View allAll Photos Tagged RUSTLE
"A few days ago I walked along the edge of the lake and was treated to the crunch and rustle of leaves with each step I made. The acoustics of this season are different and all sounds, no matter how hushed, are as crisp as autumn air."
- Eric Sloane
I have made a set called Autumn 2011 where I am putting all my autumn photos of 2011 in. If you missed any of my autumn photos of 2011 they are all in the set. Here is a link to the set: www.flickr.com/photos/mmnorthwoods/sets/72157627869084902/
For more autumn photos visit our website: www.lifeinthenorthwoods.com/
“There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring, or the rustle of an insect's wings. But perhaps it is because I am a savage and do not understand. The clatter only seems to insult the ears.”
~Chief Seattle, of the Duwamish tribe, Washington State
This is dedicated to Gil who hears the unfurling of leaves.
bisous.
Hebden Beck rushing by under low hanging branches. There's just something about a scene like this which I find irresistible.
Thanks for the comments, faves and visits
This tranquil scene captures the essence of fall in North Georgia. The placid lake surface acts as a mirror, reflecting the vibrant autumn foliage that lines its shores. A mix of evergreens and deciduous trees create a tapestry of colors, ranging from deep greens to warm oranges and reds. The clear blue sky above completes the picture, its brightness contrasting beautifully with the rich earth tones below. This peaceful setting invites viewers to imagine the crisp air and gentle rustle of leaves that accompany such a picturesque autumn day in the southern Appalachians.
Autumn leaves twisted, withered, dry streaks pushed by the rustle of a tired wind, wonderfully melancholic.
Alessandro Morandotti,
Small yellowish-brown babbler with striped underparts and a rufous forehead and wings. Rustles about in the undergrowth and middle levels of forested habitats, often joining mixed-species foraging flocks. Strange bouncing song is a long monotone series of hollow pings. Chatters harshly. (eBird)
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For every perfectly lit and seen bird photo, there are probably a thousand like this one. We heard this bird, both in Singapore and in north-eastern India, but this is the one and only shot and view that I had. Hopefully, I will see some of the missing pieces, or maybe even the whole bird, when we go to Thailand.
Bukit Batok Nature Park, Singapore. March 2024.
Birding Singapore.
As I've driven to and from work down the back country lanes I've noticed just how many dandelion clocks there are right now. And I wondered how I could make something interesting out of them.
Fortunately I may have some genes of a distant genius, as well as his name, and it struck me I could make a Newton's Cradle …...you know those suspended steel balls, and you pull back one and let it swing and the thing goes clack, clack, clack, back and forth for ages. It keeps some people amused: normally bored executives.
Anyhow, here is my less irritating silent version rustled up quickly on a baking tray.
Daisy couldn't decide whether to play with this flower toy or go to sleep. As the toy rustles when touched, it kept her attention long enough for a photo. Happy Caturday!
#MacroMondays
#Decay
Professor Huxley (nickname: Mr. Bone), an award-winning palaeontologist, was puzzled. This morning, he had finally received the intercostal clavicle ("Why is it always this bone that arrives last?", he mused), the final piece and missing link that would complete his most ambitious project to date, the construction of a Quetzalcoatlus skeleton, the largest pterosaur of them all. After unpacking, he had carefully placed it on his work table, right next to the shrivelled daylily petal. Now both were gone. Did his fox terrier, George, steal it to bury it in the garden? Bones are bones, and dogs will be dogs, after all. Or did Susan play yet another prank on him? Or maybe George and Susan together. The two of them together were unpredictable. As much as he loved his wife for her unconventional ways and her devil-may-care attitude, sometimes he thought, "When will she grow up?"
As he looked for the shovel, ready to head out for yet another bone-digging spree in the garden, he heard a strange, rustling, crunching sound from his lab. "George!" he called. "Come here, you know you aren't allowed in the lab. Susan? Are you there, too?" The crunching and rustling got louder. It now reminded him of the sound the bones made when he put them together. And there was another sound... of ... wings? Wings that rustled like shrivelled petals. A slight panic set in as David headed for the lab door. When he opened it, he couldn't believe his eyes. The Quetzalcoatlus Hemerocallis was born.
