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Anche gli edifici con i loro abitanti sanno raccontare questi tempi complicati e sono dotati di quella capacità di affrontare e superare un evento traumatico e difficile.
RESILIENZA
Napoli centro antico: Una bandiera svetta sulle geometrie del centro antico,una selva di antenne, di muri curvi e di vita che sembra ancora ferma e resiste contro tutto
Scatti realizzati per la mostra fotografica virtuale a tema libero, del gruppo 365project organizzata dal 21 al 30 giugno 2020 su FB.
ARCHITETCTURE AT COVID TIMES
Even the buildings with their inhabitants can tell about these complicated times and they have the ability to overcame a traumatic and difficult event.
RESILIENCE:
Naples ancient center: A flag soars over the geometries of the ancient center, a forest of antennas, curved walls and life that still seems firm and resists everything
Shots taken for the 365project group virtual photographic exhibition with free theme organized from 21 to 30 June 2020 on FB.
While the future was leading this business train as the BNSF 3272 brings the train back towards Helena, the past got to ride along as MRL 4408 trailed on the other end of the train. Due to a lack of ability to spin the consist for a variety of reasons, it was decided to have the OCS train run as a 1x1 set instead of having the power consolidated on just the one end. As such, it felt fitting that MRL 4408 was chosen with it’s clean paint and striking deep blue color standing out nicely against the snow that still covered the landscape. What will become of these blue ACe’s after the BNSF takeover is anybody’s guess, but I doubt there’s gonna be many more chances to shoot a blue, black, and white ACe with a full string of stainless steel around this neighborhood.
This students is an example of modern man or woman. They are in a very special category and apparently have the ability to change gender at will. A type of metamorphisis we assume.
PMP-PT - Bronnevaya Machina Pehoti - Protevo Tankaya (IFV-AT)
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A light tank with transport ability.
Designed to replace the very old, never used Zverh transport.
It is armed with a 50mm main cannon, twin side mounted 20mm AA/Anti-personnel autocannons, ATGM, and a coaxial MG. Also, it has it's own air search radar, so the tank can venture on it's own and still use it's autocannons accurately up to a 3 kilometer radius.
It's ATGM is effective up to 1 km, and is used on both enemy armoured vehicles and low flying targets such as helicopters.
As with most UT tanks, it features a three-tier protection system.
The first tier is the composite armour. It consists of basic armour shell with an insert of alternating layers of aluminum and plastics and a controlled deformation section.
The second tier is the Kontakt-5 ERA (explosive reactive armor). It severely reduces the blow from kinetic projectiles. They are in the form of blocks on the turret and body or as ERA plates underneath steel outer covering. It results in much better protection than simple steel armour as featured on many other non-UT tanks.
The third tier is a Shtora countermeasures suite. This system includes two IR "dazzlers" on the front of the turret in the shape of blocks, four Laser warning receivers, two 3D6 aerosol grenade discharging systems and a computerized control system. The Shtora-1 warns the tank's crew when the tank has been 'painted' by a weapon-guidance laser and automatically activates the aerosol grenade launchers, effectively jamming the incoming missile. The aerosol grenades are used to mask the tank from laser rangefinders and designators as well as the optics of other weapons systems.
For passive guidance rocket systems, IR dazzlers create a blinding field of infrared light, "blinding" the rocket as it's IR isn't visible anymore.
The Arena active countermeasures suite consist of a computer, incoming projectile warning sensors, and shrapnel launchers all around the tank hull. It detects an incoming projectile, and sends out a stream of shrapnel to meet the incoming projectile. It destroys the projectile while leaving the armour intact.
Powered by a hybrid diesel/electric engine. Fast, has good suspension, and is able to submerge completely into water without leaks.
The tanks are also fitted with nuclear, biological and chemical (NBC) protection equipment. It includes a mine disabling kit. The EMT-7 electromagnetic-counter mine system is installed: the EMT-7 emits an electromagnetic pulse to disable magnetic mines and disrupt electronics before the tank reaches them. The Nakidka signature reduction suite is also equipped. Nakidka is designed to reduce the probabilities of an object to be detected by Infrared, Thermal, Radar-Thermal, and Radar bands.
All tanks are installed with night vision and infrared cameras, with direct feed into screens inside the tank.
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Cost: 4,000 GC Credits
Or the ability (or inability) to associate one idea with another, to find the "big picture"
Relier les points : La capacité (ou l'incapacité ) d'associer une idée à une autre , pour trouver la «grande image»
Barcelona
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♠️ +20 ability haste ♠️
♠️ +400 mana ♠️
♠️ +90 armor ♠️
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Frozen Heart:
3 Colours
Bento Holdable [Left & Right]
Decor Version Included [1 Land Impact]
Material Enabled
Original Mesh
Mod/Copy
Free to Afterparty group members!
Under the Christmas tree @ Afterparty Mainstore
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New group gift each day from 13th to 24th December.
+ Last years gifts & free no group required gifts!
Remember to wear the group tag!
The gifts will stay up till January 3rd.
Thank you for being a Party Animal!
XOXO, Gaze.
4.23
Theme: Disable
I had surgery on my ACL two months ago. Stuck in my mother's basement for two weeks. Experiencing life without the ability to be mobile was terrible. There were limitations on my ability to do basic things, such as using the washroom. The first couple days after my surgery, I could not sit down on the toilet.
Something you barely think about every day was causing me insane pain. I was struggling with things I usually encounter on a normal day and never think about on a regular basis . My experience has brought to my attention the struggles people with disabilities have every day. I learned from my short experience that society is not designed to accommodate people with physical impairments.
During my rehabilitation, I had to go to my university campus. Around campus, you can see automatic door openers everywhere. When I needed to use those automatic door opener, I realized the poorly designed locations for those buttons. For a few weeks, I experienced life without my legs properly functioning, and it was mentally exhausting to cope with my limitations.
After this experience, I want to advocate for people with physical disabilities rights to have built to accommodated their needs. I could start by complaining to my university about the poorly designed buttons. I acknowledge I cannot change every building, but at least I can do something.
As for this image. It was photographed a month after my surgery. I just started to be able to walk with a limp. I was going to take a picture with my boyfriend which was going to be inspired by the movie Signs. But it ended up looking like a cheesy family picture. This image is an outtake. Something I did not planned on making. I don't really like this picture but it's a stamp of my experience.
Orthetrum cancellatum
📷 - Rushmere Common/Heath
One thing that the lockdown has given us is perhaps the ability to slow down a little and take more notice of what is around us in particular nature/wildlife. For myself it has given me more time to watch things that I would have normally passed by and no more so than watching the antics the various creatures in the local wildlife pond.
Whilst we all have to appreciate that it’s a fact of life/nature that the loss of one creature feeds another within the food chain and with this in mind there is almost a touch of amazement and a sense of awe when you witness such an event albeit on a very small scale.
Now whilst it may not as so dramatic as a pack of wild animals on the kill, the actions of the dragonfly must take some beating where it comes to its hunting technique. Take it down to the level of miniaturisation and the humble and loved dragonfly actually becomes really aggressive and ruthless when it comes to hunting down its prey.
I had been watching the hunting technique of this male Black-tailed Skimmer noticing that it nearly always hunted from the same perch and would return to the very same spot time after time, quite often with a small bug/insect that it had taken out of the air.
Then out of the corner of my eye I was drawn to a small butterfly/moth flying over the pond at which point the dragonfly immediately left its perch and with almost military precision proceeded to lock onto it and chase the poor creature down. For what appeared to be ages (in reality it was probably only a few seconds or a minute) the dragonfly chased the poor butterfly everywhere it turned. They both ducked and dived all over the pond, between the vegetation and even hitting the water at one stage before the inevitable happened and the now exhausted butterfly/moth succumbed mid-air to the dragonfly.
The dragonfly returned to its same perch position with the poor creature still flapping its wings (yes I was secretly hoping that it would somehow escape to fight another day) but the dragonfly was having none of it and carried on with its feast. Interestingly it only ate the main body and discarded the wings which fell to the ground below.
Finally, I could not have believed my own eyes. After that I thought the dragonfly would now be full due to the size of the meal he had just consumed when he immediately left the perch again on the hunt for another meal and returned with a further insect to top up his mid morning feast.
👍 Many thanks indeed for your Views 👀..... Favorite Ticks ✅ and Comments ✏️...... All of which are really appreciated.👍
©️Bryan Wright - All rights reserved.
"The Plan was that everybody in the factory would work according to his ability, but would be paid according to his need."
Ayn Rand, "Atlas Shrugged"
Western Defuffa at Kerma.
The ancient town of Kerma, located a little upstream of the Third Cataract, was occupied continuously from about 2500 to 1500 BC, and was one of the earliest urbanized communities in tropical Africa. The local economy was based on agriculture and animal husbandry, but it is likely that the special importance of the rulers of the area developed because of their ability to control the important north-south trade on the Nile. There is little doubt that Kerma was the capital of the kingdom of Kush, which features prominently in the records of the Eighteenth Dynasty (about 1550-1295 BC).
The site has been (and continues to be) extensively excavated. The most prominent landmark is a massive mud-brick structure known as the 'Western Defuffa', which was probably the main religious building at Kerma. Around this structure were grouped workshops, public buildings and houses. These buildings ranged from simple huts to houses with two or three rooms and a walled courtyard with animal pens and granaries.
Extensive cemeteries have been located at Kerma and other sites in Kush. The richest graves uncovered were those of the last rulers of Kush of the seventeenth and sixteenth centuries BC. These took the form of large tumuli, with the main burial on a bed in a small chamber beneath the mound. From the remains of several hundred persons found in a broad central corridor, it appears that they were buried simultaneously as sacrificial victims.
My friends often make fun about my ability to sleep in any given situation. It's especially hard not to nap whilst sitting in a dark room. Just, like this my passion for sleep and my interest for films and theater need to collide inevitably. Damn. What to do?
Anguis fragilis
Despite their name and appearance, slow-worms are neither worms nor snakes, but are in fact lizards - they're given away by their ability to shed their tails and blink with their eyelids.
