RETRO ART
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A river cuts through rock, not because of its power, but because of its persistence.
~ James N. Watkins
I posted an image of Mosquito Creek a few days ago and said that I would post some closer shots of the rocks and water, so here's one. I was right there in the water with my waders on and enjoying every minute.
“I have a lot of chameleon qualities, I get very absorbed in my surroundings.”
- River Phoenix
Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTkUplF5VIE
AUTUMN LEAVES - Eva Cassidy & the London Symphony Orchestra
Now that Summer takes it's leave
and dragonflies fly off to places where I've never been
all that remains are faded remnants; leaves and weaves
of the empty spaces held fast between my dreams
The Autumn air smells cool and sweet
with rotten windfall apples and fruit
fly-blown and maggoty at my feet
intoxicating the air; stuck with prickly thistly hirsute
My eyes are drawn to narrow slits
peering between my lashes
the sentinels of pegs are pits
burned and coal-like; ombred ashes
The golden orb web spider's lacework
is spun and hanging out to dry
warm September sun a simmering perk
of the shimmering dream catcher that caught my eye
Sombre hues and orbs of light
fill the air with tangible tones
feelings are high; moods delight
a poet's dream felt deep in bones
Tread gently on the fallen leaves
make your footprint light
enrich the Earth will all it needs
go with the flow; embrace the endless night
For after Autumn, Winter follows
and the land falls asleep and hibernates
but Spring will come; fill up the hollows
and Summer will come to warm terracotta slates
The stillness of the evening; the peace and quiet
the quickening mood when Summer visitors flee
is felt very deeply in the fading riot
of flowers beneath the weeping willow tree
I shed not a tear at Summer's end
for every time comes and goes with reason
and I am a chameleon that twists and bends
and acclimatises to every season.
- AP - Copyright © remains with and is the intellectual property of the author
Copyright © protected image please do not reproduce without permission
The quickening of the senses, the whispered desires...
In the blackness of the night, our dark side takes flight.
I've always been a fan of the "film noir" genre. My humble attempt at depicting a "good-bad girl" heroine.
ISFLY ♥♥.
Her phone was buzzing while she quickened her steps, "I'm coming!" she exclaimed, more to herself knowing well who was the culprit behind the impatient messages.
It was one of those days when nothing goes according to plan. His shop was supposed to be closed half an hour ago but due to her delay he waited because she said she would join him on the trip home.
There it was, the perfect sign of his shop, "Hideout Blooms". The concept was quite different from other flower shops. He gave out tea, sometimes coffee. The aroma was so welcoming. Moreover, he encouraged his patrons to write or draw something with the flowers they wanted to buy. That wasn't enough though, he also crafted pretty gift boxes or fancy storage containers as she liked to call them.
"You are too slow." he said, when she finally entered the shop, looking really apologetic.
"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed and went to hug attack him on the chairs he used as a temporary bed. He sighed, watching her drag a chair next to him, invading his personal space as always.
"I made that for you." he said, pointing on the wreath made of blue tulips on his work table. She over-excitedly wore it over her head, smiling sheepishly.
"You want to go home now?" she asked, smiling warmly down towards him.
"Not yet, let's rest awhile." he said, making himself comfortable and using her lap as a pillow.
She held his hand, resting with him, inhaling the sweetness all around her. Flowers, left over tea, polished wood, old paper...colorful scents.
P.S. Inspired by 8f8 - BloomLife Collection
This is the junction of two rivers, the Afon Pyrddin joins the Nedd Fechan at this point. Brecon Beacons National Park, Wales.
Civita di Bagnoregio was founded by Etruscans more than 2,500 years ago. The Civita (or City) was the birthplace of Saint Bonaventure, who died in 1274. The location of his boyhood house has long since fallen off the edge of the cliff. By the 16th century, Civita di Bagnoregio was beginning to decline, becoming eclipsed by its former suburb Bagnoregio.
At the end of the 17th century, the bishop and the municipal government were forced to move to Bagnoregio because of a major earthquake that accelerated the old town's decline. At that time, the area was part of the Papal States. In the 19th century, Civita di Bagnoregio's location was turning into an island and the pace of the erosion quickened as the layer of clay below the stone was reached in the area where today's bridge is situated. Bagnoregio continues as a small but prosperous town, while the older site became known in Italian as La città che muore ("The Dying Town"). Civita di Bagnoregio has only recently been experiencing a tourist revival.
