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For 52 Weeks for Dogs -- 4/52
Earlier today, Flattery got her nails trimmed. My husband accidentally nicked one of her dewclaws. She bled three drops of blood. Any cooperation that I hoped to obtain from her by taking a picture out in the snow was dashed. She informed me that she is a lady of leisure and after her dewclaw heals up properly, she will absolutely, positively pose for some better pictures. This dog!
You can read more about Flattery at TalesAndTails.com.
The orange paint is very recent. All were built in 1930.
Wednesday, 4 August 2021, was yet another hot, smoky day. I have been wanting to drive SE of the city to call in at a farm to drop off a couple of photos for weeks now, but kept running out of time. This day, I was determined to reach my destination, though the smoke from the British Columbia wildfires was really unpleasant. Travelling south on the highway, it was very tempting to turn around and try on a different day. However, I suspect we might be getting this smoke for the rest of the summer, so I decided I might as well continue my drive. Much of the landscape had disappeared, shrouded in toxic smoke.
There are two barns that I love down in this area, and I took just a few photos of each one before calling in at the farm to give the photos to the lady who owns the smaller of the two barns. We had spoken whilst on the back road near her barn on maybe three of my visits to the area other years and this time, we sat and chatted outside on her porch. It was so enjoyable!
Leaving the area, my drive took me back exactly the way I had come, as there was an old homestead that I had missed on the drive to the farm. Perhaps it had been removed, but I was really hoping that was not the case. I just hadn't been looking in the right place.
This was definitely a barn day, which was my intention, but there were so few birds to be seen. anyway. My drive was quick, as I didn't want to be out for a full day in the heat and smoke, even though I was driving, not walking. I did call in at the Saskatoon Farm on the way home, though. My hopes of buying some nice, fresh fruit and vegetables were dashed, as no fruit was left, bought by earlier visitors. Enjoyed a meal there, so that I wouldn't have to make supper when I got home. I had been hoping to get to the farm for the last few days, but avoided going, as it was a long weekend here. Why would I go on a busy holiday weekend, anyway, when I can go during the week?
Can't wait to see blue sky again, and our beautiful foothills and mountains in the distance. Compared to all those people who live much closer to the wildfires, we are lucky. How I feel for them, having to breathe in all the toxic smoke particles, not to mention the losses that many people are having to deal with.
I commented this morning to a friend on here, that I'd only spotted Cabbage White butterflies on my Budleja so far this year. Imagine my surprise on going in the garden this afternoon and seeing this lovely Hummingbird hawk moth. I dashed in quickly got my camera and just managed a few photos, not as sharp as I'd have liked but still I got him. Just after this the rain came and off he went.
wasn't sure what one I liked best so posted both....
more below too.
This is an image taken through the window of a friend's house. He is expecting the river on his property to flood this year to the point that it may affect his house. The image was an attempt to capture the worry and stress he must feel in waiting for this event to happen. I increased the contrast with the idea of capturing the tension in deciding on how to deal with this event as the flood time approaches. I know he has high hopes for this property, and that his hopes may be dashed due to the river water levels. I hope you like the result.
Looked up from my computer and dashed outside. No time to grab a camera and tripod so grabbed my phone
Knorle treaded up the narrow path. A mile away, the fortress of Bodus Minor rose out of the darkness. Up ahead he could hear heavy footsteps. Swearing under his breath, he scanned for cover adjoining the path. The only object readily available was a large tree. Ducking beneath it’s shadow, Knorle waited with baited breath. The tread of booted feet grew nearer. Would they miss him in the dark, or should he deploy a distraction? Deciding that the latter option was safer, he drew a small sack from one of the pouches on his belt. He quickly tossed it to the far side of the path where it exploded with a bang of fire and smoke. The dwarves, for dwarves they were indeed, rushed over to inspect the charred remains of the bag. As soon as they were fully occupied, Knorle sprinted towards the gates. The dwarves soon dashed after him, but their short legs could not keep up. Knorle was safe and sound behind the wall before they came to be half a mile from the gate.
So, I definitely had fun with this build! As you can see, the tree is the highlight. There's not much to say though :/
Anyway, does anyone know how to change a Lego electronic gift card from Euros into dollars? I'm rather stuck :P
People have lived on this site in Stainborough since the Iron Age. The remains of a now much disguised hillfort lies under the 18th century folly on the hilltop. Following the Norman Conquest, the lands were owned by the De Lacey’s. In the mid 13th Century it was owned by the Everingham family, who sold it to the Cutlers in 1610.
Wentworth Castle is an estate born of a bitter family feud. When Thomas Wentworth’s expectations of inheriting nearby Wentworth Woodhouse were dashed in 1695, he bought Stainborough Hall, some seven miles to the north in 1708 and began to create a house and gardens to rival his usurper, changing its name to Wentworth Castle.
His son William inherited the estate in 1739 and carried on his father’s work – and his feud.
Years of neglect and decline have seen the landscaped park partially return to nature. An early 21st century project has partially regenerated the gardens and parkland, halting the decline, but there are still decaying remnants to be found of the park’s former glory. This corner of the estate, now woodland inhabited by deer was once a series of ponds, overlooked by the neo-classical rotunda based on the Temple of Tivoli, completed in 1742. The ruins of retaining walls and sluice gates can still be found and in wet winters, the ponds still hold a little water.
On a summer evening, when the warm air is full of the sound of deer fawns playing in the long grass, Stainborough Park is a magical place. It is possible to be transported to a place apart from the modern world, if you can zone-out from the background thrum of the nearby M1.