Assembly Sculpture by Peter Burke at Woolwich Arsenal. Installed 2005
Embedded in all of us is the ability to recognise and read the human figure from scant visual information. In this work Burke has sought to depict a collective human presence with a series of defined spaces. Here shown is two of the figures of which there are Sixteen partial body moulds arranged as if coming together with the tightest concentration of figures in the middle of the group.
The material and forms draw on the artist's early involvement with engineering practice, and an appreciation of the aesthetic properties of functional engineering construction. The cast iron forms have been designed to be industrially produced and repeated to reflect the use of industrial production methods , and are bolted together using the convention for the joining of castings. Each figure is suggested by three out of the possible four assembled mould sections of a body cast, allowing the viewer visual entry and an opportunity to perceive it from the outside in, as if casting ones own body.
Assembly was conceived as an assembly of persons, of parts, and spaces, which can finally be assembled by the viewer and in turn pays homage to the proud history of the Woolwich Arsenal and all that worked there over the centuries.
Ionia Theatre, 205 West Main Street, Ionia, Michigan. Built-in 1931, the Ionia Theatre was originally constructed for Vaudeville entertainers. A full stage with the ability to operate, or "fly," more than 16 different sets, an orchestra pit, and lofts for a pipe organ are all part of the facility. Eight dressing rooms were built with halls connecting to the main stage. The inside and design of the theatre were patterned after the New York City's Roxy Theatre. Art Deco paintings can be found on the large chandelier and ceiling medallion, lobby murals, original wood furnishings, and side lights. All of these are original to the construction and have been preserved and maintained. Unfortunately, by the time the theatre was ready for opening, the Great Depression set upon the country and Vaudeville was becoming a thing of the past. Instead, "moving pictures" were making their way into the mainstream, so a large screen was installed on one of the stages, along with an old arc-type projector (which is still on display in the lobby). The theatre was operated by the W.S. Butterfield chain and was closed in the late-1970’s. Rescued and restored in 1984, the Ionia Theatre is now owned by the city of Ionia, and is now a twin screen theater. In addition to showing first run movies, there are monthly bluegrass festivals and live musical concerts.
One of my favorite photographers is Edward Weston. He had a wonderful ability to show us grace in nature. It could be a bell pepper or a massive dune system- he could find the most graceful curves and capture them in his photographs. Sometimes however you have to throw in a bit of raggedness with that grace, as seen here. Wet sand doesn't drift as well as dry sand, and a mix will give combinations of smooth and jagged edges. A recent snow at Great Sand Dunes had provided such a combination of wet and dry sand, giving us a nice mix of edge textures. (#3)
In the distance are the San Luis Valley and the northeastern edge of the San Juan Mountains.
Griffon vultures have been used as model organisms for the study of soaring and thermoregulation. The energy costs of level flight tend to be high, prompting alternatives to flapping in larger birds. Vultures in particular utilize more efficient flying methods such as soaring. Compared to other birds, which elevate their metabolic rate to upwards of 16 times their basal metabolic rate in flight, soaring griffon vultures expend about 1.43 times their basal metabolic rate in flight. Griffon vultures are also efficient flyers in their ability to return to a resting heart rate after flight within ten minutes.
As large scavengers, griffon vultures have not been observed to seek shelter for thermoregulation. Vultures use their bald heads as a means to thermoregulate in both extreme cold and hot temperatures. Changes in posture can increase bare skin exposure from 7% to 32%. This change allows for the more than doubling of convective heat loss in still air. Griffon vultures have also been found to tolerate increased body temperatures as a response to high ambient temperatures. By allowing their internal body temperature to change independently of their metabolic rate, griffon vultures minimize their loss of water and energy in thermoregulating. One study in particular (Bahat 1995) found that these adaptations have allowed the Griffon vulture to have one of the widest thermal neutral zones of any bird.
It declined markedly throughout the 19th–20th centuries in much of Europe, North Africa and the Middle East, mainly due to direct persecution and "bycatch" from the poisoned carcasses set for livestock predators (Snow and Perrins 1998, Ferguson-Lees and Christie 2001, Orta et al. 2015). In some areas a reduction in available food supplies, arising from changes in livestock management practices, also had an impact (Ferguson-Lees and Christie 2001, Orta et al. 2015). It is very highly vulnerable to the effects of potential wind energy development (Strix 2012) and electrocution has been identified as a threat (Global Raptors Information Network 2015). Non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) used for veterinary purposes pose a threat to this species. One case of suspected poisoning caused by flunixin, an NSAID, was recorded in this species in 2012 in Spain (Zorrilla et al. 2015). Diclofenac, a similar NSAID, has caused severe declines in Gyps vulture species across Asia.
The white-rumped vulture (Gyps bengalensis) is an Old World vulture native to South and Southeast Asia. It has been listed as Critically Endangered on the IUCN Red List since 2000, as the population severely declined. White-rumped vultures die of renal failure caused by diclofenac poisoning. In the 1980s, the global population was estimated at several million individuals, and it was thought to be "the most abundant large bird of prey in the world".As of 2016, the global population was estimated at less than 10,000 mature individuals.
White-rumped vultures usually become active when the morning sun is warming up the air so that thermals are sufficient to support their soaring. They were once visible above Calcutta in large numbers.
When they find a carcass, they quickly descend and feed voraciously. They perch on trees nearby and are known to sometimes descend also after dark to feed. At kill sites, they are dominated by red-headed vultures Sarcogyps calvus. In forests, their soaring often indicated a tiger kill.They swallow pieces of old, dry bones such as ribs and of skull pieces from small mammals. Where water is available they bathe regularly and also drink water. A pack of vultures was observed to have cleaned up a whole bullock in about 20 minutes. Trees on which they regularly roost are often white from their excreta, and this acidity often kills the trees. This made them less welcome in orchards and plantations.
Whomever provides us with the ability appreciate the beauty of nature must also provide the beauty. I often wonder if we are the only beings on earth that appreciate and marvel over beautiful scenes and landscapes
Desert is not just plain,barren and empty if you look carefully around, these majestic creatures roaming everywhere early morning and the evening. Harsh sun toned their skin yet simple nature's adoption to make them white has given little advantage. This is part of conservation project and they seems to be thrive in this region, a perfect example of nature's healing ability with little help from humans.
valentine:
- ballet shoes - check
- tutu - check
- tiara - check
- ability to stand on one leg without assistance - ... ...
The ability to make a truly artistic photograph is not acquired off-hand, but is the result of an artistic instinct coupled with years of labor.
~ Alfred Stieglitz
P.S. Non-HDR-processed / Non-GND-filtered ● Black Card Technique 黑卡作品
When this guy came out of the burrow he was actually facing toward the open field behind him, so I stopped looking and in an instant he turned and took on an entirely different demeanor, gave me this look which i thought was a really ticked off look, there behavior is amazing, there antics and the ability to do this is remarkable, anyway have a great day and thank you for the visit.
The fog kept moving as if it were alive. The light would get brighter and then darker.
I felt like I was in a creepy movie where the unseen monster was lurking just beyond my ability to see through the fog.
Had some creepy music floated up, I would have run home!
Vintage car and its owner.
Capturing this with my vintage camera made me feel good. It was actually a nice coincidence that I had recently CLA'd this vintage Primoplan lens and the day I took it out for a walk I spotted something like this.
Another thing, the lens is known for its ability to produce bubbly bokeh in the right circumstances. It often feels like all talk about this lens focuses on this niche and its performance in everyday photography is either ignored or summed up by saying it's "soft wide open".
I think we should not forget that it was never designed to be a niche tool, it was a standard prime and mine for example was originally sold as a set together with Praktica FX camera body and some accessories.
So I plan to use it as it was originally marketed - for everyday photography. I still need to fix the shutter curtains in the original kit body (Praktica FX) but luckily I have other Prakticas ready to substitute.
Also beautiful grain in this pushed film. All good.
Praktica MTL3
Meyer-Optik Görlitz Primoplan 58mm f1.9 from the 50s, here at ~f.3
light yellow-green filter (original accessory)
Agfaphoto APX 400 shot at iso 1600
Rodinal 1+100 semi-stand, 70 min, 23°C
2 min presoak, agitation 30 s + 10 s at 30min.
Helsinki, Finland, 2023.
THREAVE CASTLE A MASSIVE TOWER HOUSE (69 FT), OR 5 STOREYS HIGH OF GREY STONE STANDS ON AN ISLAND IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RIVER DEE.TO VISIT THE ISLAND (BY BOAT ONLY) THERE IS SMALL JETTY WITH A BRASS BELL WHICH YOU MUST RING AND THE CUSTODIAN WILL SAIL OVER IN A MOTORISED BOAT FROM THE ISLAND TO COLLECT YOU TO TAKE YOU OVER TO THE CASTLE. ONCE ON THE ISLAND AND YOU PURCHASE A TICKET FROM THE SHOP, YOU ARE FREE TO EXPLORE THE AREA FOR THE WHOLE DAY IF YOU WISH. WHEN I VISITED THERE WERE A PAIR OF PEREGRINE FALCONS NESTING IN THE CASTLE AND ALSO A PAIR OF OSPREYS NESTING IN A LARGE TREE ON THE ISLAND, SO TRAVELING TO THE ISLAND WAS CLOSED DURING THIS TIME.
DURING THE MEDIEVAL PERIOD THE WATER LEVEL WAS HIGHER AND THE ISLAND WAS ONLY ABOUT A THIRD OF THE SIZE THAT IT IS TODAY. LEGEND TELLS THAT THREAVE ISLAND WAS THE HOME OF THE ANCIENT RULERS OF GALLOWAY, BUT THERE IS NO PHYSICAL PROOF OF THIS. ARCHAEOLOGICAL EVIDENCE DOES SEEM TO SUGGEST THAT THERE WAS AN EARLIER CASTLE ON THE SITE, WHICH BY TRADITION WAS THE RESIDENCE OF FERGUS, LORD OF GALLOWAY, AND HIS DESCENDANTS FROM THE MID 11TH CENTURY ONWARDS, AND WAS DESTROYED BY ROBERT THE BRUCE IN 1308.
