Aargau
View allAll Photos Tagged balding
……I know how it feels!! I saw this & likened it to a balding man enjoying the view - next stop the USA, taken at Loe Bar near Porthleven in Cornwall. Alan:-)…….
For the interested I’m growing my Shutterstock catalogue regularly here, now sold 88 images :- www.shutterstock.com/g/Alan+Foster?rid=223484589&utm_...
©Alan Foster.
©Alan Foster. All rights reserved. Do not use without permission.……
juvenile California quail foraging under the California ceanothus.
I read this description this morning:
"The most common explanation is that the topknot or plume helps attract a mate. A healthy plume tells a potential suitor that he has excellent genes to pass on to baby chicks. So, a female quail prefers a male with a full plume of feathers over a balding one."
thanks always for stopping by to visit and share....risa
A Sequel is Born:
The success of The Hobbit led Tolkien to write a sequel, which became The Lord of the Rings.
A "Happily Ever After" Dilemma:
Tolkien initially felt he had written himself into a corner by having Bilbo live "happily ever after" at the end of The Hobbit.
The Ring's Influence:
The idea of the Ring Bilbo found became a pivotal element, and eventually, Tolkien focused the new story on the Ring and its powers, which brought it into the context of his broader mythology and set the stage for The Lord of the Rings.
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Coffee#1, Taunton, Somerset, UK.
the macromonday theme is worn/weathered and this little guy has weathered childhood loving, which has worn much of the fur off his head ~grin~
HSS
The Velveteen Rabbit comes to mind
Wouldn't you know it, all winter and no snow to mention, Beginning of March and we have ground cover and more.................
Each dandelion head will have anywhere from 50 to 200 seeds, and each plant can produce about 2000 seeds!
All fingers and thumbs.
British: extremely awkward or clumsy.
An un-posted image from a few years ago.
I wasn't close enough to hear the conversation - but the body language was clear and unmistakable.
"sorry" originates from the Old English word "sārig," meaning "distressed, grieved, or full of sorrow," and is related to the Proto-Germanic word "sairagaz" meaning "sad".
Watchet Harbour, Somerset, UK.
Reminds me of The Beetle's song - "When i'm 64"
When I get older losing my hair
Many years from now
Will you still be sending me a Valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine
If I'd been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door
Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I'm sixty-four
You'll be older too
And if you say the word
I could stay with you
I could be handy, mending a fuse
When your lights have gone
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride
Doing the garden, digging the weeds
Who could ask for more
Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I'm sixty-four
Every summer we can rent a cottage
In the Isle of Wight, if it's not too dear
We shall…
Sheeffry Hills, Co. Mayo.
Agfa Record I and Pan F film. Developed and scanned by Harman Lab, UK. Crop, tone map and framing done in Affinity Photo.
We are sitting in an after hours club called "Secret Turf," Larry Talbot and I. It's located deep under the city streets in what looks like a dank cave, carved below the sewer lines. The bartender is a fat balding man with a bad case of perma-scowl. A group of bikers, all bearded, sit at a table drinking some viscous looking red liquid out of chipped goblets. On their backs are patches with "The PACK" emblazoned on them in what looks to be real blood. A couple of women lounge by the jukebox. They look like cats to me...but they keep pumping quarters into the machine, playing Aqua's Barbie Girl over and over again.
For once I am comforted by the six foot eight inch frame of Talbot's manservant/minion Olaf...although even he seems a little ill at ease.
Larry, indifferent to my increasing unease as I come more strongly to feel like an appetizer on a platter, shoves this picture across the table to me...the same image you see above.
"Here," he says. Something about being here makes his voice slightly more guttural. The word emerges as more a growl than a communication.
I look down at the image and back to Larry.
"What's this?" I ask.
"Tomorrow's image," he says. He beams at me exposing sharp way-too-white teeth.
"You're kidding, right?" I say finally.
"Kidding? I don't kid," says Larry softly. "Your objection?"
I look back at the image and then up at Larry (who is looking just a little bigger at the moment) and open and close my mouth several times.
"Well...yeah. Frankly, Larry -- it's a little creepy."
He chops his hand downward in a dismissive gesture. "It's a doll in a chair. What could be creepy about that?"
"You drew scars on its cheeks...and those eyebrows...and that mouth with teeth."
Talbot sniffs. "I did not."
"Did too," I insist. "And not very well either."
Talbot looks away from me and studies the room. When he speaks his voice is soft. "It is SOOC."
I snort a little too loudly, drawing instant attention from The Pack, Olaf and the cat girls who have started sniffing the air. I half wave to everyone, try hard to smile and clear my throat.
"Larry -- we are not going to have this discussion again. There's no way this is SOOC. YOU drew this crap on the doll and frankly....well...it's a little disturbing. I mean half the people coming to my stream already think I'm loony tunes and--"
Larry makes that chopping motion with his hand again.
The cat girls have started Barbie Girl again and the jolly little beat is so freaking discordant that I have a sudden desire to get out of here.
"And, not only is it SOOC," continues Larry, "But Easy Rider is going to love the story."
He shoves a piece of paper across the table to me. I look at the title: "The Most Underrated Horror Movie of All Time."
I read it and look up at Larry. "You wrote this?" I ask.
He nods. "A long time ago."
"This guy's a dweeb," I say. "What's more --"
Words freeze in my throat. Spit dries up. Larry is suddenly in my face...and I MEAN 'in my face' and his lips are drawn back. He speaks in a low growl: "I was different then. Less than now. Easy Rider will dig the article. POST IT."
