La malheureuse reprenait espoir car tous deux pourraient se réchauffer bientôt sous un toit et une âme charitable leur offrirait sans doute une bouillie et du pain. Déjà elle s'avançait sous un porche où l'on sentait moins le vent. Elle frappa à la porte. Un domestique s'empressa et la dévisagea avec mépris.
- Que veux-tu, mendiante ?
- Pitié, pitié pour mon enfant à demi‑mort. Nous venons de loin et cherchons un abri pour la nuit.
‑ Mon maître m'a ordonné de ne pas ouvrir aux vagabonds. Passez votre chemin !
- Pitié !!!
- N'insistez pas, sinon on lâchera les chiens.
Elle s'éloigna en trébuchant. Là‑bas, trouverait‑elle peut‑être des gens plus accueillants ? Elle frappa contre une porte. Elle entendit des voix, elle se reprit à espérer.
- Que voulez-vous?
- Pitié, pitié pour mon malheureux petit. Laissez‑nous entrer et nous chauffer.
- Ah! Non ! Le propriétaire ne reçoit que des gens correctement vêtus. Continuez votre route, femme.
Et la porte claqua, tandis qu'arrivaient, de l’intérieur, chants, rires...
L'infortunée continua à frapper à tous les logis. Partout, elle ne rencontra qu'indifférence et dureté de cœur tandis que la nuit tombait insensiblement. Ici on manquait de place, là on n'ouvrait pas à une heure aussi tardive…
Découragée, à bout de forces, elle errait et l'enfant se remit à gémir lamentablement. Il ne leur restait plus qu'à s'endormir pour toujours dans cette nuit hivernale, alors que tout près, on mangeait et buvait à pleines gorgées, on s'amusait et riait. De grosses larmes roulèrent sur ses joues creuses et livides. Dans un ultime sursaut, apercevant une statue de la Vierge sur un socle de pierre, elle lui présenta son fils dans un geste d'offrande.
‑ Sainte Marie, vous qui avez connu toutes les souffrances des mères, priez pour mon enfant auprès du Seigneur. Ma vie importe peu. Mais lui, gardez‑le, protégez‑le. Faites qu'une âme charitable veuille bien le secourir.
A peine achevait‑elle sa prière qu'elle entendit marcher derrière elle. Se retournant, elle vit un homme d'un certain âge, à la barbe grisonnante et vêtu simplement. D'une voix très douce, il demanda :
‑ Où allez‑vous? Vous marchez pieds nus par ce temps? Votre enfant est tout transi.
Levant ses yeux remplis de larmes, la mère reconnut un moine de Condat, (c'est‑à‑dire de Saint-Claude, Jura).
‑ Mon Frère, je n'en peux plus. Pitié pour mon enfant qui souffre terriblement!
‑ Courage! Je ne vous abandonnerai pas. Je ne suis pas riche et je ne vis pas dans le luxe comme beaucoup d'habitants de cette ville. Je suis le moine Point et vous trouverez refuge dans ma hutte à la lisière de la forêt.
Bientôt, tous trois purent se réchauffer auprès d'un bon feu dans la modeste cabane. L'ermite partagea le pain et le lait qui lui restaient, y ajoutant quelques noix, châtaignes et pommes. Après ce maigre souper, la femme et son enfant se couchèrent sur une paillasse et s'endormirent profondément. Ils n'entendirent pas, vers le milieu de la nuit, le vacarme assourdissant, le tumulte des eaux du Doubs. Plusieurs fois, le tonnerre gronda et la terre trembla dans ses profondeurs. Un barrage céda et l'eau envahit les rues de Damvauthier. Trop occupés à festoyer, les habitants demeurèrent indifférents aux bruits. Les vagues continuèrent à déferler avec violence en s’écrasant sur les murs. Enfin les cloches sonnèrent l'alarme, mais personne ne savait où fuir. Affolés, certains montèrent à l'étage, grimpèrent sur les toits en s'agrippant aux colonnes alors que les flots atteignaient déjà les fenêtres. Situation désespérée! Ici une famille entière appelait au secours, plus loin, d’autres essayaient de se sauver en hurlant de frayeur. Les unes après les autres, les habitations disparaissaient sous les eaux en furie qui détruisaient tout sur leur passage.
Bientôt, les clochers furent eux aussi engloutis. Il ne resta plus rien de cette ville ingrate, impie. La tempête se calma et un grand silence s'établit. Le soleil pointa à l'horizon et glissa ses pâles rayons sur les eaux tranquilles.
Un jour nouveau naissait et la pauvre femme se réveilla apaisée. En vain, elle appela le moine Point qui avait quitté les lieux. Elle sortit et aperçut, devant elle, à perte de vue, une étendue d’eau claire à la place où, la veille, s'élevait la fière cité de Damvauthier.
Avait‑elle rêvé? Où se trouvaient toutes ces orgueilleuses maisons qui n'avaient pas voulu lui ouvrir leurs portes? Étaient‑elles à jamais enfouies au fond des eaux?
On raconte que l'humble femme s'installa dans la cabane, qu'elle vécut longtemps au bord du lac, y élevant son enfant, trouvant à proximité les produits nécessaires à sa survie. Plus tard, son fils entra au service d'un seigneur pour apprendre le métier des armes. Il donna entière satisfaction. Son maître l'adopta et le choisit pour lui succéder. Il se souvint alors du religieux qui les avait sauvés lors cette nuit tragique et transforma le rustique ermitage en prieuré. En souvenir du moine de Condat, le magnifique plan d'eau fut dénommé lac de Saint‑Point. Au fil des ans, bourgs et hameaux s'établirent sur ses rives et les pêcheurs prétendaient que les soirs d'orage, leurs filets s'accrochaient à quelques tours ou toitures demeurées intactes au fond de l’eau. A la fin de l'été, à la tombée la nuit, des vapeurs blanchâtres semblent monter de la surface et certains affirment qu'elles sont les fantômes des habitants disparus, en particulier pendant la nuit du 2 novembre (Toussaint), afin que personne n'oublie le devoir d'amour et de charité...