THE CURRENT REMAINS DATE BACK TO THE LATE 14TH CENTURY WHEN ARCHIBALD 'THE GRIM', THIRD EARL OF DOUGLAS, BUILT A CASTLE ON THE ISLAND. THE FORTRESS WAS CENTRED ON ONE OF THE EARLIEST TOWER HOUSES TO BE BUILT IN SCOTLAND. THE DOUGLAS FAMILY WERE THE MOST POWERFUL FAMILY IN SCOTLAND AND DOMINATED SCOTTISH POLITICS. BY THE MID 15TH CENTURY THE KING, JAMES II, WAS DETERMINED TO BREAK THEIR POWER BY SYSTEMATICALLY DESTROYING ALL THE MAJOR DOUGLAS STRONGHOLDS ACROSS THE COUNTRY. BY JUNE 1455, THREAVE WAS THE LAST CASTLE STILL BEING DEFENDED IN THE NAME OF THE NOW EXILED EARL OF DOUGLAS. DURING A TWO MONTH SIEGE THE KING USED THE LATEST CANNONS AND BOMBARDS (GIANT SIEGE GUNS) IN AN ATTEMPT TO TAKE THE CASTLE BY FORCE, BUT ITS FINAL SURRENDER WAS MORE LIKELY DUE TO BRIBERY THAN THE EFFECTIVENESS OF THESE WEAPONS. THE CASTLE'S ABILITY TO STAND UP TO SUCH AN ATTACK WAS PROBABLY DUE TO THE ARTILLERY FORTIFICATION THAT WAS BUILT AROUND THE TOWER HOUSE SHORTLY BEFORE 1455. THE ARTILLERY WALL HAD VERTICAL SLITS THROUGH WHICH DEFENDERS COULD FIRE LONG-BOWS AND CROSS-BOWS, AND AT THREE OF THE CORNERS WAS A ROUND TOWER THAT WAS DESIGNED TO ACCOMMODATE SMALL GUNS. IT WAS ONE OF THE FIRST ARTILLERY DEFENCES TO BE BUILT IN BRITAIN.
THREAVE CASTLE THEN BECAME A CROWN PROPERTY. A SUCCESSION OF CUSTODIANS WAS PUT IN CHARGE, AND IN 1513 THE MAXWELLS WERE MADE KEEPERS, A POSITION THAT BECAME HEREDITARY IN 1526. THE LAST MAXWELL KEEPER FINALLY ABANDONED THE CASTLE IN 1640 FOLLOWING A 13 WEEK SIEGE BY AN ARMY OF COVENANTERS. THE CASTLE WAS SLIGHTED AND PARTLY DISMANTLED, BUT WAS STILL SUBSTANTIAL ENOUGH IN THE EARLY 19TH CENTURY TO ACT AS A PRISON FOR FRENCH TROOPS CAPTURED DURING THE NAPOLEONIC WAR.
The Model 770 Amphicar (seen on the left side of the photograph above) was named after its ability to achieve speeds of seven knots in the water and 70 mph on land. 3,878 Amphicars were manufactured in Germany from 1961 to 1968. During that time 3,046 were imported into the United States. The Amphicar is rear-engined and uses a 4-cylinder British-built Triumph Herald motor producing 43 hp. All Amphicars are convertibles, offered to civillians in four colors; Beach White, Regatta Red, Lagoon Blue, and Fjord Green (Aqua). Two American Presidents owned Amphicars; Jimmy Carter and Lyndon B. Johnson. President Johnson would invite friends and even foreign dignitaries to his Texas ranch for a joyride in his car.
Today, the Boathouse Orlando at Disney Springs is the only place in the world that offers the unforgettable & thrilling experience of a Captain’s Guided Tour in a vintage Amphicar. These rare cars drive on land and enter the water with a splash, taking you on a Captain Guided, 25-minute tour of the landmarks of Disney Springs. Their fleet of Amphicars were purchased from private collections worldwide – and less than 400 exist worldwide today.
-- Technical Information (or Nerdy Stuff) --
‧ Camera - Nikon D7200 (handheld)
‧ Lens – Nikkor 18-300mm Zoom
‧ ISO – 500
‧ Aperture – f/5.6
‧ Exposure – 1/125 second
‧ Focal Length – 210mm
The original RAW file was processed with Adobe Camera Raw and final adjustments were made with Photoshop CS6.
"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." ~Jeremiah 29:11
The best way to view my photostream is through Flickriver with the following link: www.flickriver.com/photos/photojourney57/
No one has ever found out why, but Austin Crawford was born with the ability to generate a strange purple energy glow from his hands. He kept it secret from everyone except his parents for a while, until he accidentally used his powers when being mugged, punching a man in the stomach and sending him flying into a nearby building, hospitalizing him. After that, Austin left his family for a life of secrecy, and sought help at the Research Genome Biometrics Laboratory, where he learned to control his powers. He wanted to help fight crime in New Blok City, however, he knew his small amounts of energy would be no match for most of the villains there. With the help of the lab(and thanks to his knowledge in engineering), Austin develpoed a strong suit that could resist bullets and fire, and was able to conduct electricity to the point where it wouldn't harm him. He also created two shield-like devices, which had small engines on the backs so Austin could fly when holding them. They also were able to conduct electricity very well, allowing the energy from Austin's hands to flow throughout them, creating a much more powerful blow when he hit something. He adopted the name "Sapphire Quartz" and went on to help stop crime in the city.
Okay, okay, I guess I went a little overboard with the effects :p
During this mornings Sea Safari i found a pod of 30 Short Beaked Common Dolphins about 4 miles off the coast at Paignton, they were mainly youngsters and were very excited to see us being extremely inquisitive. Here are two youngsters from the pod racing towards us at high speed.
Dolphins have spindle cells this gives the ability to communicate, identify each other, feel emotion , solve problems and have a sense of self, they share this ability along with elephants, gorillas and apes , whales and humans. There certainly is a sense of connection whenever i am near these animals. I have felt the same sense of connection when around elephants.
Welcome to Galactic Park
Taken during instrument calibration, this image helped test Webb's ability to dig up galactic "fossils." Ancient galaxies are so far that as space expands, their light has stretched into infrared wavelengths — Webb's specialty.
Did that large spiral galaxy towards the bottom of the image catch your eye? Named LEDA 2046648, it’s a little over a billion light-years from Earth and located in the constellation Hercules.
Using images such as this one, scientists can compare galactic “dinosaurs” with modern galaxies. In turn, this helps us learn more about how galaxies evolve — making Webb the ultimate space paleontologist.
Read more and download here: esawebb.org/images/potm2301a/
Credits: ESA/Webb, NASA and CSA, A. Martel.
Image description: A crowded field of galaxies is interspersed with bright 8-pointed stars on a dark background. The galaxies and stars come in a variety of sizes and colors, ranging from bluish white to orange. Some galaxies are large enough to make out spiral arms, while others look like faint smudges or pinpricks. The most prominent feature is a large, detailed spiral galaxy called LEDA 2046648, seen at an oblique angle towards the bottom of the frame. A smaller spiral galaxy is just below it. About one-quarter the size of its larger companion, this small galaxy looks like a miniature version of LEDA 2046648. Both of these spiral galaxies have glowing cores and areas of star formation lighting up their pale pink arms.
This image was taken just a couple footsteps away from my previous image at belmar beach. I decided to go under the pier to capture the action of the waves up close which just draws your eye into the ocean. I chose the black and white rendition over color simply because of the ability to add a bunch of contrast to give the image a 3 dimensional feel. Enjoy!
I really love how photography has taught me how to find these surreal and slightly magical moments in life. I mean, ten years ago I would have walked by this scene, maybe with something tugging slightly at a part of me that was cognizant on some level of what I was passing, but I would have been largely unseeing. I might have noticed the tree and the light, but that would have been the extent of the depth of my perception and understanding.
Since then, photography has become not merely the practice of making photographs. It is not merely the ability to compose and focus and understand a camera. It is not the ability to create a photo that sells better. I do not know all of just what photography is, mind you, but I think I know enough by now to know what it isn't, and it isn't those things.
It isn't pictures, it isn't selling, it isn't just magic hour, or Photoshop actions. It isn't even the camera.
I am still learning what it is, even while I learn what it isn't. And I have learned that a part of it at least is being able to pass by a spot like this, where life is not quite as ordinary as it first seems. To take those ephemeral figments, as intangible as the thoughts in our heads, and to grab onto them. Photography is - at least partially - perception. It is a process and a philosophy and a way of walking and seeing and doing.
It just so happens that it produces photographs.
Silence sur le lac – D'Annecy
Un moment suspendu sur les rives du lac d’Annecy.
Une scène minimaliste capturée en pose longue, où la brume et l’eau se confondent pour ne faire plus qu’un.
Ce que j’aime dans le noir et blanc, c’est sa capacité à révéler l’essentiel, à enlever le superflu pour ne laisser que l’émotion.
Données techniques :
• Appareil : Canon EOS 6D Mark II
• Objectif : Sigma 24-105mm F4 DG OS HSM | Art 013
• ISO 100 – 24 mm – f/11 – 402 s
• Filtre ND 100 000 utilisé
Silence on the Lake –D'Annecy
A suspended moment on the shores of Lake Annecy.
A minimalist long exposure scene, where mist and water blend into stillness.
What I love about black and white is its ability to strip things down to the essential — letting emotion speak louder than color.
Technical details:
• Camera: Canon EOS 6D Mark II
• Lens: Sigma 24-105mm F4 DG OS HSM | Art 013
• ISO 100 – 24 mm – f/11 – 402 s
• ND 100,000 filter used
#Annecy #LacdAnnecy #PhotographieNoirEtBlanc #LongueExposition #FineArt #Minimalisme #Canon6DMarkII #PoseLongue #FrancePhotography #BlackAndWhitePhotography
Read now: www.yumpu.com/user/360.gradi.magazine
My works on Pag. 144 to 151
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We talk about two ideal destinations for photography in this new issue: Soul of Dreams and Lost Lagoon.
In psychology, we talk about Consciousness by addressing critical issues related to what it is and how it allows us to identify ourselves.
In photography, we talk about Arnoo Planer and his ability to improvise in capturing "stolen shots."
In the area dedicated to art, we speak of Ciottolina Xue, an artist able to be powerfully communicative with his three-person works.
Asahra Lannok is the star of the musical sector of this number of 360 Gradi. She founded a singing school where classes are held in Second Life.
