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I expected more from this dress. I even wore red petticoats to get a fully co-ordinated feel but for some reason that I can't put my finger on it's not delivering on what I hoped. It's a feeling I'm sure most of us have experienced at one time or another. Of course, in this case, the problem may not not be one of fashion but rather of articulation.
Expect a lot of pictures from me this week. Totally going to make use of my spring break (AKA blasting Black Veil Brides while building Lego)
it's been three years since I last went to Curbar Gap, and along the top. And today I was reminded what a pleasant walk it is. And there was even some fabulous colour in the sky just before sunrise. But the sun rises in completely the wrong direction to make anything off it there. I gave up on any prospect of stunning photos and concentrated on Darcy and I having a nice walk. Which we did. Until I came over a brow. And what I saw just wasn't what I expected at 7.30 in the morning.
today felt like Narnia all over again
was expecting the white queen to arrive any mo
one for my christmas card local series.
It's a bit of a birders' bird and it looks rather uninteresting in thumbnail, so I'm not expecting much attention. But while out for a walk in a wood on the edge of the Peak District yesterday afternoon I found this Nightjar resting in a tree. It was such an unusual find of this nocturnal bird in broad daylight that I had to post it. They sit motionless during the day, near-impossible to find but after sunset they become active, making some wonderful calls and bouncing around the sky with great acrobatic agility. They eat insects which they catch on the wing by flying round with their enormous mouths open, like a Swift (Apus apus). They return from Africa in mid May and disappear in September after one or two broods of chicks. They are also scarce and extremely patchily distributed in Britain, but with their greatest populations on the dry heathlands of southern England. This is a male as you can see white patches on his tail below the branch. If you look carefully you can see the rictal bristles around the bill gape which increase the catching area for insects. I found him in a wood on the edge of the Peak District.
The scientific name Caprimulgus translates as goat-milker from the ancient belief (dating back before Aristotle) that Nightjars fed from goat udders, which caused them to stop producing milk, and eventually to go blind. This seems to be based on the simple observation that they have large mouths that might be capable of clamping on a goat's udder, but the large mouth is really to catch insects with. Because milk is a mammalian product, birds have never evolved the enzyme lactase that enables them to digest milk. It was fat that the Blue Tits used to steal off the top of the milk, and they stopped feeding from milk bottles once our tastes changed to low-fat semi-skimmed milk.
Where to begin my long story? I’ll start by saying expect to see more of these furry goldenrods in the days and weeks ahead. You will probably be sick of them before I am done posting shots. This is from my small prairie/meadow planting in the back of my lot in Indianapolis. Much of what grows there just came up naturally, but many others are things I’ve added. In general, the things I’ve added are the things that I’d prefer to spread and become more common. This is a plant I am not fond of. It is either tall goldenrod (Solidago altissima) or Canada goldenrod (Solidago canadensis), both being very common plants around here that are difficult to tell apart. I don’t bother trying to accurately tell one from the other. Although both are native species, they are aggressive and adaptable bullies that don’t hesitate to dominate any given area. Often in areas being restored to native prairie, they become a pest by overrunning areas to the detriment of other more desirable species.
In my prairie/meadow there are two plants that I particularly dislike. One that I planted is tall coreopsis (Coreopsis tripteris) which gets too tall and covers more real estate than I prefer (but goldfinches love eating the seeds). The other is this goldenrod that just came in on its own and is now the dominant plant. Funny thing is that it’s kind of a hate/like relationship (cannot bring myself to say hate/love) because there are some things that I like about it. For example, I love ambush bugs, those tiny, predaceous, armored bugs that look like miniature army tanks. Well, this goldenrod is the plant on which I find the most ambush bugs. And then there is late fall when the goldenrods look like this – little furry works of botanical artwork begging my camera and me for attention. So, it goes to show that even a plant that I despise can sometimes win me over in subtle little ways that I want to deny, but cannot.
I didn´t expect her to come today. On Amazon they said she will arrive on Thursday so when I got the package I was like...what the hell did I buy again but yay she´s really cute. I love her smile but her shin colour looks a bit weird to me
I sometimes think we expect too much of Christmas Day. We try to crowd into it the long arrears of kindliness and humanity of the whole year. As for me, I like to take my Christmas a little at a time, all through the year. And thus I drift along into the holidays--let them overtake me unexpectedly--waking up some fine morning and suddenly saying to myself: 'Why this is Christmas Day!'"
~ Ray Stannard Baker
Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and a year filled with health and happiness.
Tried something a little bit different then I'm used to...
italic- Ghost Rider
bold- Satan/ the Devil
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I bet you're expecting a man full of sin, one who doesn't care for moral rights or laws. One who can walk the line of both worlds, and still not be scarred. If this is what you predicted, then you're dead wrong. I do walk both lines, but both lead to different trails.
It all started with her death. Imagine a perfect day, one that makes birds sing, and you can smell the dew in the air. Two people sit under a tree, as they usually did on a Sunday evening.