- (BTS) Behind-The-Scenes -
It was lunch break on the set of The Captain and The Engineer. Both the cast and crew were mingling as they enjoyed today's lunch: pizza! Cormack had often joked that pizza was part of his contract so they HAD to have pizza at least twice a week.
"This is the good stuff! Vin better get here soon!" Cormack told his younger brother as he hopped down from his chair and went for more. Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head at him. Wasn't this going to be his third serving? Man, he was gonna regret it later during those action scenes...
"You better save him some of that supreme or he's gonna kick your ass!"
"I will, I will!"
Meanwhile in the Props Department around the corner, Vin was grinning like mad as he looked over the prop they had made for him! It. Was. Perfect. It was exactly what he had been hoping for!
"You guys are the best! Thank you!"
With a mad cackle, Vin dashed out of the Props Department with their echoes of "You're welcome!" and "Glad to be of service" following him out! He ran straight for the main studio where he hoped he could find either Corry or Logan! And as Vin skidded to a halt and peeked in, he giddily laid eyes on his brother-in-law!
"Logan!"
Vin's voice rang through the whole studio as he ran for the younger man who looked up; startled. He blinked and watched as Vin ran up to him and suddenly grinned wickedly up at him before shoving a fairly large white mug in his face! Logan stared down at the mug, blinking as it registered what he was seeing. Before he could even react, Vincent exclaimed loudly, "SUCK IT, DAMIEN!"
"Oh...My...God! I can't believe it!"
"I TOLD you I was gonna do it! I TOLD YOU!"
Cackling, Vin wiggled and held out the mug to Logan who took it and turned it over in his hands before exploding into a fit of laughter! Nearby, people were looking over and laughing.
From the table with the pizza, Cormack watched on in confusion. What was going on?! He wandered back over and as soon as Vin laid eyes on him, he exclaimed, "Baby! Come see the new mug the Props Department made for me!"
Cormack looked at him then looked back at his little brother who was doubled over and red in the face. And in his hands was a white mug which read...well he couldn't quite read it. "I can't read it. What's it say?"
Vin took the mug from Logan and hurried over to Cormack and pushed it up into his view. And engraved on two opposite sides of the mug read:
#SuckItDamien
And beneath that in smaller engraving read:
#TCATE
"THIS IS SO COOL!" Cormack nearly screamed with excitement before he suddenly began to laugh. He remembered how Vin had recently stared bursting out with, "Suck it, Damien!" regarding their characters: particularly Aiden winning Vincent's favor and Damien's behavior as of recent episodes. It had started to catch on a little bit around the crew as well; something Logan who was Damien's actor fully supported and found hilarious!
"Babe," Vin eagerly urged Cormack, "we should take a picture of you holding this with your arm around me in costume! You should smirk at the camera and...and Logan, you should totally take the picture!"
Logan snickered and replied, "That's twisted...having 'Damien' take the picture..." "Exactly! Hold on! I have a camera in my trailer!" And Vin took off for his trailer to fetch it! Cormack looked at the mug and grinned at Logan before going around to show off the mug Vin had made!
It was only about five minutes later that Logan had Vin's camera lifted before his face and beckoned his brother, "Okay, Corry! Do the smirk!"
So Cormack smirked and slid his arm around his husband and pulled him close to his side, holding the #SuckItDamien mug facing the camera. Vin laughed as he gazed up admiringly at his husband. Ah how he loved him and how well he went along with Vin's shenanigans!
As soon as the shutter went off and Logan grinned, Cormack stated, "Hashtag suck it, Damien!" And Logan lost it! He doubled over laughing as he held his stomach. "Corry! I can't breathe!"
Cormack laughed and Vin leaned his head against his shoulder and grasped his shirt as he kept himself steady and laughed, "Best prop ever!"
~~~
See Logan's photograph (and a close-up of the mug) on Vin's picture: Suck It, Damien!
www.flickr.com/photos/darkestraveness/52855636327/in/date...
BIG NEWS, CREWMATES!
Soon you'll be able to get YOUR OWN #SuckItDamien MUG! Vin will be releasing the mug as a FREE GIFT at his pose store for anyone to grab...that means NO GROUP NEEDED!
Now don't go running for it yet! I will let everyone know when its available! There are still some special tweaks being made! ^_^
But for now, get more details on Vin's picture! I hear there will be color changing options as well!
May 11th UPDATE:
THE MUGS ARE ALREADY AVAILABLE!
CLICK 'NEXT PART' (below!) TO GET MORE DETAILS!!!!
Get your FREE #SuckItDamien and #GetBhanged mugs at Be My Mannequin? Pose Store:
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Digital%20Frontier/202/202/24
~~~
So this segment of The Captain and The Engineer is inspired by my husband and TCATE collaborator: Vin! As of the last few chapters, he's been using the ongoing theme of saying "Suck it, Damien." And he told me he was going to make a mug that said that...and he actually did it!
And I quote: "I wanted to create a fun little mug to show my support of Aiden winning his Captain's heart!"
So he came up with the idea of doing a little Behind the Scenes kind of shot to showcase it...and here we are.
I am so excited and giddy that this is actually a thing! GAH! ^___^
~~~
Next Part:
www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/52888530697/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 Vin (BMM? Pose Store) for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!
NOTE: Vin also custom designed the poses for this set up! Check out his other epic poses on his profile (which can be found in People in Photo)!
