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Some things are just so miserable when experienced that it's hard to see the beauty at the time. The freezing rain and high winds on a Sunday afternoon and evening in December resulted in many beautiful scenes -- if you're a camera, or maybe even the weatherproof "Forward" statue on the State Street corner of the Square. For humans, not so much, though the intrepid bicyclist seems to be managing. Me, I just clicked off a quick series from under my umbrella and hoped for the best -- and that not too much rain would blow onto my camera.
This beautiful large rock was painted by a wonderful artist, Susan Amelia, who, since 1971, has also owned an amazing shop by the sea. *Different Drummer* carries the whimsical to the sophisticated, featuring American handcrafts, fabulous cards, pottery, and jewelry.
I commissioned Susan to create a design in memory of a very dear friend who passed away suddenly exactly 2 months ago today. Janet loved flamingos! I had planned to put this in a special garden, but it's so beautiful I might keep it inside for awhile, although it's weatherproof!
If you keep clicking on the heart, it will beat for you!
Excerpt from Wikipedia:
The Fürstenzug (English: Procession of Princes) in Dresden, Germany, is a large mural of a mounted procession of the rulers of Saxony. It was originally painted between 1871 and 1876 to celebrate the 800th anniversary of the Wettin Dynasty, Saxony's ruling family. In order to make the work weatherproof, it was replaced with approximately 23,000 Meissen porcelain tiles between 1904 and 1907. With a length of 102 metres (335 ft), it is known as the largest porcelain artwork in the world.
The mural displays the ancestral portraits of the 35 margraves, electors, dukes and kings of the House of Wettin between 1127 and 1904.
By 1589, the outer wall of the recently built Stallhof (Stables Courtyard) of the Dresden Castle was already decorated with a fresco.
For the upcoming 800th anniversary of the House of Wettin in 1889, another stucco version of a large-scale mural was commissioned. It was painted by the artist Wilhelm Walther between 1871 and 1876. Since the picture rapidly deteriorated, it was replaced with about 23,000 Meissen porcelain tiles between 1904 and 1907. The mural depicts the 35 Saxon margraves, electors, dukes and kings from Conrad, Margrave of Meissen, who ruled in the 12th century, to George of Saxony who was king for only two years in the 20th century. The only ones missing are Heinrich I von Eilenburg (c. 1089) and the last king of Saxony, Frederick Augustus III, who ruled from 1904 to 1918. Also shown are 59 scientists, artisans, craftsmen, children and farmers.
Only minimal damage to the tiles resulted from the February 13, 1945 bombing of Dresden.
The Fürstenzug (Procession of Princes) in Dresden, Germany, is a large mural of a mounted procession of the rulers of Saxony. It was originally painted between 1871 and 1876 to celebrate the 800th anniversary of the Wettin Dynasty, Saxony's ruling family.
In order to make the work weatherproof, it was replaced with approximately 23,000 Meissen porcelain tiles between 1904 and 1907. With a length of 102 metres, it is known as the largest porcelain artwork in the world. The mural displays the ancestral portraits of the 35 margraves, electors, dukes and kings of the House of Wettin between 1127 and 1904. The Fürstenzug is located on the outer wall of the Stallhof (Stables Courtyard) of Dresden Castle.
The Fürstenzug is 101.9 metres long and 10.5 metres high. Due to 18 windows in the upper part, the tile area comprises only 968 square meters. Each tile measures 20.5 centimetres by 20.5 centimetres. Hence, approximately 23,000 tiles are placed on the wall. Source: en.wikipedia.org
I had seen this in Edinburgh just before I decided to put my camera in the bag because of the heavy rain.
As storms go, this one didn't even merit a name, but it's been a really grim day, very wet and very windy. I knew that high tide was around lunchtime and that the wind was pretty strong so I went down to the Little Shore for a look. The waves were smashing over the top of the breakwater so I got in behind it for a few shots. I took a very similar shot a couple of years ago but days like this don't come along very often so here it is again...my camera's weatherproofing got a good workout too and I'm glad to say it held up without any issues. I really do like using this camera!
In The Belly of a Bear - Calgary artists Caitlind r.c. Brown, Wayne Garrett and Lane Shordee were the masterminds behind the dome with an interior lined in thick, warm fur. The sphere’s dark look comes from slightly torching the surface layer of its wooden exterior, which also weatherproofs it. The installation was one of the most popular with visitors, perhaps put in mind of Leonard DiCaprio's Revenant character, who sleeps inside a horse’s belly for warmth.
Forest pond in the original and on the photo in winter.
The photos are printed on weatherproof aluminium plates.
Attached in the comment column are the photographs of a yurt and a representative interior of a yurt.
A yurt is a portable, bent dwelling structure traditionally used by nomads in the steppes of Central Asia. The structure comprises a crown or compression wheel, usually steam bent, supported by roof ribs which are bent down at the end where they meet the lattice wall (again, steam bent). The top of the wall is prevented from spreading by means of a tension band which opposes the force of the roof ribs. The structure is usually covered by layers of fabric and sheep's wool felt for insulation and weatherproofing.
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All my photographs are © Copyrighted and All Rights Reserved.
Somewhere, Iceland, July 2024
How far can you go with abstraction and minimalism before a photo no longer conveys any emotions and becomes merely graphic?
This following series is rather inconspicuous, quiet, and very abstract, reduced to simple forms. The photos were all taken in heavy rain. The “fog” in the background is actually a dense wall of fine droplets that soaks through weatherproof clothing in minutes. The strong wind played its part, and the temperature had dropped significantly that day. So it was genuinely cold. Despite the abstraction, the photos still give me a strong sense of coldness I felt in that moment.
Still, I believe the feeling these photos convey is subjective. Or rather, whether they convey any feeling at all depends on the viewer. For me, it works, and I’m amazed at how far I can push minimalism without losing the feeling I had that day.
I’d love to experiment more with this approach when I get the chance. I feel there’s still much to explore in making these kinds of images more aesthetically interesting and emotional—without losing the minimalism and sense of calm.
