This was such a friendly fearsome fellow with a great aptitude when hungry. I was having a coffee and a few biscuits at one of my local nature reserve when this chap landed on the table scoffing down any biscuit crumbs he could find to eat. One minute he was the table then the seat next to me, my shoulder, and to top it all he'd constantly kept landing on my woolly hat on my head being very vocal and flapping his wings until he got another crumb. Christmas came a bit early for me this year as Mr Robin left a few presents on my beloved favourite woolly green hat, he pooped all over it, lol. In the 1400's when the Robin was named the colour orange had not been classified and this is why we say that the Robin has a red breast and not orange. Its about time that the Robin became the national bird of the UK just like America that has an eagle as their national bird.

Cardamine Pratensis - a pink wild flower that was growing together with the Speedwell I posted yesterday.

 

It is also known as 'The Cuckoo Flower' in Britain and is so named as its appearance is said to coincide with the return of the cuckoo. Not sure where they return from - Cuckooville probs.

 

In folklore it was also said to belong to the fairy folk and was considered bad luck to bring it indoors

 

I spoke with a farmer about a week ago who said he had heard the cuckoo - so there you go, scoffers beware..... go on, go outside prop a ladder up, pick some Cardamine, walk under the ladder to get back in the house and then open an umbrella as you are arranging the flowers in a vase in the kitchen. I dare you oh doubting scoffer ......live on the edge.....

Early morning breakfast on the local park lake - mum does the fishing and 'junior' does all the scoffing! (Nottingham, UK) (2494)

…scoffing all the mealworms

gobbling all the balls’

 

My garden was invaded by about 100 starlings during fledging season. The noise was phenomenal. Managed to get this wonderful capture of 1 adult trying to feed 9 hungry babies.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=jvpJYJHdAKk

 

St. Patrick’s Day: With an Irish Shamrock

 

By Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna

 

From the region of zephyrs, the Emerald isle,

The land of thy birth, in my freshness I come,

To waken this long-cherished morn with a smile,

And breathe o’er thy spirit the whispers of home.

O welcome the stranger from Erin’s green sod;

I sprang where the bones of thy fathers repose,

I grew where thy free step in infancy trod,

Ere the world threw around thee its wiles and its woes.

But sprightlier themes

Enliven the dreams,

My dew-dropping leaflets unfold to impart:

To loftiest emotion

Of patriot devotion,

I wake the full chord of an Irishman’s heart.

 

The rose is expanding her petals of pride,

And points to the laurels o’erarching her tree;

And the hardy Bur-thistle stands rooted beside,

And sternly demands;—Who dare meddle wi’ me?

And bright are the garlands they jointly display,

In death-fields of victory gallantly got;

But let the fair sisters their trophies array,

And show us the wreath where the shamrock is not!

By sea and by land,

With bullet and brand,

My sons have directed the stormbolt of war;

The banners ye boast,

Ne’er waved o’er our host,

Unfanned by the accents of Erin-go-bragh!

 

Erin mavourneen! dark is thy night;

Deep thy forebodings and gloomy thy fears;

And O, there are bosoms with savage delight

Who laugh at thy plainings and scoff at thy tears!

But, Erin mavourneen, bright are the names

Who twine with the heart-vein thy fate in their breast;

And scorned be the lot of the dastard, who shames

To plant, as a trophy, this leaf on his crest!

Thrice trebled disgrace

His honours deface,

Who shrinks from proclaiming the isle of his birth!

Though lowly its stem,

This emerald gem

Mates with the proudest that shadow the earth!

   

American bullfrog, taken at Wildwood lake, in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

Thank you for your clicks and comments!

Asha's second account - Asha's first account

I got Ashala this Collagen stick this morning and she just loved it. She sat on the sofa scoffing away at it and I just thought I'd take a few candid pictures of her enjoying her first Collagen stick

And when you've scoffed them all at Christmas, you still have a marvelous container for storage!

Keep safe everyone and bring on the vaccine where ever you are.

You can almost see Lancashire 🌹

 

Barkisland is in West Yorkshire near Halifax & Huddersfield.

It’s pronounced Bark-is-land not Bark-island… the locals will scoff at you for calling it Bark-island.

The M62 motorway is behind me as I took this shot.

( 174 of 365 )

 

I am guessing that this is a juvenile starling and it has not taken it long to suss out the fat snax feeder here at Chez FatSnax . It has been a bit of a battleground here at the feeder with magpies , jays , starlings , sparrows , bluetits and even the robin all trying their hand at getting to the fatsnax ! The pigeons come in and land on the roof of the bird table and have serious trouble working out how to get at the bird table without sliding off of the roof on the table - the idea of working out how to land and scoff from the feeder is way above their paygrade Therefore , one has to ask why the pigeon have one of the biggest populations around our towns and gardens when their IQ level is so poor ?

But for the starlings like above they seem to have more about them even if they are a raucous lot and get called " The Squabble Squad " here .

I took this shot through the open patio door standing in the middle of the living room .

A few from the garden over the last couple of weeks. This little female has been a star!

 

She's been coming in at dusk every single day to scoff a load of food I leave out before the others get to it after dark, only to come back with the rest to continue eating! :)

Four moons of Jupiter in perfect conjunction. Venus above.

(Double click to max zoom) Apologies for slight blur, was handheld.

 

I think this is a case of the photography gods smiling on me. This evening my wife informed me there were 2 very bright stars quite close together, it was not quite dark. I scoffed and mumbled something about me having no chance and then wandered out aimlessly with my camera. Julie pointed exactly where they were (in the South West) , then after much clueless messing around and a number of photographs later, I had one that I thought might be in focus.......

 

Imagine my surprise when I zoomed in and found this - LOL!

 

Looking it up just now, it seems Jupiter and Venus passed very close together tonight, I don't know if that was before or after this. I didn't catch that, but then again, you don't see this every day either.....

 

A very good friend of mine enjoys sailing. I do too. But he loves sailing, and often scoffs at others who head for harbour when the weather turns foul. He can sometimes be heard saying, "that is the time when he likes to go out". He built his own 40' sailboat and constructed it to withstand the worst ocean going weather mother nature can deliver. My point is, the same way he enjoys sailing, I enjoy photography.

 

Often, creating images in rather inclement weather, can illicit a more attracting result. What is to be done when the colors of morning and evening are not present? What about a less violent atmosphere? Perhaps that is where the next challenge lies? There is enjoyment to be found creating when none of the typical elements are present. That might also be one area that draws us closer as a community to this endeavour.

 

www.photographycoach.ca/

  

Newstead & Annesley C/P, Nottinghamshire. Another visit, here owl has just scoffed a vole on the ground.

p r e s s . p l a y

 

As he sat there, the coldness of life steadily draining away as the emptying of a vessel, an addled expression marked his visage. The glinting of the beautifully crafted metal protruding his chest stained in crimson red, gave his reeling thoughts pause. All seemed surreal in the moment. Casting a look to his left hand, the smoking gun held therein felt too heavy to lift. An imperceptible scoff escaped his blood stained lips and within this solitude of silence, a presence was there. Her voice beautiful and calm. Seductive and reassuring.

 

"Believe in me and give in"

 

The man turned his head only slightly and responded, "I didn't expect you."

 

She uttered a soft laugh. It was the sweetest laugh one would ever hear. Then she replied, "No one ever does."

 

He heard her voice and the warmth of her breath upon the skin of his ear, and her soothing voice once more, "You are bleeding. You do not have to. I can help you, if you would only trust in me."

 

In disgust he spat, "You drove your blade through my chest. Caused me immeasurable pain, and you want me to trust you. Not a chance!"

 

She exhaled a soft sigh, "It is not my intention to cause pain. People have hunted me, fallen for me, died for me, lived for me, spoke ill of me, spoken good of me, not trusted me. And only a few took the opportunity to truly know me. Most of all, although you have never once took notice of me, I do know you, better than you know yourself, and have been with you all along."

 

The slumped man soaked in blood gasped for air, and looked into the intense beauty of her face. The most beautiful woman he had ever existed, or will ever exist.

 

A look of concern and care caressed her features and she whisper insistance, "You are expiring, you do not have long. Please, do not be cold. Do not be hard hearted. Let me help you."

 

With a look of disdain the gargled inquiry, "Who are you?"

 

"You already know who I am." She regarded him curiously, "I am Love."

 

His eyes glared in foul rage, and with all his force he seethed, "I will never believe in you. I will never trust you."

 

With a heavy heart she stood away from him, the tears began streaming her face, and with an almost inaudible whisper, "Then you are truly dead."