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:
A photo from a walk around Anglesey Abbey on Sunday and this caped figure dashed through the smokey wood on his way towards the abbey. The instrument he is carrying is probably the legs of a tripod!
When we went out onto our driveway last evening to #clapforcarers, I couldn't help but notice that each and every house had these in their windows so I dashed out quickly this morning to get this one
At the end of a night walk in my mom's neighborhood in Ocala, I spotted this wolf mother playing bus to her brood and ran down the street to get my camera, hoping she'd still be here on the pavement. She was, and stood unmoving while I got a variety of photos. After, concerned for her safety out on the sidewalk, I nudged her leg with a pine needle and she dashed into the grass.
I don't see these mothers often with their load, and the few times I have, they haven't been so cooperative, so this was a nice opportunity. I know this is some people's nightmare, while others can see the care of a mother for her offspring. Wolf mothers carry their babies around for a while after they hatch, even bringing them to water where the youngsters disembark to drink before climbing back aboard.
31 Arachtober 2023, Happy Halloween 1 of 3!
Wolf Spider, Tigrosa annexa
Ocala, FL • 6 February 2023
We had a quite a treat recently when a lovely flock of Cedar Waxwings decided to come munch on the neighborhood crabapple trees. I was out for a morning run and heard the very distinct high pitched trilling whistle that they make......Needless to say...my run was cut short as I dashed home to grab my camera .Here is the series I captured.
2024-09-10, Day 4
The Donjek Glacier carves a sinuous path through jagged peaks from its origins in a remote fastness of ice and stone, Kluane National Park, Yukon. The glacier is born from the largest continuous ice field in North America near the immense massif that contains Mount Logan (19,551 ft; 5,959 m), the highest peak in Canada.
The ice-fields and lofty heights of the tallest mountains are incredibly remote, and to walk there would require navigating upwards of 30 miles on the surface of the Glacier, and then finding a way through trackless, ice-covered, complex networks of mountains for another 30 miles or so. Then, one would have to extricate oneself safely, and the sheer volume of food and equipment required for a self-supported adventure to Mount Logan boggles my simple mind. There is a reason that people who climb it are dropped off by plane or helicopter.
Visiting the toe of the Donjek Glacier on foot is somewhat easier, and there is a network of game trails and very old horse packing paths along the east side of the Donjek River valley that we followed southward from Hoge Creek. Miners swarmed through this area over a hundred years ago, and evidently there was once a bridge across the River that allowed access to the Glacier. The shifting River, with its annual load of flood-borne boulders, eventually dashed whatever dreams the civil engineers of a century ago might have had. There is no longer any evidence of human beings, save for a few old saw cuts made to ease the passage of horses along the game trail.
Without using a helicopter or a plane, I suspect there are few opportunities to find somewhere more remote and wild in North America than this corner of the Kluane Range. Signs of bear and moose were frequent and we spouted ridiculous measures of invented songs to avoid any unpleasant ursine surprises while we pushed through extensive masses of dense willow. Occasionally, breaks in the willow afforded magnificent views across the valley, and we could sense where the Glacier ought to be long before it came into view.
Presently, the snaring tendrils of willow parted into a small clearing, and a vast, mountain-carving river of ice captured all attention and imbued an already dramatic landscape with a sense of wonder. The golden willows frame an antidote to the mundane - an arresting portal to a primordial possibility.
Thursday, 5 August 2021: our temperature is 30C (feels like 30C) shortly after 6:00 pm. Sunrise is at 6:04 am, and sunset is at 9:19 pm. Another smoky day from the wildfires in British Columbia, and we are yet again under a Heat Warning.. "The Prairies will deal with lingering heat and poor air quality, but cooler temperatures and fresher air are on the way this weekend." From the Weather Network.
Wednesday, 4 August 2021, was yet another hot, smoky day. I have been wanting to drive SE of the city to call in at a farm to drop off a couple of photos for weeks now, but kept running out of time. This day, I was determined to reach my destination, though the smoke from the British Columbia wildfires was really unpleasant. Travelling south on the highway, it was very tempting to turn around and try on a different day. However, I suspect we might be getting this smoke for the rest of the summer, so I decided I might as well continue my drive. Much of the landscape had disappeared, shrouded in toxic smoke.
There are two barns that I love down in this area, and I took just a few photos of each one before calling in at the farm to give the photos to the lady who owns the smaller of the two barns. We had spoken whilst on the back road near her barn on maybe three of my visits to the area other years and this time, we sat and chatted outside on her porch. It was so enjoyable!
Leaving the area, my drive took me back exactly the way I had come, as there was an old homestead that I had missed on the drive to the farm. Perhaps it had been removed, but I was really hoping that was not the case. I just hadn't been looking in the right place.
This was definitely a barn day, which was my intention, but there were so few birds to be seen. anyway. My drive was quick, as I didn't want to be out for a full day in the heat and smoke, even though I was driving, not walking. I did call in at the Saskatoon Farm on the way home, though. My hopes of buying some nice, fresh fruit and vegetables were dashed, as no fruit was left, bought by earlier visitors. Enjoyed a meal there, so that I wouldn't have to make supper when I got home. I had been hoping to get to the farm for the last few days, but avoided going, as it was a long weekend here. Why would I go on a busy holiday weekend, anyway, when I can go during the week?
Can't wait to see blue sky again, and our beautiful foothills and mountains in the distance. Compared to all those people who live much closer to the wildfires, we are lucky. How I feel for them, having to breathe in all the toxic smoke particles, not to mention the losses that many people are having to deal with.