A duo tone take on The Old Man of Storr, I thought that the light in the clouds around the pinnacles looked quite cinematic......hence the title.
Winters always seem to move slowly while everything outside is in its sleepy hibernation. And then Spring arrives and it's as if someone pressed the fast-forward button. Already the crocuses, snowdrops, white forsythia and early magnolia & irises have come and gone, while new leaves and buds are popping open everywhere. Now to just keep up with it.... :)
In celebration of Virginia Woolf's 136th birthday.
To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf is a novel about childhood emotions and adult relationships. It is about loss, subjectivity, the nature of art and the problem of perception …
“She was like a crinkled poppy; with the desire to drink dry dust.”
― Virginia Woolf, The Waves
“I make no apologies for who I am. I thought to put all sadness on another account; to squirrel it away; to cry in silence, but today I am decidedly against it. I am me and I must be able to express myself because to keep those feelings of such magnitude inside me is untenable. So many people suffer in silence, but why should they … Always I come back to the words of my Wisest Friend … “understanding is the first step towards love.” To understand me is to love me, you understand …
Soon I will be leaving for my little island where I can sleep like a baby; where there is only peace and where I can be at one with nature; where I feel no pain or anguish; where time stands still and where my mind is stilled; a place where I can just be … “ - AP
Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=597lnTSyTyI
THE WAVES – TUESDAY – MAX RICHTER
Virginia's words read by Gillian Anderson
Virginia my love; my soul mate
I have an affinity with you
deeper than the ocean
the depths of emotions
that took your life
deprived the world
of such a beautiful heart and soul
a brilliant mind; a tenderness
a gift for words; a capacity for love
that surpasses all mortal understanding
and yet, am I not mortal then
I often wondered …
sometimes I feel a yearning
a strange compulsion grips me
I find myself on the beach
the sea stretched endlessly before me
absent-mindedly I fill my pockets
the heaviest pebbles; the densest stones
as if my heavy heart
is not enough to weigh me down
still I need the comforting weight
the weight that took you from this world
yes, I feel that too, almost every day
but in these dark days that overwhelm me
when I cannot sleep unless I purge myself of my emotions
the floods that dampen my pillow
ironic how water always plays it's part
the sharp scalding salty tears
like the waves, the waves, the waves
the current; the rip-tide is strong today
it pulls me like a magnet
draws the steel sword driven through me
a metallic taste so bitter on my tongue
I am other-wordly
my unseeing gaze disturbs the birds
the mournful cries of the gulls overhead
soft wings sweep the tears from my cheeks
this life I have is not for the mild; the meek
I find myself on the mud flats
sinking slowly; more slowly than my pulse that quickens
how strange and precious is our time here
we let it trickle through our fingers
like the sand in an egg timer
one minute; two minutes; three …
hard-boiled; no, not me; not ever
no matter what fate decides for me
my heart will still be gentle
it hurts to feel this much
everything seems too big; too loud; too much
like the images in the rear view mirror
smoke and mirrors; dust to dust
ashes to ashes; needs … needs must
to overcome my present state
I cannot and maybe that is how it should be
who knows where our end will lie
are we, after all, not born to die
I hear a shout; barely audible on the wind
seems more like a whisper
carried away so swiftly
horses hooves; ah yes, I remember
as a small child falling asleep to this sound
only now I know it was just an illusion
the sound of my own beating heart
resounding within my ears
the rythmn of my life; of all life
have you ever put your ear to the ground
and heard the earth beat
have you ever fallen to your knees
in resolute defeat
this world was never meant for me
the subtle little cruelties;
the violent vivid passions that engulf me
some sleepwalk through their lives
they do not notice or understand such things
“Do not abandon me!”, I cry
I am only 8 years old and I have already twice died
now that child is still within me
TRAPPED; no-one can hear me scream
there is no escaping me; my inner child
the one who allows me to see the beauty of the world
is also the one who makes me want to run
to end it all here on my beach
where as a child I ran
and then I drowned; yes really drowned
pronounced dead at the scene; my family told
but by some strange fate it was not my time
I was brought back to this life
but I was different from the child before
I was so much more; too much more …
is this my purpose then; the place where I should be
to tell you all my stories; divulge the innermost of me
I wonder; how I wonder …
am I up to the task; the skies are dark and distant thunder
drags me down; drags me under
the waves, the waves, the waves
salty tears on my eyelashes
salty waves and thunder crashes
all around me so surreal
this is it then; the meaning of my life
to end it here, my dear Virginia
to end it here with you …
your words; your thoughts; your feelings
so closely resemble mine
and yet I wonder even now
am I still to live or am I yet to die …
I sigh
my heart aches
my head hurts
the ground shakes
earth to earth
I cry …
- AP - Copyright © remains with and is the intellectual property of the author
Copyright © protected image please do not reproduce without permission
My artwork is a compilation of 3 of my photographs
Sunset on the tidewater as textures, light, and colors change while the tide silently pores in at the urging of the sun and moon.