This story casually continues "Bringing Up Baby", the 1938 prototype screwball comedy movie starring Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant and Skippy (best known for his role "Asta"). I first watched this movie as a child, and I've always loved it. It's true, the standards for "acting animals" left a lot to be desired back then (well, the standards for the stars that were literally "owned" by the studios left a lot to be desired as well), but it's still an all-time classic with two of the best and most iconic actors ever. And it has Skippy, the fox terrier :)
So, what you see isn't the head of an accidentally created and mutated baby Quetzalcoatlus-Hemerocallis hybrid creature (who knows what its size will be once it's grown up?), but the completely dried pistil of a single lily petal. It's been on my photo table for a while, kept for a photo project (of course). When I arranged it on the black tile, the still brightly orange pollen/microsporangium went everywhere, and a few of them ended up on this unlikely creature's "face". Manual focusing with the Laowa 50mm Ultra Macro Lens proved to be difficult, so I mounted the extension tubes and the Nisi close-up lens on my 60 mm macro lens and benefited from its autofocus.
I did in-camera focus stacking, and this time, the in-camera stacked final JPG was good enough, so I didn't need to do "post-stacking" in Helicon Focus.
I'm busy today and will catch up with you tonight. HMM, Everyone!
Serenade to Sunrise by Sheree Zielke
Lavender hues that ooze,
Midnight darks that soothe,
Rustles of whispers,
Crackles of dreams,
Freight train of color,
Pinpricks of beams.
Touch not the sky,
As she eases the birth,
Of a new light, a new dawn,
To a sleep-hardened earth!
(This is a copyrighted work by Sheree Zielke. Please do not use this in any way, without the expressed written consent of the author.)
Hidden Valley which is behind the rocks on the right was apparently a good place to hide your rustled cattle and horses in the early 1900's.
🎧 An Angel Stepped Down - Jane Siberry
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The streets, continuously darkened, as everywhere under a sullen brown sky occasionally shot through with streamers of red and purple, were empty of people, although she heard the occasional repetitive sounds that indicated human activity. She avoided everyone, seen or unseen until she saw the mechanical Angel.
The Angel was perched under the hood of a wrecked vehicle chassis, wheel-less, propped on piles of broken brick. The first thing she noticed about the Angel was her artificial leg, a somewhat oversized metallic frame glimmering in the low light. Seeing she had been observed (the slight lift of Angelic chin, a rustle of skirt fabric being swept to better conceal that leg), she waved and approached, slowly, until the Angel spoke. "Please, sit, talk - its been ages since I spoke with anyone new!" - this uttered in an amused, gentle tone of voice, as if wary of frightening her visitor off.
So she sat with the Angel, and they talked - for hours, it seemed, and she found herself revealing details of her life she had rarely remarked to others, or even considered very much herself. Reciprocating, the Angel gave her history - like everyone it was inextricably bound to the change, but also to dance! The Angel had been a dancer, until a collapsing wall had taken her family and her leg.
I love to dance, said the girl, but I'm not very good. 'Oh no, dance is here!' the Angel said, gently pressing her hand to her chest. 'It's in the heart'. "I'm not very good" comes from here, in your head, she emphasized, tapping fingers against her skull.
Old people are weird, the girl thought to herself, not for the first time.
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Reflected at Eulennest Gallery
Exhibiting through to Dec 5
circle of life
All leaves are from the same tree that I planted twenty years ago.
Every season he gives me something back.
The joy of spring when the first leaves sprout.
The shade in summer when the wind softly rustles the leaves.
The golden colors in the autumn light.
In winter, firewood from the fallen branches.
then bright and heady with bloom, now rustle with leaf and tingle with the strength of fruition. Listen, and you can almost hear the pulse of sap and the mysterious workings of chlorophyll. The air vibrates with bird song... All the senses tingle, alive with the season as the world itself is alive. Nothing is impossible at such a time :-)
Hal Borland
HGGT!! Truth matters! Integrity Matters!
acer, Moonrise fullmoon maple, 'Munn 001', j c raulston arboretum, mcsu, raleigh, north carolina
The air hung thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. Lord Aerion, the master of these woods, sat upon a fallen log.
His forest was more than just trees to him; it was an extension of his own being. Every rustle of leaves, every chirp of a bird, every scurrying creature was a part of him, a thread in the tapestry of his soul.
The acrid smell of smoke on the wind twisted his lips into a snarl. He sensed the intrusion, the violation of his domain. Humans. They had dared to enter his woods with torches and axes, their greed blinding them to the ancient power they were disturbing...
