View allAll Photos Tagged bottomless
Today I'am looking for some warmth, it rained almost all day and it was fairly windy and cold for april. More importantly I was also thinking what this awful war is doing to the people of Ukrain!
Thank you for taken your time to visit me, comments or faves are always much appreciated!
It is 8am and this is Felix, aka Bottomless Pit, giving me THE EYE. That is my signal that it is high time for breakfast. Not a sound from him is heard but, ohhh, the eye!
A just for fun upload
Phonography
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Not the swamp he was in, the bird, he ate more than his fair share. I can't tell you how many frogs and tadpoles these things would eat, and eat them all day long!
Shot in very dim early morning light, I was also trying to get him grabbing a frog, hence the really fast shutter-speed.
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Little blue heron (Immature white morph)
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Scientific name: Egretta caerulea
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🔎 Enlarge for best viewing 🔍
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ILLUSION
Agios Nikolaos is a former Sweetwater small lake, connected to the sea , on the Greek island of Crete .
A local urban legend has it that the lake is bottomless. That notion is potentially based on its impressively disproportional high depth compared to its width.
The "Big and Small Dipsiz (Bottomless) Lakes" and Erikli Plateau, ten kilometers away from Tesvikiye hamlet, are also worth seeing thanks to their mystic views.
Its quite a fun little challenge getting shots like this. The chicks don't mind you getting really close, just as long as there are 20 million twigs in the way. The adults on the other hand were very relaxed and would sometimes catch food right at my feet to feed the two bottomless pits.
The "Bottomless Lake," located about 10 miles east of Roswell. So called because there was an underground stream that ran through the lake and on into some underground limestone -- so if you dropped a weight from a boat in the middle of the lake, it would be sucked along by the current, and give the impression that the lake itself was bottomless. Anyway, it was a popular swimming spot during the summer.
It's not too far from the house in Roswell, NM where I lived with my parents and two of my five sisters. The photo was taken nearly 40 years after we first moved into the house, as part of some research that I was doing for a novel called Do-Overs, the beginning of which can be found here on my website
www.yourdon.com/personal/fiction/doovers/index.html
and the relevant chapter (concerning Roswell) can be found here:
www.yourdon.com/personal/fiction/doovers/chapters/ch7.html
Before I get into the details, let me make a strong request — if you’re looking at these photos, and if you are getting any enjoyment at all of this brief look at some mundane Americana from 60+ years ago: find a similar episode in your own life, and write it down. Gather the pictures, clean them up, and upload them somewhere on the Internet where they can be found. Trust me: there will come a day when the only person on the planet who actually experienced those events is you. Your own memories may be fuzzy and incomplete; but they will be invaluable to your friends and family members, and to many generations of your descendants.
So, what do I remember about the year that I spent in Roswell? Not much at the moment, though I’m sure more details will occur to me in the days to come — and I’ll add them to these notes, along with additional photos that I’m tweaking and editing now (including some of the drive from Roswell to Riverside, CA where our family moved next), as well as some “real” contemporaneous photos I’ve found in family scrapbooks.
For now, here is a random list of things I remember:
1. I discovered roller skates while I lived here — perhaps aided by the presence of nice, smooth, wide sidewalks throughout this whole area of town. Sometimes my mother sent me on a small shopping expedition to the local grocery store, about two blocks away, to buy a quart of milk or a couple of other minor things. The shorts that I wore had no pockets (I have no idea why), so I put the coins that my mother gave me into my mouth, for safekeeping. That way, I had both hands free in case I tripped and fell … but if I had done so, I probably would have swallowed the coins.
2. For Christmas that year (i.e., Christmas of 1953), I was given a .22-caliber rifle. Even today, it would cause only a shrug in many rural parts of the U.S.; and it was certainly unremarkable in the 1950s. My dad felt that every boy should have a rifle, and should learn how to shoot it, clean it, and take care of it in a responsible fashion. I think his intention was to take me out into the open area outside of Roswell, to shoot at rabbits or gophers; but we ended up shooting at cans and bottles in the local dump.
3. In 1953, Roswell had not acquired any fame or attention for its proximity to the alleged alien landing in 1947. Trust me: if there had been even a hint of a rumor, the young kids in that town would have heard about it. Whatever may (or may not) have happened there . If you have no idea what this is all about, take a look at en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roswell_UFO_incident
4. For young boys, it was great sport to shoot at moving creatures. Dogs and cats were considered off-limits; and as implied above, we were not allowed to wander the streets with a .22 rifle. But we all had slingshots, and there were an infinite number of lizards in the area. Unfortunately, lizard were far too quick to hit with a relatively inaccurate slingshot (especially if shot with an unevenly-shaped rock; and it was only a year later, in California, that I began shooting marbles). Our greatest success was actually with slower creatures: horned toads, usually referred to as “horny toads,” or just “horns.” Indeed, they were slow enough that you could capture them with bare hands. You probably have no idea what I’m talking about, so take a look at this National Geographic article: animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/reptiles/horned-toad/
leaves bottomless craters.
one last drone for the month. been listening to a bunch of Higher Brothers.
Check it out on Instagram
This was a backup photo for Macro Mondays "Bottoms Up" theme but I went with the other photo because I thought this one might be a bit too abstract and unidentifiable...but I still like it. This is the bottom of the same nail polish bottle, but I was amazed at how different it looked in this photo as opposed to the other one.