James City County, Virginia
In the still of the night, beneath a silver-draped canopy, the Snow Witch glided through the frostbitten woods. Her pale robes shimmered like icicles, blending with the snow. In her outstretched hand, an astro globe spun, its light casting dancing constellations on the frozen ground. The globe hummed softly, responding to her whispers.
Winter had grown stagnant, its frost too predictable, its storms too tame. She halted, her piercing gaze surveying the world. With a flick of her wrist, the globe quickened, stars within swirling like a cosmic blizzard. A gust of wind rippled through the trees, shaking loose hoarfrost that fell like glittering rain.
"Let them feel winter’s fury," she murmured, her voice like cracking ice.
Here is another photograph of the young Osprey that frequented a small angling pond near Sheffield for a few days. Historically they were widespread in Britain but suffered serious persecution, initially in the Middle Ages because of depredations on fish farms, but later for trophy specimens and eggs. They were completely extirpated from Britain with the last historic breeding attempt in 1916 at Loch Loyne. But fortunately they recolonised in 1954 and the population slowly built up to 26 pairs in 1980, then colonisation quickened to 52 pairs by 1987, passing a hundred in the late 1990s to 182 in 2004 with a current population of 240 pairs. In 2001 they were introduced to Rutland Water but they have also colonised England naturally (Cumbria, Northumberland and Yorkshire). They also recolonised Wales in 2004. British birds usually overwinter in west Africa and satellite tracking has shown that they can travel more than 400km in a day, but usually take about 20 days to complete the journey. On average they spend about 14 days refuelling en route in autumn, but only four days on the spring migration north. I'm really glad that this bird decided to linger near Sheffield for a few days this autumn.
One final thought; I recall a crossword clue "bird circles before its food (6)". Circles=Os food=prey.
After a confusing morning in Puerto Natales walking 3 blocks this way and 3 blocks that way trying to nail down the need (or not) for camping and access permits in the Torres del Paine, we hastily purchased several days worth of backpacking dry goods, and headed north. As we passed Lago Sarmiento on our way to the Laguna Amarga entrance, this was the first real jaw-dropper of a look at the Cordillera Paine. The weather was fine, and months of anticipation were building to a crescendo as we contemplated hiking the Circuito around the Cordillera - 75 miles in 7 days.
In the foreground, the Lago Sarmiento is truly a shocking shade of blue. It is also quite basic (high pH), and one of the few places in the world with actively growing thrombolites, which form the gray shoreline in the photo. Hundreds of millions of years ago, ancient thrombolites produced the oxygen in the atmosphere we breathe now.
High Sierra Wanderings August 2020
Part 1
About ten years ago I lost contact with a friend of mine when I upgraded from an old flip phone to a new iPhone. I lost his number and he some how lost mine. In June of this year, 2020, I awoke one morning to find an abnormally long voice mail in my in box. I immediately recognized his voice, so I called him back as soon as I could. Me and Hester (we had only ever called each other by last names) had met while in the US Air Force when we were both at tech training on Navy Base Port Hueneme, though neither of us are in the service any more. During our conversation he asked me what I was up to so I told him about an upcoming backpacking trip I had planed for late August. He said it sounded like fun and asked if he could join me. Over the rest of June and throughout July and August we went over gear, most of which he had to buy, and food. As the date of the trip approached things began to quicken, buying what gear hadn't been gotten yet, buying the food , getting the permits, check and double check. He had done a few single night trips but nothing of the magnitude that I had planned, and because I had been planning it since the beginning of the year I wasn't about to change my plans.