One of the most distinctive sights Hastings, on the south coast of England, has to offer is its historic towering wooden sheds which, as far back as the 16th century, housed and protected local fishermen’s nets and boat sails from the elements. Today they are shops selling nets.
The grade II* listed black sheds with their pitched roofs (there are some 30 of them) were built to house fishing gear which, before the days of plastic, would rot if left exposed to the weather. The sheds’ lofty height was due to lack of space on the small beach known as The Stade, so they were built upwards instead of outwards and tarred for weather-proofing.
As well as modern nets and fishing accessories, today some of the three-storey huts also sell freshly caught fish, brought ashore just a few yards away.
(Acknowledgements to Historic England and the Hastings Chronicle for the information.)
This image was made in considerably invigorating conditions, the wind was coming off the sea with a power that I hadn’t experienced before and my hat decided to make a dash for it to free my hair in order to get a scalp full of sand. It was truly difficult to stand up and when I went to the beach just down from here I was sandblasted, a first for me and I must say rather fun! Anyway I decided to move around the headland to try and find some shelter, (to keep my tripod still and to change the lens). I climbed down the cliff a bit because I saw some amazing liken, (produced by seagull poo I think, but I happy to be proved wrong) when I saw a monumental shower heading my way! I hedged by bets for five minutes, but judged that I had to find some shelter in the next few minutes and the light weatherproof jacket I carry in my pocket wasn’t going to stand up to what I saw coming.
Anyway I made this shot and scrambled up the cliff and legged it as fast as I could, (whilst packing my camera and tripod away as I ran). I managed to find a ledge on the other side of the headland where the shower did its worst with me crouched underneath a jutting out rock.
Sounds like a bit of a pain, but on the contrary I adore this type of experience, it helps me feel alive and reminds me of the awesome power and beauty of our world!
One new photo taken each day for 366 in 2016.
My Dad was in hospital with pneumonia from 7 to 20 July. He is OK but very tired with low energy.
Our house build started 11 July. The roof is now on and windows due to be installed, so it will soon be weatherproof, ready for brickwork and fit out. Exciting to see it take shape, with our original design ideas.
So, plenty of nature shots, and still life.
A lovely visit to Mt Tinbeerwah, which has a lookout with spectacular views over Noosa and the hinterland.
Nestled on the edge of a small town in rural North Nottinghamshire, Tuxford Windmill is one of the finest examples of a traditional working windmill. It's a Grade II Listed Building. The mill was erected in 1810 an remained in operation until the 1920s when it was damaged in a storm. The 38ft tower corn windmill was built before 1840 and out of use by 1906. At just over 200 years old, the windmill is the only privately owned commercial windmill to fund it’s on going restoration in Nottinghamshire and the rest of the UK, which mills grain using traditional stones, using wind-power only. The grains it uses for milling are mostly grown by the Turner family who farm in South Lincolnshire and are members of the British Soil Association. The rest of the milling grains are British grown and are sourced through a grain merchant. You can taste delicious goodies all made from the Mill's flour, at its Tearoom.
It's a 4-storey black tower mill with an ogee cap and four sails. Received an *SPAB Mill Section plaque for the restoration in 1995. The mill is built of red brick, tarred to create a weatherproof black exterior. There are two window openings at ground floor level and two doorways with 20th-century doors. The tower supports a white-painted cap and four sails with a fantail.
*The Mills Section of the SPAB is the UK's national organisation devoted to protecting and promoting traditional windmills and watermills.
Albums: (1) Old Nottingham. (2) Black and White.
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No Group Banners, thanks.
The importance of tilework in Persian architecture arises from two important factors; first the need to weatherproof the simple clay bricks used in construction, and secondly the need to ornament the buildings. Tilework was used to emphasise certain motifs such as the ascending and descending patterns in the dome of the Sheikh Lotfallah mosque, and to emphasise transitional points in the design either by providing a patterned panel or border, or by incorporating calligraphy.
Two main types of tilework developed. The mosaic tilework formed by incorporating single colour tiles into the design and the so called cuerda seca technique where a range of colours is used on individual, generally square shaped tiles. This latter form developed extensively during the 17th century, Safavid dynasty, as the quality of glazes improved and because it was significantly cheaper to produce.
The principle colours used were blue, yellow, turquoise, pink, aubergine and green. These seven colours gave rise to the name haft rang - which literally means "seven colours"
Malinda Aeon sliced through a curtain of vines with her machete, feeling the satisfying give as the blade parted the thick vegetation. Sweat trickled between her breasts, soaking the white halter top that strained against her curves. Ahead of her, Morgan Talbot's broad shoulders flexed beneath his damp tank top as he forged their path deeper into the jungle's suffocating embrace. The heat pressed against them like a living thing, wrapping around their limbs and drawing moisture from their bodies with each labored breath.
"How much further?" she called out, adjusting the shorts that clung to her thighs. The olive canvas material had darkened with sweat, riding up slightly as she stepped over a fallen log.
Morgan paused, turning back to glance at her with those piercing green eyes. "Getting tired already, Lin?" A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, softening his rugged features.
"Just wondering if you actually know where we're going." She caught up to him, close enough to smell the earthy scent of his sweat mingled with leather from his boots and wrist cuffs. "Or if we're just wandering aimlessly through this green hell."
Her knee-high laced boots sank slightly into the damp earth with each step, providing stability that ordinary hiking boots couldn't match in this terrain. They were practical—unlike the halter top that left her midriff exposed to insect bites and scratches, the bottom curves of her breasts visible beneath the straining fabric. But Malinda had never been one to sacrifice style entirely, even on expeditions.
Morgan wiped sweat from his brow, his tank top clinging to his chest like a second skin. The suspenders framed his broad torso, drawing her eye downward to where his canvas pants tucked into leather boots not unlike her own. The holster at his waist held a .45 caliber 1911 automatic pistol—a vintage piece he carried with the easy familiarity of an extension of himself.
