View allAll Photos Tagged RESTORATIVE
I deliberately put this baby seal in the distance with the scene surrounding him to show how lonely he is. We observed this little fellow struggling to get further up the beach. I have been told that maybe mum is in the surf so I am wishing him a quiet restorative slumber so he can get back to fishing with his mum
A tranquil end point on my Sunday morning bike ride. The tranquil beauty found on this spot of the Black River is restorative.
The original photo was taken with my iPhone 11. Photofox Tiny World component was used to create this image.
I received a very interesting phone call from a lovely lady, Jessica Ripka. She is a musician (www.myspace.com/jessicaripkamusic) who is helping organize a benefit to restore the Spaulding Court apartments. She noted that she found my photos via Flickr and wanted to use them for promotional purposes for the benefit. I love to see positive things happening around the city and I gladly gave her permission to use my images for promotioiinal purposes and also volunteered to come and photograph the event.
Here's the details:
Date: Saturday September 4, 2010
Time: 8 to 10pm
Place: Spaulding Court - Detroit, MI
Cost: $5
Description: Spaulding Court - an iconic relic that has witnessed the changing face of downtown Detroit - will host a benefit show this September to raise funds and awareness for the grassroots restorative effort in Corktown. All proceeds will go directly towards building renovation costs estimated at $25,000 per unit. Come out and support local music, food, and community.
You can see more of my Spaulding Court shots here: www.flickr.com/photos/cstangis/sets/72157624658951322/
Oh, and I learned that your phone number is not private if it's listed on Facebook. So while I'm glad it got me in contact with the lovely Jessica, it freaked me out that it was so easily accessible so I took it down.
It wasn’t the most productive of Peak District afternoons. So far, we’d got up late - after a very long Saturday when the oil had been burned at both ends - and wandered into the centre of Buxton for a restorative pint of Neck Oil at a sunny bench outside the King’s Head, before returning via a snack based foray at the local Sainsbury’s to our rented cottage to watch the last day of the Premier League season on the TV. It was hot outside, and with a plain blue sky on a Sunday afternoon we quickly surmised that landscape photography could take a back seat until after the football - even though the outcome of the latter seemed all but certain. For the evening, once the final knockings were complete, we had a plan.
Among the forty or more locations where I sunk pins into the map before coming to the area, some were pleasingly close to the handsome market town in which we were based. We’d already visited one of them for a grand Flickr gathering before sunrise the previous morning, and another almost immediately after arriving here on Friday evening at the end of nine and a half gruelling hours on the road. More of those to follow. And while we were tempted to return to Hitter Hill for sunset, we agreed that after such a lethargic day, the Three Shires Waterfall might offer rather more in the way of photographic opportunities. All we had to hope was that the good burghers of the three counties might have disappeared by the time we arrived so that we could concentrate on our compositions without unwanted distractions and interventions in the two hours leading up until sunset.
We might as well have wished for the moon to be made of cheese. By 7pm, the deep river valley was well and truly in shadow as we’d expected. Surely by now, with no sun to bathe in, the local weekend hedonists might be heading for home? But no, around the bridge and the bathing area below the waterfalls, they gathered in numbers, filling the space we hoped to point our cameras at. While I headed straight into the foray and clambered down a rocky platform to the water to get something in the bag from the main draw, Dave and Lee didn’t even bother to stop, continuing past the bridge to see what else lay further along the river.
Later, I’ll come back to my efforts among the masses, but for now I’m going to whisk you forward twenty minutes or so, by which point I had decided to see what the other two were up to. Either they’d found something to photograph, or they’d decided to wait for the chaos to settle and eat what they’d found in Sainsbury’s earlier. I found them sitting on the riverbank just above the bridge, chewing on sandwiches and gazing hopefully at a small waterfall just a little further along, beneath a modest beech tree, currently out of bounds, thanks to the presence of a young couple with a picnic table and furtive expressions. Even in the spaces beyond the main attraction here it seemed we’d have to be patient. Whether the waterfall would be worth the wait, none of us were sure, but it was worth a closer examination - or at least it would be once the trysting pair had moved on and found a nearby hotel in which to carry on with their wooing.
Eventually, the young woman set forth from the space beneath the tree, armed with folding chairs, him following closely, balancing the picnic table on one side with the empty hamper on the other. We watched carefully, if only to see where they’d crossed the river, and once they’d departed for the long trudge back up the valley to the road, Dave slipped across and set up his tripod. Lee and I soon followed - both of us considerably shorter of limb than my brother, who’d made it look easy. Somewhere in my memory I summoned up the mighty leap that earned a podium place in the fourth year boys long jump final at school sports day in the summer of 1980 and made it across without incident, only to watch Lee attempt the same and come squelching ashore with one soggy foot.