I have been waiting for the sun to shine since Saturday. So as there was a break in the rain and the sun appeared, I dashed out to the garden!
PS - you can see the rain on the decking that the sun hasn't yet dried.
:CAZIMI: Intoxicating II EvoX Lips - (Saturday Sale) CAZIMI
DASHED - BARBIE NAILS 2 and 4 - Mix Weekend - Dashed
[monso] Michiru Hair /Brown & Blonde - TRES CHIC EVENT
LOTUS. Chunky Glitter FATPACK
(Yummy) Heartthrob Collection
I was among a throng of visitors to the top of Cadillac Mountain, hoping to see a glorious sunset. Those hopes were dashed when clouds moved in and completely covered the mountain top. When it became clear that the cloud cover would completely block out the vistas and wasn't going anywhere, most of the tourists left in dejection.
However, I noticed an opening in the woods just 50 yards away from the gift shop. I ended up working the location for over an hour, shooting various compositions. I left with a big smile on my face shortly before dark. Acadia National Park, Maine.
A early fall weekend found me on the shores of Lake Tahoe. Being the tail end of the travel season, the tourist crowd had all but melted away, leaving behind the place of solitude in what was once a throbbing hub of outdoor activity.
As I woke up for sunrise, my eyes spied the correct features in clouds, along with the break in the eastern horizon, thereby setting up for a very colorful sunrise. And I dashed over to Eagle falls, where I had hoped to capture the gush of the falls glowing deep red in the morning light.
The one thing I did not realize was that waterfalls don't exactly gush in fall - they dwindle to a trickle. I hence had to settle for the next best thing - capturing reflections in the small pools remaining behind. And despite that compromise, I was awestruck by the colors and the unique landscape in front of me. The transition from deep reds to orange to yellow as the whole scene lit up was a landscape photographer's delight.
Lake Tahoe
CA USA
Struck lucky with the weather following Storm Éowyn whilst on a little coastal walk around the Geevor and Botallack areas. In this photo can be seen Wheal Owles, closest to the camera. Opened in the 1830s atop earlier workings, the mine worked for little more than half a decade before being flooded in 1893 after miners broke into flooded workings of neighbouring Wheal Drea. The mine has been used a filming location for ‘Poldark’ in more recent times. Continuing along the coast a variety of stacks from various mines in the Botallack Sett can be seen. Notably, to the right of frame, the headgear (bereft of sheave wheels) of Allens Shaft can be seen. This was an attempt by Geevor in 1985 to re-open old workings shut in 1914. The mine got as far as erecting the aforementioned headgear and an electric winder before the tin price crash of the same year dashed all hopes of further investment.
People have lived on this site in Stainborough since the Iron Age. The remains of a now much disguised hillfort lies under the 18th century folly on the hilltop. Following the Norman Conquest, the lands were owned by the De Lacey’s. In the mid 13th Century it was owned by the Everingham family, who sold it to the Cutlers in 1610.
Wentworth Castle is an estate born of a bitter family feud. When Thomas Wentworth’s expectations of inheriting nearby Wentworth Woodhouse were dashed in 1695, he bought Stainborough Hall, some seven miles to the north in 1708 and began to create a house and gardens to rival his usurper, changing its name to Wentworth Castle.
His son William inherited the estate in 1739 and carried on his father’s work – and his feud.
Years of neglect and decline have seen the landscaped park partially return to nature. An early 21st century project has partially regenerated the gardens and parkland, halting the decline, but there are still decaying remnants to be found of the park’s former glory. This corner of the estate, now woodland inhabited by deer was once a series of ponds, overlooked by the neo-classical rotunda based on the Temple of Tivoli, completed in 1742. The ruins of retaining walls and sluice gates can still be found and in wet winters, the ponds still hold a little water.
On a summer evening, when the warm air is full of the sound of deer fawns playing in the long grass, Stainborough Park is a magical place. It is possible to be transported to a place apart from the modern world, if you can zone-out from the background thrum of the nearby M1.
Don't know why, but all of a sudden this juvenile Pied-billed Grebe and his friends just dashed across the water like skaters.
Villa Marina, Douglas, Isle of Man
The building, first known as the Kursaal, was commissioned by Douglas Corporation and was the subject of an architectural competition assessed by Professor Adshead of Liverpool University, opening in 1913. The Kursaal name was dropped at the start of the First World War and the main auditorium rechristened The Royal Hall.
The main auditorium was originally designed for orchestral concerts, but was also intended as a multi-use space. It has an octagonal footprint, the auditorium being 30.46m (100ft) in diameter and 20.1m (66ft) up to the central pinnacled lantern, which provides light for the daytime activities. One side of the octagon contains the comparatively small stage and the stage house adjunct. There is a small apron stage downstage of the proscenium arch which is formed by a wide plaster moulding, with upper corners gently curving - but not at all fussy. The plasterwork in the auditorium is generally restrained, if a little uncertain. There are Edwardian echoes but no definite suggestion of a new style - rather more a dilution of a previous age.
The main stalls area is a flat sprung maple ballroom floor with removable seats, six rows around the periphery of the dance floor. Above these six rows is a balcony supported at intervals along the perimeter by broad plain columns. This has six further rows of seats around seven sides of the octagon. Behind these upper six rows the auditorium wall is punctured at regular intervals by large arched openings, some containing doorways, others simply with handrails opening onto an upper ambulatory, in the true traditions of the Kursaal style. The coffered ceiling rises on all eight sides of the octagon to the central pinnacled lantern, detailed with cornices and dog-tooth ornamentation.