In the men's fashion sector, we talk about TMD events and some look proposals.
( chriiztophervail Resident )
Finally, we will talk about Camp Italia, an important reference point for the Italian community. An educational destination with many projects in the pipeline.
www.yumpu.com/en/document/read/65480880/360-gradi-magazin...
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Italian:
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In questo nuovo numero parliamo di due destinazioni ideali per la fotografia: Soul of Dreams e Lost Lagoon.
Nel settore psicologia parliamo della Coscienza affrontando tematiche importanti relative a cosa sia e come ci permette di identificarci.
Nel settore fotografia parliamo di Arnoo Planer e della sua capacità di improvvisazione nel cogliere "scatti rubati".
Nel settore dedicato all'arte parliamo di Ciottolina Xue, artista in grado di essere fortemente comunicativa con i suoi lavori tridimansionali.
Asahra Lannok è la protagonista del settore musicale di questo numero di 360 Gradi. Ha fondato una scuola di canto dove si tengono lezioni in Second Life.
Nel settore della moda maschile, parliamo di TMD event e di alcune proposte di look.
Infine, parleremo di Camp Italia, un punto di riferimento importante per la comunità italiana. Una destinatione educational con tanti progetti in cantiere.
www.yumpu.com/it/document/read/65477264/360-gradi-magazin...
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HBW!!
zen magnolia, j c raulston arboretum, ncsu, Raleigh, north carolina
Another day and another memory from my times cross-dressed as a woman. I wrote the other day of my preference for cross-dressing in private. I have only ventured out as a woman in public very rarely. I lack confidence in my ability to look female and this causes me a lot of angst on the few occasions I have been out in public cross-dressed.
One should ‘never say never’ as perhaps my confidence may grow in the future, who knows! At the moment I have to admit the few trips out I’ve had have proved more traumatic than pleasurable. I just could not relax or believe I looked like a woman.
I have tried and failed to develop a female persona and appearance to work in the real world and to be honest, this is an issue I genuinely don’t think I can overcome. I promised my wife and family I would only cross-dress in private so the rare trips out feel like I am betraying their trust. I feel bad as I am not being truthful with them. I had not admitted I was going to step out the door dressed as a woman and trying to pass myself off as a female. This awareness along with my lack of confidence with my cross-dressing abilities is what induces the fear and traumatic experiences. Instead of elation I just feel fearful. In private I have none of that and experience real joy, excitement and pure delight. In public I feel a failure.
So let me explain this picture. I am obviously in a car in a public place. I did in fact venture out soon after this picture. In fact, I recorded two videos of this trip. What is interesting, in the second video I express I am happy about it. I can admit son after the recording my mood went in the opposite direction and the fear kicked in once more.
I was fortunate to be accompanied by a friend on that trip. She was looking out for me and kindly recorded the video and took the stills. I doubt without her being with me I would ever have gone through with what I did.
I did find myself questioning myself. I was not at all sure just why I actually had to go out in public as a woman? I think as cross-dressers many of us are unconsciously steered that direction. There are male to female cross-dressers who are confident and at ease enough to go out in public as a woman. I admire their confidence. Not all of us though have such confidence. It’s interesting that despite my enjoyment of cross-dressing in private I feel like I am a failure because I only dress in private and do not go out in public. I know I shouldn’t feel that but I do. Despite my feelings of failure I am not actually motivated to go out in public as I don’t enjoy the angst and betrayal of trust with my wife and family.
I do enjoy recording the videos as my female self and I think this is probably my best outlet for expressing my female persona. As for this picture, I was very reluctant to get out of the car when the picture was taken. I’m smiling with nervousness and I was feeling incredibly anxious and just wanted to drive away. The two videos are a brief highlight of the whole experience. I wanted to be honest and explain after my final words the whole thing became overwhelming and the happiness I expressed on camera was soon replaced by angst!
courage: the ability to do something that frightens one.
Continuing on with my series featuring Grindelbane students and alumni and their Hogwarts houses, I introduce Dallis MacInnis, a Gryffindor Alumni who now works in St. Mungos’ Grindelbane Academy Wing, caring for students who were once in the same position she was in. The youngest child and only daughter of Carianne and Thomas MacInnis, Dallis was born and raised in the lush country of Scotland where she and her seven… yes seven brothers never had a dull moment venturing through the wilds of their beloved home. With family traditions that included wrangling the Loch Ness Kelpie, the MacInnis family were a tight knit bunch… but with all that family bonding easily comes a feeling of being overwhelmed. After graduating Grindelbane Academy’s Healer Apprenticeship at 19, Dallis and a friend left home and ventured through the European Wizarding World. The pair became animagus together, Dallis taking the form of a red Fennic Fox, and used these animal forms on their journey. After a traumatic run in with a less than legal Wixen Circus, Dallis returned back to her roots in Fledge Rock and took on a job as a healer at the hospital. She lost her hand in a splinching accident but was lucky enough to get a prosthetic made to replace the lost appendage. Dallis is known for being a friendly and bubbly person who is always there with exactly what you need, whether that be a shoulder to cry on, a snack, medical care, or anything in between. She lives in an old converted van next to a pond of Mermish she’s somehow befriended and loves getting visitors both familiar and stranger.
Wearing:
Body: Legacy Female Classic
Head: Genus Baby Face Classic
Skin: [Glam Affair] Hanna Layer [ Genus ] 004 E
Shape: Custom
Eyebrows: Just Magnetized - Natural Eyebrows set 07 for GENUS
Eyes: Buzzeri. Moody Eyes - Choco/Sage (R) + Sage (L)
Face Freckles: WarPaint* IWokeUpLikeThis3 - freckles + blusher
Lipstick: WarPaint* Lip Nectar [set 1] - nude
Eyeshadow: WarPaint* Scintillance eyeshadow - taupe *Now at Anthem!*
Nose Contour: dnadolli.strongNOSECONTOUR
Hair: DOUX - Sins
Clothing:
Dress: ~Nerido~ Vanessa Dress-Red
Accessories:
Wand: Nishi: Lamia Wand (Medium)
Septum: #SADGIRL - Luna Septum - Gold
Hat: 02. ERSCH - Harriet Gacha {unrigged} hat RARE
Prosthetic Hand: [Cubic Cherry] {Delicatessa} V2 *New at ENGINE ROOM!*
Almost that time of year again. I can find lots of things wrong with this particular image, but it was one of the best sunrises I got last spring.
One of the good things about looking back at images from the past, is being able to analyze your personal progress as a photographer, and the ability to easily notice mistakes that you no longer make...
Lit up wildly by Golden Hour sunshine the cargo vessel Iver Ability lies anchored in Dublin Bay on the evening of January 4th 2017.
I get the idea behind a cross-over car: combining the practicality of a minivan with off-road ability and the fuel economy and comfort of a regular car sound like a great idea, but the end result often seems to offer none of the above and ends up being hideous.
Author's Note: There is a lot of stigma regarding cannabis (often referred to as "herb" in this story) and it being used as a "drug." Cannabis is a healthy, natural herb with many medicinal benefits. There is a lot of misinformation out there and I encourage you, my crewmates, to do your research.
For people like Vincent, cannabis has the ability to ease chronic pain, silence anxiety, promote restful sleep, and improve overall mental wellness and so much, much more!
While Vincent is using it as an escape in this specific chapter, it is not any different than using sugar as an escape to feel better when you are having a bad day. And remember that you, too, can always make healthier and better choices just like Vincent did.
DISCLAIMER: This "be like Vincent" does NOT include his stupid idea to smoke while having broken and fractured ribs! If you have broken ribs, DO NOT BE LIKE VINCENT!
>.>
<.<
Have an edible.
---
Author's Note: There is a lot of stigma regarding cannabis (often referred to as "herb" in this story) and it being used as a "drug." Cannabis is a healthy, natural herb with many medicinal benefits. There is a lot of misinformation out there and I encourage you, my crewmates, to do your research.
For people like Vincent, cannabis has the ability to ease chronic pain, silence anxiety, promote restful sleep, and improve overall mental wellness and much, much more!
While Vincent is using it as an escape in this specific chapter, it is not any different than using sugar as an escape to feel better when you are having a bad day. And remember that you, too, can always make healthier and better choices just like Vincent did.
DISCLAIMER: This "be like Vincent" does NOT include his stupid idea to smoke while having broken and fractured ribs! If you have broken ribs, DO NOT BE LIKE VINCENT!
>.>
<.<
Have an edible.
---
Vincent waited quietly in front of fire as he turned his new pipe over in his fingers and inspected it in the light. 'It really is well crafted,' he thought approvingly to himself. Rosamund was the sort who collected and sold only quality goods. He had no doubts that it would smoke as she said it would. Speaking of which, he could hear her approaching from behind. He glanced over his shoulder as she came alongside him and sat down with a little groan of relaxation. "This is the finest indica I have, Captain," she announced as set a small but wide box in her lap. "This here is from my personal collection!"
Already Vincent could smell its delicious, pungent scent! As she lifted the lid, Vincent only had to wait a split second before it really hit his nostrils. And as she lifted a fairly good sized bud and offered it out to him, he took it so gently between his fingertips. In the fire's ambience he inspected the tiny crystals and resin with his sharp eye. Approving of the density and the dark colors of purple and green, he brought it to his nose and inhaled slowly and deep. He actually gave the softest moan of appreciation before glancing at her with a teasing smirk and offered it back to her.
"Personal collection, eh? Should I be worried about competition, my dear?"
"Hm..."
She dared to look contemplative as if she really had to think about it. But as Vincent quirked his brow at her as if calling her bluff, she let out a little snort and laughed before she replied, "Actually, Captain, you should be thanking me. Do you remember those seeds I picked up from you the Summer before last? The ones from that INCREDIBLE harvest that I said should be called 'Magic Mermaid' because I felt like one?"
"How could I forget? I’m still amused as fuck at how high you got."
"Well, this was grown partially from those seeds."
"Really?!"
"Really! I have a buyer over in Carsottoph who has a special greenhouse just for this. He's been buying your seeds off me for a couple of years now. In fact," she continued with a sly little grin as she began picking apart and grinding the bud between her fingers, "he asked me to let you know he's interested in doing business with you. Do let me know if you'd like his contact information. But not tonight! Tonight is for 'personal business,' yes?" She winked at him then continued to grind up the bud more finely with her fingers.