"The temple should be just beyond that ridge," he said, nodding ahead. "According to your map."
"My very accurate map," she corrected, reaching to her belt where her archaeological tools hung in neat order: a small brush for delicate excavation, a specialized hammer, measuring tape, and a compact digital camera weatherproofed for the elements. "Unlike your sense of direction."
The pack slung over Morgan's shoulder shifted as he pushed aside a particularly thick cluster of ferns. "My sense of direction got us out of that cave system in Peru."
"After getting us lost for three hours."
He turned, walking backward for a few steps. "I prefer to call it 'taking the scenic route.'"
Malinda's laugh caught in her throat as the temple suddenly came into view behind him. "Morgan," she whispered, pointing past his shoulder.
He pivoted, his hand instinctively moving to rest on the grip of his pistol. "Holy shit," he breathed.
The temple rose from the jungle floor like a forgotten titan, its moss-covered stones a testament to centuries of neglect. Massive stone steps led to a platform where columns supported what remained of the roof. Vines crawled up the structure, nature reclaiming what man had built, yet somehow enhancing rather than diminishing its grandeur. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns across the ancient stonework.
"It's... perfect," Malinda murmured, stepping forward. Her short bob clung to her neck, damp with sweat, but she barely noticed the discomfort now. The archaeologist in her was already cataloging details—the carved symbols nearly obscured by moss, the architectural style suggesting a civilization previously undocumented in this region.
Morgan moved ahead of her, his body language shifting to alert watchfulness. "Stay behind me," he said, his voice dropping to a lower register. "We don't know what's still living in there."
"Besides ghosts and legends?" She followed him nonetheless, appreciating the way his muscular frame moved with controlled precision. The leather cuffs around his wrists caught the light as he reached back to ensure she stayed close.
"And possibly very real predators," he reminded her, the pack on his shoulder bouncing slightly as he began to ascend the crumbling steps. "The locals weren't exactly encouraging this little expedition."
Malinda's fingers trailed along the stone banister, feeling the textures of history beneath her touch. "Locals always have tales to keep treasures safe. It's practically archaeology 101."
"And sometimes those tales exist for good reason." Morgan's voice echoed slightly as they reached the temple platform. His hand never strayed far from his holster, the .45 a reassuring presence at his side.
The air inside the temple entrance was noticeably cooler, a welcome relief from the oppressive jungle heat. Malinda pulled a small flashlight from her belt, sweeping its beam across walls decorated with intricate carvings partially obscured by centuries of growth. Her breath caught as the light illuminated a particularly detailed section.
"Morgan, look at this." She stepped closer to the wall, her fingers hovering just above the surface. "These glyphs match the descriptions in the manuscript. The diamond is here."
He moved beside her, close enough that his arm brushed against hers, sending a jolt of awareness through her that had nothing to do with archaeology. "Can you read them?"
"Enough to know we're in the right place." Her eyes gleamed with excitement in the flashlight's reflection. "The inner chamber should be further in, past a series of traps designed to keep out the unworthy."
"Wonderful," Morgan muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "And I suppose you have some clever way to bypass these traps?"
Malinda shot him a smile that had gotten her both into and out of trouble countless times before. "That's why I brought you, darling. Those muscles aren't just for show."
He shook his head, but she caught the spark of amusement in his eyes. "One of these days, Lin..."
"You'll thank me properly," she finished for him, already moving deeper into the temple, her boots echoing on the stone floor. "After we find the Tears of Ishaara, you can show me exactly how grateful you are."
Morgan adjusted his pack and followed, his footsteps measured and alert. "Let's focus on surviving first."
The temple opened before them, shadows dancing in the beam of Malinda's flashlight. The weight of centuries pressed down, a tangible presence as real as the humidity that clung to their skin. Somewhere in the depths of this ancient structure lay a diamond worth more than money—a piece of history that could rewrite everything they thought they knew about this forgotten civilization.
And Malinda was determined to find it, with Morgan's strong presence at her back and his gun at the ready. The thrill of discovery pulsed through her veins, as intoxicating as any drug and far more addictive. This was what she lived for—this moment of standing on the precipice of revelation, with danger and desire intertwined like the vines that embraced the temple walls.
Malinda's fingers traced the weathered hieroglyphs that adorned the inner chamber walls, her trained eyes picking out patterns in the ancient text. Morgan kept watch near the entrance, his stance wide and vigilant, one hand resting lightly on his holstered pistol. The silence inside the temple felt laden with anticipation, broken only by the distant calls of jungle birds and the occasional drip of water from the moss-covered ceiling. Then came a sound that belonged to neither—a long, sinister hiss that sliced through the heavy air like a blade, freezing them both where they stood.
Morgan's head snapped up, his green eyes narrowing as they met Malinda's across the chamber. In three swift strides, he crossed to her, his movements silent despite his heavy boots. His hand closed around her wrist with gentle urgency.
"Don't move," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.
The hiss came again, louder this time, accompanied by a scraping sound like massive claws dragging across stone. Without hesitation, Morgan pulled Malinda behind a thick moss-covered column, pressing her against it with his muscular arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Their bodies aligned, his chest against her back, heartbeats accelerating in tandem.
"What the hell is that?" Malinda breathed, barely audible even to herself.
The column was barely wide enough to conceal them both. Morgan's body formed a shield around her smaller frame, his suspenders pressing into her exposed back where her halter top left her skin bare. She could feel every contour of his muscled torso through the damp fabric of his tank top, the heat of him seeping into her despite the temple's relative coolness.
A shadow passed over the light streaming in from the temple entrance. Something massive moved across the roof above them, dislodging centuries-old debris that pattered down onto the stone floor. Malinda tilted her head back, her short bob brushing against Morgan's chin as she tried to glimpse what lurked above. The movement brought her hips into firmer contact with his, and she felt his grip on her waist tighten fractionally.
"Oh my god," she whispered, her lips unintentionally brushing his ear as she turned her head. "Is that a dragon?"