So I did. By the way...seeing as it's Halloween and all (gee...funny Larry should show up now, huh) Larry asked me to ask YOU guys...what's the Scariest movie you've ever seen? Here's his:
THE MOST UNDERRATED HORROR MOVIE OF ALL TIME
by L. Talbot
I am alone. It's midnight. I am watching the most underrated horror movie of all time: "The Fearless Vampire Killers." My popcorn is in front of me. It is untouched. At the jaded age of twelve I sit in a room lit only by the flickering glow of the television and try very hard to tell myself that I always sweat like this.
The film starts like so very many of the Hammer vampire movies that have preceded it: a Heroine with an Enviable and Constantly Heaving Bosom, a Wise Old Man who knows more than he is telling, the Passionate Young Man and of course the Eternal Vampire.
At the beginning of the movie I am chomping on popcorn and enjoying the characters. One of the supporting vampires reminds me of Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof which is a concept just creepy enough to produce its own delicious icicle-in-the-gut thrill.
I am contemplating the happy possibility that Sharon Tate (she of the Enviable and Constantly Heaving Bosom) may actually get naked at some point, when IT happens.
Film director Roman Polanski starts breaking the rules.
These vampires are coarse, more like animals. There's no trilling of strings as the vampire creeps slowly toward his cringing victim. Polanski's vampires are at home with their brutality. They take blood from humans with a jolly and thoroughly casual attitude that puts me in mind of a wholesome family tucking into a tasty pizza. They attack necks with a happy matter-of-fact chomping and are completely indifferent to the abject agony their feeding causes the victim.
Some of these vampires come out during the day.
They are unimpressed by anyone brandishing a cross.
Yikes! Vampire movies have rules, I think to myself. You don't mess with the rules! Once the movie is over, how are twelve year old boys expected to make the long dark trek down darkened hallways to the safety of their beds if there are no rules?
But there's one scene that stays with me still and This Scene is the reason I KNOW this movie didn’t deserved the critical drubbing it got upon its release in 1967.
Here's the background: our heroes have been captured by the vampires. (Of course. Even a twelve year old saw that coming.) They have been taken to a creepy castle where it has been decided that Sharon Tate is going to be offered up as a main course at a vampire banquet.
They escape – but along the way they wind up in the banquet hall. I mean IN THE banquet hall. Surrounded by vampires. Hundreds of them. None of these vampires know their dinner is walking among them. If they are actually going to get away, our heroes need to pass through this teeming sea of fanged death undetected. There's a macabre minuet. There's harpsichord music. All the while our heroes are surrounded by nasty bloodsuckers casually doing unspeakable things.
If discovered, they become food.
I am breathless, trapped in the horror of it all. My entire world is focused on the television screen and I feel a slow creeping dread. Even Sharon Tate's bosom doesn't distract me. As they move through the room, surrounded by horror after horror, there looms a mirror. The only people reflected in this mirror in a room FULL of vampires are our heroes.
Yikes! I think. What's the matter with you people? Can't you see the MIRROR??? Don't you know that if the vampires see you in the mirror they will know you're human and will tear you to pieces? As I think this dark and urgent thought, one of the characters notes the presence of the mirror with shock. He elbows his companion sharply, and points. He sees it! He knows that the mirror could give them away.
Thank you, God. I nearly collapse with relief. The characters can hear me. Good. Maybe they/we will survive this night after all.
That's when something wet brushes against my neck and everything in my chest plummets directly and immediately into my ankles. My head is throbbing with sudden shock and I cannot breathe.
My leaden hand shoots backward and touches something furry as air squeaks out of me. It is a tortured sound. I whirl to face my attacker.
It's the family dog looking confused and sort of tired.
I collapse, blood throbbing in my ears, and it is some seconds before I find any humor in the situation.
The movie's almost over. The heroes are galloping away from the Creepy Castle. But Polanski has just one more surprise in store. It's a surprise that will rob me of that reassuring sense that all is well with the world because the monster's dead.
It turns out the monster isn't dead.
...oh dear…
Spotted this male Northern Cardinal the other day, and noticed his face looked darker than the others. Grabbed some shots so I could get a closer look.
Lo and Behold, he has a toupee! Cardinals have a tendency to "go bald" during the mid to late summer months. There are several reasons for this condition, primarily due to either mites, since they can groom all over except for their head, or from the stress of rearing their young.
Not sure what's going on here? Inquiring minds my never know. So, in the meantime - all we can do is admire that awesome toupee of his!
Hans Balding (1484/85-1545)
Hans Balding apprenticed in Albrecht Durer’s workshop from 1503 to 1509. At some point after he made these woodcuts, the initials AD were added to increase their value. Who instigated these second plates is not clear but this is an early example of artist forgery. Art historians considered these works by Durer until the early 20th century, when attribution to his best known student was confirmed.
After kayaking through a bayou just outside of New Orleans, as part of a day-time vacation excursion, I knew I wanted to come back to the swamps of the Southern United States. Of course it helped that we walked into a ton of galleries in downtown New Orleans with photos that blew me away ... and then David Thompson came back with his own set of photos ... I knew I had to go back.
Willie and I flew into New Orleans and met up with Carolyn and drove to the swamps. We had planned to rent some kayaks for the week so we could get out on the water but David hadn't quite arrived yet and there wasn't any way to get kayaks in time for our first sunrise. We made our way to this lake to see what we could photograph from the shoreline.
When we arrived a large photo-tour had also pulled up and started setting all their tripods up to photograph a particular line of trees with a still reflection in the lake. Trying to avoid them I turned around and saw this heron standing in the water. I immediately grabbed the "Bigma" (my very long, and quite large telephoto lens) and knew that the heron, combined with these 3 trees, would make a great foreground!
Nikon D800 w/Sigma 150-600mm:
370mm, f/11, 1/8 sec, ISO 200
Viewed best nice and large
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