She has been travelling too long, her adventures in exotic foreign lands displayed in the tattoos that mark her body. Tonight she walks an uncertain path, in a land called Elvion. There is strong magic here, not at all welcoming to one of her demon race. "Are you sure this is the way, little one?" she growls to her fairy guide. "No trickery, you promised." "As if!" the small fairy scoffs as he floats in the air beside her. "My promise is my bond. I will keep you safe here." "Good, good," Bekka says, although, as the fairy notes, her sharp katana stays in her hand ...

 

Photo taken at Elvion. Visit this beautiful fantasy sim here:

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Lateralus/233/186/37

-Lao Tzu

 

I have been taking a lot of pictures with my phone lately. Why? Because for some reason every time I leave the house I see something beautiful. I made an oath to myself that, for now at least, I am going to try and stop each time to capture that beauty.

The shots will not always be pristine and with a decline in my views/faves I am sure some photographers with far nicer equipment and/or much better skill than I may scoff at these images, (as I have had some nasty comments of such saying I can do much better with what I have). But, that is okay. :) Because for me, the image is not about the technique anymore, (been there and done that, stressed to the max for that perfect angle and edit). It is now about the poetry of it and creating something that moves me internally.

 

100 x Scenery 71/100

Monterey Bay Aquarium

Monterey, CA

 

At first I scoffed at the idea of going to another aquarium. "I've seen enough aquariums in my life already," I thought to myself. What made me change my mind was, first of all, I was doing a "Big Little Lies" day where I went and shot locations that had been seen in the TV show. and there were many scenes shot in the Aquarium. And then... well, it is a magnificent place!

Myth:

 

Arachne was the daughter of Idmon of Colophon, a dyer who dyed wool with Tyrian purple. She was famous in Hipepa (Lydia), where she had her workshop, for her extraordinary skill in weaving and embroidery.

 

The praises she received ended up going to the head of the young woman, who became so smug about her skill as a weaver that she began to claim that her skills were superior to those of Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war as well as crafts. The goddess was angry, she gave the young Arachne a chance to redeem herself. Taking the form of an old woman, she warned Arachne not to offend the gods. The mortal scoffed and proposed a weaving contest in which she could prove her superiority. Athena took off her costume and the contest began.

 

Athena wove the scene of her victory over Poseidon, which inspired the citizens of Athens to name the city after her. According to Ovid's Latin account, Arachne's tapestry represented twenty-two episodes of infidelities of the gods disguised as animals: Zeus being unfaithful to Hera with Leda, with Europa, with Danae and with others.

 

Athena admitted that the young woman's craftsmanship was perfect, but was greatly annoyed by the disrespectful choice of motif.

Finally losing her temper, the goddess destroyed the tapestry and Arachne's loom by hitting them with her shuttle, and also struck at head to the young woman. Arachne, who saw her foolishness, was overwhelmed by shame, fled and ended up hanging herself.

 

In Ovid's account, Athena took pity on Arachne. She doused the rope with aconite juice, causing it to turn into a web and transforming Arachne herself into a spider.

 

History suggests that the art of weaving had its origin in the imitation of the work of spiders and that it had been developed in Asia Minor.

  

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Our Lily-of-the-Nile opens up with the sun --- and it doesn't hurt to have a bougainvillea bokeh background.

I have to apologize to my 12 year old neighbor who said she was allergic to this plant -- I scoffed at her as I've never had a problem BUT it's sap can indeed cause skin irritation and eating roots/buds can be toxic --- so sorry Nadia......

#3 of 10, Agapanthus series

All My Links

 

This was again from my garden after heavy snow in Berlin, when I quite deliberately over-saturated the colours along having taken the shot with the WB, if memory serves, set at Fluorescent, I was taken by the bokeh and thought about the theory that the Earth is in fact a giant simulation, the limits within the decoded "physical" world is apparently the ice and snow we call either the Arctic / Antarctic, (which under treaty we are banned from exploring (I wonder why?)) many people scoff at the idea of a flat Earth or a simulator, or both, but, an open mind receives knowledge, a closed mind can receive nothing and only transmits evidence of one's own limitation and disablement of understanding.

 

The world, if you let it in, is fascinating. I believe that photography brings an element of exploration in imagery of this very world.

 

I hope everyone had a great weekend, new week ahead and so as always, thank you! :)

My winter thrush finally arrives at my neighbour's rowan tree, only to find that the blackbirds have already scoffed all the berries. You can almost see this bird's disappointment! (Which was mine too!).

 

Widespread breeding bird across northern Europe and Asia, migrating south in winter. British birds come from Scandinavia and Iceland, although there is a small breeding population in northern Scotland.

211204 037

 

Rotdrossel

 

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All images are the property of the photographer and may not be reproduced, copied, downloaded, transmitted or used in any way without the written permission of the photographer, who can be contacted by registering with flickr and using flickrmail.

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“I must move away from yesterday, plant my feet firmly in today and lose myself in dreams upon the 'morrow … “ - AP

 

Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=PsXGzblg7Ws

GREEN EYES – KATE WOLF

 

Do not be so quick to judge

it is not for us to know the Hand of God

all will be revealed in His good time

until such time be patient; humbly nod

and bow your head and raise your hands in prayer

fingers pointing to the Heavenly realm

the Golden gate that stands atop the stairs

where forgiveness lies stand tall and strong as elms

wipe away the self-pitying scalding tears and rise

to high above the mortal world of fears

and know that you will be forgiven

and love immortal will shine brightly through your tears

life is a funny thing there is no doubt

except the seeds of doubt that others sow

and when they harvest even through the drought

of loveless hearts and blackened souls I know

that God is all and all is love; forgiveness

is given those who sin and those who lie

I do not believe in an afterworld of darkness

when the smallest light remains in all who die

for that tiny spark can be fanned back to life

and burn as brightly as any shining star

even those who seem to live in darkness

can find their way back though they must travel far

I am not all sweetness but I am human

and try to do the best in life I can

but still I fall and still I long for wisdom

to be much better and help my fellow man

even when the darkness looms above me

and past mistakes still find me in the dark

I pray and listen to my soul and conscience

I do not pick at scabs like peeling bark

forgive, forget and rise above the trivia

there are bigger and better things that lie afoot

we are just specks and live here but a moment

but our immortal souls live on and tenderfoot

we grow; expand our minds and hearts and souls

in each exciting new and wondrous incarnation

tiny fragments of our previous lives

seep through and waken us with exaltation

it's nice to think that we will never die

although this body will one day cease to be

and some of you may scoff and not believe it

but that is the beautiful challenge that you set me

I try to change your mind in subtle ways

with words and pictures, songs and quotes and then

if still you do not believe my long meanderings

I do not feel defeated but try again …

 

- AP - Copyright © remains with and is the intellectual property of the author

 

Copyright © protected image please do not reproduce without permission

 

Thanks for visiting. I am very grateful for the very kind comments and faves. Please, if you do not have time to read my poetry I understand and am always grateful for your faves and appreciation of my pictures x

 

Enjoy a very happy week, dear friends <3

 

Actually I am very sorry that yesterday I left comments and faves with several friends before I went for my scan and found they had been wiped, so today I try to rectify, but fear I have not redeemed myself entirely! : 0( Today it is still hard to post replies and comments and faves "pop" out. If I notice I will redo! Sometimes I really dislike the technical glitches of Flickr!!!!!

"Do you give the horse his strength?

Do you clothe his neck with a mane?

Do you make him quiver like locusts,

His majestic snorting [spreading] terror?

He paws with force, he runs with vigor,

Charging into battle.

He scoffs at fear; he cannot be frightened;

He does not recoil from the sword.

A quiverful of arrows whizzes by him.

And the flashing spear and the javelin.

Trembling with excitement, he swallows the land;

He does not turn aside at the blast of the trumpet.

As the trumpet sounds, he says, "Aha!"

From afar he smells the battle,

The roaring and shouting of the officers"

IRIDESCENT .. HSOS Theme .... 😀

 

these pigeons were busy trying to eat all the seed .. sent Meg out to chase them away after they had their share before they scoffed the lot ! .... :-D

Back Church Street

VW shrank in the wash

After scoffing and shutting my folder down from this photoshoot when I saw most of them the focus was blown, I went back and found there were a few that made it. This was taken about a half hour after sunrise when I first started out on this morning at Session's Woods in Burlington CT, a 700-acre nature preserve. So it appears I had not mistakenly hit the IS switch on the lens yet. Phew, maybe I did get a few photos to salvage.

 

So ok, I can't help myself, I have to ask. Is there some kind of trend among some Flickr folks to only comment or fav on older photos and never comment or fav the photo that was posted on the day, and is this a game to not get competition for Explore? Hmmm I seem to have a handful of people that do this. I don't have the time to figure that game out :P LOL

 

On a better note, thanks to all my friends that visit and comment on my photo! I truly appreciate it more than I can express that you guys make my day and are the best!