The creature appeared at the temple entrance, its sinuous neck extending into the chamber. Scales the color of jade caught the filtered sunlight, refracting it across the ancient walls in hypnotic patterns. A forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air. The dragon's head alone was the size of a small car, crowned with horns that curved elegantly backward from its skull.
"I've never seen one before," Morgan responded, his voice a tightly controlled vibration against her back, "but yeah, that's as good a description as any."
His free hand moved to his side, drawing the .45 automatic in a fluid motion that spoke of years of practice. The metal gleamed dully in the half-light, its presence reassuring despite Malinda's certainty that bullets would be useless against the creature investigating their sanctuary. The cool steel brushed against her exposed midriff as Morgan shifted, creating a startling contrast to the heat building between their pressed bodies.
"That's not going to do much," she murmured, nodding toward the gun.
"Makes me feel better," he replied, a hint of grim humor in his voice. "Old habits."
The dragon's massive body slithered further into view as it crawled across the temple rooftop. Sections of ancient stone crumbled beneath its weight, dust motes dancing in the shafts of sunlight that penetrated the canopy above. Its scales rippled with iridescent life, each one the size of Malinda's palm. The creature moved with surprising grace for its bulk, its long tail sweeping behind it like a living counterweight.
Malinda found herself holding her breath, conscious of every point where her body connected with Morgan's. The danger should have eclipsed all other awareness, yet somehow it only heightened her senses. She could smell the leather of his wrist cuffs, the earthy scent of his sweat, feel the controlled rise and fall of his chest against her back. His thighs pressed against the backs of hers, solid and warm through their respective canvas pants and shorts.
The dragon paused directly overhead, its massive head swinging side to side as though searching. A low rumble emanated from its throat, vibrating through the temple stones beneath their feet. Morgan's arm tightened around Malinda's waist, pulling her impossibly closer as they pressed deeper into the shadow of the column.
His lips nearly touched her ear as he whispered, "Don't. Move."
The command sent an inappropriate shiver down her spine, one that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the authority in his voice and the possessive press of his body around hers. Malinda bit her lip, suddenly aware of the rapid thud of her heart—was it terror or excitement that made it race so?
The dragon's forked tongue flicked out again, tasting the air mere feet from their hiding place. Its eyes were amber orbs with vertical pupils that contracted in the shifting light. Ancient intelligence lurked in those depths, a predatory awareness that seemed to peer through centuries with cold calculation.
Morgan's finger rested alongside the trigger guard of his pistol, not on the trigger itself—disciplined even in extremity. The metal had warmed slightly from his grip, but still felt cool when it brushed against Malinda's bare skin as he adjusted his stance. The contact drew her attention to the heat building elsewhere between them, a warmth that coiled low in her belly despite the mortal danger looming above.
Minutes stretched like hours as they remained frozen in place. Malinda became acutely conscious of the rhythm of Morgan's breathing, deliberately slow and controlled, and found herself matching it instinctively. In and out. The synchronicity created an unexpected intimacy, their bodies falling into a shared cadence as they waited.
A distant sound—perhaps an animal call from deeper in the jungle—caught the dragon's attention. Its massive head swiveled toward the temple entrance, nostrils flaring. With a final rumbling hiss that seemed to reverberate through the ancient stones, the creature withdrew, its body moving with fluid grace across the rooftop.
Neither of them moved immediately, straining to track the dragon's retreat. Morgan's arm remained firmly around Malinda's waist, his pistol still raised in his other hand. She could feel the tension in him, coiled and ready despite the creature's apparent departure.
"I think it's gone," she finally whispered, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the renewed silence.
Morgan didn't immediately loosen his grip. Instead, his head dipped slightly, his nose brushing against her hair as he inhaled deeply. "For now," he murmured, his breath stirring the damp strands at her nape.
When he finally stepped back, breaking the full-body contact that had both protected and discomposed her, Malinda felt a momentary loss. She turned to face him, her back now pressed against the column, finding his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that had little to do with the dragon and everything to do with the charged space between them.
"Well," she said, attempting lightness despite her quickened breath, "that wasn't in any of the local legends I researched."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "You always did find the unexpected, Lin."
His pistol remained in his hand, a reminder of the danger still lurking somewhere above them. But his eyes, as they held hers in the dappled light of the ancient temple, promised an entirely different kind of peril.
The echo of the dragon's passage faded into the temple's ancient stillness. Malinda watched as Morgan holstered his pistol with practiced efficiency, his gaze never leaving hers. Something had shifted between them in those moments of pressed bodies and shared breath—something that had nothing to do with survival and everything to do with the electric awareness that now charged the air around them. Without words, they understood it was time to move deeper into the temple, away from the creature that lurked above, but the heat in Morgan's eyes promised this was far from over.
"We should keep moving," he said, his voice rough at the edges. "Downward. Those stairs." He nodded toward a narrow stone staircase that descended into darkness at the far end of the chamber.
Malinda nodded, retrieving her fallen flashlight from where she'd dropped it in their rush to hide. "The manuscript mentioned a lower chamber. That's likely where we'll find the diamond."
They approached the stairs cautiously, alert for any sound that might signal the dragon's return. The stone steps were worn smooth by centuries of use, slick with moisture that condensed in the cool air of the temple interior. Morgan took the lead, testing each step before committing his weight.
"Careful," he warned, extending his hand back to her. "These are treacherous."
Malinda slipped her hand into his, feeling the calluses on his palm—testament to a life of action rather than theory. His grip was firm, steadying, a counterpoint to the uncertain footing beneath them. As they began their descent, his other hand found the small of her back, fingers splayed protectively across her exposed skin.
The touch sent a current up her spine that had nothing to do with the danger they'd just escaped. Morgan's hand was warm and sure, guiding her with a gentle pressure that felt more like a caress than a practical measure. Malinda found herself hyper-aware of each point of contact—his palm against hers, his fingers against her lower back, the occasional brush of his shoulder against hers when the stairway narrowed.