Well, now she certainly had Vincent's attention! He flashed her a small, appreciative grin and replied, "Much gratitude to you, my dear. Let's see how well this smokes, and I will let you know. You know I only do business with the best." "Which is why you come to me," she responded confidently. "I wouldn't steer you wrong, Captain. Pipe!"
Vincent handed over his pipe gratefully and watched with anticipation as Rosamund stuffed the ground up herb into the bowl and filled it mostly up. He was amazed at how much could really fit in there! Then she pulled out another small bud and began to quickly ground it up and stuffed that in there too. Then she treated him further by digging into her box and pulling out some of the finest bits; almost like powder. Vincent knew this made the effects of smoking the herb even stronger! She added a whole layer of it right on top and offered the pipe back out to Vincent with a cheeky smile as Vincent's eyes widened in surprise at such an offering!
"Here's to you, Captain. Mm, here, let me get my wick."
"You're spoiling me tonight!"
"For the best there can only be the best. Cheers!"
It had been a couple of weeks since he'd smoked and so he knew it may hit him harder than it had in the past. She had put so much in here! Was he complaining? Hell no! He watched as Rosamund withdrew a hemp wick from her box and set the box down beside her on her seat. Once she lit it from the fire she then offered it out to Vincent and waited eagerly for his reaction. Meanwhile she fished out her joint from the safety of her bosom once again. She had the same herb rolled up that she had stuffed in his pipe and was looking forward to smoking this with him.
Vincent wasted no more time and gladly lit his new pipe. The familiar burn that moved through Vincent's lungs felt harsher than he was used to. He could already feel a cough building! He knew what would likely happen next would be worth it; at least he hoped. He'd come this far! There was no going back. He pulled the pipe from his lips, inhaling deeper with fresh air and letting the smoke fill his lungs completely. But before he could properly exhale, he abruptly and painfully clutched his ribs as he fell mercy to a fierce and painful coughing fit! 'Two weeks too fucking long!' he thought miserably as the continuous jerking motion sent white hot pain shooting throughout his body in waves.
Rosamund made a slight grimace as she watched him struggle to push through the agony. She had to literally bite her tongue to keep from cautioning Vincent as he brought the pipe to his lips again. Vincent wouldn't want her opinion on this matter. He knew exactly what he was doing and if the pain was worth it to him then so be it! At least, that's how she saw it. With any luck, he'd not be caring about pain soon.
Vincent struggled through two more draws off his pipe before he finally set it down in his lap and passed over the hemp wick. He needed to come down from the pain before he smoked more. Meanwhile Rosamund took the wick and lit her joint and inhaled long and deep. She remained silent and just listened to the sounds of the fire as it licked and crackled around the wood.
For a short time the two of them sat in silence. Soon Vincent felt he could smoke more so he did just that. This time he barely had to cough and was thankfully able to slowly take more steady pulls from his pipe. He was starting to feel a familiar, tingly pressure building around his eyes, and he prayed relief would not be far behind. And what impressed him was that despite the pain he was in, he was still feeling the first touch of effects anyways. To distract himself while the pain eased down, Vincent stared into the fire and allowed himself to get lost in the sounds and ambience.
Before he knew it he'd gone smoked down half the bowl. The tension in his shoulders and back had loosened more and thank God the silent onslaught of bullying thoughts had eased. Instead his focus was more on how lovely the fire and embers were and how they glowed and how peaceful it was to decompress like this.
Suddenly a LOUD crack and pop sound as embers flew high into the air! It caused Rosamund to jump and gasp in surprise which drew Vincent back from his spacing out. He glanced at her and chuckled before he shifted and stretched on the rock. And as he did, he became aware that his mind was blissfully blank and even a little dazed! The fire and Rosamund were the only things really on his mind now. While he felt occasional small, painful pulses move through his ribcage he found he just didn't care about it! Not one flying fuck! He was high and there were more interesting things to focus on now! Even having company wasn't so bad anymore. Silently he prayed his thanks to the heavens above!
"How are you feeling?"
Vincent inhaled deeply and let it out as he thought about it. How did he feel? To be honest he didn't really know. All that really mattered was that he didn't feel how he felt before. His troubles seemed so far away, and right now he just didn't care, which is what he wanted. With that in mind, Vincent turned his gaze towards Rosamund and declared with a small grin, "Like I want some more." Rosamund laughed softly and joined Vincent in smoking as he lit his pipe once again.
"This is just what I needed," he admitted. "You have no idea how grateful I am for you right now. Tonight's just been one thing after another." Vincent sighed and drew on his pipe once more time; slow and deep, before setting it down in his lap and he quieted. Beside him, Rosamund blushed slightly again before clearing her throat softly. She hadn't expected the captain to say that. It wasn't often he spoke about personal troubles. But, then again, the herb could really loosen one's tongue. It seemed like he really had a lot on his mind.
"Well, I'm grateful for your company!" she told him sincerely. "And I sure hope that being here with me and smoking the herb makes up for the shitty evening! How is Damien, by the way? I was expecting he'd be with you."
"He's fine. I just wanted to come out on my own tonight," he explained with a small shrug. Vincent didn't really know what else to say. They had worked things out. Vincent had just needed some time to clear his head and breathe was all. While he valued Rosamund in many ways, he wasn't about to divulge his personal troubles to her; especially that Damien was the reason he was here. There was still a professional line and he had to keep it drawn.
"I'll bring him next time. Though he'll be leaving for a few weeks soon. He's going to be visiting family."
"Yeah? He doesn't seem like much of a family man. Though I'm sure a few girls in my tribe would be happy to test the theory."
"Heh, I bet they would. He really isn't, but I'm making him go. Otherwise, I'm going to end up in the insane asylum."
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Just a joke," Vincent replied quickly as he realized that last part slipped out despite his intention to not say anything. Yet, he couldn't stop himself as he continued overexplaining, "He's fine. We're fine. It's....fine. You are definitely making up for the shitty evening. So...thank you."
Vincent gave her a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before he averted his gaze back to the fire. Then he brought his pipe to his lips as if nothing were wrong. He knew that hadn't been very convincing.
And just so, Rosamund had made a small little face as fought not to ask aloud: 'Are you serious?' Instead, she licked her lips and brought her joint to her lips and took a slow, deep drag off of it. Thankfully, Vincent hadn't seen her expression, she thought.
"Anything for you, Captain. You are always welcome at my hearth."
Vincent could hear the sincerity in her voice and he believed it. She really was a dependable associate. He'd known her a long time now and had watched her grow to the businesswoman she was today; a successful one at that. But now he saw her as more than just a person for business. Perhaps...perhaps he had for some time and hadn't realized it. Either way, he was glad to realize that he was starting to make another genuine friend. Perhaps he wasn't as alone in this world as he thought.
...
Vincent spent the next three hours with Rosamund. He enjoyed their little banter here and there. Most of it was professional; picking on each other's businesses and talking about Summers past spent in business together. Vincent was happy to talk about the past. He hadn't brought up anything really new. Catching up for real would be another time.
Vincent had smoked down the entire bowl and had received the relief he so badly needed; physically and mentally. He knew he would be aching later from all the coughing but still didn't care and knew it would be worth it. He would take the bhang to help supplement while his body adjusted to smoking again and use it more sparingly.
"Thank you again for everything, Rosamund. By the way, I definitely want that Carsottoph grower's name," Vincent was telling Rosamund as he got ready to go. He tucked his pipe and newly purchased herb away; concealed in a way one would never know it was on him. Behind him, Rosamund was tucking away her special wares with a smug little grin. Then she hopped back down from the wagon and folded her arms across her abdomen and smiled at him.
"Good! I knew you would! When you come back next, I'll get that to you. Be well, Captain. See you on Monday?"
"See you then."
Vincent inclined his head respectfully and with an appreciative smile, he turned and set off for the city. Now he was feeling lighter and better. He felt he could finally breathe again. This was infinitely a much better feeling! Good ol' Rosie!
---
NEXT PART:
www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/53041184499/in/datepo...
To read the rest of the story, here's the album link:
www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/albums/72157717075565127
***Please note this is a BOY LOVE (BL/yaoi/gay) series. It is a slow burn and rated PG13!***
Special thank you to my husband Vin (Be My Mannequin? Pose Store) for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!
And thank you to Mythra Rose-Älskling for starring as our lovely, dependable Rosamund!
DISCORD SERVER: That's right! The Captain and The Engineer has a Discord Server! If you wanna join and chat with other crewmates and see what's new and happening before it gets posted to Flickr, click the link!
***NEW!!!!***
The Captain and the Engineer now has a FACEBOOK PAGE! Please come Like, Follow, and join the crew! Thank you so much for all your support!
FACEBOOK PAGE:
"Intelligence is the ability to adapt to change." Stephen Hawking.
I did not plan to photograph Sepúlveda on this trip in Segovia, but after calling several towns to get information about the lighting of their castles and receive only negative responses (they only turn the lights on for the weekends or for special occasions), I chose to come up to here, since I knew well this viewpoint from which we can see the town above its spectacular location.
My initial composition was different, but when the sun brushed the horizon and I saw the magnificent light with the incredible clouds that seemed to gallop like horses through the sky full of color, I decided to change at the last moment until I found this composition that I considered much better than the original. Sometimes, even if we arrive in time and decide the composition beforehand, we must be ready to take advantage of circumstances and be able to adapt to change.
-------------------------
"La inteligencia es la habilidad para adaptarse al cambio." Stephen Hawking.
No tenía pensado fotografiar Sepúlveda en este viaje por Segovia, pero después de llamar a varias localidades para informarme sobre la iluminación de sus castillos y recibir solo respuestas negativas (solo se encienden en fin de semana o en ocasiones especiales), opté por ir hasta allí, ya que conocía bien este mirador desde el que se divisa el pueblo en su espectacular ubicación.
Mi composición inicial era otra, pero cuando el sol rozaba el horizonte y vi la magnífica luz con las increíbles nubes que parecían galopar como caballos por el cielo lleno de color, decidí cambiar en el último momento hasta que encontré esta composición que me pareció mucho mejor que la original. A veces, aunque lleguemos con tiempo y decidamos la composición previamente, hay que estar listos para aprovechar las circunstancias y ser capaces de adaptarnos al cambio.