Back in 2016 I did a 40 day, 200 plus mile, solo cross country backpacking trip through the High Sierra. On day four of that trip I saw a beautiful scene in full sunlight flic.kr/p/LZZm1h that I wanted to photograph at sunrise so the peak would be aflame in the alpine glow, but I couldn't because on this particular day I was hiking with two others over my first cross country pass and couldn't stop. This trip was planned so I could get that exact shot.
Finally the day arrived, and I drove 300 miles from my home by the sea to the Sierras, he drove over 1000 miles from Colorado. Since the campground at the trailhead was at 10,000 ft and I was coming from sea level I decided I would spend the first night in my car on the side of Horseshoe Meadows Road at 7000 ft where I had a spectacular view of the Owens Valley and the dry lake of the same name. The White Mountains rising on the far side of the valley separating it from Death Valley. I arrived in late afternoon and was greeted by a magnificent thunderstorm. Clouds adorn the sky and big drops of rain pelted down; lightning split the sky and thunder shook the mountainside. Along the valley floor the shadows of the storm clouds danced with the sun beams. The storm that had greeted me eventually subsided and I took a nap in my car. I was soon awoken by more rain drumming on the windshield and thunder once again echoing. The day grew old and in sunset the second storm faded. I watched the lights of Lone Pine flicker on, mirroring the stars above and Highway 395 became a steady stream of headlights in the darkness.
Hester arrived around 11:30 and before going to sleep in our cars we caught up on things and happenings.
quickens our own and makes it so much the larger and better in any way. ~ John Muir
August 28, 2009 (DSC_0309)
"I am the fiery life of the essence of God; I am the flame above the beauty in the fields; I shine in the waters; I burn in the sun, the moon, and the stars. And with the airy wind, I quicken all things vitally by an unseen, all-sustaining life."
- Hildegard of Bingen.
There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is a divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others. - Martha Graham (1894-1991)
1/500 sec., f/4, ISO 250, focal length 17 mm
Brown tinged by salt spray, hardy plants take root and 'express their life force' in bedrock outcroppings near the sea shore.
Time marches on says it's own war cry
For peace, for freedom, for Heaven's sake
A stop in the gap that fills our presence of mind,
Found like an allusion
Illustrating with conclusion,
This moment brought my stand to the still blue sky
Uncluttered weather for a change that does us good
Relief from the impertinence of sunless days
Every woodland populated by silent leaves-
Those that'll disperse in one full-blown call
Aerodromatic is this space that can but enthral
Watchers of the momentary beauty where still the time also stood
The Sycamore leaf hands to my right in sunlit hue a web spun
A tinsel bokeh to highlight another world's global stage
There is a rush to this stillness, a quickening of the pulse
Our excitement from Nature's enlightenment hard at work
To the silent eye images sound the song for life to continually lurk
A must! to understand when time seemingly stops, a second has just begun!
My feet haven't moved, for what good their uselessness serves,
Time becomes the altarpiece that runs where I no longer can
It's my faith, my satellite of entertainment and also my benevolence
Always the ultimate winner yet it loves to play games with one
Tantalising, fateful temptation of our succumbing valuable seconds to none
We are what we become when the heart takes-in all that the mind observes
The world is away, and very much aware of it
As our emotions lay fallow; such feeling rekindled by sunlight;
A purpose is sought, and usually found,
Under Nature's ever-changing crown our disconcertion's must cease
From the penance of reaching this point, in time, we're due for release
Into a haven we may let go in order to take hold bit by bit.
by anglia24
09h50: 24/10/2008
©2008anglia24
Our eyes met, my breath quickened and in that very instant I knew that she knew that I knew. If I could have, I would have reached out and slid my hand into hers and squeezed. Then we would have talked about life and love and hair product.