They moved in perfect synchronization, as if they'd been exploring together for years rather than days. When Morgan paused, Malinda halted instantly; when he sidestepped a crumbling section of stair, she mirrored his movements without needing direction. The rhythm of their descent became almost hypnotic—step, pause, test, continue—a dance of trust and shared purpose in the dim light of her flashlight.
The air grew cooler as they descended, carrying strange scents of ancient stone and something else—perhaps incense burned centuries ago, its essence somehow preserved in this sealed chamber. Malinda's archaeologist mind cataloged these details even as another part of her remained acutely conscious of Morgan's proximity, of the way his tank top stretched across his shoulders as he navigated the narrow passage ahead of her.
At the base of the stairs, they emerged onto a small landing. Morgan's hand lingered at the small of her back as they paused to catch their breath and assess their surroundings. The beam of Malinda's flashlight revealed a corridor extending ahead, its walls adorned with carvings more elaborate than those above.
"Look at these," she whispered, sweeping the light across depictions of robed figures bowing before a central dais. "They're worshiping something."
Morgan stepped closer to examine the carvings, his breath warm against her cheek. "The diamond?"
"Must be." She turned to look at him and found his face inches from hers, his eyes reflecting the flashlight's beam. The adrenaline that had surged through her during their encounter with the dragon hadn't dissipated—it had merely transformed, becoming something equally urgent but far more pleasurable.
Morgan's gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes, a question in their depths. The hand at her back pressed slightly firmer, drawing her closer. Malinda felt her breath catch, her body responding to his nearness with a rush of heat that belied the temple's cool air.
She turned fully toward him, her eyes gleaming with mischief and undisguised want. "We should be quiet," she murmured, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Wouldn't want to attract any... unwanted attention."
The last word had barely left her lips before Morgan's mouth claimed hers. The kiss was neither tentative nor gentle—it was hungry, demanding, as if he'd been holding himself back for too long. His hands moved to her waist, fingers digging into the bare skin above her olive shorts, pulling her against him with an urgency that matched her own surging desire.
Malinda responded instantly, her arms wrapping around his neck, fingers threading through his damp hair. The flashlight clattered forgotten to the stone floor, its beam creating wild shadows as it rolled. She pressed herself against him, feeling the hard planes of his chest against her breasts, the beat of his heart matching the frantic tempo of her own.
His mouth was hot and insistent, tongue sliding against hers in a dance as synchronized as their descent had been. One of his hands moved up her bare back, fingers splaying across her shoulder blades, while the other dipped lower, pulling her hips firmly against his. The leather of his wrist cuff was cool against her heated skin, a delicious contrast that made her gasp into his mouth.
Morgan broke the kiss only to trace a path of fire along her jaw to her ear. "I've been wanting to do that since the moment you showed up in those shorts," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her.
Malinda laughed breathlessly, her hands sliding down to feel the strong muscles of his back through the damp tank top. "Only since then? I've been distracted by those suspenders since we started this expedition."
His teeth grazed her earlobe in response, drawing a soft moan from her that echoed slightly in the ancient corridor. They both froze, suddenly remembering the danger that lurked above them. After a moment of tense silence with no sound of the dragon's return, Morgan pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged.
"We need to focus," he murmured, though his hands still held her close. "Find what we came for."
"And then?" Malinda challenged, her fingers tracing the line where his suspenders crossed his broad back.
A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his rugged features into something that made her heart skip. "And then I'll show you exactly what I've been thinking about doing to you for the past three days."
They separated reluctantly, both breathless and flushed. Morgan bent to retrieve the flashlight, handing it back to her with a lingering touch that promised more. When he straightened, his eyes held both desire and determination.
"Let's find that diamond quickly," he said, adjusting his holster where it had shifted during their embrace. "I've got plans for you once we're out of here."
The words sent a thrill of anticipation through Malinda that had nothing to do with archaeological discovery. She nodded, forcing her mind back to the task at hand despite the lingering heat of his touch on her skin.
"The inner chamber should be just ahead," she said, directing the flashlight beam down the corridor. "According to the manuscript, the Tears of Ishaara sits on a pedestal carved from a single piece of obsidian."
They moved forward together, their steps purposeful and in sync. The tension between them hadn't diminished—if anything, that brief taste had only intensified their awareness of each other—but it now fueled their determination rather than distracting from it.
Malinda felt Morgan's presence at her back like a tangible force, protective and possessive in equal measure. The dragon above, the diamond ahead, and the promise of pleasure to come—all combined to create a heady mix of danger and desire that made her feel more alive than she had in years.
As they approached the chamber that might hold their prize, Malinda cast a sideways glance at Morgan's profile, admiring the determined set of his jaw and the intensity of his focus. Finding the diamond had always been her goal, but now she had an entirely new reason to complete this mission quickly and successfully.
Black and White Parson Russell Terrier - "The Parson Russell Terrier was developed in the south of England in the 1800's as a white terrier to work European red fox both above and below ground. The terrier was named for the Reverend John Russell, whose terriers trailed hounds and bolted foxes from dens so the hunt could ride on. To function as a working terrier, he must possess certain characteristics: a ready attitude, alert and confident; balance in height and length; medium in size and bone, suggesting strength and endurance. Important to breed type is a natural appearance: harsh, weatherproof coat with a compact construction and clean silhouette. The coat is broken or smooth. He has a small, flexible chest to enable him to pursue his quarry underground and sufficient length of leg to follow the hounds. Old scars and injuries, the result of honorable work or accident, should not be allowed to prejudice a terrier’s chance in the show ring, unless they interfere with movement or utility for work or breeding." - AKC.org / PRTAA
Somewhere, Iceland, July 2024
How far can you go with abstraction and minimalism before a photo no longer conveys any emotions and becomes merely graphic?