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.
Concerned about her beau, Selwyn Spencely’s, true affections for her, and worried about the threat his cousin and 1923 debutante, Pamela Fox-Chavers, posed to her own potential romantic plans with Selwyn, Lettice concocted a ruse to spy on Pamela and Selwyn at the Royal Horticultural Society’s 1923 Great Spring Show*. As luck would have it, Lettice ran into Pamela and Selwyn, quite literally in the latter’s case, and they ended up having tea together. Whilst not the appropriate place to talk about Selwyn’s mother, Lady Zinnia, whom Lettice suspects of arranging a match between Selwyn and Pamela, who are cousins, Selwyn has agreed to organise a dinner with Lettice where they can talk openly about the future of their relationship and the interference of Lady Zinnia. However, whilst Lettice waits for the dinner to be arranged, she has a wonderful distraction to take her mind off things.
That is why today we are far from London, returning to Wiltshire, where Lettice grew up at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie and his new wife Arabella. However, we are not at Glynes, but rather in Glynes Village at the local village hall where a much loved annual tradition is taking place. Every year the village have a summer fête, run by the local women and overseen by Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, to help raise money for a worthy cause in the village. The summer fête is one of the highlights of the village and country calendar as it always includes a flower show, a cake stand, stalls run by local famers’ wives selling homemade produce, games of hoopla, a coconut shy, a tombola and a jumble sale, a white elephant stall and a fortune teller – who is always local haberdasher Mrs. Maginot who has a theatrical bent and manages the Glynes theatrical players as well as her shop in the village high street. All the stalls and entertainments are held either in the village hall or the grounds surrounding it. Not only do the citizens of the village involve themselves in the fête, but also the gentry, and there is always much excitement when matriarch of the Brutons, Lady Gwyneth – Gerald’s mother, and Lady Isobel Tyrwhitt – Arabella’s mother, attend. Neither lady have been well over the last few years with Lady Gwyneth suffering a spate of bronchial infections and Lady Isobel receiving treatment for cancer, so it is a rare treat to have both in attendance. This year’s summer fête is a special one for Arabella in particular, for as the newly minted Mrs. Leslie Chetwynd, she now joins the effort to help run the Glynes summer fête for the first time and has been given the second-hand clothing stall to run as part of the jumble sale.
The Glynes village hall is a hive of activity, and the cavernous space resounds with running footsteps, voluble chatter from the mostly female gathering, hammering and children’s laughter and tears as they run riot around the adults as they set up their stalls. Mr. Lovegrove, who runs the village shop, climbs a ladder which is held by the elderly church verger Mr. Lewis and affixes the brightly coloured Union Jacks and bunting that have been used every year since the King’s Coronation in 1911 around the walls. Lady Sadie casts a critical eye over the white elephant stall, rearranging items to put what she considers the best quality items on more prominent display, whilst removing a select few pieces which she thinks unsuitable for sale, which she passes to Newman, her ladies maid, to dispose of. Bramley, the Chetwynd’s butler arranges and categorises books for the second-hand book stall, perhaps spending a little too much time perusing some of the titles. Mrs. Elliott who runs the Women’s Institute manages the influx of local women bringing in cakes with regimental efficiency. And amongst all the noise, activity and excitement, Arabella busies herself unpacking boxes of old clothes and tries her best to make her trestle an attractive addition to the summer fête. Lettice perches on an old bentwood chair, offering suggestions to her sister-in-law whilst pulling faces as she lifts up various donations before depositing them in disgust where they had been beforehand.
“Here we are then,” Gerald announces as he walks across the busy floor of the hall bearing a wooden tray containing several teacups and a plate of cupcakes from the refreshments stand, narrowly avoiding Mrs. Lovegrove’s two youngest children as they chase one another around his legs. The sound of his jolly call and his footsteps joining all the other cacophony of setting up going on around him. “Refreshments for the hard workers,” he looks at Arabella. “And the not-so-hard-workers.” he looks at Lettice.
“Don’t be cheeky!” Lettice says to him with a hard stare, letting a limp stocking fall from her hand and collapse into a wrinkled pool on the trestle table’s surface.
Gerald puts the three tea cups down where he can find a surface on Arabella’s trestle table, followed by a long blue and gilt edged platter on which sit three very festive cupcakes featuring Union Jacks made of marzipan sticking out of white clouds of icing.
“Mrs. Casterton’s special cupcakes.” he announces proudly with a beaming smile.
“How on earth did you get those, Gerald?” gasps Lettice in surprise, eyeing the dainty cakes greedily. “Mrs. Casterton hasn’t let me take food from her kitchen since I started dining at the table with the rest of the family, never mind pinch anything from her stall for the fundraiser!”
“It helps when you aren’t her employer’s indulged youngest child.” Gerald says, tapping his nose knowingly.
“I was not an indulged child!” Lettice defends, raising her hand to the boat neckline of her frock and grasping her single strand of creamy white pearls hanging about her neck. “You were more indulged by Aunt Gwen than I ever was by Mater or Pater.”
“Oh, just ignore him, Tice!” laughs Arabella from her place behind the trestle. “You know Gerald has always had the ability to charm anything from anyone when he wants to.”
“That’s true,” Lettice replies, eyeing Gerald with a cocked eyebrow and a bemused smile as she picks up her magenta and gilt rimmed cup and sips her tea. “I had forgotten that.”
“What can I say?” laughs Gerald proudly with a shrug of his shoulders.
“It’s not so much what you can say as what you can do, Gerald.” mutters Arabella with a frustrated sigh.
“I am at your service, my lady?” Gerald replies, making a sweeping bow before Arabella and Lettice, who both laugh at his jester like action.
“Be careful what you promise, Gerald.” giggles Lettice.
“Bella would never expect too much from me, Lettice.” Gerald retorts with a smile. “She’s known me all her life and she knows what my limitations are.”
“Well, I was hoping you could help me by working some magic on my second hand clothing stall.” Arabella remarks with another frustrated sigh as she tugs at the old fashioned shirtwaister** blouse with yellowing lace about the collar. “I’ve tried and tried all morning, but nothing I seem to do helps make anything look more modern and more attractive to buy.”
Lettice and Gerald look around at Arabella’s stall. The shirtwaister outfit with its pretty, albeit slightly marked, lace, tweed skirt and leather belt with a smart, yet old fashioned Art Nouveau buckle really is the most attractive piece that she has on display. Around it on the surface of her trestle are a jumble of yellowing linen napkins complete with tarnished napkin rings, a selection of embroidered, tatted*** and crocheted doilies, mismatched pairs of leather and lace gloves and several rather worn looking hats that are really only suitable for gardening now, rather than being worn to church services on Sunday.
“I warned you Gerald.” Lettice says with a knowing wink.
“Don’t you remember how much we all felt sorry for whomever ran the second-hand clothing stall at the fête each year as children, Bella?” Gerald asks.
“It was always the short straw.” Lettice adds.
“Yes, being stuck under the piercing stare of His Majesty.” Gerald indicates to the portrait of King George V, dating back to the pre-war years when the King still had colour in his hair.
“The worst stall to have because none of the villagers ever seem to have anything nice or remotely fashionable to donate, even for a good cause like new books for the village school.” Lettice picks up a pretty primrose yellow napkin. “These are nice at least.”
“Except there are only three of them.” points out Arabella with a disappointed air. “I can’t seem to find a fourth.” She picks up a red dyed straw hat in the vain hope that it will be there, even though she has searched beneath it three times already. “And I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Tea for two, perhaps?” Gerald suggests hopefully as he picks up his own teacup and takes a sip of tea.
“Oh, you two are no help!” scoffs Arabella. “I’ve a right mind to stick you both with these!” She grasps a pair of knitting needles complete with some rather dreadfully made rows of incomplete knitting and a ball of wool and thrusts them through the air between she, Lettice, and Gerald. “They’ll get you working.”
“Even if they do, Bella, we aren’t miracle workers.” remarks Gerald.
All three of them laugh good heartedly.
“Oh I must make the best of it,” Arabella sighs resignedly as she tugs at the left leg-of-mutton sleeve**** of the shirtwaister. “After all, this is my first year as Leslie’s wife, and the first jumble sale I am actively helping to run to help raise funds for the village. I must make this stall a success no matter what.” The steely determination in her voice surprises her as she speaks. “I’m a Chetwynd now, and I can’t disappoint the villagers with a poor show.”
“Nor Mater.” adds Lettice, taking another sip of tea.
“No indeed!” agrees Gerald. “Lady Sadie will be judging you from afar, Bella, rest assured. If your stall isn’t a great success, you’ll hear about it.”
“In a dozen little quips.” Lettice adds.
“More like a hundred.” corrects Gerald.
“Tearing delicately phrased strips off you.” agrees Lettice.
“Inflicting as much pain for as long as possible.” adds Gerald with seriousness.
“Oh stop, Gerald!” laughs Arabella. “She isn’t anywhere near as much of a dragon as you and Tice paint her to be.”
“You’ve only been married to the family for a little while now,” Lettice counters, looking at her sister-in-law over the magenta and gilt painted rim of her cup. “And you and Leslie have your own lives and are left pretty much to your own devices down in the Glynes Dower House from what I can gather. We’ll give you a little while longer to find out the truth about your wicked mother-in-law.” She smiles cheekily.
“I have grown up alongside you, going in and out of your house, Tice,” Arabella replies with a dismissive wave of her hand. “So it’s not like Sadie is an unknown quantity to me.”
“But you’ve never been a recipient of her acerbic tongue either, I’ll wager.” adds Gerald dourly. “You’re far too sweet and compliant a young daughter-in-law for that, but both Lettice and I have.”
“I still don’t know,” Lettice queries, turning her attention to Gerald. “What was it you said to Mater that night of Hunt Ball that set her so against you, Gerald? I’ve never known her to take against anyone so vehemently, except perhaps poor Aunt Egg who can never do any right in her eyes.”