Her father always wanted her to go to church. She never went until I told her to. We went together, and after ever mass, we walked to that tree, and sat just listening to the world around us.
On that day, she said those words which I could never forget.
"I love you."
This is what kills me. These words were my undoing. Fear of what could happen if I took her under my wing. I said some stupid excuse, and went home. Then I decided that I could handle it. I could love her, and that I always would.
Well, you can probably guess what happened from there.
I ran back to the tree, like I was in some kind of movie, the guy chasing after the girl. But I was too late. She wasn't at the tree. I sat down on the ground, leaning on the tree. Then, I remember seeing smoke, coming from one of the streets.
It must have been a car accident I thought to myself. It had to be. But being that "good" man I thought I was, I ran down the hill again.
Once I got down to the street, I saw that it was a car crash. A stupid biker had crashed into a red Honda Civic.
This car accident meant nothing to anyone else around me. It was just a regular crash. But I remember seeing two bodies on the ground, painted with crimson liquid.
I felt something come out of my eye. Something I couldn't fell anymore. There she was, in the middle of the street, laying lifeless. The other victim was there also.
I used to be afraid of the sight of blood. But this was her. I ran into the street, nothing mattered anymore. Cars honking, rushing by me, while I was cradling her.
I yelled to see if anyone had called the police. I screamed it. I broke out into tears. Even though it felt like forever, waiting there, they finally arrived. The men that were supposed to help the citizens were finally here.
They couldn't help her though, no. She was "totaled" in car language.
They said there was a note in the car. They guessed she was writing it while she was driving.
I looked at the letter, and saw tears all over it. I unwrinkled the paper to see this:
John. I know you've been good to me, and I thank you for this. But, you seemed like you couldn't handle a marriage, and that's when I figured out I couldn't handle one either. I figured I couldn't handle anything. We were young, that's all. For lust, I believe. I'm not even sure I ever loved you. Did you ever lov.....
That's when it stopped. A pen mark went across the page from where it stopped. They said she was speeding. A death note.
The doctor said there was nothing he could do, but yet, I knew there was. I was a religious man. Prayer was my way of getting her back. It was the only way.
I prayed on and off for months. I never left the chapel, I slept there. I prayed for answers, but none returned.
One fateful day, I awoke to see a note. No a waver. The only words on the paper were,
Love is forever, but not without a soul.
Then, a place to sign was under it. I looked around, trying to find the person who gave the note. No one was around, and frankly, I was there for years. Time flew by, and I had no idea. The church had been destroyed, but the chapel remained. And the note. To sign the note, my fate was unknown. But love fueled me. It always had.
I signed.
Have you ever felt the feelings of butterflies in your stomach? Imagine it times twelve. Then the feeling of my eyes burning, like pepper spray, but instead of the spray, I got the seeds. I saw flames form around my eyes, and skin peel from my hands.
But then she appeared. She was alive, and she was confused. I approached her, pain still in my body. She saw me once, and fled. I screamed her name, and noticed my voice was changing. More, raspy.
My clothes burned away, and the feel of leather wrapped around me. A chain made of flames slung around my shoulder.
Time to come visit.
The voice dragged me down deep into the chapel.
It seems your prayers were answered.
The voice was like sandpaper rubbing against metal. I couldn't see at the moment, everything was dark. But then I saw red. All of it. The whole world was red. It had seemed like I fell, as I was on my face. I stood up, and saw the chain on my shoulder. It was heavy.
Come John.
The voice could be heard from a distance. I didn't want to go, but my feet were moving. I dragged the chain on the ground, up the hills, and down the hills. This was the Hell he made for me. I finally saw a figure, and it stood out. White and black, while everything else was red.
John... lets see... loved Geneviève Rosa... signed the contract. Yep, you're here. Welcome to Hell.
"What is this place?"
Hm. Duh, I just said Hell.
"This is a lot worse than expected."
So you expected to come down her?
"No... that's not what I... meant."
Well, you sold your soul to... me.
"That's what that note was?"
Yeah. Sorry, the big guy wasn't responding. I tried to help you.
"You can't help me. You're the... devil."
Oh come on. What are you? Human? Wait, never mind, you aren't that anymore.
"What did you do to me?"
A holy man turned Rider. I like irony John. Oh by the way...
He whistled, and I could hear a bike. I still remember hearing that sound. Tires scratching on the sands of Hell. It arrived, and I recognized it immediately. It was the same bike that had killed her.
"Ironic."
Quite. Get on.
"I'm not your faithful believer."
Well you are for Him.
"Let me guess... Ironic."
Look, just get on. You're my Rider now. My Ghost Rider. One who walks Earth, and Hell, making people pay for their sins, and bringing them down here for me. Simple.
I tried to reason with him, saying it was unfair. She had left me, even when I saved her. She took my soul, and threw me away. It not only hurt me, but fueled me with something worse than love.
Hatred. It's what will fuel you through your journeys.
I looked at him, and I remember him smiling.