Once I’d finished laughing, I set up the tripod and zoomed into the fall, an intimate scene where ferns spread their green tendrils out from the black bank towards a simmering white crescendo. Here in the borderlands, just a few yards upriver from the splashing hoots of the late crowd was a different world, where few stopped to admire the simple beauty. The wait had been worthwhile, and perhaps now we could move on to the area below the bridge that we’d come for.
I decided to stop by the beach for a while after a friend's Celebration of Life today. So glad I did. It was so peaceful and restorative after an emotional afternoon.
White Rock Pier British Columbia
Beautifully set in the Andes and surrounded by the Sangay National Park, the scenic town of Baños is the gateway to the Amazon. This exceptional location, at the beginning of the rainforest and with views of the mountains and volcanoes offers a beautiful contrast in scenery and landscapes.
Baños is appropriately named for its dozens of waterfalls, hot springs, surrounding river, and a very active volcano. All the springs’ water contain a high mineral content abundant with restorative and healing properties. The springs are heated by the Tungurahua which is an active volcano that towers over the city at 16,000 + feet.
Ecuador is known as the "land of volcanoes".
You can see in the bottom right of the picture where the rocks have been moved by gigantic forces of nature.
Please view full screen on black. Just press L on your keyboard. Thanks for looking:)
At ”We’re Here!” today all the Hereios must answer the question, ”What are you Drinking?”
This being the traditional - and much dreaded - Tax Day in the USA, it was suggested that many of us might require a bracing restorative. Actually, because today is Sunday, and Monday is a holiday in Washington D.C. (Emancipation Day), taxes are due today, but postmarks and timestamps are not required until Tuesday. I myself was up last night until the wee hours of this morning consulting the IRS website. This was not because I waited until the last minute to file my tax return -- no, it was because my Grandson did. Sigh. But, we got it all figured out.
And, I am finding a nice bit of Bengal Spice Herbal Tea and toast to be both soothing and revivifying today.
Visiting Llanerchaeron Estate Woodland yesterday, I was surprised how green the leaves still were.
Thanks for faves and comments, they're much appreciated :)
After fighting through the crowds at Costco the only sensible thing to do was stop on the way home and enjoy a quite restorative walk along the river.
Steveston BC
Building work is being done on Newark Castle at the moment to restore the original entrance that allowed the public to gain access. It fell into disuse and repair hundreds of years ago and the project is to replace it with an accurate duplicate. It is hopefully going to increase footfall and tourist traffic into the town when completed.
This photo is a testament to a successful prairie restoration. The Great Plains Ladies'-Tresses is a species of concern in Wisconsin. This one was growing in a "goat prairie" atop Miller Bluff near La Crosse, Wisconsin. This area had been overrun with non-native plants like common mullein and Queen Anne's lace before prescribed burns and other restorative efforts by the Mississippi Valley Conservancy brought the prairie back to life. This little Autumn-blooming wild native orchid is living proof of a prairie restoration success!
Les guérisseurs ou chamans sont associés au pouvoir réparateur féminin des chouettes. L'union entre Ai Apaec et la Pachamama dans le monde des ancêtres symbolise le retour de son pouvoir, celui de donner la vie à tout dans l'ici et maintenant..
Chaman-chouette ou guérisseuse, bouteille à anse étrier en céramique.
Musée Larco. Lima.
Healers or shamans are associated with the feminine restorative power of owls. The union between Ai Apaec and the Pachamama in the world of the ancestors symbolises the return of her power to give life to everything in the here and now.
Shaman-owl or healer, ceramic bottle with stirrup handle.
Larco Museum. Lima.
Calming and restorative beauty, in every direction.
Visit this location at The Shire - A homely slice of Middle Earth in Second Life
Savasana, also known as Corpse Pose, is a resting and restorative yoga posture typically practiced at the end of a yoga session.
In a good photograph, viewers may see differently through our way of seeing the ordinary, transformed into the extraordinary.
Poolside. We don't need easy, just Possible.
I spent a WONDERFUL day at the Blue Lagoon. I wasn't expecting much really, but oh sitting there in that hot pool of water and talking to other people (from Canada and the US) was so much fun. What a beautiful stylish place this is! no wonder it's on top of Conde Nast's list of best spas in the world.
Aaaah, bliss indeed.