Gerald blushes, remembering the altercation he had with Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, at the ball. In a slightly inebriated state he told her that neither she nor Lettice had any sway over Selwyn Spencely’s choice of a wife, any more than Selwyn did himself, explaining that it was his mother, the Duchess of Mumford, Lady Zinnia, who would choose a wife for him. “I keep telling you, darling girl. I really don’t remember,” he replies awkwardly, covering his tracks as best as he can. “If you remember, I was rather tight***** that night on your father’s champagne.”
“Well,” Arabella says with a sigh. “I’m determined not to incur her wrath, even though I’m sure it’s nowhere near as awful as you two suggest.”
“Oh-oh!” Gerald mutters under his breath to Lettice. “In coming.”
“Oh no.” moans Lettice quietly in return behind the painted smile she places on her face as she, Gerald and Arabella are suddenly set upon by the Miss Evanses, the two spinster sisters who live in Holland House, a Seventeenth Century manor house in the village.
The trio smile benignly as the two sisters twitter to one another in crackling voices that sound like crisp autumn leaves underfoot as they approach them.
“Well, twice in as many weeks, Miss Chetwynd!” exclaims the younger of the Miss Evanses in delight, a joyous smile spreading across her dry, unpainted lips. “Last week at the Royal Horticultural Society’s Great Spring Show, and now here! How very blessed we are to see you again.”
“How do you do, Miss Evans, Miss Evans,” Lettice acknowledges them both with a curt nod from her seat. She glances at the two old women, who must be in their seventies at least, both dressed in a similar style to when she saw them last week at the Royal Horticultural Society’s Great Spring Show, in floral gowns of pre-war Edwardian era length, their equally old fashioned whale bone S-bend corsets****** forcing their breasts into giant monobosoms down which sautoirs******* of glittering Edwardian style beads on gold chains cascade. Wearing toques with feather aigrettes jutting out of them atop their waved white hair they look like older versions of Queen Mary.
“I’m afraid you are a little early for the jumble sale, Miss Evans and Miss Evans,” Arabella remarks sweetly. “We are still setting up.”
“Oh, thank you! We know, Mrs. Chetwynd.” twitters the elder of the Miss Evanses, surprising Arabella a little as she still gets used to being referred to by her new married name. “I was just remarking to Henrietta this very morning over breakfast that we do so much look forward to the village fête every year.”
“Yes, it’s a nice way for us to be able to support the local community in our own small way, isn’t that right Geraldine?” enthuses her sister, raising her white lace glove clad hand to her wrinkled and dry mouth as she giggles in a rather unseemly girlish way.
“Indeed yes, Henrietta. It is to aid the school this year, is it not?”
“It is Miss Evans.” Arabella confirms. “To help buy new books for the children.”
“A very fine cause, I must say,” the younger of the Miss Evanses remarks indulgently. “Helping the young ones to read and develop their fertile minds. Rather like gardening, wouldn’t you say?”
“It is not even remotely like gardening!” quips her sister. “Stop talking such nonsense Henrietta.”
“We shall of course be glad of your patronage when the jumble sale opens in an hour.” Arabella quickly says in an effort to diffuse any unpleasantness between the two spinster sisters, at the same time emphasising the time the sale begins.
“Well,” adds the elder of the Miss Evanses seriously. “We shall of course come and spend a few shillings and pence when it opens officially, but…”
“Oh!” interrupts the younger of the Miss Evanses. “Is your frock designed by Master Bruton, Miss Chetwynd?” She addresses Gerald in the old fashioned deference of the village and county folk when addressing the children of the bigger aristocratic houses.
“Yes, Miss Evans. Mr. Bruton,” Lettice applies gravatas to the correct reference to Gerald’s name now that he is of age. “Did design my frock.”
“Oh it’s ever so smart!” the younger of the sisters enthuses.
“Thank you, Miss Evans.” Gerald acknowledges her.
“And your hat?” Miss Evans points to the yellow straw hat. “Didn’t I see you wearing that at Master Leslie’s wedding to Miss Arabella?”
“Mrs. Chetwynd, I think you mean, Henrietta.” corrects her sister with a sharpness to her remark.
“Oh yes!” bristles the younger Miss Evans at her sister’s harsh correction, raising her hand to her mouth again. “Yes of course! Mrs. Chetwynd, I do apologise.”
“It’s quite alright, Miss Evans.” Arabella assures her. “I am still getting used to being Mrs. Chetwynd myself.”
“How very observant of you, Miss Evans.” Lettice addresses the younger of the siblings. “I did indeed have my hat made for Leslie and Bella’s wedding. It was made by a friend of Mr. Bruton’s, Miss Harriet Milford.”
“Yes, well thinking of hats, I…” begins the elder Miss Evans.
“Oh it’s most becoming, Miss Chetwynd.” the younger Miss Evans interrupts her sister again as she compliments Lettice in an obsequious manner, followed by another twittering giggle.
“I can send someone down to Holland House this afternoon after the fête with her details if you like.” Lettice replies. “The next time you’re in London, you might pay her a call.”
The two sisters give one another a sour look at the idea, their lips thinning and their eyes lowering as they nod to one another in unison before turning back to Lettice and Gerald.
“Aside from the Great Spring Show, we don’t have much call to go up to London these days, do we Henrietta?”
“Indeed no, Geraldine.” agrees the younger Miss Evans between pursed lips, a tinge of regret in her statement.
“Besides we find the services of Mrs. Maginot’s in the high street to be quite adequate.”
“Good lord!” gasps Gerald, causing the two spinster sisters to blush at his strong language. “Is old Mrs. Maginot still going?” He chuckles. “Fancy that!”
The elder Miss Evans clears her dry and raspy throat awkwardly before continuing. “For our more bucolic, and doubtlessly simple tastes, Master Bruton, we find Mrs. Maginot to be quite satisfactory.” Both sisters raise their lace gloved hands to their toques in unison, patting the runched floral cotton lovingly. “We aren’t quite as fashionable as you smart and select London folk down here in sleepy little Glynes, Master Bruton, Miss Chetwynd, but we manage to keep up appearances.”
“On indeed yes, Miss Evans.” Lettice replies with an amused smile. “No-one could fault you on maintaining your standards.”
“I imagine you will soon be designing Miss Chetwnd’s own wedding frock, Master Bruton.” the younger of the Miss Evanses announces rather vulgarly.
“That’s only if I let her get married, Miss Evans,” Gerald teases her indulgently. “I might like to whisk her away and lock her in a tower so that I can keep her all to myself.”
“After what we all saw with our own eyes at the Hunt Ball, I’m sorry Master Bruton, but I don’t think you are in the running for Miss Chetwynd’s affections!” the younger Miss Evans twittering giggle escapes her throat yet again as her eyes sparkle with delight at the very faintest whiff of any gossip.
“How is Mr. Spencely, Miss Chetwynd?” the elder Miss Evans asks pointedly, her scrutinising gaze studying Lettice’s face.
Lettice blushes at the directness of both Miss Evans’ question and her steely gaze. “Oh, he’s quite well, as far as I know, Miss Evans.” she replies awkwardly.
“As far as you know?” the older woman’s outraged tone betrays her surprise as she looks quizzically into Lettice’s flushed face.
“Well, I haven’t seen Selw… err, Mr. Spencely just as of late.”
“Oh?” the elder Miss Evans queries. “I thought we saw you leave the tent we were in at the Great Spring Show, on the arm of Mr. Spencely.”
“Yes, I’m sure it was him, Miss Chetwynd.” adds the younger Miss Evans as she raises a lace clad finger in thought. “He’s very striking and hard to mistake for someone else.”
Silently Lettice curses the beady eyed observation the two spinster sisters are known for. Of course, they of all people at the bustling and crowded Chelsea flower show, noticed her inadvertent stumble into Selwyn and then her departure with him. Although perfectly innocent, and accompanied by her married friend Margot Channon, and Selwyn’s cousin, Pamela Fox-Chavers, she can see how easily the Miss Evanses can construe the situation to their own advantage of spreading salacious London gossip about Lettice, as daughter of the local squire, around the citizenry of Glynes village.
“I believe you were here for a purpose, Miss Evans.” Gerald pipes up, quickly defending his best friend from any more uncomfortable cross examination.
“Oh,” the elder Miss Evans replies, the disappointment at the curtailing of her attempt to gather gossip clear in both her tone of voice and the fall of her thin and pale face. “Yes.” She turns to Arabella. “I have actually come early today to see you on business, Mrs. Chetwynd.”
“Me, Miss Evans?” Arabella raises her hand to the scalloped collar of her blouse and toys with the arrow and heart gold and diamond broach there – a wedding gift from her husband.
“Yes.” replies the elder of the two sisters. “You see, when I heard that you were running the second-hand stall this year, I did feel sorry for you.”
“Sorry for me, Miss Evans?”
“Yes,” she replies, screwing up her eyes. “For as you know, there is always a poor offering of donated goods by the other villagers, and it makes for a rather sad and depressing sight amidst all this gaiety.” She gesticulates over Arabella’s trestle with a lace glove clad hand, sending forth the whiff of lavender, cloves and camphor in the process.
“Unless you are donating one of your lovely frocks to the sale, Master Bruton?” the younger of the Miss Evanses adds with a hopeful lilt in her voice. “I should buy it, even if it didn’t fit me.”
Gerald splutters and chokes on the gulp of tea he has just taken as the question is posed of him. Coughing, he deposits his cup quickly and withdraws a large white handkerchief which he uses to cover his mouth and muffle his coughs.
“Oh, poor Master Bruton!” exclaims the younger of the Miss Evanses as she reaches out and gently, but pointlessly, taps Gerald on the shoulder in an effort to help him. “Did you tea go down the wrong way?”
“I arrest my case.” her elder sister snaps giving Gerald a steely, knowing look.
“Now be fair, Miss Evans,” Lettice defends her friend, filled with a sudden burst of anger towards the hypocritical old woman, who despite having plenty of money of her own, only spends a few shillings at the fundraiser every year. “Gerald is still establishing himself in London! He cannot afford to give one of his frocks away when he has to pour what little profit he currently makes back into supporting and promoting his atelier.”
“As you like, Miss Chetwynd.” Miss Evans replies dismissively. “It is a pity though that neither Master Bruton, nor yourself could cast something Mrs. Chetwynd’s way, to help make her stall more,” She pauses momentarily as she considers the correct word. “Appealing.”