This following series is rather inconspicuous, quiet, and very abstract, reduced to simple forms. The photos were all taken in heavy rain. The “fog” in the background is actually a dense wall of fine droplets that soaks through weatherproof clothing in minutes. The strong wind played its part, and the temperature had dropped significantly that day. So it was genuinely cold. Despite the abstraction, the photos still give me a strong sense of coldness I felt in that moment.
Still, I believe the feeling these photos convey is subjective. Or rather, whether they convey any feeling at all depends on the viewer. For me, it works, and I’m amazed at how far I can push minimalism without losing the feeling I had that day.
I’d love to experiment more with this approach when I get the chance. I feel there’s still much to explore in making these kinds of images more aesthetically interesting and emotional—without losing the minimalism and sense of calm.
Exeter West Signal Box was originally built as a temporary structure by the Great Western Railway in 1913 following the enlargement of Exeter St. David’s station It was located to the west of the station, controlling the junction for the London & South Western Railway's line to Waterloo and connections to the goods lines avoiding the station, the engine shed and various yards.
The signal box contained a lever frame of 114 levers, but this was replaced in 1959 by an even larger new frame of 131 levers. The box remained in use until 1985, when colour light signalling controlled electrically from a new signal box at Exeter was brought into use. After closure of Exeter West in 1985, the Exeter West Group moved in and dismantled the signal box, marking each of the hundreds of parts for future reference.
At first, all of the parts were moved to Bristol and a start was made on restoring the box to be a feature at Temple Meads station. However, by summer 1988 it was clear that this project had foundered, but a home was offered at the proposed Swindon Heritage Centre. Everything was moved there, and restoration work continued until 1990. However a seemingly indefinite postponement of the heritage project at Swindon made it necessary to seek another site.
Finally a home was found here at Crewe. Having moved all of the many parts, a start was finally made on the complex task of putting the box back together again in May 1991, the structure was complete and weatherproofed by the end of that year, and the Internal rebuilding continued through 1992. The signal box was formally opened to the public on May Day 1993.
Thanks to the good engineers at Fuji for designing a weatherproof camera that can be operated with gloves on
Fuji HD-P
Fujinon 2.8/38mm
Lomocolor 400
On tumblr: theatreofthemundane.tumblr.com
On Instagram: lemonhats
The Fürstenzug (English: Procession of Princes) in Dresden, Germany, is a large mural of a mounted procession of the rulers of Saxony. It was originally painted between 1871 and 1876 to celebrate the 800th anniversary of the Wettin Dynasty, Saxony's ruling family. In order to make the work weatherproof, it was replaced with approximately 23,000 Meissen porcelain tiles between 1904 and 1907. With a length of 102 metres (335 ft), it is known as the largest porcelain artwork in the world. The mural displays the ancestral portraits of the 35 margraves, electors, dukes and kings of the House of Wettin between 1127 and 1904.
Source: wikipedia
How about some FUN SHOT MONDAY!!! Rain in the afternoon is very spontaneous my camera is not weatherproof. Need to do a lot of indoor shot.....LOL I shot this inside The Landmark using a Ricoh GRD4.
We were shooting for 4+ hours, captured this one in the winter rain @ 4 degrees Celsius and put the X100V weatherproof capability to good use.
Alderney blizzard.
Pedestrians on High Street on the island of Alderney yesterday during blizzard conditions. It is set to be worse tomorrow. ( thank goodness my Olympus OM-D E-M5ii is weatherproof!)
#alderney #snow #guernsey #snowday #snowmaggedon #olympus #om-d #travel
I was hiking through Shenandoah National Park while I had my I-Pod playing music because the park has a decent bear population and playing music was my way of letting any bear that was nearby there was a human around and they generally don't like human sounds. The trail was quite being in that I hadn't passed anyone in about the last twenty minutes or so when I stopped and this whitetail doe was about twenty feet ahead of me. Usually when I encounter deer they are gone a second or two later but this deer was just looking at me curiously while my I-Pod was blaring Led Zeppelin's "When the levee breaks". I turned off the I-Pod and I had the choice of trying to rummage my Nikon 610 which was in my pack wrapped in a weatherproof gear bag because there was a chance of rain that day or going for my cellphone which was in my pocket so I went for the cellphone shot. I was surprised that the deer showed little fear which I think is partly that there is little traffic in the park and since it is a National Park there is no hunting and even outside the boundary of the park is mostly low density farm country. So I managed to walk within about ten feet of this deer to get this shot.
Somewhere, Iceland, July 2024
How far can you go with abstraction and minimalism before a photo no longer conveys any emotions and becomes merely graphic?
This following series is rather inconspicuous, quiet, and very abstract, reduced to simple forms. The photos were all taken in heavy rain. The “fog” in the background is actually a dense wall of fine droplets that soaks through weatherproof clothing in minutes. The strong wind played its part, and the temperature had dropped significantly that day. So it was genuinely cold. Despite the abstraction, the photos still give me a strong sense of coldness I felt in that moment.
Still, I believe the feeling these photos convey is subjective. Or rather, whether they convey any feeling at all depends on the viewer. For me, it works, and I’m amazed at how far I can push minimalism without losing the feeling I had that day.
I’d love to experiment more with this approach when I get the chance. I feel there’s still much to explore in making these kinds of images more aesthetically interesting and emotional—without losing the minimalism and sense of calm.
Trabucco
According with some historians of Apulia, the trabuccco was invented in the region imported from Phoenicians. The earliest documented existence dates back to 18th century, during which Gargano fishermen, during that period sparsely populated, devised an ingenious technique of fishing which wasn't subject to weather conditions in the area. Trabucchi were built in the most prominent promontories jutting nets out to sea through a system of monumental wooden arms: a trabucco allows to fish without having to be submitted to sea conditions using the morphology of Gargano rocky coast.
The trabucco is built with traditional wood Aleppo pine -the typical pine of Gargano and common throughout the South-Western Adriatic- because this material is virtually limitless (for his dissemination in the area) modeled, elastic, weatherproof and resistant to salt (trabucco must resist to strong Mistral usually blowing in these areas). Some trabucchi have been rebuilt in recent years, thanks to public funds.[3] However, since they lost their economic function in the past centuries when they were the main economical source of entire families of fishermen, trabucchi rose into the role of cultural and architectural symbols and tourist attraction.