 

My photography is now available for purchase on my store site at the link attached. If anyone is interested in anything and they don't see it on my site, please contact me here or on my store website email service and I can add it to my store. Thank you for looking!

 

fineartamerica.com/profiles/linda-rasch

 

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

©Skyelyte Photography™ Copyright, All Rights Reserved

None of my images may be downloaded, copied, reproduced, manipulated or used on websites, blogs or other media or used in any way without my express written permission.

The Fieldfares and Redwings have been here for a week or so now and they're scoffing all the berries :)

Oriole vs Oreo

 

Oriole vs Oreo—let’s get it straight,

One flies at dawn, the other’s on a plate.

One’s for the eyes and one’s for the belly,

Only one goes well with peanut butter and jelly.

One builds a nest with ribbon and pride,

The other sticks firmly to your backside.

 

The judge took the bench, the gavel came down,

“This snack-and-song case has amused the whole town.”

He looked at the bird, then down at the treat,

And said, “Frankly, I'd rather have both with my seat.”

“Case dismissed,” he said with a wink,

“Now bring me a cookie and something that sings in the sink.”

 

The Oreo filed a formal appeal,

Claiming defamation with zest and zeal.

“I may not chirp or soar through the blue,

But people love me—and I come in Double-Stuf too!”

The Oriole scoffed, “Then give me my due—

I want royalties every time someone chews!”

  

Our resident, birdseed eating moose is back. After a few weeks of being gone - she strode down our driveway as if she owned the place, plunked down under the birdfeeder, and began scoffing up all of the seed that was tossed out by the woodpeckers. With subzero temperatures, and heavy snow predicted - I expect she will be hanging around for a while. Now Doc and I will have to keep our eyes open when we leave the cabin.

 

I am a little perplexed though . . . when I originally took photos of this moose and her love of birdseed - there were no buds on her head. Now I can plainly see two prominent bumps where antlers start to form. In the moose family only males sprout antlers, so . . . the question is - bull or cow? Or could this be two different moose with the same affinity to birdseed? Maybe time will tell - or I'll get a peek at the underparts.

 

After decades of observing wildlife - I don't chalk an animal's behavior up to "instinct," as much as I do to "memory", and yes - a superior intelligence. I know I can't roam through the vast forests of our state for weeks, and then with no navigational aid, find my way right back to one particular spot on the map. But this moose did just that.

  

PADDY: *Calls.* "Scout! Algie! Where are you? It's time for afternoon tea!"

 

SCOUT: "We're over here, Paddy!"

 

PADDY: *Follows Scout's voice before stopping in alarm.* "Scout! Algie! What are you doing?"

 

ALGIE: "Oh, just hanging around, Paddy." *Smiles.*

 

PADDY: "Oh my! How long have you been hanging upside-down like that?"

 

ALGIE: "A while I think." *Ponders.* "I can't tell the time like you can, but since the big yellow ball in the sky was below us. Now it is to our left..." *Contemplates.* "Or is that our right? Or your right... or left, Paddy?"

 

SCOUT: "We've been hanging like this for a few hours now, Paddy."

 

PADDY: *Alarmed.* "Scout! Algie! All your stuffing will rush to your head and give you a headache! if you hang upside-down like that for too long!"

 

ALGIE: *Chuckles sheepishly.* "Oh I never get a headache hanging upside-down... or is it downside-up? I never can tell. I get confused. Anyway, I don't have much stuffing to fill my head either way, Paddy."

 

SCOUT: "Algie has a good point, Paddy. We might not be upside-down. You may be the one who is downside-up, and we are the right way around!"

 

PADDY: *Scoffs.* "Don't be ridiculous, Scout! Of course you are upside-down, and I'm not downside-up, I'm the correct way around!"

 

SCOUT: "Says who?"

 

PADDY: "Says anybear, Scout!"

 

SCOUT: "Well we don't, Paddy. Isn't that right, Algie?"

 

ALGIE: "Is what, what, Scout?"

 

SCOUT: "Isn't Paddy downside-up?"

 

ALGIE: *Considers Paddy thoughtfully.* "Well, he could be upside-down, Scout... or downside-up. He looks a bit downside-up to me. It depends on whether we are downside-up or upside-down."

 

PADDY: *Rubs forehead with paw.* "All your talk of upside-down and downside up is starting to give me a headache, Algie!"

 

SCOUT: "Aha!" *Triumphant.* So you are upside-down, Paddy! All the stuffing is rushing to your head and giving you a headache!"

 

PADDY: "Well, if you are really the right way around, and I am upside-down, how can I go inside and eat afternoon tea, Scout? If I were upside-down, the food would fall out of my paws."

 

SCOUT: "Hhhhmmm" *Considers.* "That's a valid point, Paddy."

 

PADDY: "Well, if you're hungry, Daddy is putting out a lovely, freshly baked lemon cheesecake with a biscuit crust served with cream if you want to come down and come inside to our downside-up dining room. Bye-bye!" *Waves, turns and walks away.*

 

ALGIE: "Baked lemon cheesecake!"

 

SCOUT: "With a biscuit crust, and served with cream! Grumbly tummy, Algie! Grumbly tummy!" *Rubs tummy vigorously upside-down.* "We need to get down and get downside-up, Algie. How do we do that?" *Expectant.*

 

ALGIE: "Oh, I don't know, Scout. I thought it was my job to get us upside-down, and your job to get us downside-up." *Hopeful.*

 

The theme for “Smile on Saturday” for the 13th of September is “upside down”, and I immediately thought of my Algie Bear, who was made for me by a very good friend, is a very adventurous little boy: he loves to climb and sit on top of gates, edges of tables and chairs. He adore climbing trees, and will cheekily sit there with crossed legs. He's very friendly and he loves adventures of any kind. Therefore, when the theme was announced, it was Algie whom I immediately thought of! Of course, if there is an adventure to be had in our house, then my little grey woollen knitted bear Scout is usually part of it, so of course he had to get in on the act! Oh and don't worry about Algie and Scout's grumbly tummies! When I head from Paddy that they were stuck, upside-down in a tree, I went and rescued them, so that they both got an extra large slice of baked lemon cheesecake with extra cream! I hope you like my choice of subject for this week's theme, and that it makes you smile!

 

My Paddington Bear came to live with me in London when I was two years old (many, many years ago). He was hand made by my Great Aunt and he has a chocolate coloured felt hat, the brim of which had to be pinned up by a safety pin to stop it getting in his eyes. The collar of his mackintosh is made of the same felt. He wears wellington boots made from the same red leather used to make the toggles on his mackintosh.

 

He has travelled with me across the world and he and I have had many adventures together over the years. He is a very precious member of my small family.

 

Scout was a gift to Paddy from my friend. He is a Fair Trade Bear hand knitted in Africa. His name comes from the shop my friend found him in: Scout House. He tells me that life was very different where he came from, and Paddy is helping introduce him to many new experiences. Scout catches on quickly, and has proven to be a cheeky, but very lovable member of our closely knit family.

 

Algie is made by the same friend who made Jago, Daisy-Maud, Orson and Danny Boy, and he comes frpom Junie Bears in Norfolk. He is very floppy with poseable paws, and he is made of sparse English mohair, has paws of ultra suede and eyes of glass. A very adventurous little boy, he loves to climb and sit on top of gates, edges of tables and chairs. He adore climbing trees, and will cheekily sit there with crossed legs. He's very friendly and he loves adventures of any kind.

Mark 9:22 “The demon has frequently thrown him into the fire, and into the water, to the hazard of his life; if therefore You can do any thing, have compassion on us, and help us!”

  

Brad Hazzard, the New Wales Minister for Health and Medical Research said, “This is a world pandemic. It’s a one in 100-year event. So you can expect that we will have transmission from time to time, and that’s just the way it is. We’ve got to accept that this is the New World Order.”

  

Psalm 2:1 “Why do the heathen rage, and the nations plot a vain thing?”

 

Psalm 2:4 “The One enthroned in heaven laughs; the Lord scoffs at them.”

 

Thursley Common, Surrey. aka Colin - now back for his 9th year, making him the oldest known cuckoo. Had just the one visit though he stopped around for 30 minutes to pose for his audience of around 25 and have a good scoff. Things seem to have moved on for him a bit - only live mealworms now and some real designer perches - hollowed out fencepost tops filled with his favourite grubs. He deserves the best.

Until you find it there and lead it back....home

Wake me up inside

Wake me up inside

Call my name and save me from the dark

Bid my blood to run

Before I come undone

Save me from the nothing I've become

 

I found dolly-sized grave stones at Target, and scoffed the last one X3

Its bark is fire resistant. Its fruit is edible. It scoffs at the driest droughts. It shrugs, and another decade has passed. It is the baobab tree, one of the longest-living, strangest looking plants in the world

They can grow to be nearly 100 feet tall—but it’s the baobab’s bulk and stature that is so astonishing; many have trunks 30 feet in diameter. The Sunland Baobab of South Africa is far bigger still and is reportedly more than 6,000 years old. Its trunk, like those of many old baobabs, is hollow and—as a tourist attraction—even features a small bar inside. Baobab trees are leafless for much of the year and look rather like an oak that has been uprooted and replanted upside down. Numerous legends attempt to explain the bizarre and awesome appearance of the baobab, but if you visit the great Sunland Baobab, just let your jaw drop—and go inside for a drink.