The Marina Gardens were not completed until 1931, long after the Villa Marina had opened. The landscape architect for this scheme, which linked the Villa Marina and the Gaiety Theatre, was F Prentice Mawson of Thomas H Mawson & Sons of Lancaster. Later accretions include notably, the ‘Garden Room’ in the 1970s which is wholly out of keeping with the general character of the Villa Marina.
Externally it has the appearance of a small continental permanent circus building, with a wigwam-like appearance, rendered and pebble-dashed in a most unbecoming manner. The small stage house forms a small rectangular box which abutts abruptly onto the Harris Promenade.
It is an important survivor of its genre now a rare form of seaside architecture.
In 2004 the Villa was partly rebuilt and splendidly restored. The entrance was moved to face the gardens, and the Colonnade walkways and fountains restored. The interior has been rearranged for conferencing, and a cinema introduced. The Royal Hall has been faithfully restored and technically upgraded by Manx architect Ian Brown. [Theatres Trust]
I was on my knees photographing a flower when this Yellow Golden Pheasant dashed by. He was moving quite quickly with his hood swaying back and forth creating this undercover image. This is another shot from my ongoing "Birds of Bloedel Series," a tribute to Vancouver's Bloedel Conservatory. The photo was taken in April 2010, with an Olympus digital camera. Enjoy.
Plans to breathe new life into the medieval garden at the heart of St Andrews have been dashed after Fife Council denied necessary funding. St John’s Garden, which is owned by the University of St Andrews, was to be restored with the money. The University was working in conjunction with the Pilgrim Foundation of St Andrews to turn St John’s into a sensory garden. This sensory garden would be for the benefit of those who were blind, hard of sight or dealing with stress; the garden was to be transformed into an “oasis in the centre of the town” according to a University spokesperson. Quoted from 'The Saint'
Number 176 of my 365 photo challenge - An image of a small Roe Deer in the Bracken looking at me.
I was lucky here as I had to make sure my dog didn't scare it away. I also had the wrong lens on, so I had to very quickly and quietly change lenses, set up the tripod and get a good shot before it dashed off. I just wish I had slightly more reach, lens wise... :-)
Our little tree bear is back!! Walking slowly and carefully so afraid that mommy will spank him....upon reaching den quickly dashed across and hide in the den!!LOL!!😃😂🐼🐾🐾🐾🐾
I was actually looking forward to getting the Silver haired Fashionista in Australia cuz it’s become one of my favourite sculpts but…. it was so riddled with quality issues I couldn’t bring myself to photograph her. But I body swapped her to a MTM Soccer Player and covered up her bald spots.
I was hoping to build up a collection of the Skipper face Fashionistas but the quality control, the sculpt degradation (the details are really lost) and general bad design just means Mattel dashed my hopes.
I don't catch many sunsets. This one appeared without notice and lasted only a few minutes. By the time I grabbed my camera and dashed to the deck, it was already beginning to fade.
Finally, the long-awaited brand new Optare Solo SRs with LED blinds have entered service on the H2 and H3 despite being unregistered on LVF until evening.
When I saw on LVF this morning that the H2 was running with undefined buses, I had a feeling that they were the new Solos so I dashed out to Golders Green and I was right.
The H2 was awarded to Metroline on 1 June and the existing Solos from Arriva were on loan to ML used as a substitute until the new Solos filled in the gap today.
Here, brand new OS2500 which was also preserved for the Holloway garage open day last weekend, stands outside Golders Green Station on the first day of service.
© TheLondonBusMaster 2018
In Scotland's worst ever fishing disaster 189 men were lost in a single storm in October 1881, when skippers from Eyemouth, St Abbs, Cove and Burnmouth set out to sea as usual despite severe storm warnings.
By midday they were in the teeth of a severe storm for which their wooden boats were no match. They fled for the shelter of the port but many never made it. Their vessels either overturned or were dashed on the rocks at the entrance to Eyemouth harbour or elsewhere along that small stretch of coast in south-east Scotland. Hysterical women and children looked on helplessly as their menfolk were thrown overboard and swallowed up by the sea. Family members watched as their husbands, brothers and fathers drowned before their eyes.
Now the 78 widows and 182 children left without a father in the wake of the fishing disaster have been honoured with a major work of art overlooking the seafront at Eyemouth, and smaller memorials in the same style such as the one pictured here at St Abbs. Entitled Widows And Bairns, they were created by artist Jill Watson and depicts and names each mother and child who was directly affected.
Source: www.scotsman.com/lifestyle/culture/art/memorial-to-189-ey...
Some pebble art, if you would like a print, check out my store by following my Instagram account and find the link in my bio.
Amazing the beauty we can find all around us, if we just look...I was making my coffee this morning, and saw the most beautiful, delicate light coming through the trees in our backyard. The cat must have thought I was nuts, because I dashed for my camera bag, and spent a good 20 minutes outside, just enjoying the moment.
There was something about the way the woman swayed gently as she walked towards us across the dimly lit floor of the pub that suggested she was well practised at the art of disguising how much she'd had to drink. Just the slightest hint betrayed the likelihood she'd been to the bar a couple of times more than we had; no more than that. Dave is pretty much teetotal because he says he's allergic to alcohol and only allows himself a single pint of a black stuff when we go to Twickenham for the rugby internationals. I'm not averse to the odd pint, but I can't remember the last time I followed it up with a second one, so while I'd have probably been staggering about in a zig-zag fashion, he'd have been lying face down on the floor and asking to be taken home. In each hand she held a brown paper bag containing a lukewarm pasty, the final leftovers from the gathering. "There's always a few left at the end - I'd have made sure they were all gone earlier than this if I were in charge," she announced with not the slightest hint of a slur. "Here you go." It would serve me well for lunch on Saturday while Ali was at work, I thought. I've no idea who our go-between was, but the pasty was the final present from the man we'd come to say farewell to.