Situata in posizione isolata, è raggiungibile solo attraverso un ponte pedonale in cemento armato. La causa del suo isolamento è la progressiva erosione della collina e della vallata circostante, che ha dato vita alle tipiche forme dei calanchi e che continua ancora oggi, rischiando di far scomparire la frazione, per questo chiamata anche "il paese che muore".
La frazione, attualmente abitata da poche famiglie, è ogni anno meta di numerosi turisti ed è stata diverse volte utilizzata come set cinematografico.
(Wikipedia)
Civita di Bagnoregio is a town in the Province of Viterbo in Central Italy, about 145 km (90 mi) north of Rome.
In the 19th century Civita's location was turning into an island and the pace of the erosion quickened as the layer of clay below the stone was reached in the area where today's bridge is located. Bagnoregio continues as a small but prosperous town, while Civita became known as il paese che muore (in Italian: "the dying town"). Civita has only recently been experiencing a tourist revival.
The town is noted for its striking position atop a plateau of friable volcanic tuff overlooking the Tiber river valley, in constant danger of destruction as its edges fall off, leaving the buildings built on the plateau to crumble.
The population today varies from about 12 people in winter to over 100 in the summer.
(Wikipedia)
History
Great Wall of the Qin Dynasty
Great Wall of the Han Dynasty
Great Wall of the Ming Dynasty
Map of the whole wall constructions
The Chinese were already familiar with the techniques of wall-building by the time of the Spring and Autumn Period, which began around the 8th century BC. During the Warring States Period from the 5th century BC to 221 BC, the states of Qi, Yan and Zhao all constructed extensive fortifications to defend their own borders. Built to withstand the attack of small arms such as swords and spears, these walls were made mostly by stamping earth and gravel between board frames. Qin Shi Huang conquered all opposing states and unified China in 221 BC, establishing the Qin Dynasty. Intending to impose centralized rule and prevent the resurgence of feudal lords, he ordered the destruction of the wall sections that divided his empire along the former state borders. To protect the empire against intrusions by the Xiongnu people from the north, he ordered the building of a new wall to connect the remaining fortifications along the empire's new northern frontier. Transporting the large quantity of materials required for construction was difficult, so builders always tried to use local resources. Stones from the mountains were used over mountain ranges, while rammed earth was used for construction in the plains. There are no surviving historical records indicating the exact length and course of the Qin Dynasty walls. Most of the ancient walls have eroded away over the centuries, and very few sections remain today. Later, the Han, Sui, Northern and Jin dynasties all repaired, rebuilt, or expanded sections of the Great Wall at great cost to defend themselves against northern invaders.
The Great Wall concept was revived again during the Ming Dynasty following the Ming army's defeat by the Oirats in the Battle of Tumu in 1449. The Ming had failed to gain a clear upper-hand over the Manchurian and Mongolian tribes after successive battles, and the long-drawn conflict was taking a toll on the empire. The Ming adopted a new strategy to keep the nomadic tribes out by constructing walls along the northern border of China. Acknowledging the Mongol control established in the Ordos Desert, the wall followed the desert's southern edge instead of incorporating the bend of the Huang He.
Photograph of the Great Wall in 1907
Unlike the earlier Qin fortifications, the Ming construction was stronger and more elaborate due to the use of bricks and stone instead of rammed earth. As Mongol raids continued periodically over the years, the Ming devoted considerable resources to repair and reinforce the walls. Sections near the Ming capital of Beijing were especially strong.[7]
During 1440s-1460s, the Ming also built a so-called "Liaodong Wall". Similar in function to the Great Wall (whose extension it, in a sense, was), but more basic in construction, the Liaodong Wall enclosed the agricultural heartland of the Liaodong province, protecting it potential incursions by Jurched-Mongol Oriyanghan from the northwest and the Jianzhou Jurchens from the north. While stones and tiles were used in some parts of the Liaodong Wall, most of it was in fact simply an earth dike with moats on both sides.[8]
Towards the end of the Ming Dynasty, the Great Wall helped defend the empire against the Manchu invasions that began around 1600. Under the military command of Yuan Chonghuan, the Ming army held off the Manchus at the heavily fortified Shanhaiguan pass, preventing the Manchus from entering the Chinese heartland. The Manchus were finally able to cross the Great Wall in 1644, when the gates at Shanhaiguan were opened by Wu Sangui, a Ming border general who disliked the activities of rulers of the Shun Dynasty. The Manchus quickly seized Beijing, and defeated the newly founded Shun Dynasty and remaining Ming resistance, to establish the Qing Dynasty.