Aardvark: Dire Wolf Stag
Available at Engine Room from March 20 till April 20
Aardvark Mainstore
DOBS: Executioner Chains
DOBS: Raven Feather Cloak
ANTAYA: Unisex crown "Nizana"
Landgraff: Crack Down (full face)
when the sun is blazing, the javali rest deep in this inaccessible spot...a few rustles and grunts are the clue. They emerge at dusk to feed on the neighbors' garden.
as summer moves into fall; the ground emerges with the warm colors of autumn; the cool breeze slips around you, the buzz of the bees dwindles into the soft rustle of leaves...sitting on the front porch will always be a favorite.
fall is beginning to emerge here in Meadowbrook. ♥
"If never you find what you're looking for
Come on back to the front porch
Say my name through the screen door
Come on back to the front porch
Whatever you've done it doesn't matter
'Cause darling we're all a little splintered and battered
But the light is on, what you waiting for?
Come on back, come on back to the front porch"
♥♥♥
sunlight filtering through the dense canopy of tall pine trees, creating a dappled pattern of light and shadow on the forest floor. The air is crisp with the scent of pine needles, and there's a gentle rustle of leaves as a soft breeze sweeps through the trees. The play of light creates an ethereal atmosphere, with beams of golden sunlight illuminating patches of moss-covered ground and highlighting the rich green hues of the pine needles. It's a tranquil and mesmerizing scene, inviting you to pause and immerse yourself in the beauty of nature.
Это вид на реку Сороть с Савкиной горки.
Дождь начался еще вечером. Я был рад прохладе, которую он принес, но этот дождь был так некстати и нарушал все наши планы на утреннюю съемку. Проснулся без будильника, в окно веяло прохладой и дождь лишь слегка шелестел о листву. Мы были готовы отправиться за шедеврами, но небо было затянуто тучами и это внесло некоторую сумятицу в наши ряды. Кто-то позавтракал и отправился спать дальше, кто-то играл в телефоне, я изучал прогноз погоды на разных сайтах. Когда до рассвета оставалось 20 минут, горизонт начал розоветь и небо окрасилось яркими красками. Как-же иногда красиво просыпается день. Мы отправились на ближайшую точку съемки, знакомую нам по прошлому вечеру. Я думал только о том, успеем мы заснять этот красивый рассвет или нет. Приехав на место, я схватил рюкзак и буквально побежал фотографировать. Это было красивое, акварельное утро, яркий всполох красок на пасмурном холсте серого дня. Мы успели заснять и насладиться этим моментом, а потом отправились к нашему микроавтобусу, где испытали настоящий шок. В спешке мы забыли закрыть боковую дверь. Очевидно, что в такое раннее утро не очень многолюдно, но ощущение было неприятным.
Спасибо, что прочитали.
This is a view of the Sorot River from Savkina Hill.
The rain started in the evening. I was glad for the coolness it brought, but this rain was so inappropriate and disrupted all our plans for the morning shooting. I woke up without an alarm clock, there was a cool breeze through the window and the rain only slightly rustled on the leaves. We were ready to go after the masterpieces, but the sky was overcast and this caused some confusion in our ranks. Someone had breakfast and went on to bed, someone played on the phone, I studied the weather forecast on different sites. When there were 20 minutes left before dawn, the horizon began to turn pink and the sky was painted with bright colors. Sometimes the day wakes up beautifully. We went to the nearest shooting location, familiar to us from the previous evening. I was only thinking about whether we would have time to photograph this beautiful sunrise or not. Arriving at the location, I grabbed my backpack and literally ran to take pictures. It was a beautiful, watercolor morning, a bright splash of color on the overcast canvas of a gray day. We managed to film and enjoy this moment, and then went to our van, where we experienced a real shock. In our haste, we forgot to close the side door. Obviously it wasn't very crowded this early in the morning, but it didn't feel good.
Thanks for reading.
This secluded oasis exudes an enchanting quietude that envelops you, the viewer, in a cocoon of serenity. Here, the rhythmic lullaby of the waves harmonizes with the gentle rustle of leaves from the ancient tree of life, creating a symphony of nature's soothing melodies.