Sometimes, maybe once or twice in a lifetime the sudden departure of a public figure is shared worldwide and everything stands still for a moment or two. We remember exactly where we were, who we were with and what we were doing during the moment frozen in time. Some people I've heard refer to these as the "Kennedy" moments. I wasn't born when the events in Dallas took place, but I remember so clearly waking up at the house of my then in-laws in Preston in the north of England and finding everyone gaping silently at a television set showing a tunnel in Paris with the wreckage of a big black Mercedes dashed against a dark wall. In the 1990's I was in my own tornado blown tunnel, a young father trying to find the best version of himself for his two small children; a young husband struggling to cope with the trials of an already failing marriage; a young man who'd gone wrong somewhere before and now found himself trapped in a dead end job that rewarded little, neither financially nor spiritually. Events in the lives of the great and the good largely passed us by as we did our best to keep our heads above water. There was an interview on the television that gripped the nation, yet we barely registered it; a repeated comment in the office about "three in the marriage right from the start" didn't even raise an eyebrow. And then one afternoon Princess Diana was in Truro, visiting a drug rehabilitation centre just along the road from the firm of land agents where I worked. We stood in the staff car park, dutifully waiting for the entourage to come past. I really wasn't that bothered, but reflected that at least we'd been unchained from our desks for half an hour longer than usual. "What's all the fuss? She's only a square's daughter," boomed the surviving founding partner, a man we thought almost as aristocratic as the royals themselves. I think he meant "squire" rather than "square," but that's how he spoke. Whether he really meant that or it was his attempt at humour I was never certain, but he wasn't impressed that the police had made him park somewhere down the road rather than let him through. Eventually a huge limousine crept along the road past us and for a few fleeting seconds we saw her, and in those moments I was stunned; cast under a spell in fact. I hadn't been prepared for the movie star looks and the smile that almost melted the granite gateposts at the entrance to the car park. I'd like to tell you that for the briefest second I caught her eye, but of course I didn't. Suddenly I understood the mania of the previous fifteen years that until then had completely eluded me. I've never seen another human who exuded such radiance. That smile. It hit me again like a hammer blow on that late summer morning when we heard the news and the country went into mourning. I still see that smile - another frozen moment in fact. Some things just stay with you.
There are other events that only affect a family, or a circle of friends. I was photographing the remains of this Laurel tree after we'd walked down from the freezing cold summit of Pico Ruivo, Madeira's highest mountain when the phone sounded in my pocket. It was Dave with some bad news. Les had been found at his home by the police, who'd had to break in because he wasn't answering anyone's messages. He'd been dead for some time - a heart attack was the culprit it seemed; ironic for a man with such a big heart. Seventy really doesn't seem that old anymore. I'd come to know him through the workplace, and in the wider world during the last few years we moved at the peripheries of a group of friends that he'd grown up with. We hadn't worked directly together, but with someone like Les that didn't matter. Warm, gentle, kind, hilarious and loved by so many of his colleagues he was one of those rare people who transcended the norms of mutual respect in a place that employed well over a thousand staff. In all of the years I worked there, only a tiny number of people seemed to garner such universal approval from their workmates. The students adored him too - he was an IT support tutor - often interrupting my workflow with a spreadsheet problem he wanted me to look at. Because it was Les, I never minded the intrusion. "You're a treasure," he'd always say as I explained my solution to him. People would just smile if you mentioned him. "What's he like?" they would giggle as they remembered something daft he'd said or did just the other day, no doubt that with famous mischievous twinkle in his eye as he did so. Les had a habit of making people feel at ease. One afternoon he appeared at the door of the office I'd just been unwillingly promoted into and found me peering miserably into my screen. "What the f**k you doing in here?" he frowned, before characteristically breaking into a big trademark grin. It was the first time I'd laughed all day. I remembered the time we'd finally managed to persuade him to turn up for a Sunday morning staff football match after years of trying, the first time he'd played in about forty years, so he told us. When he scored a goal there was a bout of unabashed man hugging of the kind usually only reserved for the professional game. We talked about that game for years, long after all the other ones had been mostly forgotten. Dave later told me Les had played at county level as a teenager, and then for a local rugby club well into adulthood. Some of the stories Dave tells about the naughty side of Les from those rugby tours are best left unwritten, no matter how funny they are - besides which I wouldn't do them justice. I never quite get the full thread of exactly what happened because he's always helpless with laughter at the memory well before getting to the end of the anecdote. Sport aside Les was a very gifted artist, winning the school prize every year, always encouraged my burgeoning love for landscape photography. What makes things all the more sad is that he was alone at the end. He wasn't quite as beautiful as the Princess of Wales - almost, but not quite, although a passing resemblance to Paul Newman in his youth was mentioned in the eulogy and he unarguably exuded a certain radiance. His fabled orange perma-tan was legendary among his friends for starters.