Under Qing rule, China's borders extended beyond the walls and Mongolia was annexed into the empire, so construction and repairs on the Great Wall were discontinued.
Notable areas
An area of the sections of the Great Wall at Jinshanling
The following three sections are in Beijing municipality, which were renovated and which are regularly visited by modern tourists today.
* "North Pass" of Juyongguan pass, known as the Badaling. When used by the Chinese to protect their land, this section of the wall has had many guards to defend China’s capital Beijing. Made of stone and bricks from the hills, this portion of the Great Wall is 7.8 meters (25.6 ft) high and 5 meters (16.4 ft) wide.
* "West Pass" of Jiayuguan (pass). This fort is near the western edges of the Great Wall.
* "Pass" of Shanhaiguan. This fort is near the eastern edges of the Great Wall.
* One of the most striking sections of the Ming Great Wall is where it climbs extremely steep slopes. It runs 11 kilometers (7 mi) long, ranges from 5 to 8 meters (16–26 ft) in height, and 6 meters (19.7 ft) across the bottom, narrowing up to 5 meters (16.4 ft) across the top. Wangjinglou is one of Jinshanling's 67 watchtowers, 980 meters (3,215 ft) above sea level.
* South East of Jinshanling, is the Mutianyu Great Wall which winds along lofty, cragged mountains from the southeast to the northwest for approximately 2.25 kilometers (about 1.3 miles). It is connected with Juyongguan Pass to the west and Gubeikou to the east.
* 25 km west of the Liao Tian Ling stands of part of Great wall which is only 2~3 stories high. According to the records of Lin Tian, the wall was not only extremely short compared to others, but it appears to be silver. Archeologists explain that the wall appears to be silver because the stone they used were from Shan Xi, where many mines are found. The stone contains extremely high metal in it causing it to appear silver. However, due to years of decay of the Great Wall, it is hard to see the silver part of the wall today.
Another notable section lies near the eastern extremity of the wall, where the first pass of the Great Wall was built on the Shanhaiguan (known as the “Number One Pass Under Heaven”), the first mountain the Great Wall climbs. Jia Shan is also here, as is the Jiumenkou, which is the only portion of the wall that was built as a bridge. Shanhaiguan Great Wall is called the “Museum of the Construction of the Great Wall”, because of the Meng Jiang-Nu Temple, built during the Song Dynasty.
Characteristics
The Great Wall on an 1805 map
Before the use of bricks, the Great Wall was mainly built from Earth or Taipa, stones, and wood.
During the Ming Dynasty, however, bricks were heavily used in many areas of the wall, as were materials such as tiles, lime, and stone. The size and weight of the bricks made them easier to work with than earth and stone, so construction quickened. Additionally, bricks could bear more weight and endure better than rammed earth. Stone can hold under its own weight better than brick, but is more difficult to use. Consequently, stones cut in rectangular shapes were used for the foundation, inner and outer brims, and gateways of the wall. Battlements line the uppermost portion of the vast majority of the wall, with defensive gaps a little over 30 cm (one foot) tall, and about 23 cm (9 inches) wide.
Condition
The Great Wall at Mutianyu, near Beijing
The Great Wall in fog
While some portions north of Beijing and near tourist centers have been preserved and even reconstructed, in many locations the Wall is in disrepair. Those parts might serve as a village playground or a source of stones to rebuild houses and roads.[9] Sections of the Wall are also prone to graffiti and vandalism. Parts have been destroyed because the Wall is in the way of construction.[10] No comprehensive survey of the wall has been carried out, so it is not possible to say how much of it survives, especially in remote areas. Intact or repaired portions of the Wall near developed tourist areas are often frequented by sellers of tourist kitsch.