Captured on a moody winter afternoon, this peaceful scene in St. James's Park, London, shows bare trees standing tall as silhouettes against a cloudy sky. A quiet path runs along the edge of a reflective pond, where passersby enjoy a contemplative walk or sit on benches, wrapped in coats and scarves. The soft rustle of dry leaves and gentle ripples on the water add to the calm atmosphere. This image reflects the subtle charm of London's green spaces even in the colder, quieter seasons.
#AbFav_STREETS_and_SQUARES_OF
#AbFav_PHOTOSTORY
Yes, a big favourite place for us in Flanders.
A MUST ON OUR VISIT.
Such a lovely silence except for the rustle of the majestic Elm- and tall Poplar leaves.
Those cathedral like trees (the flat landscape needed these ‘wind-stoppers’), dappled light, and again, the silence only broken by a bumblebee, a bird, a distant moo, the shutter of the camera.
A few miles from Brugge and the coast, you have the small town of Damme.
In the Middle-Ages, this used to be the harbour of Brugge, one of the wealthiest cities in the North.
Due to silt the North Sea is now about 25 miles out, but Damme retained its reputation for good food and beer, wonderful old buildings full of the history of revolutionary Flanders.
Centuries later Napoleon saw the importance of the area and ordered a system of canals to be built.
Today, whichever road you come from, if you want to get to Damme, you'll drive along those beautiful treelined canals.
Here, all the rows of trees, bordering both a cycle/walking path and a bridle path, what an impressive sight.
Have a lovely day, M, (*_*)
For more: www.indigo2photography.com
IT IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN (BY LAW!!!) TO USE ANY OF MY image or TEXT on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved
Flanders, Canals, Damme, trees, road, rain, street, leaves, seasons, landscape, colour, horizontal, "Nikon D7200", "magda indigo"
~ the swimmer bends down. A low rustle of longing sinks from the cat’s small open mouth. ~
.
Anne Carson
Personal Log: KassieQuandrii Resident recording
Stardate: 220826
Location: USS Armstrong, Yadhi Space
================================
Begin recording. Computer, lights to 20%.
Blerrrrgghhh.
No, Computer, that’s not the Kreetassan ritual challenge to a dance-off, that’s the cry of uncaffeinated Ensigns.
We’ve been so busy I completely failed to notice my one-month anniversary in the Gamma Quadrant, earlier this week. That transfer request was the best decision I’ve ever made. Out here, I’m doing the work I was trained to do, all of it.
I’ve advised the Captain on issues that will set policy for the Federation. My recommendations helped prevent a planetary political upheaval. I almost got stabbed by an assassin, but was saved by the quick actions of a teammate. I interrogated a political figure in the middle of a crisis and collected valuable intel.
We’re on our way to a planet with the sneakiest and most convoluted politics, and I’ve gotten caught up on years of mission logs detailing our encounters with them. I cannot wait to meet their Queen.
And I adore my colleagues. I really am working with Starfleet’s Finest.
If we could just do something about the mornings…
a rustle of Tholian silk falling to the floor, the hiss of a sonic shower starting up
Oh yeah, Computer, end log!
Decisions in the Gloom
In the golden dimness of the Roman hall, Richard, a serene-eyed praetor, unfolded the message with hands that knew both the firmness of law and the fragility of fate. The parchment rustled like an ancient sigh, its letters whispering promises of alliances, betrayals, or perhaps… distant love.
On the table, other scrolls awaited their turn, silent witnesses to empires rising and falling. The wine on the tray, dark and deep, caught the flickering light of the candles, inviting a sip before deciding the future of men and cities.
Outside, Rome still breathed its glory; inside, only silence—and one man facing the words that could change everything.
The style card and credits here.
With the collaboration of:
GLYPH / Praetor Toga for Legacy A (m) @ The Enchanted Realms Fantasy Shopping Event
F & M / F&M * Ornate Set * Table & Chairs * @ The Enchanted Realms Fantasy Shopping Event
KOKOS / KOKOS-BODY HAIRS-RAUL @ in main store or market place
KOKOS-RINGS - GARVIN(LEGACY) @ in main store or market place
KOKOS- EARRINGS-NESS -(LEL) @ in main store or market place
EXILE / Exile:: COLTON @ in main store
NOBLE CREATION / Several group gifts:[NC] - GOLD CROWN, [NC] - Ragnarock Bracers, [NC] - Curtain - Red
B-MADE / B-Made - Stone Wall @ in main store
/Vae Victis\ - "Old Scholars" - Candle Cluster
A mysterious winter night when the stars in the sky light up and the soft rustle of falling snow with gentle music gives you a quiet calm mood to look at the shine of the beautiful moon and feel the kiss of a snowball on your palm. This is the moment of silence when you can listen inner of yourself and the whisper of the stars in the mysterious night.