The Kronberg castle. Kaiserin Friedrich, a.k.a. Victoria, daughter of Queen Victoria, who went on to become queen of Prussia and German Empress (it doesn't get any less confusing when you look closer at that family tree) had the place restored so it's not a ruin like its Königstein neighbor. You get a beautiful view over Frankfurt from up there, and the good people of Kronberg can't seem to miss an opportunity of reminding you of their glorious victory over its citizen in some piss ant little war some centuries ago. As for the camera, i got it at the flea market for my nephews. Makes a solid impression, and it's weatherproof - big advantage for kids, lens is OK at the wide end and becomes toyish on the sides at the long end. I can't see why I would want to pay more than a fraction of prices it goes for with online retailers. Whatever floats your boat...
Olympus µ [mju:] Zoom and its Olympus Lens Zoom 35-70mm, Orwopan 100 in Fomadon R09 1+50 for 10 min @ 20°C and digitalized using kit zoom and extension tubes.
Thank you everyone for your visits, faves and comments, they are always appreciated :)
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View down the road this AM; we were supposed to have a major snowfall overnight, no sign of it. Did it go somewhere else...?
WPD22Objects
Eastbourne Pier, Grand Parade
Grade II* Listed
List Entry Number: 1353116
Details
623/7/110A GRAND PARADE 17-MAY-1971 EASTBOURNE PIER
GV II*
Seaside pier. It opened on 13th June 1870 and was designed by Eugenius Birch, the contractors Messrs Head, Wrighton and Co of Stockton on Tees. It was completed in 1872 and modified at the landward end following a storm of 1877. The seaward Pavilion theatre with 'camera obscura' and two games pavilions are of 1901 designed by Noel Ridley AMICE. The central windscreens were erected betweeen 1902-03, and a music pavilion was added in 1925 designed by P D Stoneham. Further kiosks were added in 1971, and an entrance building in 1991 in matching style.
MATERIALS: Substructure of cast iron screwpiles with some surviving combined cast iron side railings and seating. Wooden decking except for the centre which was replaced in concrete slabs after the Second World War. The pier buildings are constructed of wood with some structural cast iron and zinc roofs.
PLAN: As originally built in 1872 it was 1000ft long by 22ft wide, with two projecting bays on each side increasing the width to 68ft at the shore end and 52ft halfway along. The pier head had a diamond-shaped end approximately 115ft wide. After the storm of 1877 the shoreward end was rebuilt 5ft higher and the width of the pier increased to 52ft. By 1901 the pier end was much enlarged to accommodate the Pavilion theatre and in 1925 a section near the shore end was widened for a new music pavilion.
DESCRIPTION: The pier is 1000ft long and 52ft wide on a substructure of iron screw piles. Some original combined cast iron side railings and seating survives in the central section of the pier, the top railing tube originally doubling as a gas pipe to provide lanterns with gas lighting. There is wooden decking, except for the central section, removed during World War II to prevent an enemy landing, and replaced in concrete slabs after World War II. The entrance building is of 1991 in matching style to the earlier buildings on the pier. It is constructed of wood with metal supports, and is of one storey with a central open passageway with metal columns supporting a large square rooflight of five arches on each side, surmounted by clock faces on all sides with a hipped zinc roof. The front has octagonal pavilions with hipped roofs with small cupola, which merge into larger shops.
To the south west is the music pavilion of 1925, currently an amusement arcade, which has an oval domed zinc roof with a large iron-crested central roof-light and walls with diagonally placed weatherboarding with reeded pilasters and blocked multi-paned sash windows. The north west end has a wide central entrance with round-headed window and cornice and pilasters flanked by smaller entrances with cornices and brackets. The south east end has a tall central entrance with pilasters and oculus. The interior has large segmental arches and Art Deco decoration of floral swags, urns and Vitruvian scrolls. There is a proscenium arch at the south east end with Art Deco motifs, but the stage has been removed and there is a later C20 staircase.
To the south east are three 1970s cruciform-shaped wooden central kiosks.
Further to the south east, on either side of the pier, are two 1901 games pavilions. These are single-storeyed of wooden construction with zinc roofs with three pediments. Over the central pediments there are elaborate cupolas with fishscale domes and bases and decorative metal finials. Over the end pediments there are tapering roof features with ogee roofs with metal finials.
Further south east are an oval and circular 1970s building, originally amusement arcade buildings. Next to these are 1902-03 cast iron and glazed central screens acting as shelters and windbreaks with entwined dolphin emblems. At the end of the pier is the 1901 wooden theatre building which has a large domed roof with a smaller domed cupola containing the 'camera obscura'. The south east side has a projecting two-storey central bay either side of staircases with continuous glazing to the top floor bar. The north west side has a rebuilt wooden staircase to the camera obscura. The interior of the camera obscura has an octagonal lower waiting room, leading by means of a narrow curved wooden staircase into the boarded cupola. This contains a concave, emulsioned circular raised surface for showing the images and an iron wheel fixed to the ground, which can be moved by hand to open the roof light by means of a gear wheel connected to the larger wheel by a leather fanbelt. The theatre below was damaged by fire in 1970, but retains the domed wooden roof with large metal arched ribs, steps for gallery seating and panelling to the walls. The landing stage at the end of the pier was damaged during the 1987 hurricane.
HISTORY: The first pile of Eastbourne Pier was screwed into the seabed on 18th April 1866, and the pier was officially opened on 13th June 1870 by Lord Edward Cavendish. The pier was one of 14 designed by Eugenius Birch (1818-1884). By the official opening date only half the projected 1000ft length had been constructed and it was not completed until 1872. It was originally 22ft wide with two projecting wings on each side and a small diamond-shaped pier head with two kiosks and a bandstand.