More than 60 kilometres (37 mi) of the wall in Gansu province may disappear in the next 20 years, due to erosion from sandstorms. In places, the height of the wall has been reduced from more than five meters (16.4 ft) to less than two meters. The square lookout towers that characterize the most famous images of the wall have disappeared completely. Many western sections of the wall are constructed from mud, rather than brick and stone, and thus are more susceptible to erosion.[11]
The Quickening©David Rothwell Photography All Rights Reserved. Please do not use any of my images/digital data without my written permission. 2013
Please also REFRAIN FROM POSTING YOUR OWN IMAGES within my Photostream. I consider this rude and unwelcome. Posting an image of your own within my stream will not encourage me to visit / award, but will in fact have the complete opposite affect. Persistent offenders will simply be blocked.
Model: Mia Allen
MUA & Hair: Christine Shields
Assistant: Katherine Westlake
Photography, character, concept, book, dress modifications: Kindra Nikole Photography
[Finally a new installation in my dreamscapes series! It's been far, *far* too long. I shot this back in November but only just now completed editing it. Had such a fun time handpainting this vintage dress and painting and embellishing the book prop for this.
It's been a tumultuous journey these past four or so months, but I'm finally coming out the other end feeling fulfilled, invigorated, and excited for the future. Can't wait to create more dreamscapes over the coming months.
This particular segment of dreamscapes is indicative of new directions and ideas. The ethereal being looks onward and upward to fresh possibilities. The book she holds with a proud grace may just unlock new secrets in this hidden world.]
Whenever I watch my favourite landscape photographers on YouTube at this time of year, I often hear them saying they don't like summer, with its featureless skies and quiet moods. They miss the dark menace of winter, the freshness of spring or the vibrant tones of autumn. Reluctantly they crawl outside in search of a 4:30am sunrise, looking for something positive to say as they examine a clear blue sky doubtfully and set up a composition that includes as little of it as possible, if indeed at all. More often than not, the word "winter" will appear in a nearby sentence in their vlog.
Since landscape photography came into my life in a more meaningful way I've found my own views coming closer to the likes of Nigel Danson and Tom Heaton, but from the opposite direction. I always hated winter; the endless darkness, damp, wind and cold finding me heading for Southern Europe at every available yet limited opportunity. But now I see the drama in the sea around me and the way the weak sun lights up an atmosphere full of moisture to illuminate the sky in soft orange and pink tones. It's the time when I take what I think are my best photographs. I've never minded spring and its sense of regeneration too much; still a bit chilly but at least it meant that summer was on the way. And oh for those epic gales which mark the transition from winter to spring around here and boil the seas into an almighty fury. As for autumn, I've worked in a further education college as a finance manager for the last 20 years. Autumn just doesn't exist. I barely ever see daylight in an endless stream of late nights, deadlines and committee meetings which run from the beginning of September until Christmas each year. Autumn is a complete write off for me, and I'm all too conscious of what I'm missing in those few moments when I notice the colour in the sycamore trees in my garden change from green to orange, red and gold as I lie inertly on the sofa recharging for another round of fireworks on Monday. Whenever anyone tells me they're heading off for a quiet September holiday I can feel my pulse rate quicken as I fight to control the urge to engage in acts that could bring a friendship to a sorry end.
Maybe Messrs Danson and Heaton would enjoy summer more if they focussed on locations around the sea. Cornwall still provides plenty of drama whatever the season, as long as you have an idea where to go and when. Our remote home county is surrounded by the sea on three sides, with only a handful of miles in the north east corner connecting us to the mainland of Britain. I'd been waiting for an evening when there might be some colour in the sky, but I also wanted the tide to be out at sunset. Tuesday provided the ideal conditions, and Holywell Bay, a place I've not returned to since a particularly epic Saturday evening nine months earlier was the place I had in mind. I love this beach at low tide. The foreground changes every time I visit, and whatever the conditions, it never disappoints. I met my daughter Nicky here for her second lesson in our landscape and seascape series. She's always been a bit of a lucky charm, and after the sun had set the clouds were illuminated with a fierce glow that reflected in the water on the sand. It was an opportunity to have another go at focus stacking, and with a manual focus at that, always a bold move from the safety of the AF switch on the lens. We were still clicking our cameras well into the blue hour at 10:15pm, standing in our welly boots in a huge pool with the Gull Rocks reflected in the water and the clouds almost purple in the dark sky. Another joyous evening when I remind myself that no matter what the great and the good tell us, we can still take a photograph in summer.