“Okay, so it’s a way down this track then. Just forty-one kilometres and we’ll be there.”
In truth, Lee seemed pretty happy where we were. We’d each had a restorative hot dog in the café, one of the few food items that’s even vaguely affordable in these parts, and we’d wandered around the waterfall basin at Godafoss, pitching our tripods at judiciously chosen spots to hide the steady stream of other visitors. Lee liked Godafoss a lot it seemed. So did I for that matter, but ever since I’d seen Mads Peter-Iversen’s visit on YouTube, the propsect of visiting Aldeyjarfoss, now just at the far end of the dirt road whose entrance was a hundred metres across the way was the one that had found me persuading him that we should do the circle and drive the entire ring road. On film, the utterly remote panhandle shaped cauldron surrounded by basalt columns for walls that had captured my imagination wasn’t that far away. It was why we were in the north of the country rather than somewhere on the packed south coast.
But of course it still wasn’t quite that simple. The first thirty-seven kilometres would be fine. It might be a little bit bumpy now and again as I drove the van carefully through the never ending daylight along the dark grey cinders, initially beside the improbably named Skjálfandafljót River (try saying that with a mouthful of fermented shark meat), but for the last four where the F26 began, we’d be on foot. You see, Brian, our lovingly maintained but distinctly elderly VW camper didn’t have four wheel drive, and that’s something you need once you’re on the mountain roads, or the F roads as they’re numbered. Unless that is, you want to be numbered. The first law of driving in Iceland states “thou shalt not drive upon the F roads unless behind the wheel of a four wheel drive vehicle unless thou wishes to be heavily fined and discover thine insurance is invalid when thou gettest to the tricky sections and dislodgest thine crankshaft.” Or words to that effect. Brian had a very long way to go before we’d return him to the rental counter in Reykjavik, and despite the fact that the likelihood of bumping into a lonely police officer in a bad mood out here seemed as remote as the location itself, common sense prevailed. We’d walk those last four kilometres. It would be worth it. Anyway, what better way to pass the midnight hour having a natter with your mate about life the universe and everything as you wander through a landscape that could be on Jupiter?
In fact it didn’t take long before the plain obviousness of the reason for the first commandment of driving in Iceland became apparent. Less than ten minutes after parking Brian at the end of the navigable road where we'd scarcely seen a building let alone any form of settlement, we were strolling along a potholed terrain that even your local councils would have the good grace to send the maintenance teams in to make good. Occasionally the road would ramp up at a gradient that promised to test almost anything that wasn’t sporting sturdy footwear. How even the beefiest of the monster vehicles on steroids we’d seen on our journey here could make it along this stretch was a question we weren’t sure we could answer. We carried on walking, thanking the heavens that there was only the slightest drift of Icelandic drizzle on the air, accompanied by the thunderous sound of crashing water through the nearby landscape. We couldn’t see it yet, but evidently the river with the unpronounceable name was back, somewhere to the left of us. Somewhere not too far away, the cauldron awaited our pleasure. Gradually the thundering increased, announcing that the waterfall was close at hand. And then we were there, gaping over a sight as jaw droppingly handsome as could be imagined, with not another soul to be seen. Any mishaps out here and we would make excellent first and second courses for the buzzards. Rarely have I been so acutely aware of being totally alone as we were in this visceral landscape of rocks and ravines, and rarely have I relished that loneliness quite so much as I did right now. Our only company was a huge bird of prey, which we sent Dave a picture of for identification, forgetting in our excitement that it was just past midnight. He didn’t reply immediately. And we still don’t know what it was, although perhaps it had read our minds. It flew off before anything more than a phone camera could be pointed at it. Probably waiting not too far away with interest, watching to see whether a free buffet was about to unexpectedly arrive.
The sun had set briefly, leaving a pink blush over the rocky western horizon. Like a good student, the one detail apart from not falling in that I’d made sure to observe from Mads’ video was that 0.8 seconds would reveal that magical mosaic in the basin, and slavishly I stuck to it. At one point in “what the hell” mode I tried the ten stop, but all of the definition in the water was lost. Still, no harm in trying it, just in case. Then for a while we traced the route down the rocks into the basin itself, our tripods low to the water but always maintaining a respectful distance. Iceland always demands respect. There seem to be so many ways in which to die extravagantly in this country, but when you’ve got an SD card full of shots taken in places you never dared to dream of, the impetus to remain among the living and return home to edit them is pretty powerful.
