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Lewis called in to make sure all the wedding arrangements are going to plan not long after that it was ice-cream time!! Oh, I do remember these wonderful days!!
7 Days of Shooting Week #14 Childhood Memory Shoot Anything Saturday ....
Thanks to everyone who views this photo, adds a note, leaves a comment and of course BIG thanks to anyone who chooses to favourite my photo .... thanks to you all.
I'm always impressed with the formation and changing colours of this batch of trees which I can see from my bedroom window.
Those in Halewood, Liverpool, seeking the eyelashes of the Stars, need look no further than a run into the city on Arriva Merseyside's 2589, heading now on its return journey up Hanover Street. The Wirght-bodied VDL SB200 was, at the time of the photograph, one of the decreasing number in Liverpool remaining in the old Arriva livery.
Those eyes! That expression!!
Dutch. Chocolate Lab.
Photo taken at 7 weeks old, 13 lbs.
What a SWEETIE!!
When chasing an Indiana Railroad train on the Monon from Louisville to Jasonville, the appetizers for the main course of signal shooting started around Borden.
After these old searchlight signals, one could get their fill of the semaphores on the way north to Bedford.
This line is dormant now.
Sometimes I need a reminder of just how blessed I am to live where I live, to have what I have, and to have been able to have learned from those who came before me.
This story was recently sent to me, and contains information about my grandfather's grandfather, Alma Spafford. These are not my words, but they mean a great deal to me since they are the experiences of my ancestors. The mountains and the lake described at the end of this story are the mountains and lake that I get to take pictures of often and share with you here on Flickr.
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Horace Spafford was the son of an army man, born in Bergennes County, Vermont on January 23, 1797. His parents were Colonel Elijah Spafford and Irinda Skinner. Horace grew to manhood in the neighboring county of the birthplace of Joseph Smith, founder of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (the Mormon church).
In early manhood, Horace married Martha Stiles and they had eleven children, six girls and five boys. He was a quiet, unassuming man, devoted to his family and community. Through his industry he was able to provide some comforts for his family who were reared in the prevailing religious teachings of that time.
When the LDS religion was introduced to Horace and his family they became very interested and soon joined the church. At this time they moved to Pike County, Missouri. In January of 1840, Alma was born. The family endured all the persecutions of the members of the church at that time. It was during this same time that their oldest daughter, Caroline, married Joshua Kimball and left the church. They never heard from her again. This was one of the first of many sorrows.
In the spring of 1850, unable to endure the persecutions any longer, they sold their possessions and outfitted themselves to make the trek across the plains to what is now Utah. At this time there was another wedding in the family. [Daughter] Irinda married Spicer Crandall. Spicer was also a member of the church and he and bride planned to go west with the family. They joined a company with Aaron Johnson as captain. There were 135 wagons in this train of pioneers.
All seemed to go well with them until they reached the Platte River. As they made camp one night, Martha made biscuits with flour and alkali dust for her family. That night many members of the family became very ill. That morning Irinda and her infant daughter were dead. Within the next four days, two other daughters and two sons and their mother were also dead, victims of cholera.
Alma was just a small boy [of ten] and was also very ill with the dread disease. While he was burning with a high fever, he crawled to the edge of the river and sat with his feet in the water all night. By morning his fever had left and he was apparently well. He often said this saved his life. He was the only member of the family who had cholera and lived.
After the deaths of his wife, five children, and one granddaughter, Horace wrapped their bodies in a feather bed and quilts and placed them in one grave on the edge of the Platte River in June of 1850. They placed large stones over the grave to keep wolves and other wild animals from digging up the bodies.
If any man's faith was tested, it was Horace's, for now he was fifty- three years old, had no home, owned only his wagon and a few possessions, his wife was dead, and only three sons and two daughters were left from this once large and happy family. But his faith was strong and he squared his shoulders and once more joined the company to come west.
On September 2, 1850, this weary company arrived in the Salt Lake Valley and camped at Emigration Square. There they rested from the long journey. That night, Brigham Young, the President of the LDS Church, came to the camp to greet these weary people. He counted out the first eight wagons and told them that he wanted them to go south to the shores of Utah Lake and there build a fort and make their homes. Horace's wagon was one of the eight. They rested for seven days and then started out. It took three days of travel and on September 18, 1850 they arrived at the future site of Springville and camped on a little bluff. Here they corralled their wagons and their long journey of 1,100 miles was over. The previous five years had been a state of unrest and uncertainty but here they found rest and a place to expand their energies. Now they were all settled as far as future wandering was concerned.