7 Days With Flickr - Macro & Close Up
Bokeh Wednesdays
My old friend who is a bottomless cup of stories from his life’s adventures. These days we get together for a hike and a pint.
Operation lockdown, I thought I would get a little bird table going on the balcony and try for a species count, 2 days now and all I get is Starlings, but I want a Woodpecker.
Dear Journal,
It is strange, the difference between the feeling of sailing carelessly through the vastness of open sky, and the feeling of staring down into the black, bottomless throat of a cavern. Instead of seeing as far as one may wish to look, one’s vision is blocked by the impassable, unwavering blackness.
“Ready, Mister Zenas?” my friend John called down.
“Ready!” I lied.
The rope descended, and I with it. Down, down, down… I was lowered deeper and deeper into the increasingly cold heart of the island. Oh, the places I’ll go and the things I’ll do in the name of discovery! The tantalizing temptation of finding the treasure drew me irresistibly… in spite of the increasing sense of claustrophobia that clasped its tight embrace about me.
At long, long last, I touched down on the soggy, gritty surface of the cavern floor and, clutching my rope, peered around into the absolute midnight of the massive cave. Behind me, there, something caught my eye. A tiny glimmer of light – it came from a small tunnel. I could hear the sloshing sound of water as I slowly inched towards it.
Once through, I encountered another cavern, smaller than the last one and… surprisingly beautiful. Purplish foliage clambered down from the heights above, and amid the rocks grew pockets of glowing mushrooms, quietly lighting the shadows. A collection of small waterfalls fed several trickling rivers that drained into a rushing whirlpool on the left of the cavern. In the center of the cavern was a small isle of wet sand, in the middle of which stood a lone column, atop which laid a small, golden artifact. The moment I espied it I knew, after weeks of travel, I had found what I sought.
I crept up towards it in the soft beam of light, mist drifting hazily around me. I circled the item, examining its every beautiful detail before I could dare to reach out and lift it up from its base.
But then, Journal, the unmistakable sound of a flintlock pistol being cocked echoed off the walls of the rocky chamber. I froze, the untouched golden relic still before me, and slowly glanced up to see a figure standing opposite me.
“I will not insult your intelligence, Mr. Abbington, as long as you do not explore the boundaries of my patience.” A confident and mellifluous voice flowed from the tall, mysteriously black-clad figure. His pistol gleamed, aimed directly at my heart. Terrifyingly, one could not see his features, for his face was entirely covered in spotless, filmy cloth. No doubt he could see outwards, but none could look in at him.
I was shivering. “Who-o-o are you?”
“I see no purpose in divulging my identity to you, nor that of my companion.” To my horror, another figure, similarly dressed, though a bit heftier in the shoulders, stood just past him. He too was armed with a flintlock.
Suddenly my thoughts darted in a different direction. “Wait, what have you done with John?”
“Your companion? I underestimated the speed and agility of his craft. He sailed off and made good his escape. I am certain he understood the message of my cannons and he shall not be trifling with me any further.” A tiny click announced the removal of his weapon’s safety latch. “Now, Mr. Abbington, as your conversational abilities leave much to be desired… the tablet, if you please.”
It was then that I saw my opportunity. I snatched the golden square and held it, ready to cast into the whirlpool swirling just within reach of me. The man and his companion started in shock.
“Now, you masked man, I will not insult your intelligence. Lower your weapon and leave, or I shall toss this tablet to the waters.”
The stranger chuckled menacingly. “I am more than prepared to murder for that tablet. Are you prepared to die for it?”
“I suppose I will have to find out!” I cried, hurling myself and said tablet into the whirlpool in one swift dive.
I shall write again, dear Journal, as soon as I may, and explain just how I came to be writing this entry and not drowned.
-Zenas Abbington
we were camping at Bottomless Lake State Park in New Mexico with Boy Scouts and while the scouts were cooking dinner, I ran over to the lake to take pictures of the sunset. There was a couple who were canoeing there and it made for a great picture.
Redemption Song; Bob Marley.
Old pirates, yes, they rob I,
Sold I to the merchant ships,
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong
By the 'and of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom?
'Cause all I ever have,
Redemption songs,
Redemption songs.
Emancipate yourself from mental slavery,
None but ourselves can free our minds.
Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them can stop the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look?
Some say it's just a part of it,
We've got to fulfil de book.
Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom?
'Cause all I ever have,
Redemption songs,
Redemption songs,
Redemption songs.
Emancipate yourself from mental slavery,
None but ourselves can free our mind.
Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them can stop the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look?
Some say it's just a part of it,
We've got to fulfill the book.
Won't you help to sing,
These songs of freedom?
'Cause all I ever had,
Redemption songs.
All I ever had,
Redemption songs.
These songs of freedom.
Songs of freedom.
Songwriters: Hawkins, Edwin / Marley, Bob
Redemption Song lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Stock: wikipedia
The photograph of Bob Marley is not my work, obviously. However, the artwork is ©jackiecrossley
I went to my grandson Dustin's birthday party today. In his backyard he has a robin's nest on top of his gate. Mama looks so hot & tired. But she has 4 adorable bottomless pits with mouths wide open waiting for food. Mothers all over the world can totally relate.
American Robin Family (Turdus migratorius)
My photos can also be found at kapturedbykala.com