I heard the rustle in the buttercups at the side of my local pond and found this it managed to fly out and hide in the reeds on the pond. I am sorry the light was not very good at the time,I would have tried flash but it flew off.
Many thanks to you ALL for the views, faves and comments you make on my shots it is very appreciated.
Wild South Africa
Kruger National Park
Klipspringers (rock jumpers) are small antelopes, ideally suited to their rocky habitat. Their hair, which rustles when stroked, is hollow, flattened, springy, spiny, adhering loosely to the skin and is easily shed. Its springiness prevents damage to the animal from hard bumps against rocks and provides insulation against heat, cold and loss of body heat. They make their home in rocky areas.
Discovered at sunset on the cliff along the Bondi to Tamarama coastal walk, in Sydney.
Welcome to Bondi's 'Sculptures By The Sea' for 2025.
See the videos:
sculpturebythesea.com/sculpture-sea-bondi-2025-exhibition...
sculpturebythesea.com/sculpture-sea-bondi-2025-exhibition...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVJbwsWK2i0
This is 'Rustle' (Sculpture 32) by the artist Andrew Cullen. It is a Water Dragon crafted from reclaimed timber.
The Water Dragon embodies adaptability in the face of changing waters. Its poised stance mirrors nature's resilience, urging us to reflect on our uncertain future.
Photographed on Friday, 24th October, 2025.
My Canon EOS 5D Mk IV with the Canon EF 24-105mm f/4L IS II USM lens.
Processed in Adobe Lightroom.
🌙 Nite Shift Team: "Terrace Therapy Sessions After Yoda's 🐆Concert" If I had the chance to measure the decibels of a cat's midnight meow, I'm sure my Yoda would break records. After hours of this "concert," when the final meow finally faded away, the silence became deafening. I tossed and turned in bed, sleep had eluded me, my brain was still like a little orchestra conductor, every note was the same as the sound coming from Yoda's mouth.
I gave up as dawn broke. At least I've given up on trying to sleep. I got up. My feet instinctively moved toward the terrace. It was still cool outside, the air hadn't fully warmed up yet, and there was a dew-like dampness left over from the nite. With half-closed eyes, I silently walked toward the living room. All I wanted was a little peace and quiet. I only noticed the tiny, cream-colored sheep figure I was carrying with me later; it must have fallen off the edge of the bed.
The wooden floor of the terrace shimmered in the first light of morning. I put on my favorite slippers; the soft ones with fluffy lining that make every step comfortable. It was as if they understood my fatigue. I was sitting. I stretched my legs toward the low table at the edge of the terrace. My eyes closed, but my mind was wide open.
Scenery... The darkness of the nite had disappeared, and the city skyline was emerging from behind a light veil of mist. The leaves on the trees rustled softly in the wind, whispering gently. The shadows of the neighboring houses stretched out, just like my sleepless nite. And those slippers... I looked at them. Then to myself. It was as if we looked at each other. "Ah, we're finally sitting down," he seemed to say, while I was thinking, "Look how far things have come..."
The terrace session turned into therapy right at that moment. Yoda's concert inevitably pushed me to this moment, this peace. As the first rays of the sun hit my face, I smiled slightly at the golden lines streaming from my eyes. Perhaps every meow had a purpose, perhaps such "therapy" was hidden at the end of every sleepless nite. Who knows?
For a moment, I looked at the little sleeping sheep figure. He was resting peacefully. I sighed. At least one of us was resting a bit.
Perhaps there are other members of this "Night Shift Team" in the same mood as me, who knows?
Winter evening
A storm covers the sky in darkness
Whirling snow whirls;
The way the beast, she will conquer
That will cry like a child
That over the dilapidated roof
Suddenly the straw will rustle
The way a traveler is late
Knocking at our window.