 

Seen in Taragire National Park, Tanzinia

Well why wouldn't I be? It's National Egg Day! nationaldaycalendar.com/national-egg-day-june-3rd/ These duck eggs were just begging to have their photo taken so I obliged before we scoffed them. Very similar to my photo in the first comment with the addition of smiley sausages 😄

 

Has to be The Pointer Sisters www.youtube.com/watch?v=8iwBM_YB1sE

falco tinnunculus

 

After all the wind and rain a worm explosion coinciding with a starving Kestrel. This bird was up and down all morning on the farbank feeding on worms at Highbridge reservoir while i was carp fishing today so i dug a few up and scattered them behind my shelter and waited. not expecting anything to happen but i could she she was watching me. Bingo it paid off when she landed a rod length away and tucked in. I picked up my camera slowly and to my amazement she carried on scoffing the worms while my shutter clicked away

If you have lost a loved one, know that because of the Conservation of Energy, their energy has not died. Remember the First Law of Thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. All their energy, every vibration, every BTU of heat, every wave of every particle that was your loved one remains with you in this world. Know that amid energies of the cosmos, they gave as good as they got.

 

All the photons that have ever bounced off their face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by their happiness, by the touch of their hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by the one you love. And as you grieve, know that the photons that bounced from them were gathered in the particle detectors that are your eyes, that those photons created within their constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

 

According to the Law of the Conservation of Energy, not a bit of them is gone; they're just less orderly.

 

-Adaptation of "Eulogy from a Physicist" by Aaron Freeman

  

Mood

  

It's funny how such creatures, simplistic in so many ways, can inhabit personalities more complex and deep by comparison to the shallow, murky waters of the WalMart kiddie pools that some human beings are made of. He was my shadow, my sentinel, my buddy, my pal. Little did I know that this Valentine's Day gift from an ex would lead to a lasting companionship who's absence is felt, even to this day.

 

Some people would scoff and say "Oh, it's just a cat." As heartless as those people are, he was so much more than the sum of himself. He probably would've followed me through the Gates of Hell and back, if I'd let him... and give them a piece of his mind in the process, since he was a chatterbox.

 

Where people would often fail, he would succeed.

 

Rest in peace, buddy.

Photographed on the NE Scotland cliffs amongst the beautiful pinks.

Yesterday Milu had five teeth removed. When I picked her up the vet said she may not feel like eating for a while. Well...........when I got home Phill just happened to be feeding the other cats; Milu shot out of the carrier, pushed Pixie out of the way and proceeded to scoff all of her food - lol. Her recovery was quick to say the least. We do have to have some more bloods done in a couple of weeks to check to see if her thyroid meds need adjusting. But everything seems good at the moment, especially as she is 14 years old

Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Tonight however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham, the heir, their eldest son Leslie, and his wife Arabella. Lettice, her fiancée, Sir John Nettleford-Hughes, and his recently widowed sister returned from France, Clemance Pontefract, are visiting the Chetwynd family for Christmas and have stayed on to celebrate New Year’s Eve with them as well before heading off in a few days’ time to Rippon Court, Sir John’s vast ancestral estate in Bedfordshire, where he, Clemance and Lettice all have business.

 

Old enough to be Lettice’s father, wealthy Sir John was until recently still a bachelor, and according to London society gossip intended to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. After an abrupt ending to her understanding with Selwyn Spencely, son and heir to the title Duke of Walmsford, Lettice in a moment of both weakness and resolve, agreed to the proposal of marriage proffered to her by Sir John. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them.

 

Christmas has been and gone, and with it, Lettice’s elder sister Lalage (known to everyone in the family by the diminutive Lally), her husband Charles and their children and Lettice’s Aunt Eglantine, leaving the house emptier and significantly quieter, especially in the absence of the children. It is New Year’s Eve 1925, and nearly midnight as we find ourselves in the very grand and elegant drawing room of Glynes with its gilt Louis and Palladian style furnishings where Lettice has gathered with her fiancée and future sister-in-law, her father, mother, Leslie, Arabella and the parents of her oldest childhood chum, Gerald Bruton, Lord and Lady Bruton. An eight course New Year’s Eve dinner prepared by the Chetwynd’s cook, Mrs. Casterton, and the Glynes kitchen staff, has been consumed, and the party have repaired to the drawing room to enjoy champagne, wine and for the more daring, cocktails. The gilded chinoiserie rococo galleried table has been moved to in the midst of the sumptuous drawing room by Bramley, the Chetwynd’s beloved butler, and he has covered it in glasses and bottles of alcohol, ice and soda syphons for his master, mistress and guests. A bottle of champagne from the Glynes’ well stocked cellar which has been chilling in a silver coolers is almost empty as the New Year looms.

 

“Oh, I am sorry to hear you won’t be staying in the county for Twelfth Night* celebrations, Sir John.” Lady Gwenyth remarks sadly. “Such a pity! Mrs. Maingot’s Glynes Village Players are really rather excited about their Twelfth Night performance this year.”

 

“Even though I am a relative newcomer to the district, Lady Gwenyth, having only acquired Fonengil Park last century,” Sir John replies with his nose crumpling in distaste as he gesticulates with his highball glass of hock and seltzer in his right hand. “One thing I do know from my experience of the Glynes Village Players, is that the more excited they are about their performance, the ghastlier it is sure to be!” He pulls an overexaggerated face of mock horror. “I shall be only too glad to be far away from Mrs. Maingot and her amateur dramatics.”

 

“Oh,” Lady Gwenyth replies with both a sad and startled face in response to Sir John’s harsh remarks. “I rather enjoy their performances each year, Sir John.”

 

“Well, I’d hardly compare their amateur dramatics to the plays produced in London’s West End, Lady Gwenyth.” Sir John retorts smugly, before sipping from his glass.

 

“Yes… well,” Lady Gwyneth says with distain as she takes a sip of her own champagne, peering with repugnance over the top of her glass with beady eyes at Sir John in his smart Jermyn Street** tailored set of tails, white dinner vest and bow tie, a large Glynes hot house red rose in full bloom serving as a rather overly garish boutonnière*** in his lapel. “I’ll have to acquiesce to your greater experience in these matters, Sir John. I haven’t been to the capital since the Jersey Lily**** made her debut on the London stage in ‘She Stoops to Conquor’.

 

“Indeed.” Sir John murmurs as he looks Lady Gwenyth up and down critically, eyeing her elegant, if somewhat old fashioned Edwardian beaded evening gown in pastel pink crêpe de chiné.

 

“Still, it will be a pity too, that the Glynes villagers will not have the opportunity to wassail***** you and dear Lettice,” Lady Gwenyth goes on, either ignoring Sir John’s rudeness politely, or simply not noticing it. “Especially now that you two are officially engaged.”

 

“Oh,” Sir John heaves a rather heavy sigh and waves his hand about, as though shooing an irritating insect away. “There were a great many wassails and good wishes to us both from the villagers over the festive period since Lettice and I motored down from London to spend Christmas here at Glynes.”

 

“Oh that must be rather nice for you and dear Lettice, Sir John.” Lady Gwenyth remarks. “I still remember all the good wishes I received from the villagers when Algernon brought me to Bruton Hall all those years ago as a new bride. It was lovely, and endeared me to them.”

 

“Endeared you to them? Indeed Lady Gwenyth?”

 

“Yes. It really was wonderful. As part of local gentry, you really should spend more time down in the village when you are at Fontengil Park, Sir John. You spend far too much time in London.”

 

“Ahh, but that is where my business requires me, Lady Gwenyth, not enfolded in the soporific bucolic bosom of the Wiltshire countryside.”

 

“Thinking of the countryside,” Lady Gwenyth remarks, coughing a little awkwardly at Sir John’s lightly veiled implication that she, her family the families of the other landed gentry live sleepy and dull lives. “I was a little surprised that you’re not spending New Year’s Eve with my son at Miss Fordyce’s country retreat. It sounds far more smart and select for an exciting man about London like yourself, than our dull, bucolic parties.” Lady Gwenyth cannot help herself as she adds an acerbic taint to her comment. “Gerald was rather thrilled by Miss Fordyce’s invitation to her private party in Essex, especially after the last one, which he said was frightfully enjoyable. You were there too, as well as Lettice, I believe, Sir John.”