The funeral was last week. Dave and Gareth, who'd grown up with him were among the coffin bearers. Henry delivered a moving speech about the "dear sweet boy" who'd made him feel so welcome on his first day at his new school after moving down from Yorkshire and had remained friends with him for more than fifty years. Tim, with tears in his eyes and a contagious lump in his throat faltered through the final lines of "This Is My Cornwall." He only just managed to complete the song. Ali and I, who only knew him for the last twenty years of his life croaked the words to the bits we knew. Friendships that endured a lifetime for those who shared them. In the pub we chewed thoughtfully on pasties and remembered the Les we loved with former colleagues who'd long since retired. And then the lady under the influence weaved towards us with the second round of pasties. It seemed rude not to - especially when Les had sent them to us.
And so it's the memory of Les I will forever cherish whenever I look at this picture and return to that frozen moment; the feeling of emptiness that a dearly held friend and a lovable rogue had gone from the world. This picture will always be his. Ali was silent when I told her what the message said. "He was lovely," she whispered. We barely spoke as we continued our descent, each of us lost in quiet sadness on the lonely mountain path. I'd originally edited this in black and white, but Les was a colourful man. I think he'd have liked the silver and green against the misty mountainside. Rest in peace Les - I'll keep sharing pictures with you mate.
Film of adventure here :
I was knackered… Another long week and being held up at 11pm in bridge traffic meant a 1am finish on the Thursday night – could I really be bothered heading for a wild camp about a 2hour drive away on a Friday evening? Maybe just relax, crack open a beer and watch the footy?
The good forecast saw me dump the beer and footy idea and I was soon on a familiar road headed for Glencoe. “90% chance of cloud free summits” one forecast read, with others along a similar vein. Pulling up at the car park under Stob Coire Raineach, I questioned my sanity. Cloud filled the sky as I watched the que of traffic coming off the hill. However, I eventually sorted myself out and was soon ascending the path to the bealach on Buachaille Etive Beag. Last time I had visited it was snowy and blowing a hooly! This time the wind was lighter and the ground was green and not white. Physically I was feeling strong, mentally – I was exhausted….
I sat at the twin cairn gaping at the cracking view to the big Buachille and eventually dragged myself up to start the final ascent to the summit of Stob Coire Raineach. I had planned on another camp on Chrulaiste – however I guessed it would be busy with the forecast and the weekend looming. I was hoping for a quiet time up here
The ascent is a little rocky in places from the bealach, but I was soon on the top taking in the views. At first glance I thought I would easily find a pitch with numerous grassy spots, however finding a place with grass and no rocks proved impossible. Eventually I succumbed and relied on the air ground sheet to do its best. Had I had my old rolly up ground matt, I’d have been in trouble ;)
Tent up, tea on and sunset was approaching. That wasn’t the only thing approaching – cloud was hugging the summits now and any thoughts of a spectacular sunset were dashed! 20.45 and I headed to bed- knackered!
Usually I sleep poorly on wild camps but tonight I slept soundly…. Until 03.49 am! I wasn’t sure if I was still dreaming but the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of propellers and engine noise was growing to the point that I eventually literally jumped out of the tent thinking the helicopter was about to join me inside. The cloud hadn’t cleared and the helicopter passed up the glen with it spot light illuminating a huge triangle of space. This wasn’t good, I hope all involved are safe and well. Watching in the darkness from the summit I could see the rescue operation unfold for the next hour somewhere in the darkness towards the top of Beinn Fhada. Once again it shows the bravery and dedication these heros go through to help someone likely to be a stranger.
I headed back to bed hoping that all involved were ok.
Sunrise was due at 06.15, so I set the alarm for 5.15, but for the first time, I slept right through it!! I woke with about 10 minutes to spare. At first glance it was still cloudy and I contemplated going back to sleep. However I thought I better check the eastern horizon – just in case! I was glad I did because the sunrise was spectacular… In a frenzied 10 minute spell, I fumbled with lenses and tripod’s and got the camera set up just in time to watch the sun illuminate the clouds and then rise over the banks of fog that covered Rannoch Moor – an amazing sight! It was over just as quickly as it arrived and I was soon checking my weather app. Blues skies forecast – mmmmmm – Not here, not now and in fact the low cloud rolled in reducing visibility to zero – time to head off… I descended quickly into the gloom and was back at the car for about 09.30.
Sutro Baths, San Francisco
Tyler (MumbleyJoe) and I went on a really fun (and cold) photowalk on my last visit to San Francisco, and I finally got my chance to visit the Sutro Baths. I've walked past it a bunch of times, but never in the right lighting or with photography in mind.
While the sunset fizzled unhelpfully, the lighting after the sun sank below the horizon started to glow like mad. Cliff House projected a beautiful crystal and gold glow across the water, making long exposures difficult to meter properly. I love the ethereal light on the right-side rocks, lending a ghostly serenity to the ocean (which was anything but serene that day--holy cow, I've never seen waves like that in SF).
We had a fun time keeping our lenses free of spray. I had to come home and scrub the salt off my UV filters. Several times. :-)
30-second exposure @ 10mm, ISO 100, f/13
08-05-2016
Great expectations dashed with cloud covering up much of what should have been a magnificent aurora at kp7, With a slight haze in the sky the stars have a surreal glow about them.
I've looked back over my previous photographs of Water Rail and found hardly any decent shots.
They are normally so skittish and elusive, hardly ever breaking cover from the vegetation around the wetlands.
This one popped out for around fifteen seconds at Tophill Low Nature Reserve in East Yorkshire. This image was captured as it just dashed back into the reeds.
