View allAll Photos Tagged Tips
I've never really had much luck with Orange Tips until our weekend visit to Cerne Abbas. They were so well behaved in the cool conditions I had time for a few lens changes.
Back Garden - after photographing this guy on Saturday, I watched him go to roost on the Weigela. Knowing it was going to be frosty the next morning I got up early to try to get some images with frost or dew - he was still there, but he must have been sheltered under the leaf, as I can only see the frost on the Weigela.
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There is true beauty in simplicity and in my newest article I give you three quick tips for creating images which are evocative and compelling not only in what they include but also in what they exclude. In photography, and in any of the visual arts, images which are simple, yet evocative, can be particularly powerful. Please feel free to read my article at this link. I hope you enjoy!
This image: There is an infinite beauty to moving water and it can be unlocked by looking beyond what we first see. The purple of a winter evening's twilight is softly reflected in the fast moving waters of the St. Lawrence River, Montreal, Canada.
Yesterday I went out for several hrs to relieve some stress. Just before heading home, sun setting the Tern made a visit at the pond. I stood on bridge and watched this impressive guy fish. Not the best or clearest but they are super fast (no excuses I know)
"It's my personal opinion that a hat is simply a crown that lets the reign in." - Gi ♥
Model: Giselle Chauveau
Photographer: Delypop Cresci
This fellow thought that he could put his bike's kickstand down and the massive weight he was moving about wouldn't turn his bike into an ice cream trebuchette...he was wrong.
Martyr's Park (LieShiLingYuan)
Guangzhou, China
Yellow flowers cover the golden willows (Salix alba ‘Vitellina’) along Silver Tip Creek east of Belfry in Carbon County, Montana. A variety of white willow, the golden willow grows new stems that are a bright golden color. This bright color makes these trees stand out in the winter. In the spring slim, cylindrical, yellow flower clusters called catkins cover the trees as seen in this photo. These yellow flowers will give way to green leaves as the summer approaches. Golden willows are not native to Montana and Wyoming but were introduced by settlers who used them as windbreaks and shade trees. They escaped cultivation and naturalized across the area.
References:
www.ag.ndsu.edu/trees/handbook/th-3-139.pdf
www.gardeningknowhow.com/ornamental/trees/willow/golden-w...
After leaving Chambers Farm Wood I popped into this small reserve just to see what might be about. My main target was dragonflies but it turned out that my highlight was seeing this orange tip visiting a flower.
This low datum cabbed T45 Leyland Roadtrain still works hard in Malta. Formerly a tractor unit, it now serves as a tipper like so many others on the island.
Tip. Looking Close...on Friday!
Thank you in advance for views faves and comments all very much appreciated.
There are several peaks south east of Silver Lake, near Hope, BC. In succession, going south, they are Mount Grant, Eaton Peak, Mount Green, and eventually Silver Tip (among others).
Source Images:
IMG_1961.CR2 (Av: F6.4; Tv: 1/332 sec.; ISO: 1000; FL: 35.0 mm)
IMG_1962.CR2 (Tv: 1/21 sec.)
IMG_1960.CR2 (Tv: 1/83 sec.)
Processing:
Fusion F.2 (HDR; Mode 1)
Back Garden - couldn't believe my luck when he landed on this dead daffodil (I didn't spot the photobomber at the time)
Also had a Holly Blue land on some blossom, but too high for photos.
Cliffs along the Atlantic Ocean in the civil parish of Dunquin (in Irish, Dún Chaoin), north of the westernmost tip of the Dingle Peninsula (in County Kerry, Munster Province, southwest Ireland), on a partly overcast afternoon in mid-May 2024.
The Dingle Peninsula is the northernmost of the five peninsulas of southwestern Ireland that stick out like fingers into the Atlantic Ocean. Its name in Irish is Corca Dhuibhne, sometimes Anglicised as Corkaguiny. The western Dingle is part of the Gaeltacht, one of the areas of the Republic of Ireland where Irish is officially designated as the primary spoken language.
This stretch of cliffs is across from the now-uninhabited Blasket Islands. This scene was taken from the viewing platform connected with the Blasket Centre (Irish name: Ionad an Bhlascaoid), which is run by the Blasket Foundation and the Irish Office of Public Works through its Heritage Ireland unit. The Blaskets – in Irish, Na Blascaodaà – fostered a traditional culture described through a well-known group of 20th-century Irish-language works by their inhabitants.The Centre provides extensive information about the geography, history, culture, and literature of the Blaskets.