Homily062021_QuiettheStormu
“Let Us Cross to the Other Side”
One phrase in our Gospel reading quickened my heart, because I instantly related to its meaning. It speaks to the big and small decisions we make everyday in our lives. “Let Us Cross to the Other Side” is a statement that we should all relate with. With each event that occurs in our lives we make decisions (big or small)…and a new journey begins. Yes, our lives, are but a series of decisions and events with many endings but ultimately concludes with our death.
In this rich and deep Gospel story, Jesus is inviting each of his disciples to travel with him “to the other side.” Each of them freely makes the decision to enter the boat. From the disciples view, they soon discover that they are on rough water. It should be easy for us to relate to their predicament. However, Jesus we are told is asleep on a cushion. In their panic, they wake Jesus up, and state “don’t you care that we are perishing?” With the words from his mouth, Jesus simply says “quiet, peace be still.” All the storms are calmed now…the one they see and the one they feel on the inside. One can imagine Jesus calming saying “what are you afraid of…where is your faith?”
How often have we felt this way in the middle of a journey? The storms within our own hearts! How often do we feel the squalls, the uncontrollable emotions that snatches away our peace and clouds our judgement. I have and so have you.
Recently, I was traveling to see one of our parishioners. I was stopped at a red light, when the light turned green, I proceeded forward…suddenly I was in the middle of a sudden storm…my car spun around…and my peace was gone. After my daze, I quickly realized how blessed I was…in the spinning of my car…the deadly force of the other car had been swallowed up. A few feet more…and I would have been crushed. I made it to the other side of this event…and I am steal learning things about myself. What did the disciples learn about themselves, as they completed their journey to the other side of the lake? I suspect they had a deeper understanding and a “healthier fear” of the one called Jesus; their constant traveling companion.
Like the disciples on the boat, some storms we experience collectively-that would be together. Our Psalm reading, in the context of our shared experience of the pandemic, seems very timely. Is life not like sailing on deep waters where we experience wonder, mystery and fear. Sometimes larger then life events carry us to heaven (rain during a drought or the miracle of a as a vaccine that is available to us all) and sometimes we get carried to the depths-pandemics, droughts, earthquakes and war. What should our collective response be? I quote our Psalm reading…
They cried to the LORD in their distress;
from their straits he rescued them,
He hushed the storm to a gentle breeze,
and the billows of the sea were stilled.
They rejoiced that they were calmed,
and he brought them to their desired haven.
Let them give thanks to the LORD for his kindness
and his wondrous deeds to the children of men.
It appears that we are starting to see the other side of this event we call Covid. It has been a very long journey. As we arrive on this new chore together…we are wondering what the new normal is going to look like. We know that this journey has changed us…it has changed our Church community.
Every week we come to church where we are reminded that we do not journey alone. We receive an outward reminder of an inward reality that our God would never abandon us. I am reminded what Jesus said in John 14:27:
“Peace- I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.”
Jesus always resides with us and in us. In a moment we will physically receive Jesus in the bread…we will consume this bread of life. The sign has been given, Jesus is literally with us. The question now is where will we take Him?
-rc
My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.
Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,
which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.
~ “Messenger” by Mary Oliver, from Thirst
[under the old and very hot weather lately]
Copyright Michael Kurman (bonobaltimore)...please contact bonobaltimore@hotmail.com if you wish to use.
“I’m not crying. It’s just raining. On my face.” Flight Of the Conchords
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Turns out we are visiting North Carolina to experience record rainfall levels. The all-time record in Asheville in the month of May (the ENTIRE month) used to be 9.1 inches. As of today, which is Wednesday 5/30/18, Asheville has been drenched with 17.97 inches of rain. And it’s still going!
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This rain is causing a lot of flooding around the area. Some people in other areas nearby are having to evacuate their homes. Several roads around here are flooded, rendering them impassable.
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We are pretty lucky though. If we’re going to be stuck in the rain, this is a pretty magical place to experience it. Right now, there is a cool breeze as the adults sip coffee on the covered porch and the kids snuggle up with us for a few moments between playing. The air smells sweet. We are safe. We are cozy. The flowers are blooming.
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What are your favorite rainy-day activities?