Lettice feels the harshness of the old woman’s rebuke, but she says nothing as she feels a flush of shame rise up her neck and fill her face.
“Geraldine!” her younger sister scolds her. “That’s most uncharitable of you.”
“Charity, my dear Henrietta, begins at home.” She looks critically at the knotted half completed knitting, the yellow and age stained linen and the mismatched gloves. “And Mrs, Chetwynd, I see that try as you might, you cannot disguise the usually dispirited efforts of the village used clothing drive this year.”
“Oh, well I haven’t really finished setting up yet, Miss Evans.” Arabella defends herself. “There are still some things to unpack from the boxes behind me.” She indicates to several large wooden crates stacked up behind her against the wall under the watchful gaze of the King.
“Which are items that doubtlessly didn’t sell last year, or the year before that have been shuffled away, only to make their annual reappearance.”
“Perhaps you have something appealing,” Lettice emphasises her re-use of the elder Miss Evans’ word as she tries to regain some moral standing against the older woman. “To offer at this year’s second-hand clothing stall, Miss Evans.”
“As a matter of fact,” the elder Miss Evans replies with a self-satisfied smile and sigh. “That is exactly why I am here.”
With a groaning heave, she foists the wicker basket, the handle of which she has been grasping in her bony right hand, up onto the trestle table’s surface. She opens one of the floral painted flaps and withdraws a large caramel felt Edwardian style picture hat of voluminous pre-war proportions from within the basket’s interior. The brim of the hat is trimmed with coffee and gold braid, woven into an ornate pattern whilst the crown is smothered in a magnificent display of feathers in curlicues and the brim decorated with sprigs or ornate autumnal shaded foliage and fruit.
“As I said, charity begins at home, so I thought I would add some style and panache to your stall, Mrs. Chetwynd, with the addition of this beautiful hat.”
“Oh, thank you, Miss Evans.” Arabella says with a sweet, yet slightly forced smile as the older woman tears off a smaller blue stiffed lace hat from a wooden hatstand and replaces it with her enormous millinery confection.
“I know it is only a hat from Mrs. Maginot, and not a London milliner,” she looks pointedly at Lettice. “But I dare say it will be more than suitable for our modest little country jumble sale.”
“Oh I’m sure it will be,” Arabella lies politely as she looks in dismay at the old fashioned headwear.
“Geraldine!” gasps her sister in disbelief. “You love that hat! I remember you had Mrs. Maginot make it for the King’s Coronation celebrations at great expense!”
“That’s true, Henrietta, but it just sits in a box at home these days and never gets worn anymore. It seems a shame to hide it away when it could look fetching on another’s head in church on Sunday. No-one will have anything to rival it. Not even you, Miss Chetwynd.”
“I agree with that,” whispers Lettice discreetly into Gerald’s ear, unnoticed by either of the spinster sisters. “I’d rather die than be caught in that ghastly thing. It looks every minute of it’s age.”
“Just a touch Miss Havisham, don’t you think?” Gerald whispers back, causing both he and Lettice to quietly snort and stifle their giggles.
“Well, that really is most kind of you, Miss Evans.” Arabella says loudly and brightly with a polite nod of acknowledgement, anxious to cover up the mischievous titters from her friend and sister-in-law.
“It’s my pleasure.” she replies with a beatific smile. “Well, we shan’t hold you up any longer from doing your setting up of the clothes, Mrs. Chetwynd. Come along Henrietta. Let’s go and make sure Mr. Beatty has my floral arrangement in a suitably advantageous place. I’m not having it shunted to the back like last year.”
“Oh, yes Geraldine.” her sister replies obsequiously.
Lettice, Gerald and Arabella watch as the two old ladies slowly retreat and heave a shared sigh of relief.
Gerald deposits his cup on the trestle’s surface and walks up to the grand Edwardian hat and snatches it off the wooden stand before placing it atop his own head with a sweeping gesture. “Do you think it suits me?” he laughs.
Lettice and Arabella laugh so much they cannot answer.
“Well,” Gerald sighs, returning the hat to the stand. “Even if Hattie could make hats a hundred times more fashionable than this, maybe some local lady who is a bit behind the times will want to take this beauty home.” He arranges it carefully on the rounded block so that it shows off the autumnal themed fruit garland pinned to the wide felt brim.
“That’s the spirit I need, Gerald.” Arabella manages to say as she recovers from laughing at her friend’s theatrical modelling of the hat, and quietly she hopes that someone will buy the hat and everything else she has in her remit to sell, to help raise money for schoolbooks for the local village and country children that attend the Glynes Village School.
*May 20 1913 saw the first Royal Horticultural Society flower show at Chelsea. What we know today as the Chelsea Flower Show was originally known as the Great Spring Show. The first shows were three day events held within a single marquee. The King and Queen did not attend in 1913, but the King's Mother, Queen Alexandra, attended with two of her children. The only garden to win a gold medal before the war was also in 1913 and was awarded to a rock garden created by John Wood of Boston Spa. In 1919, the Government demanded that the Royal Horticultural Society pay an entertainment tax for the show – with resources already strained, it threatened the future of the Chelsea Flower Show. Thankfully, this was wavered once the Royal Horticultural Society convinced the Government that the show had educational benefit and in 1920 a special tent was erected to house scientific exhibits. Whilst the original shows were housed within one tent, the provision of tents increased after the Great War ended. A tent for roses appeared and between 1920 and 1934, there was a tent for pictures, scientific exhibits and displays of garden design. Society garden parties began to be held, and soon the Royal Horticultural Society’s Great Spring Show became a fixture of the London social calendar in May, attended by society ladies and their debutante daughters, the occasion used to parade the latter by the former. The Chelsea Flower Show, though not so exclusive today, is still a part of the London Season.
**A shirtwaister is a woman's dress with a seam at the waist, its bodice incorporating a collar and button fastening in the style of a shirt which gained popularity with women entering the workforce to do clerical work in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries.
***Tatting is a technique for handcrafting a particularly durable lace from a series of knots and loops. Tatting can be used to make lace edging as well as doilies, collars, accessories such as earrings and necklaces, and other decorative pieces.
****A leg of mutton sleeve is a sleeve that has a lot of fullness around the shoulder-bicep area but is fitted around the forearm and wrist. Also known as a gigot sleeve, they were popular throughout different periods of history, but in particular the first few years of the Twentieth Century.
*****’Tight’ is an old fashioned upper-class euphemism for drunk.
******Created by a specific style of corset popular between the turn of the Twentieth Century and the outbreak of the Great War, the S-bend is characterized by a rounded, forward leaning torso with hips pushed back. This shape earned the silhouette its name; in profile, it looks similar to a tilted letter S.
*******A Sautoir is a long necklace consisting of a fine gold chain and typically set with jewels, a style typically fashionable in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries.
Whilst this charming village fête scene may appear real to you, it is in fact part of my 1:12 miniatures collection, including items from my own childhood.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
Perhaps the main focus of our image, the elder Miss Evans’ camel coloured wide brimmed Edwardian picture hat is made of brown felt and is trimmed with miniature coffee coloured braid. The brim is decorated with hand curled feathers, dyed to match the shade of the hat, as well as a spray of golden “grapes” and dyed flowers. Acquired from an American miniatures collector who was divesting herself of some of her collection, I am unsure who the maker was, other than it was made by an American miniature artisan. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism such as these are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable.
The shirtwaister dummy, complete with lace blouse, tweed skirt and Art Nouveau belt attached to a lacquered wooden base, is an artisan miniature as well, once again by an unknown person. It came from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom.
The divine little patriotic cupcakes, each with a Union Jack on the top, has been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. Each cupcake is only five millimetres in diameter and eight millimetres in height! The plate on which they stand and the teacups on the table are made by the Dolls House Emporium and are part of a larger sets including plates, tureens and gravy boats.
Miss Evans’ wicker picnic basket that can be seen peeping out near the right-hand side of the picture was made by an unknown miniature artisan in America. The floral patterns on the top have been hand painted. The hinged lids lift, just like a real hamper, so things can be put inside. When I bought it, it arrived containing the little yellow napkins folded into triangles and the hand embroidered placemats that you see on the table in the foreground.
The knitting needles and tiny 1:12 miniature knitting, the red woven straw hat, the doilies, the stockings and the napkins in their round metal rings all came from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom. The elbow length grey ttravelling gloves on the table are artisan pieces made of kid leather. I acquired these from a high street dolls house specialist when I was a teenager. Amazingly, they have never been lost in any of the moves that they have made over the years are still pristinely clean.
The wooden boxes in the background with their Edwardian advertising labels have been purposely aged and came from The Dolls’ House Supplier in the United Kingdom.
The Portrait of King George V in the gilt frame in the background was created by me using a portrait of him done just before the Great War of 1914 – 1918. I also created the Union Jack bunting that is draped across the wall in the background.
HM Prison, Castlemaine was constructed of local sandstone between 1857 and 1861. It represents an important.
phase in the development of prison design associated with the completion of the Model Prison at Pentonville in.
1842. The influence of the Pentonville plan is evident in the radial wings, central hall and exercise yard.
(industries building) of Castlemaine Gaol. Beechworth, Bendigo and Castlemaine were the most accurate.
representations in Victoria of Jebb's panopticon design..
The completion of the Castlemaine Gaol in 1861 represents an important phase of prison construction in.
Victoria. Between 1857 and 1864 a remarkable period of building activity saw eight prisons constructed on.
Pentonville principles in metropolitan and regional areas..
The HM Prison Castlemaine is an essentially intact example of a building type. The sequence of alterations,.
however, is of historical importance, representing the changing requirements of prison design and construction..
The H M Prison at Castlemaine is historically significant because of its ability to represent the size and status of.
this town which reached pre-eminence in the second half of the nineteenth century as a result of the discovery of.
gold. (Heritage listed)..
For this theme, my image shows the ability to fly an aircraft and also the fortunate ability to be able to directly underneath the aircraft as they approach to land at Ronaldsway Airport.
This is an ATR 72-600 arrving from Manchester (registration EI-GPN) operated by Stobart Air on behalf of Flybe. Two days after this photo, Flybe went out of business.