On the day of arrival they nooned at Bullock's Springs, south of Provo, Utah. About 2:00 that afternoon they drove down across the big pasture and crossed Spring Creek where it is now spanned by the the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad.
The location was one of natural beauty, one to fill their hearts with joy and thanksgiving. High mountains surrounded the beautiful valley, tall grass waved in the breeze, and the beautiful lake to the west made it a picture never to be forgotten by these delighted home seekers.
Early the next morning, these hearty pioneers were up and busy. Some gathered grass for hay and others hauled logs for the fort which was built on the rising ground just south of the corralled wagons. The fort covered one and a half acres and was constructed to serve also as a home. The fort was completed before the winter storms set in and it served as a protection for the members of this new church.
In the spring, the town site and lots were surveyed and Horace and his family were given a plot of ground between Center Street and 100 North and between 200 and 300 West [in present-day Springville]. He built his log house on the northwest corner and set up homemaking for his motherless family. During the year of 1851 he married Rachel Robison Ford, a widow. She was a wonderful woman and loved Horace's children and raised them to adulthood. She was called Grandmother Ford.
After nineteen years of peace and rest from persecutions, Horace passed away in Springville on December 12, 1869 [at the age of 72].
- Compiled and written by Helen McKenzie Jackson
Note: Both Horace Spafford and his son, Alma, are buried in the old pioneer cemetery near downtown Springville. I have visited those grave sites and plan to again with renewed interest in the lives of these wonderful people.
Naomi was one of the very first people I ever shot with. She is gorgeous, sweet, and put up with my ineptitude. This was my second shoot with her - what a blast! We did this one outside of my house in South Anchorage on a lovely May evening. Naomi has gone on to bigger things - and I'll always consider myself lucky for being able to shoot with her. I took these photos in May 2004.
Those were the days my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
those pictures were taken at Fuck Monday at the Continental.
A good way to be informed about the fuck mondy events is to follow Maya Snowfield on Primfeed www.primfeed.com/maya.snowfield
Those cutouts are just the coolest.
What a hip little chickster you would have been wearing this back then :+)
Those little white or yellow buds are actually the true flower of the bouganvillea. The colorful part of the plant are the bracts, the protective leaves.
Those Deadbeat Cats performing outside St Nicholas Church at North Walsham Children's Day, 7th May 2018 (c)John Newstead
~ Rachel Carson
A few small shrubs growing around the Multnomah Falls trails.
November 29, 2009. Multnomah Falls, Oregon. love the trails.
Those of you who have bought an entire mannequin just for one hand will understand why I did it, although, now that I have him, I think he will be done up and kept as he is. The price was very reasonable, so I had to take a shot. He's in great shape and complete.
Hindsgaul 1678 (II)
Edit: A friend sent a note asking about the shorts and, yes, they are linen. Sharp eye.
Those 2 dudes were arguing with the best Tony Soprano accent about some dead prez.
Check the ill italian american style!
Pity that this man did not keep his shirt buttoned or at least wear a wife beater (tank top) underneath his open dress shirt but as I know there are those that enjoy this type of image, here ya go! :-)
Their waving their arms about in the air as if their branches on a tree .. and that red cricket ball represents fruit or something .. a fruitful lot those guys .. entertaining .
What some Aussies did on Australia Day
Story Bridge Hotel
Brisbane
those pesky humans
i suffered a thousand pains for them,and how do they pay me back?
disbelieve and devils worship
there are those who understand
that long before this all began
the hammer hit the nail with great sympathy.
a clothespin hanging on a line,
the cork that bottles up your wine,
the strings that, bowed in concert, make a symphony.
and oh: the ancient commonsense of things.
there are those who know to look
to all the crannies and the nooks,
and when i found you did, what it meant to me.
and book to shelf, and foot to shoe,
and likewise i belong to you.
my heart is pounding loud just like a tympani.
and oh: the ancient commonsense of things.