 

“I was. My sister Clemance and I are very good friends of Sylvia’s.”

 

“Yes, Lettice told me that. She led me to believe that Mrs. Pontefract and Miss Fordyce went to finishing school together, or something like that.”

 

“We were hosted by the same German family, Lady Gwenyth,” Clemance utters clearly, correcting the Chetwynd’s neighbour politely as she steps up to join the conversation. “So, I’ve known Sylvia since we were fifteen years old.

 

“Clemmie, Lettice and I all received invitations from Sylvia for tonight’s bash, as it happens, Lady Gwenyth,” Sir John explains. “However, since we will be leaving in a day or two to go to Bedfordshire, and knowing Lettice enjoys the tradition of spending time with her family during Christmas, we erred on the side of coming down here to Glynes, rather than going to Sylvia’s.”

 

“I think I’m enjoying this party far more than I would have Sylvia’s anyway, Lady Gwenyth.” Clemance remarks. “Sylvia has always surrounded herself with all these rather passionate and loud performers and artists. There are bound to be high spirits and hijinks this evening – a spirited scavenger hunt about Belchamp St Paul****** no doubt.”

 

“Oh indeed.” chuckles Lady Gwenyth.

 

“No. This is a much more agreeable. I must also say that it was very good of Cosmo and Sadie to put Nettie and I up for Christmas and New Year.” Clemance adds gratefully.

 

“Yes. It saved me the fuss and bother of having to open up Fontengil Park just for a few days.” Sir John adds.

 

“Oh,” Lady Gwenyth responds, shuddering as she ignores Sir John’s rather tactless remark and focusses upon Clemance instead. “Cosmo and Sadie are always such gracious hosts at any time of the year, Mrs. Pontefract, especially at Christmas time. I’m sure they were only too delighted to welcome you, Mrs. Pontefract.” She allows herself to give Sir John a momentary hard stare. “However, I was just remarking to Sir John that it is a pity you have to leave before the Twelfth Night festivities.”

 

“Oh I know. It is a great pity. However, a Royal command is not one my brother can readily ignore, Lady Gwenyth,” Clemance answers. “Or refuse. And since the Prince of Wales has specifically expressed his wish to meet Lettice again as John’s fiancée, I am going simply as chaperone.”

 

“I am surprised that His Royal Highness would want to leave Sandringham*******,” Lady Gwenyth opines. “I would have thought he would have stayed on the Sandringham Estate with Their Majesties for the duration of the festive season.”

 

“Somehow, I think Rippon Court offers more entertaining pursuits for His Royal Highness than watching his father play with his postage stamp collection******** or his mother fuss over her Fabergé eggs*********.” Sir John says in a superior fashion.

 

“Our father was a fine rider, a mad keen steeplechaser********** and a bloodthirsty hunter.” Clemance explains with a shudder. “Mother was too. Between them, they established the Rippon Hunt.”

 

“Being a keen steeplechaser and foxhunter himself, His Royal Highness has expressed his wish to ride in the Rippon Hunt***********, so however reluctantly, I am taking up my official duties as host of the hunt.”

 

“Not Master of the Hounds************, Sir John?” Lady Gwyneth queries politely.

 

“Our parents were the Nettleford-Hughes with hunting in their veins, Lady Gwenyth.” Clemance explains kindly. “They couldn’t understand why Nettie didn’t enjoy, nor have the aptitude for, the outdoor sports they embraced with such gusto.”

 

“We’re a little more cerebral in our pursuits, rather than Neanderthal*************” Sir John adds. “No, I’m far better placed to entertain His Royal Highness and his coterie after their hunting pursuits in the comfort of Rippon Court, and Lettice as my intended will be offering the winners’ trophies.”

 

Across the room by the white marble fireplace in which a fire roars, keeping the cold of the Wiltshire winter at bay, the Viscount, Lady Sadie and their eldest son and heir chat together, with Lady Sadie in her usual seat in a gilt Louis Seize armchair, her husband on the high backed gilt salon chair embroidered with delicate petit-point by his mother, and their son standing next to his father, warming his backside as he faces out to the room. Across from Lady Sadie in a matching armchair, Lord Bruton snores deeply.

 

“Looks like Lord Bruton’s had a bit too much of your firewater**************, Pappa.” Leslie opines, nodding at their neighbour slumped in his seat with his head lolling to his left heavily, his mouth hanging slightly open. “I’d best go wake him.”

 

Lady Sadie glances up at the dainty ornamental rococo clock on the mantelpiece. “No, no, Leslie.” she fusses. “Let poor Algernon sleep. It’s only a quarter to midnight. Your father or Gwenyth can wake him just before midnight, not that I think he’s care too much if he missed the start to 1926, judging by how tired he looked tonight.”

 

“Too many unpaid bills keeping him awake at night I’d say.” Leslie remarks.

 

“Still?” Lady Sadie asks. “I thought all that was behind them now with that last sale of pockets of land to that London man.”

 

“I think it will take more than that to solve the Bruton’s cash flow problems.” Leslie remarks. “Wouldn’t you agree, Pappa?”

 

The Viscount doesn’t reply.

 

“Father?” he asks again.

 

“Cosmo?” Sadie asks her husband, as she gently reaches out and places a bejewelled hand upon her husband’s left knee.

 

“Eh? What?” the Viscount blusters.

 

“You’re miles away, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie says with disappointment, shrinking back into her seat and picking up her nearly empty champagne flute. “You aren’t listening to Leslie or I at all, are you?” She pouts petulantly as she lifts the glass to her lips. “You could at last pretend to be listening to me.”

 

“Just listen to him, that superior sounding old lecher.” the Viscount seethes, seemingly unaware of his wife’s statement as he nods towards Sir John who stands in his cluster with Lady Gwyneth and Clemance near Lady Sadie’s Eighteenth Century painted drawers, his back turned to the Viscount.

 

“Cosmo!” Lady Sadie hisses. “Quiet! He’ll hear you.” She looks aghast at her husband. “Like him or not, he’s our guest.”

 

“He won’t hear me,” mutters the Viscount in a comfortably assured reply. “Not over the sound of his own deafening pomposity.”

 

Leslie and Lady Sadie exchange knowing glances over the top of the Viscount, Lady Sadie cocking an eyebrow and Leslie rolling his eyes, both silently acknowledging that the Viscount is the pot calling the kettle black***************.

 

“Oh, His Royal Highness is a fine hunter and steeplechaser,” the Viscount mimics Sir John’s statement in a mewling voice. “As if we didn’t all know it’s more about like being drawn to like, with our wastrel future King seeking a sympathetic audience and place to sleep with his mistress, that damnable trollop Freda Dudley Ward****************, rather than doing his duty and staying at Sandringham with his family.”

 

“Ahh, the worst kept secret in England*****************.” Leslie ventures.

 

“The poor King and Queen.” Lady Sadie opines with a sigh. “I pity them.”

 

“I pity us!” the Viscount retorts. “Having to tolerate that damn philanderer under our roof, as long as Lettice insists on being churlish and keeping up the pretence that this ill-fated marriage will be anything other than a disaster, the magnitude of which we have never seen the likes of in the Chetwynd family before.”

 

“Pappa!” Leslie exclaims, looking over to Lettice, who luckily for the Viscount, is involved in an animated conversation with Leslie’s wife Arabella on the sofa nearby.

 

“Stop being so melodramatic, Cosmo,” Lady Sadie chides. “It doesn’t become you, as head of the household. And I say again, keep your voice down, for goodness’ sake. Sir John may be completely hedonistic and self-absorbed, but our youngest child is not.”

 

“I’ve a mind to go over there, punch the cad in his snooty nose, and fling him out of the house by the ear.”

 

“Oh no you won’t, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie disagrees calmly and matter-of-factly, slapping him on his knee this time. “It would be the wrong thing to do, and even in the pique of a fit of rage, you know it. It would be too, too embarrassing to conduct such a scene before a houseful of guests, even if most of them present are family: for Sir John, Leslie, Arabella, me, you,” She lowers her voice and adds sadly. “For your favourite, Lettice.”

 

“It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to.” the Viscount mumbles under his breath between gritted teeth.

 

“You aren’t alone in that, Pappa. We’d all like to.” Leslie says, looking down to his father. “But he is Lettice’s fiancée, and it is New Year’s Eve after all.”

 

“What the devil has that to do with anything, Leslie?” the Viscount barks.

 

“Well, you know, Pappa, the season of peace, good will to all men and that all that.” Leslie elucidates with animated gesticulations directed towards the Christmas tree, its golden glass baubles, ribbons and tinsel****************** sparkling and glowing in the drawing room light.

 

“Good will to all men be damned!” the Viscount retorts in a fiery fashion.

 

“Language, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie scolds her husband.