For a while it was going well, but then two things happened. Firstly a group of interlopers arrived (by which of course I mean other people just as entitled to be there as us), three young couples pouring out of a pair of the aforementioned beefy road monsters and into the scene, stealing the best positions. And then my camera earned itself a place on the naughty step. Usually the “off and on switch” tactic works, and if not, then taking the battery out and replacing it does the trick, but now my camera had joined me in uncharted territory. Only a full system reset brought it sulkily back to life. Off we were again, although it would be more than thirty-six hours before I remembered that default mode only gives you jpegs when later I stared in frustration at the back of the screen at Vestrahorn – but that’s another story. It’s so easy to forget the basics when you’re flustered. At least I’d already got the shot I wanted. Before long the interlopers’ girlfriends were making it clear that they were getting both cold and bored, and they repaired to their off roaders without asking us whether we might like a lift back to the van that they’d presumably noticed when they’d passed it on the way here. There wasn’t even a pandemic going on then. We were done here too now, and began the rutted walk back to where Brian waited patiently at the end of the track, leaving the cauldron to boil away noisily to itself in this most outlandish of places, and the unidentified raptor to find something else for supper.
Lee confessed that he still preferred Godafoss as we drove back beneath the rising morning sun to the big car park there, where we sipped our cans of Viking lager at 2am and plotted an extracurricular whale watching trip out of Husavik at the sixty-sixth parallel the following morning. Yet another story there. There are plenty of them in Iceland. I’d originally posted this one not long after returning, but it was before this writing thing became a thing, and since that time I’ve found myself sharing these pages with so many more of you. So here it is again, despite a complete absence of demand for the retelling of old tales. But it’s one I felt the need to document more fully for my own memory banks at any rate.
And if you want to read more about Brian and how he got his name, well that story is right here too. You can even see a picture of him. Funnily enough, it seems that this is where the story telling side gathered some sense of momentum.
www.flickr.com/photos/126574513@N04/49476904751/in/album-...
I look back at the Iceland 2019 album in these pages, still liking some of the images, but thinking how I might have taken better ones in some places. In the case of others, I keep on promising myself I'll get round to taking them through the editing suite again, but of course that never happens. The second visit to Iceland is now only a couple of months in the waiting. Regretfully Aldeyjarfoss and Godafoss aren’t on the itinerary this time, but we have booked a four wheel drive with chunky tyres and a big attitude. Hopefully we’ll find we’ve learned something new as we return to the surface of Jupiter. Hopefully that starkly mesmeric landscape will leave us just as dumbstruck as it did last time.
It has been so fantastic to have open lakes and rivers again! The movement and the sounds are so full of life and yet very tranquil. I've missed them very much since last fall 🌊😄
Lake Ashtabula/Sheyenne River, Barnes County, ND
I spent a WONDERFUL day at the Blue Lagoon. I wasn't expecting much really, but oh sitting there in that hot pool of water and talking to other people (from Canada and the US) was so much fun. What a beautiful stylish place this is! no wonder it's on top of Conde Nast's list of best spas in the world.
Aaaah, bliss indeed.
As some of you know, I'm a member of the non-profit society, The Barbados Photographic Society. Part of our activities for members includes having field trips for members to go around the island exploring. . I decided to attend the trip to PEG Farms which is a working biodynamic farm and nature reserve located in the parish of Saint Joseph (the north eastern part of the island). This was my first visit and I was curious to see what it offered.
It was a very fun morning being out with friends, hiking in nature and enjoying the camaraderie. In fact, some of my favourite field trips of all time have been outdoors in nature. This one did not disappoint in terms of beautiful breathtaking views of the eastern coast of the island. Exercise and fresh air are always restorative for body, mind, spirit and the creative eye. And if you have friends who are natural comedians, the time passes even better. And the best thing about going to the farm? Well, your $25 entrance fee is redeemable in fresh organic produce. Farm to table indeed. Check out their operation here: www.pegbarbados.com/
I'm continuing up with last week's theme. After spending some time with the animals, it's nice to wind down in the garden. not only do they grow their own veggies and herbs, they also have a lovely flower garden. Check out this pair that I saw peeking out the shadows. If you recognise the flower, let me know in the comments. :D
To all of you, have an amazing weekend and an awesome week ahead, wherever you are!