In April 2024, the Irish government established the Kerry Seas National Park / Páirc Náisiúnta na Mara, CiarraÃ, a marine national park that includes the Blaskets and surrounding waters. The Blaskets are also an EU-designated Natura 2000 Special Area of Conservation (SAC) and Special Protection Area (SPA).
(Information from the Blasket Centre and Wikipedia, websites last consulted 12 June 2024. Place names in English and Irish from logainm.ie, the Placenames Database of Ireland (reference numbers 1394329, 91, and 1411370), last consulted 4 June 2024.)
[Blasket Centre 23 cliffs vertical 2024-05-18 s; 20240518_085038]
SY no. 1210 coming down off the Wulong Tip at Fuxin with a set of barely visible discharged tipper wagons on 15 November 2012.
Fuxin Mining Administration
Liaoning, China
2020-09-07, Day 3
Snow clouds roll in over a glassy un-named lake that sits at the foot of a talus-decorated cirque down which we must descend, high in the trackless northern Wind River Range, Fitzpatrick Wilderness, Wyoming.
The descent to this lake marked an incontrovertible tipping point for us. If the weather brought snow, as it seemed increasingly likely to do, it would be impossible to climb back the way we had come with the gear we had on our backs. Above where I stand here are one or two narrow or difficult places that required some Class 3 scrambling, and we lacked both metal foot-traction and ice-axes to make it an option both plausible and safe once covered in (more) snow and ice. As we picked our way carefully down through patches of vegetation interspersed with bands of talus, we crossed paths with a weasel racing uphill with a fat pika in its mouth. Helluva day to be that pika; on the other hand, it's time for a weasel celebration party.
If one looks at this photo closely, it is apparent that there are two lakes, separated by a small bridge of land. Judging from the rocks we could see, we figured we might find a flat place to pitch a tent in the patch of trees at about 11 o'clock on the far shore of the near lake. We also hoped that we would be protected from the worst of any snow and wind that the clouds might deliver after nightfall.
We made beef and bean burritos with cheese and rehydrated salsa for dinner, and we brewed a hot cup of herbal tea. Before our repast was complete, the temperature began to drop, the light commenced to fade, and the first flakes floated down through the wind-battered trees and landed on our jackets. We cleaned up the pot, hung the food, and climbed into the down sleeping bags to stay warm. The snow began to drive into the tent fly as it got dark, and I watched pellets of corn snow repeatedly gather in a few flatter parts of the fly, then slide down the vestibule toward the ground once a certain critical mass was attained. The tent did seem to be protected from the worst of the wind but the thin canopy of trees was doing very little to shield us from the accumulating snow.
Not long after dark, the snow and wind were joined by near simultaneous exclamations of thunder and lightning. The inside of the tent lit up like bright electric day, and enough detail could be made out of the sky immediately above us that it seemed as if we were on the inside of a snow-globe. Up to this very moment, I had never camped at the very edge of timberline in a high-elevation cirque in the middle of a full-on raging winter storm, with no trail anywhere close-by, and the surrounding talus now getting buried in who-knew-how-many inches of snow and ice. I thought somewhat academically that rest might be a good idea, but it proved difficult to relax. Every time I rolled over and glanced up at the tent fly, I noticed the weight of accumulating snow, and I hit the nylon to keep the vestibules on either side of the tent from collapsing. I have a two-person MSR backpacking tent that weighs just over 3 pounds (1.4 kg), including poles and stakes. It is a fabulous, light-weight, 3-season tent, and the conditions outside could only properly be described as that other, most unwelcome fourth season.
Wearing all of our clothing, and wrapped tightly in the down sleeping bags to try and retain as much warmth as possible, I can report that we were not downright cold. As the hours slowly passed, we noticed a change to the tenor of the storm. What was corn snow gave way to gusts of snow flakes complemented with a peppering of larger pea-sized ice particles. These hailstones irregularly collided with the aluminum poles of the tent frame, and we were treated to the relatively frequent pinging sound of the ice as it danced merrily off our stretched nylon bubble.
The only way out of this place in the morning would be to navigate the talus and attempt to find the nearest trail. The maps we consulted a month or so earlier when we identified bail-out points suggested that would be a distance of a little over 2 miles (3.2 km), with a descent of 1,000 feet (300 m) through what we surmised would be talus of some size, interspersed with bands of spruce forest and copious downed logs that would be slippery with snow and ice. Our initial assumption that the storm would likely bring only a few early-season inches to the Wind Rivers was clearly incorrect, and we would now pay whatever price the wilderness required to return to the warmth and comfort of the vehicle, which was over 20 miles (32 km) and one 11,000 foot (3,350 m) pass away from where we huddled. Apparently, getting older does not necessarily guarantee that one accrues any real wisdom.