On New Year's Day 1877 a violent storm washed away a large part of the shoreward end of the pier. To counteract the effect of waves surging over the shingle below the shoreward end was rebuilt 5ft higher. Also the pier was rebuilt to the width of the former projecting bays, from 22ft to 52ft. In 1888 a large building was constructed at a cost of £250 on the pier head to form a theatre, but was taken off 'in one piece' to Lewes for use as a cattle shed when it was proposed in 1899 to produce a grander building. The plans, drawn up by Noel Ridley, were for a new pavilion theatre housing a 'camera obscura' in the dome surmounting the structure. The building, completed in 1901, could accommodate 1000 people, it had no pillars to obstruct the view and the balconies were cantilevered. It contained a bar, a cafe and the pier offices. An open verandah just above ground level was later filled-in. The camera obscura was the largest in the country when constructed. Very few now remain and this is thought to be the only camera obscura on a pier in the world. Visitors could watch a moving coloured picture of the view outside on an emulsioned dish in a darkened room.
In 1901 the two games saloons were erected on either side of the central ramp. Between 1902 and 1903 the central windscreens were erected and a ten-sided bandstand which was removed in 1945.
In 1912 the original octagonal front entrance kiosks, together with the central octagonal pay kiosk, were removed. The central pay kiosk still survives in the middle of the Redoubt Pavilion Gardens.
In 1925 a section of the upper deck level was widened near the shore end and a new music pavilion with domed roof constructed which could seat 900. It was used for many years as a ballroom and later became an amusement arcade.
During World War II there was an order to blow up the pier but, luckily, it was spared; wooden decking was removed from the centre to prevent an enemy landing and gun platforms installed in the theatre to repel any attempted enemy landing. In 1945 the bandstand was removed and in 1951 the Edwardian entrance kiosks were replaced by a flat-roofed building.
In 1970 a pier employee set fire to the Pavilion Theatre and severe damage was caused to its shoreward end, including the destruction of the access staircase to the camera obscura. As a result the theatre was closed down and the remaining part of the building converted into a nightclub. In the 1970s two steel-framed glass fibre amusement arcade buildings were added betweeen the ramp and the old theatre, followed by three kiosks between the ballroom and the ramp.
In 1991 the entrance building of 1951 was replaced by a new entrance, in a similar style to the original octagonal turrets, with shops and a weatherproof covered way. In 2003 the camera obscura was re-opened to the public.
SOURCES: Supplement to "The Illustrated London News", June 25, 1870. Print of original pier. "The British Builder", July 1925, pp.281-283 for the musuc pavilion. The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography entry for Eugenius Birch. Simon H Adamson, "Seaside Piers", 1977. "Eastbourne Argus", 14/06/1982. John D Clarke and Partners, "Eastbourne Pier Conservation Strategy". Report of December 2007. Arthur J Gill, "Camera Obscura", April 1976. James Fenton, "Journal of Photography and Motiuon Picture Photography of the International Museum of Photography at George Eastman House, Rochester, New York, USA". Vol 27, No 4, Dec 1984, pp.9-15 for surviving 'camera obscura' in Great Britain.
REASONS FOR DESIGNATION: * Following the loss of a number of Eugenius Birch's 14 seaside piers and most notably the almost complete destruction of Brighton West Pier by storm damage and fire, Eastbourne is now the finest of Birch's surviving seaside piers. * Eastbourne and Brighton Palace Pier, by St John Moore, are now the best surviving Victorian seaside piers on the South Coast for the number of remaining Victorian and Edwardian structures. * Eastbourne Pier has a rare surviving example of a 'camera obscura'; it was the largest example in Great Britain when built in 1901, and seems to be the only example of a camera obscura on a seaside pier in the world. * Eastbourne Pier is a good example of a promenade pier, later adapted into a full blown pleasure pier with good quality late C19, Edwardian and 1920s structrues. Later replacement buildings have imitated the style of the earlier structures, so that the pier retains a stylistic coherence.
historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1353116
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Eastbourne Pier
Grade II* Listed
Eugenius Birch's pier opened in June 1870 but was added to several times: the concert hall and main pavilion date from 1888, Noel Ridley's camera obscura and theatre were finished in 1901, and another pavilion was added by P.D. Stonham in 1925. Most of the structure is wooden with zinc-clad roofs and some cast iron. A storm in 1877 destroyed part of the structure.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Listed_buildings_in_Eastbourne
See also:-
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eastbourne_Pier
No doubt, one of Norway's most popular hotspots. I started the 8km hike to Preikestolen at dawn to be on top before the crowds. Only worked semi-well.
Even if the hike was not very hard, you should be sure-footed, have sturdy shoes and weatherproof clothing. When I consider that hundreds of cruise tourists came towards me on my way back to the parking lot, many looked like they were totally underestimating the hike, I'm not surprised why there are always accidents on this steep terrain.
Outside IKEA Museum you can rest a while in concrete sofas. A little hard, but weatherproof, sustainable and at a low price ...
The IKEA Museum opened in 2016.
ikeamuseum.com/en/ (website also in English)
Somewhere, Iceland, July 2024
How far can you go with abstraction and minimalism before a photo no longer conveys any emotions and becomes merely graphic?
This following series is rather inconspicuous, quiet, and very abstract, reduced to simple forms. The photos were all taken in heavy rain. The “fog” in the background is actually a dense wall of fine droplets that soaks through weatherproof clothing in minutes. The strong wind played its part, and the temperature had dropped significantly that day. So it was genuinely cold. Despite the abstraction, the photos still give me a strong sense of coldness I felt in that moment.
Still, I believe the feeling these photos convey is subjective. Or rather, whether they convey any feeling at all depends on the viewer. For me, it works, and I’m amazed at how far I can push minimalism without losing the feeling I had that day.
I’d love to experiment more with this approach when I get the chance. I feel there’s still much to explore in making these kinds of images more aesthetically interesting and emotional—without losing the minimalism and sense of calm.