 

“I fail to understand how a man as odious, hedonistic and self-obsessed as Sir John, can have such a lovely and selfless sister like Clemance.” Leslie remarks. “She is kind, considerate, generous of her time, and utterly charming.”

 

“Perhaps she is compensating for her brother’s character flaws,” Lady Sadie suggests. “I determined that I was going to despise her when I met her up in London, but try as I might, I can’t help but like her.”

 

“Why can’t Lettice see what a vile old lecher Sir John is?” the Viscount ponders in exasperated disbelief. “I mean, she’s not dim, is she? She’s got the brains and the nous to establish her own very successful business, in spite of everyone, including us, suggesting it was folly, and that she’d fail. How can she be so blind? Has she lost the use of her eyes, or worse yet, her senses?”

 

“I don’t think Lettice has lost either, my dear Cosmo,” Lady Sadie soothes purringly. “And furthermore,” she adds with a satisfied smile. “I do believe the sheen is starting to rub off this quixotic******************* engagement to Sir John.”

 

Both the Viscount and Leslie turn and look at Lady Sadie, her son smiling knowingly, and her husband gazing at her in disbelief.

 

“Alright Sadie.” the older man says. “You have my full and uninterrupted attention.” He heaves a sigh. “Go on. What do you know that I don’t?”

 

“I told you the day she announced her engagement to Sir John to us almost twelve months ago, that we were going to have to play the long game with Lettice.” Lady Sadie explains.

 

“You did.” the Viscount buts in. “And we have. What of it?”

 

“Well, it’s finally starting to pay dividends without our intervention in the matter, thus preventing Lettice from being driven further into Sir John’s arms because of our perceived interference and bias against the match. I can see by your response, Leslie darling, that being the perceptive young man you are, like me, you too have noticed a change come over Lettice and her attitudes to Sir John.”

 

“I have Mamma.” Leslie admits. “A definite cooling”

 

“What the devil do you mean, Sadie?” the Viscount splutters in exasperation. “What’s all this about Lettice’s attitudes towards that ghastly old lecher? Stop being so damn cryptic, woman!”

 

“I’m not quite sure when exactly, but it seems that at least since her return from that decorative arts exhibition in Paris, Lettice has taken a cooler attitude towards her fiancée, Cosmo. When they arrived to stay, I asked Lettice whether she and Sir John have settled on a date for the wedding yet, and she fobbed me off with some fanciful story that they haven’t had time to settle on one yet. It’s all nonsense of course.” Lady Sadie scoffs. “A happily engaged couple would have settled on one by now, no matter how busy they were. You mark my words.” She holds up a wagging bejewelled finger. “She’s stalling, and I am quite sure she is reconsidering her engagement. Furthermore,” she adds. “If you think about how she was when their engagement first became public, Lettice hung off Sir John, and his every word. Not a cross word was had between them.” Lady Sadie nods, steeling her jaw as she speaks. “Yet now look at her. She’s sitting with Arabella.”

 

“Tice hasn’t stood next to him all this evening.” Leslie adds. “Haven’t you noticed, Pappa?”

 

The Viscount sits up more straightly in his seat as he glances between Sir John and Lettice, who sits on the sofa with Arabella, her back clearly turned to her fiancée. “No,” he says, a brightness lightening his gruff tones, his glower lifting a little. “I can’t say I have.”

 

“And she’s given him critical, or even openly hostile glances when he’s said things she doesn’t like or agree with since they both motored down from London to stay.” Lady Sadie adds. “It’s not the look a happily engaged woman gives her fiancée, Cosmo.”

 

“Bella even told me last night before bed that Tice confided in her the other day that she and Sir John had the fiercest argument up in London over the Prince of Wales’ visit and their need to leave here just after New Year. Apparently, she told Sir John he could jolly well go on his own, Royal Highness or not, as she was staying here until after Twelfth Night like usual. It was only because of Clemance’s imploring that she recanted and agreed to go with them to Rippon Court the day after tomorrow.”

 

“Really?” Sir John asks, whilst Lady Sadie gasps and smiles at their son’s revelation.

 

“According to Bella, and she’s less of a Sir John despiser than we are, so I can’t imagine her fabricating or gilding such a tale.”

 

Just at that moment, Arabella scuttles past her husband and in-laws, vacating her seat as she goes to the side of the fireplace and rings the servants’ call bell by turning the metal and porcelain handle discreetly built in under the mantle. “We must call for Bramley!” she exclaims excitedly. “We need fresh champagne. It’s nearly midnight!”

 

Seeing an ample opportunity to talk to Lettice, Leslie leaves his parents’ side and moves over to talk to her.

 

“To your health, little sister.” Leslie says, slipping down onto the seat vacated by his wife on the Louis Quinze sofa, raising his champagne flute to Lettice’s.

 

“To your health, dear Leslie.” Lettice parrots, raising her own glass so that it clinks merrily against his.

 

Leslie settles back against the soft embroidered gold satin upholstery back of the sofa and appraises Lettice as she sits opposite him, arrayed in a simple sleeveless tube frock of madder coloured satin with a drop waist and an asymmetrical hemline designed for her by Gerald. The colours warms her pale complexion and accentuates the golden tones of her marcelled waves******************** Her elbow length white kid evening gloves make for a nice contrast to the bright colour of the frock’s fabric. A diamond bracelet, a gift from Sir John to Lettice, winks and sparkles expensively under the illumination of the Glynes electrified drawing room chandeliers above.

 

“What?” Lettice asks her brother.

 

Leslie doesn’t answer straight away, which causes Lettice to blush and glance down to see if she has inadvertently spilt something from New Year’s Eve 1925’s dinner onto her gown, where it has remained unnoticed by her.

 

“What is it, Leslie?”

 

“You’re up to something.” he replies matter-of-factly after a moment of deliberation.

 

Lettice laughs in startled surprise at Leslie’s effrontery. “No I’m not, Leslie!”

 

“Yes you are, Tice.” Leslie retorts before taking a sip of gin and tonic. “Do you remember when you were six and I was sixteen, and I caught you coming out of the barn on the home farm********************* with that pail********************** of molasses for the cows***********************, which you intended to pour into Lionel’s bed?”

 

“He deserved a taste of his own medicine, after he deliberately poured water on my mattress, making it look like I’d wet the bed.” Lettice defends herself. Nanny Tess was fit to be tied, and I received such a dressing down and a punishment of no nursery tea for a week.” She scoffs and rolls her blue eyes. “You stopped me doing it.”

 

“I wouldn’t have stopped you, if you hadn’t been so Janus-faced************************ when I asked you whether you were going to try and reciprocate punishment on Lionel, and you said you wouldn’t. I immediately suspected foul play, so I followed you, and as it turns out, I was right.”

 

“You stalked me, Leslie.” Lettice takes a sip of her own champagne, the bracelet of gemstones sliding down her raised forearm until it comes to a gentle halt where its circumference and that of her arm match.

 

“I saved you from your own impetuousness, Tice.”

 

“Says you.” Lettice laughs. “We’ll never know now. I was so guilty being caught red handed as it were by my own big brother, whom I worshipped and adored, that I did as you told me and suffered my punishment in silence without retribution upon Lionel.”

 

“He would have done something even worse to you, Tice. You know he would.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“Lionel’s depths of depravity and evil were evident long before he was seven, Tice my dear.”

 

“True.” Lettice admits begrudgingly.

 

“Anyway, you are being Janus-faced now. Mamma noticed it, and so did I.” Leslie remarks. “So, what is going on between you and sleazy old Sir John? You’re saying all the right things, but Mamma and I both sense a shift in you, ever since you came home from Paris.” Leslie looks his sister directly in the eyes. “Is the sheen of your ill-considered engagement to Sir John finally wearing off?”

 

Lettice laughs again at Leslie’s impudence. “Why don’t you say what you really think, Leslie darling.”

 

“Is it?” Leslie persists.

 

“I’m not six any more, Leslie. I don’t need rescuing.” Lettice assures her sibling, reaching out her empty glove clad left hand and patting him on the knee consolingly. “I’m twenty-five, and I can manage this situation myself, and I am, in my own way.”

 

The concern painted on Leslie’s handsome face give away his misgivings. “I just hope, whatever you are up to, you’re doing the right thing.”

 

“I appreciate you wanting to come to my aid, Leslie darling, but I don’t need my knight in shining brotherly armour this time.”

 

Leslie sighs in tired exasperation. “You always were the most independent of all the Chetwynd children, forging your own destiny: not like Lally, who married well as Mamma intended, or me who as the heir apparent has grown up with his future mapped out for him.”

 

“Lionel, for all his faults, is independent too.” Lettice suggests.

 

“Yes, but stupid too with all his hedonistic actions to end up having his fate chosen for him against his will, shrouded in scandal, by being banished to British East Africa************************* by Pappa.”