Read more about that morning trip in my blog post here:
If you're interested, I've also made some video there: www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUGDN0-iROA
Catch me also on:
Website: NickyHighlanderPhoto (dot) Com
Twitter: @nhighlanderfoto
Instagram: @nickyhighlander
Camera: NIKON D7200
Lens: Nikon 55-300mm VR DX AF-S Lens
Shutter speed: 0.001 sec (1/1000)
Aperture: f/4.5
ISO setting: 160
© Nicky Highlander Photography 2018
All Rights Reserved
Step through the doors of the Niagara Apothecary and see how pharmacists practised their profession over 100 years ago. Liquor by the barrel or the bottle (and even by the glass), flavourings, paints, dyes, leeches, tobacco and snuff – these were the stock-in-trade of a 19th-century pharmacy. You'll see rows of patent medicines, "miracle cure-alls" for everything from hair loss to tuberculosis. The only restorative ingredients in most patent remedies of the time were opiates and alcohol, so pharmacists were handy with a mortar and pestle to custom-make prescriptions.
The Niagara Apothecary opened its doors at this location in the late 1860s. It operated for over 100 years under a succession of six owners, closing in 1964. The Ontario Heritage Trust acquired the property, led its restoration and opened it as a museum in 1971.
The original interior fittings of the Apothecary, all in use until 1964, have been painstakingly restored. The hub of the Apothecary was the ornately carved dispensary, which dominates the rear of the museum. With the exception of certain proprietary drugs, even pills were made at the dispensary.
The Niagara Apothecary at the Sign of the Golden Mortar is an excellent example of high style, mid-Victorian commercial architecture. The Italianate façade with its arched glazed double doors and two arched plate glass show windows; and the interior, with its lustrous black walnut and butternut fixtures, elaborate plaster mouldings and crystal gasoliers projected an impression of 19th-century
On the way from Hiroshima to Matsue, the Highway Bus made a short restorative stop near Myoshi. The scenery was spectacular, but also the colorful flower borders of the stop-over.
Here's a Spiderwort, Tradescantia, named, of course, after that great botanist father and son John (c.1570-1638) and John (1608-1662) Tradescant. This is the horticultural variety and its brightness would have lifted my heart were it not already high in the mountains. The view is from a bus window and hence just a bit 'murky'.
This mural was designed by aboriginal artist Jerry Whitehead and painted with artists Vince Dumoulin, Larissa Healey and Travis Nelson for the RestART program.
The word “RestART” (restorative justice through art) is a compound of “restorative” and “art”.
RestART is an initiative created in 2002 by restorative justice practitioners with members of the VPD Anti-Graffiti Unit. This is one of their pieces located on the Granville viaduct at 900 Terminal Avenue (by Home Depot).
Vancouver’s Integrated Graffiti Management Program, with the Grandview-Woodland Community Policing Centre and Vancouver Police Department were responsible for this piece the 14th RestART workshop and mural.
This RestART workshop included six youths and four mentor artists exploring the impacts of graffiti and discussing the need for collective responsibility in finding solutions and alternative options to the negative ramifications of illegal graffiti.
The mural is based on community, the individual and the collective responsibilities of family members.
RestART is a restorative justice art program that provides youth who have previously engaged in illegal graffiti with opportunities to express themselves in a positive way.
The Integrated Graffiti Management Program is focused on prevention, deterrence and eradication of graffiti.
As some of you know, I'm a member of the non-profit society, The Barbados Photographic Society. Part of our activities for members includes having field trips for members to go around the island exploring. . I decided to attend the trip to PEG Farms which is a working biodynamic farm and nature reserve located in the parish of Saint Joseph (the north eastern part of the island). And since that trip, I've been back a number of times. (They know us by name and instagram page now).
Exercise and fresh air are always restorative for body, mind, spirit and the creative eye. And if you have friends who are natural comedians, the time passes even better. And the best thing about going to the farm? Well, your $25 entrance fee is redeemable in fresh organic produce. Farm to table indeed. Check out their operation here: www.pegbarbados.com/
I told you guys about the cafe before but I've never let you see the inside. So here it is. It's a wonderful open space with natural ventilation right next to the herb and kitchen garden. If that doesn't say fresh food to you, I don't know what will! :)
To all of you, hope you have an amazing weekend {and Happy Heroes Day to the ones in Barbados), wherever you are!
Read more about that morning trip in my blog post here, along with some advice on personal projects:
If you're interested, I've also made some video there: www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUGDN0-iROA
Catch me also on:
Website: NickyHighlanderPhoto (dot) Com
Twitter: @nhighlanderfoto
Instagram: @nickyhighlander
Camera: NIKON D5200
Lens: Nikon 18-55mm G VR DX AF-S Zoom Lens
Shutter speed: 0.000625 sec (1/1600)
Aperture: f/8
ISO setting: 250
© Nicky Highlander Photography 2018
All Rights Reserved