“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. "
Have you ever wondered why owl faces are dish-like? Owls are highly reliant on their sense of hearing but birds don't have external ears like most mammals. I should add at this point that the "ears" on a Long-eared Owl are not real ears, but just decorative tufts of feathers: www.flickr.com/photos/timmelling/33818323195/in/photolist
The external part of the ear in mammals (called the pinna) helps gather sounds and if we cup our hands behind our ears it enhances our ability to detect sounds. An owl's dish-like face acts like a parabolic reflector, or maybe two giant pinnae on either side of the beak, gathering sounds and directing them to the ears, which are set asymmetrically on either side of the dish. The asymmetric setting of the ears apparently facilitates the pinpointing of rodent prey. Tim Birkhead's book "Bird Sense" mentions experiments done with a captive Barn Owl in total darkness where the owl could always capture a mouse on a floor covered with rustly leaves with pinpoint accuracy. But the owl would only do this if the light levels were reduced gradually and it was familiar with the surroundings. In an unfamiliar room in total darkness the owl would remain on its perch and would not attempt to catch a rustling mouse, presumably for fear of damaging its eyes on an unseen twig. When the owl did capture a mouse in total darkness it would always return instantly to its perch to avoid any unnecessary flying around where it could damage itself. The need for familiarity with the territory might explain why many nocturnal hunting owls don't move far. We know that birds can detect ultra violet light (invisible to us) but there was once a suggestion that owl's might perceive infra red light from the heat of the mouse. To test this the owl was placed in a room covered with foam rubber and a mouse was introduced with a rustly leaf tied to its tail. In total darkness the owl would always pounce on the leaf, not the mouse, showing that it was hearing (not infra red) that the owl relied on.
Вы бывали на Фиоленте?
Вы слыхали о Фиоленте?
Фиолент – «Мыс бурь и туманов»
На французском чужом языке.
Это место – чудесно и странно.
Море здесь – синеет бездонно,
Скалы здесь – растут в поднебесье,
С небом южным накоротке.
Монастырь гнездовьем орлиным
Смотрит в дали
Над морем пустынным,
Кружевной пелериной волны
Снежно пенятся среди скал,
Спуск к воде – бесконечно длинный,
Вниз по склону, в тени зеленой,
По истертым ступеням старинным,
Как за старым вином в подвал.
Но вино здесь – иного рода.
Варит зелье хмельное природа
Из ручьев, из ветвей склоненных,
Из ракушек и пены морской.
Пейте вволю душой растворенной!
Ощутите себя по праву
Малой частью большой Вселенной!
Пусть придут к вам мир и покой
Здесь,
Где море грохочет галькой,
Словно четки перебирает,
Здесь,
Где руки крест простирает
К небу с черной как ночь скалы.
Крабы бегают, птицы летают…
Что-то важное, главное знают,
Но не скажут, не разболтают.
Понимание мира, увы,
К человеку приходит трудно,
Зреет долго, тайно, подспудно.
Вдруг сверкнет озарением чудным,
И погаснет среди травы.
Если будете на Фиоленте –
Приходите искать ответы
На вопросы о мире этом,
Смысле жизни, месте своем.
Плеском волн и запахом ветра,
Скал молчанием, криками чаек
Фиолента мир отвечает.
Вы поймете это потом…
Вы бывали на Фиоленте?
Побывайте! Не пожалеете.................................Have you been to Fiolenta?
Have you heard of "Fiolent"?
Fiolent – "Cape of storms and fogs"
In French foreign language.
This place is wonderful and strange.
The sea here becomes bottomless blue,
The rocks here grow in the sky,
With a short southern sky.
Eagle 's Nest Monastery
Looking into the distance
Over the desert sea,
Lace cape in waves
Snow foaming among the rocks,
The descent to the water is infinitely long,
Down the slope, in the shade of greenery,
on the old worn steps,
As for the old wine in the basement.
But the wine here is of a completely different variety.
Nature brews an intoxicating potion
From streams, from bent branches,
Made of seashells and sea foam.
Drink as much as you like with a dissolved soul!
Feel yourself rightfully
A small piece of the big universe!
May peace and quiet come to you
Here,
Where the sea rustles with pebbles,
It's like counting a rosary,
Here,
Where the cross stretches out its arms
To the sky from a cliff, black as night. Crabs run, birds fly…
Something important, the main thing they know,
But they won't tell, they won't blab.