 

“Please trust me on this, Leslie darling. I know what I’m doing this time.” Lettice promises Leslie. “Whether the outcomes are good, bad or a mixture of both. I’m prepared. I’ll be fine.”

 

“What are you two talking about over there?” the Viscount calls over to Lettice and Leslie from the drinks table, holding aloft one of two chilled bottles of champagne supplied by Bramley. “Come! It’s almost midnight. Time to toast to 1926.”

 

“Yes, Pappa.” the siblings say, arising from the sofa and walking over to the table where they join all the other guests and their hosts.

 

The Viscount hands them both fresh glasses of cool, sparkling French champagne.

 

The clock on the mantle chimes midnight prettily, in the distance the Glynes Church of England bell rings out across the quiet night and the muffled sound of cheers drift up from the servant’s quarters.

 

“Happy New Year!” Viscount Wrexham cheers. “Happy nineteen twenty-six!”

 

“Happy nineteen twenty-six!” everyone echoes as they raise their glasses and clink them together happily.

 

*Dating back to the fourth century, many Christians have observed the Twelfth Night — the evening before the Epiphany — as the ideal time to take down the Christmas tree and festive decorations. Traditionally, the Twelfth Night marks the end of the Christmas season, but there's reportedly some debate among Christian groups about which date is correct. By custom, the Twelfth Night falls on either January 5 or January 6, depending on whether you count Christmas Day as the first day. The Epiphany, also known as Three Kings' Day, commemorates the visit of the three wise men to baby Jesus in Bethlehem.

 

**Jermyn Street is a one-way street in the St James's area of the City of Westminster in London. It is to the south of, parallel, and adjacent to Piccadilly. Jermyn Street is known as a street for high end gentlemen's clothing retailers and bespoke tailors in the West End.

 

***A boutonnière or buttonhole is a floral decoration, typically a single flower or bud, worn on the lapel of a tuxedo or suit jacket. While worn frequently in the past, boutonnières are now usually reserved for special occasions for which formal wear is standard, such as at proms and weddings.

 

****Emilie Charlotte, Lady de Bathe, known as Lillie Langtry and nicknamed "The Jersey Lily", was a British socialite, stage actress and producer. Born and raised on the island of Jersey, she moved to London in 1876, two years after marrying. Her looks and personality attracted interest, commentary, and invitations from artists and society hostesses, and she was celebrated as a young woman of great beauty and charm. During the aesthetic movement in England, she was painted by aesthete artists. In 1882, she became the poster-girl for Pears soap, and thus the first celebrity to endorse a commercial product. In 1881, Langtry became an actress and made her West End debut in the comedy She Stoops to Conquer, causing a sensation in London by becoming the first socialite to appear on stage. One of the most glamorous British women of her era, Langtry was the subject of widespread public and media interest. Her acquaintances in London included Oscar Wilde, who encouraged Langtry to pursue acting. She was known for her relationships with royal figures and noblemen, including Albert Edward, Prince of Wales (the future King Edward VII), Lord Shrewsbury, and Prince Louis of Battenberg.

 

*****Wassail refers to a hot, mulled holiday punch, traditionally made with spiced cider or ale, and also to a winter solstice custom of visiting orchards to bless the trees for a good harvest. The word "wassail" comes from an Old Norse phrase meaning "be in good health" and is a salute to good health.

 

******Belchamp St Paul is a village and civil parish in the Braintree district of Essex, England. The village is five miles west of Sudbury, Suffolk, and 23 miles northeast of the county town, Chelmsford.

 

*******The Prince of Wales, later Edward VIII and Duke of Windsor, celebrated Christmas 1925 at Sandringham House in Norfolk, which was, and remains, the traditional Royal Family location for the festive season. His father, King George V, was the reigning monarch at the time, and the family gathered at their country estate for the festivities.

 

********King George V was a very enthusiastic and obsessive stamp collector who amassed a world-class collection. He began collecting stamps as the Duke of York in the late 1800s and continued obsessively throughout his life. He was so passionate about it that he declared, "I wish to have the best collection and not one of the best collections in England". He made high-value purchases to build his collection, including setting a world record at the time by paying £1,450.00 for a Mauritius two pence blue stamp in 1904. He famously acknowledged that he was the "damned fool" who paid such a high price. He had his collection housed in 328 albums, and it was focused on British Empire stamps. His private collection formed the foundation of the Royal Philatelic Collection, which is now considered one of the most valuable stamp collections in the world.

 

*********Queen Mary collected a wide variety of objects, including Eighteenth Century furniture, lacquerware, gold boxes, and jewellery. She also collected miniatures, enamelwork, and Fabergé eggs, and was particularly interested in restoring and acquiring pieces that had previously been part of the Royal Collection. Her collection was eclectic and also featured items like the famous Queen Mary's Dolls' House and a significant number of photo albums documenting her life and travels.

 

**********A steeplechase is a long-distance race involving both galloping and jumping over obstacles, primarily fences and water jumps. In horse racing, steeplechases involve horses jumping over various obstacles like fences and ditches.

 

***********During the 1920s the Prince of Wales, later Edward VIII and Duke of Windsor, was ranked among the most daring horsemen in England. Having forged an impressive reputation in the hunting field for courage, determination and skill, he moved on to steeplechasing furthering the indignation of George V and Queen Mary who urged their son to abandon the dangerous sport. Unheeded Edward broke his collar bone, blacked his eyes and suffered concussion with what seemed to be alarming regularity. The Prince’s addiction to his hazardous hobby even caused the Prime Minister Ramsay Macdonald to request discontinuance. The prince stubbornly refused. Only after the near fatal illness of the King in 1928, did the he finally renounce the sport and order the sale of his entire stud.

 

************The Master of the Hounds was in charge of the hunt and supervised the field, hounds, and staff. The huntsman, who had bred the hounds and worked with them, would be in charge of the pack during the hunt. Once the group was assembled, the huntsman would lead the pack of hounds and field to where a fox might be hiding.

 

*************The term "Neanderthal" was first used in 1864 when Irish geologist William King proposed the species name Homo neanderthalensis for the fossils found in Germany's Neander Valley. However, the first known use of "Neanderthal" to describe the fossil itself dates to 1874 in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary.

 

**************Referring to a strong alcoholic drink like whisky or gin, the origins of the use of the word “firewater” came from two sources: one started with the adulteration of alcohol with tobacco juice, hot peppers or opium, and the other began with the custom of testing the proof of alcohol by throwing it in the fire, if flammable alcohol would be acceptable for purchase.

 

***************Referring to hypocrisy, highlighting a situation where someone criticises another person for a fault that they themselves share, the idiom originated in the early 1600s from the Spanish novel “Don Quixote”, which was translated into English by Thomas Shelton in 1620.

 

****************Winifred May Mones, Marquesa de Casa Maury, commonly known by her first married name as Freda Dudley Ward, was an English socialite. She was best known for being a married paramour of Edward, Prince of Wales, who later became Edward VIII. She was twice married and divorced. Her first marriage was on 9 July 1913 to William Dudley Ward, the Liberal MP for Southampton. Her first husband's family surname was Ward, but 'Dudley Ward' became their surname through common usage. They divorced on the ground of adultery in 1931 and were the parents of two daughters. Although married in 1913 to William Dudley Ward, Freda was also in a relationship with Edward, Prince of Wales from 1918, until she was supplanted by American Thelma Furness from 1929 to 1934 before he then took up with Wallis Simpson, whom he eventually married and abdicated for.

 

*****************Freda Dudley Ward was the Prince of Wales's paramour for many years, with their affair beginning in the early 1920s. Their relationship was not a secret; it was openly acknowledged by their social circles, families, and the public. His parents the King George V and Queen Mary were concerned about the Prince of Wales's affair with Freda Dudley Ward, as it was a public relationship that threatened to cause scandal and damage his reputation, especially given the expectation that he would marry a foreign royal. They disapproved of the affair, viewing it as a public scandal and hoping the situation could be managed and kept out of the papers to protect the monarchy and the future king. It was a source of considerable tension between father and son. The constant disapproval from his father contributed to Edward's already existing resentment and hatred for his royal role and the constraints it placed upon him.

 

******************One of the most famous Christmas decorations that people love to use at Christmas is tinsel. You might think that using it is an old tradition and that people in Britain have been adorning their houses with tinsel for a very long time. However that is not actually true. Tinsel is in fact believed to be quite a modern tradition. Whilst the idea of tinsel dates back to Germany in 1610 when wealthy people used real strands of silver to adorn their Christmas trees (also a German invention). Silver was very expensive though, so being able to do this was a sign that you were wealthy. Even though silver looked beautiful and sparkly to begin with, it tarnished quite quickly, meaning it would lose its lovely, bright appearance. Therefore it was swapped for other materials like copper and tin. These metals were also cheaper, so it meant that more people could use them. However, when the Great War started in 1914, metals like copper were needed for the war. Because of this, they couldn't be used for Christmas decorations as much, so a substitute was needed. It was swapped for aluminium, but this was a fire hazard, so it was switched for lead, but that turned out to be poisonous.