- www.kevin-palmer.com - A few of the aspen trees I saw had a tinge of yellow, but most of them were still a bright green. When I saw the way the sunlight was hitting these aspens, I dashed up the creek to catch the reflection in this pond near Willow Lake. The sunlight disappeared seconds later.
Not the shed I'd travelled all the way for! Freightliner's 66503 "The Railway Magazine" continues north on the down slow at the helm of 4M63 Felixstowe North FLT - Trafford Park FLT modal.
I made the trip to the Staffordshire countryside last month for the late running Merseyrail class 777 delivery. Sadly all hopes for shooting that were dashed when the train failed at Bletchley with a severe wheel flat. I ended up only spending an hour or so here before dashing back up north for a whiff of a couple of 40's. This was the second none green FL 66 to pass within the space of an hour with 587 showing its face also.
With starting a new temporary job to tide me over the COVID period I have been unable to get out much of late which has prompted a second look over some shots that didn't make the grade the first time around.
Slindon | 14.10.20
One day the transports stopped coming.
For Mon Calamari pilot Klask Raio, his dreams of finding work with one of the Imperial contractors flying supply missions in and out of Sinton was dashed. Not many cycles ago, Klask and his crew took on a seemingly simple contract to transport medical supplies to the planet. They had known the planet was a work camp for Imperial dissidents, but felt reassured that they could do their part to ease the burden of the workers by bringing antibiotics, dressings, medicinal spice, and supplemental vitamins.
Even as they made landing and saw the sickly populace were they confident in their decision to take the contract. But, the few non-humans that they saw around the port were quiet, bent low, and obviously malnourished - not the relieved and welcoming populace they expected to find. Making their way to the local cantina, the crew began to feel quite uneasy. Shops began to close as they walked by, eateries started turning over chairs and sweeping floors, and the looks they got from local patrons made them feel most unwelcome.
One cantina owner called them in with a friendly wave. Presumably eager for business, he pulled tables together, lit candles, and started filling their cups with the best local ferments. A few members of the local garrison even raised their glasses to the crew and smiled in greeting. The Mon Calamari ate like kings.
They awoke the next morning surrounded by Iktotchi. Heads pounding. Dehydrated. In a pit. Light coming only from a door to the side and a walkway above. Booted footsteps rattled the metal walkway above as someone slowly walked back and forth above them.
(see Sinton Prisoner Pit Interior)
This area is called the gunks, or the trapps
The Shawangunk Ridge /ˈʃɑːwəŋɡʌŋk/, also known as the Shawangunk Mountains or The Gunks,[1] is a ridge of bedrock in Ulster County, Sullivan County and Orange County in the state of New York, extending from the northernmost point of New Jersey to the Catskill Mountains. Shawangunk Ridge is the continuation of the long, easternmost ridge of the Appalachian Mountains; the ridge is known as Kittatinny Mountain in New Jersey, and as Blue Mountain as it continues through Pennsylvania. This ridge constitutes the western border of the Great Appalachian Valley.
Shawangunk Ridge is designated by the dashed red lines.
The ridgetop, which widens considerably at its northern end, has many public and private protected areas and is not heavily populated. Its only settlement of consequence is unincorporated Cragsmoor. In the past, the ridge was chiefly noted for mining and logging and a boom-era of huckleberry picking. Fires were regularly set to burn away the undergrowth and stimulate new growth of huckleberry bushes.
Today the ridge has become known for its outdoor recreation, most notably as one of the major rock climbing areas of North America, with many guides offering rock climbing trips in the area. Also known for its biodiversity and scenic character, the ridge has been designated by The Nature Conservancy as a significant area for its conservation programs.[2]Wikipedia
Plans for catching the 1st Supermoon in August were dashed by the weather...so here's the Silver Moon instead!
There are quite a few chipmunks in our backyard. This poor fellow was one that stayed far back in the yard, never coming near the window where I sit when photographing. Before the hawk hunted, I tried to get it to leave by clapping and knocking on the window, but the hawk was undeterred. When it left the fence, it looked as if it was aiming for a squirrel that dashed off, but the chipmunk was caught off guard.
The Black Hole is located just to the south of Craster on the way to Cullernose Point on the coastline in Northumberland. The sea was relatively calm today despite the blustery wind so my hope of large waves crashing over the rocks were dashed. The lengthy sunrise colours made up for it.
Went out after work with Ivor to hopefully catch a sunrise at Seaham. We also arranged to meet Olly and Jason there who had travelled up from Leeds. Weather was dreadful, heavy snow as we drove to Seaham. Once we got to chemical beach we huddled beside the stack to shelter from the sleet that was coming down now. Then we got lucky and had a break in the clouds and sleet so we dashed to the wheels and started shooting. I waded in to the sea but with the stormy weather it was quite fiesty so this shot was taken as a wave receded after coming to the top of My thighs, cold icy water in My wellies. I really need a pair of waders LOL!
Adter some heavy rain last evening, the sun broke through so @ 8.45pm I dashed out for a shot of it highlighting the tops of my trees. no rainbow unfortunately
The Western Pacific Heritage Locomotive leads UP Train MKCAT 21 out of town at 10th Street on the UP KC Metro Sub., about to hit the Falls City Sub. for the trip to Atchison. The engine came in this morning on a work train from Texas and almost immediately left town on this move.
The wife and I were grabbing lunch at Pigwich near the west end of Neff as they surprised us and pulled out of the yard. We got our food and dashed to the Kansas Side for a shot.
Locomotive: UP 1983
9-21-17
Kansas City, MO