Understanding the world, alas,
It is difficult to come to a person,
Matures for a long time, secretly, secretly.
Suddenly it will sparkle with a wonderful insight,
And it will go out among the grass.
If you will be on Fiolent –
Come and look for answers
To questions about this world,
The meaning of life, his place.
The splash of the waves and the smell of the wind,
Rocks with silence, cries of seagulls
Fiolenta mir responds.
You'll figure it out later…
Have you been to Fiolent?
Visit! You won't regret it.
Another shot of the fishing boats on Aldeburgh beach taken during a workshop I took with Justin Minns last October. He rustled up a fab dose of morning light for the occasion!
Farmland abuts one of the local cemeteries. Each year the crops are rotated between soybean and feed corn. This is the corn year. It's just plain eerie to me seeing cornstalks this close to a burial ground. It was one thing back in June when the little green sprigs seemed harmless enough. But now they are taller than me, and parched, bleached, dead and dry, awaiting harvest. Between now and then, they rustle in the slightest breeze, and sway about. The effect is somewhere between theatrical and primordial terror. I slide up and down the scale depending on my mood, time of day, and the overall feel of the atmosphere. On balance, my imagination tends to tip me over to the dark side more often than not. When that happens, visuals such as this tend to result. Strong reinforcement of the feeling that I'm being observed by blind, but all-seeing eyes.
A raccoon clings to the trunk of a tree, its masked face peeking through a tangle of branches and leaves. Sunlight filters through the foliage, casting dappled highlights across its fur—a mix of gray, brown, and black. The scene captures a moment of quiet curiosity in a natural setting, where the raccoon’s posture suggests both caution and mischief.
You spotted it while walking a wooded trail, camera slung low, scanning for movement more than subjects. The rustle came first, then the stare—half-hidden, half-bold. It didn’t flee. It watched. You raised the lens slowly, knowing this wasn’t a posed portrait but a stolen glance. The branches framed it perfectly, like nature had already composed the shot. You clicked once. It blinked. Then vanished.
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A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.
George R.R. Martin,
texture: SkeletalMess
now the week is nearly over...and i have still no time for flickr, thanks for your visit and i wish you a good weekend ahead ♥
il trionfo dell'autunno nella faggeta del Monte Nero (PR)
The rustle of the leaves
Triumph of autumn in the beech forest, during a ring hiking
All rights reserved © Nick Outdoor Photography
Exactly in this moment it was perfect to took photos, because the light was warm and wonderful. So much leaves were on the ground. Do you also enjoy the sound of leaves rustle.
As promised, we are back today in the beautiful birch forest near Tisa in Bohemian Switzerland. To be more precise, we are standing in front of it today and have the sunrise behind us.
It's amazing how much this angle changes the effect of the picture.
The morning mist lies heavy on last year's slightly frozen grass, which crunches and rustles with every step you walk over.
The temperatures are near freezing and an icy wind is blowing in my face. Despite this, or perhaps because of this, there is a poignant silence here that immediately affects me and totally relaxes me.
The more strenuous part of the morning is still waiting for me here. Because after taking the photos from here, I walked across this bumpy meadow down into the forest, which you can see in the background here.
The other pictures that you have seen so far were taken there.
Wie versprochen sind wir heute zurück im dem schönen Birkenwald bei Tisa in der Böhmischen Schweiz. Genauer gesagt stehen wir heute davor und haben den Sonnenaufgang im Rücken.
Es ist schon erstaunlich, wie sehr dieser Blickwinkel die Wirkung des Bildes verändert.
Der Morgennebel liegt schwer auf dem leicht angefrorenen Gras vom letzten Jahr, welches bei jedem Schritt knirscht und raschelt, wenn man darüber läuft.
Die Temperaturen liegen im Bereich des Gefrierpunktes und mir weht ein eisiger Wind ins Gesicht. Trotzdem, oder gerade deshalb, herrscht hier eine ergreifende Stille, die sich sofort auf mich auswirkt und mich total entspannt.
Der etwas anstrengendere Teil des Morgens wartet hier noch auf mich. Denn nach den Aufnahmen von hier bin ich über diese Huckel Wiese hinunter in den Wald gelaufen, den man hier im Hintergrund sehen kann.
Dort sind dann die anderen Bilder entstanden, die Ihr bisher gesehen habt.
more of this on my website at: www.shoot-to-catch.de