 

*******************Taken from the name of the hero in Miguel de Cervantes 1605 novel, “Don Quixote”, to be quixotic means to be extremely idealistic, unrealistic and impractical, typically marked by rash and lofty romanticism.

 

********************Marcelling is a hair styling technique in which hot curling tongs are used to induce a curl into the hair. Its appearance was similar to that of a finger wave but it is created using a different method. Marcelled hair was a popular style for women's hair in the 1920s, often in conjunction with a bob cut. For those women who had longer hair, it was common to tie the hair at the nape of the neck and pin it above the ear with a stylish hair pin or flower. One famous wearer was American entertainer, Josephine Baker.

 

*********************A "home farm" is typically a farm that is part of a large country estate and provides food for the main house. In a British context, it was historically the land farmed directly by the landowner or an employed manager, often while the rest of the estate was rented out to tenant farmers.

 

**********************Although often assumed to be American, the word “pail” is actually an English word that originated in the Middle English period (1150 – 1500) and is used in both American and British English, though it is considered more common in American English today, where it is often synonymous with "bucket". While "bucket" is the more dominant term in British English, "pail" is still understood and can be considered a more old-fashioned or regional variant.

 

***********************In farming, molasses provides an energy-rich supplement for livestock, helps them to better digest fibre in their feed.

 

************************Arising in the late Seventeenth Century, referring to the Roman deity of beginnings and endings often depicted with two faces, “Janus-faced” refers to deliberate deceptiveness especially by pretending one set of feelings and acting under the influence of another.

 

*************************The Colony and Protectorate of Kenya, commonly known as British Kenya or British East Africa, was part of the British Empire in Africa. It was established when the former East Africa Protectorate was transformed into a British Crown colony in 1920. Technically, the "Colony of Kenya" referred to the interior lands, while a 16 km (10 mi) coastal strip, nominally on lease from the Sultan of Zanzibar, was the "Protectorate of Kenya", but the two were controlled as a single administrative unit. The colony came to an end in 1963 when an ethnic Kenyan majority government was elected for the first time and eventually declared independence as the Republic of Kenya.

 

This festive upper-class scene is not all that it may appear to be, for it is made up entirely of pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The champagne glasses are 1:12 artisan miniatures. Made of glass, they have been blown individually by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering and are so fragile and delicate that even I with my dainty fingers have broken the stem of one. They stand on an ornate Eighteenth Century style silver tray made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The wine cooler is also made by Warwick Miniatures. The Deutz and Geldermann champagne bottle is also an artisan miniature and made of glass with a miniature copy of a real Deutz and Geldermann label and some real foil wrapped around their necks. It was made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The clear glass soda syphon and porcelain ice bucket and tongs was made by M.W. Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures. The cranberry glass soda syphon was made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures. The remaini g bottles of alcohol were made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures. The gilt tea table in the foreground of the photo on which they all stand is made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.

 

The Chetwynd Christmas tree, beautifully decorated by Lettice, Harold and Arabella with garlands, tinsel, bows golden baubles and topped by a sparking gold star is a 1:12 artisan piece. It was hand made by husband and wife artistic team Margie and Mike Balough who own Serendipity Miniatures in Newcomerstown, Ohio.

 

The Palladian console table behind the Christmas tree, with its two golden caryatids and marble top, is one of a pair that were commissioned by me from American miniature artisan Peter Cluff. Peter specialises in making authentic and very realistic high quality 1:12 miniatures that reflect his interest in Georgian interior design. His work is highly sought after by miniature collectors worldwide. This pair of tables are one-of-a-kind and very special to me.

 

The gilt chair to the right of the photo is made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq, but what is particularly special about it is that it has been covered in antique Austrian floral micro petite point by V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, which also makes this a one-of-a-kind piece. The artisan who made this says that as one of her hobbies, she enjoys visiting old National Trust Houses in the hope of getting some inspiration to help her create new and exciting miniatures. She saw some beautiful petit point chairs a few years ago in one of the big houses in Derbyshire and then found exquisitely detailed petit point that was fine enough for 1:12 scale projects.

 

The elegant ornaments that decorate the surfaces of the Chetwynd’s palatial drawing room very much reflect the Eighteenth Century spirit of the room.

 

On the console table made by Peter Cluff stands a porcelain pot of yellow and lilac petunias which has been hand made and painted by 1:12 miniature ceramicist Ann Dalton. It is flanked by two mid Victorian (circa 1850) hand painted child’s tea set pieces. The sugar bowl and milk jug have been painted to imitate Sèvres porcelain.

 

On the bombe chest behind the Louis settee stand a selection of 1950s Limoges miniature tea set pieces which I have had since I was a teenager. Each piece is individually stamped on its base with a green Limoges stamp. In the centre of these pieces stands a sterling silver three prong candelabra made by an unknown artisan. They have actually fashioned a putti (cherub) holding the stem of the candelabra. The candles that came with it are also 1:12 artisan pieces and are actually made of wax.

 

The sofa, which is part of a three piece Louis XV suite of the settee and two armchairs was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, JBM.

 

The Hepplewhite chair with the lemon satin upholstery you can just see behind the Christmas tree was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.

 

All the paintings around the Glynes drawing room in their gilded frames are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States and V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, and the wallpaper is an authentic copy of hand-painted Georgian wallpaper of Chinese lanterns from the 1770s.

Spurn - Sykes' Field. On a relatively quiet day around Spurn, still a few of these imps around. Took 15 seconds to subdue/tendorise this caterpillar by wacking it on the branch before scoffing it. Light wasn't great.

An 800-to-900-pound cow moose stopped by our cabin this morning in search of food. Obviously, she was very hungry, as she spent a half hour scoffing up the expensive bird seed Doc had just put out for our feathered friends. She tried many times to get her huge face in the tiny birdfeeder.

 

Since she was only 10 feet from our cabin, Doc had to wait for her to move along before doing any outside chores. With temperatures way below zero, and the tremendous snow depth - it is forcing the wildlife onto our roadways, driveways, and any shoveled path. Since the animals are stressed - it's best to allow a lot of space between you, and them.

Barn Owl and Kestrel squabbling over a vole. Looks like the kestrel has scoffed a mouthful from the talons of the owl. Massive crop, atrocious light meant extensive post-processing just to make this even a slightly presentable image.

This flower reminds me of those fairy tales where the powerful witch dresses up as a pauper and asks a noble for help. When the noble scoffs at her, the witch puts a curse on them as punishment for their arrogance and lack of compassion.

 

This is the smallest of flowers, about an inch in diameter, that grows like a weed by the side of my driveway. It's only when I take out my macro lens that I see its magnificent beauty. Is it the witch, dressed as a weed, wondering who will notice something so small and insignificant? Or is it the noble, cursed to be the tiny flower of a weed, waiting for someone to set them free?

 

My macro lens takes me into the land of fairy tales :)

... But the crows will get it first ;)

 

Explored September 22, 2023

 

The hotels Waldorf Astoria (on the left) and Upper West (a Motel One hotel) in Berlin's Charlottenburg district. At a height of 118,8 meters (389,76 feet) each, both buildings are among the highest in Berlin. Not exactly skyscraper dimensions but not to be scoffed at either ;) Both buildings are fairly new, the Waldorf Astoria opened in 2013, and the Upper West in 2017. Side by side in the City West are the luxurious Waldorf Astoria and the way more affordable Motel One. The Waldorf Astoria's building is officially called Zoofenster ("zoo window") because Berlin's Zoological Garden lies right across it.

 

Photography-wise, the Upper West with its futuristic look and the elegant curves is the more interesting subject, but this view up with both buildings in the frame, taken from the center strip of Kantstrasse, also looked interesting, especially with the cotton candy sky :)

 

P.S. This was taken with the Laowa C-Dreamer 7.5 mm F/2, not the (equally fantastic) C-Dreamer 6mm (which belongs to my Mom, magrit k.. I forgot to change my camera's lens info settings back to the 7.5 mm lens.

I'm not terribly serious with this frame thing just awfully bored this evening. Besides, I have yet to do justice to this particular image, the light is quite subtle and with every previous attempt so far I've managed to destroy it. In fact it's taken me a while to realise that overuse of the clarity feature on LR is probably the single fastest route to ruin an image. It's like eating a bag of jelly babies right before you go to bed, you decide to eat one and before you come to your senses you've scoffed the lot! So here we are with a glass of mint tea instead.

 

Please leave your shoes at the door as you enter :)

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