"What is your bidding."
Perfect. There is a man who brings people back from the dead. I want him... I want Otto Octavious.
I hopped on the bike, and started the bike. Flames appeared from the bike, as I fueled the bike. My hatred could fuel all of Hell. But I had a job to do. I rode my bike up a ramp (ha it's still there) and went back onto Earth. As I said, I had a job to do.
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Yes, that was pretty long, but I really wanted to get the emotion in there. Anyways, you guys wanted this, so hopefully you like it!
I expect that most visitors begin their day on the BM&LP much like I did, sitting in the truck along highway 98 waiting for when and if the train runs. When there was no action for hours I admit leaving the shot to peak into the power plant for any hint of activity and even going back to the motel to recover the drinks I forgot in the fridge. Fortunately that didn’t kill the day like it often does. They started unloading the night train just after 9:00 and were ready to leave just after 10:00. Of course 10:00 on Arizona time in May is getting to be pretty high sun but at least they ran. The reason for the railroad is the Navajo Generating Station in the background. Along with the need to supply power to growing populations in Arizona, Nevada, and California, a major factor in building the plant in 1970 was the power requirements to pump water from the Colorado River to Central Arizona. The current operators own other alternate fuel plants and have decided not to renew the lease at the end of 2019. For now no other operators are stepping forward. The Navajo Nation voted against taking over operation. The power plant and railroad are likely to close. In case things don’t change I made a one day effort to get a look after a Phoenix business trip and was rewarded with a slow start but then a full day of juice chasing. Can’t remember ever doing that before and likely won’t again, at least in North America. May 4, 2019 just outside Page Az. Thanks to FIREMAN424 and steve55126 for background on this operation that gave me enough confidence to give the trip a chance.
Have you met the Black Dog?
Has he followed you late at night, in your dreams or in your mind?
He is cunning, and will lie in wait,
until he senses the time is right.
Then when you least expect it, he will pounce,
taking your freedom, your confidence, your courage.
Once he has you in his bite, he will control your life.
He will make you do things you never thought you could or should.
Those who have not met the Black Dog will not understand where you are,
or who you are, and they will not know where to find you, or your soul.
They will just see a different person, and won't know why.
They will still care, still love you, and try to understand you.
But you have the Black Dog, he is your new friend.
He holds the power, and gives you his strength,
but his strength will bleed you dry.
He will show you the way to your new life,
but this new life you cannot sustain,
In the end you will put out your hand for help,
and those that love you will release you from the Black Dog's bite.
But beware of the Black Dog, as he will always be there,
hiding and lurking somewhere.
You must respect the Black Dog, and be at the ready,
don't let him get you, don't let him win.
Now you hold the power, and you make the rules,
and, should that Black Dog cross your path,
you will know how to fight to redeem your life,
'cause that Black Dog is never as strong as the person he bites.
A poem by Jamie Davis
This is a manipulated image created from an AI base, please do not invite to your groups if you have a no AI policy.
You can read a little breakdown on how I create these images on my 'About' page if you are interested.
Stable Diffusion/PhotoShop/Gigapixel AI
Here's what I've been working on, not a moc but a film! Yes that's right.
I am currently producing another lego WWII film, this one is about the defenders of Brest Fortress.
Expect "The might of the Fortress" to be out by late August!
While walking to class this morning I glanced up the street to see Via 70 arriving at Brantford with P42 907 on the point.
I wandered a couple blocks past campus to snap a few shots on my cell phone, no hell but not bad either!
Wasn't expecting to find these near Maidstone!, and the ex Ipswich Buses vehicle on the left is now used by Rumwoods Gardens Farms to transport Farm workers around Langley Heath, and is used along with many other vehicles, including many ex Stagecoach Vehicles, and acording to recently updated Google Maps Satalite Imagery many other Farm Workers Buses can be found around Five Wents, Langley, Sutton Valence, Coxheath and Mereworth, all near Maidstone in Kent.
A Thank You to the Yard Owner who gave permision and allowed me to take this shot and the other shot I did here: www.flickr.com/photos/77145939@N08/51934388706/, and any truck or van registrations are blurred Out and not shown as requested, and the Leyland E228CFC on the right is in Non PCV Use and has lived in Kent for several years.
And be sure to check by my other acount: www.flickr.com/photos_user.gne?path=&nsid=77145939%40..., to see what else I saw Today!!
I’d been to Welch Spring before, so I knew what to expect. Cold rushing water from the base of a bluff, mist rising all around . . . and then there was the stone remnants of that old hospital with steel bars on the windows standing on the other side. In the dim light of dawn, it’s just a bit creepy.
Welch Spring is named after Thomas Welch, who homesteaded this spring located on the Upper Current River between Cedargrove and Akers, Missouri, in 1855. In 1913, an Illinois doctor named C.H. Diehl bought the spring for $800. Believing that the 75 million gallons of spring water that gushes forth daily from a cave located at the base of the bluff had healing properties, Dr. Diehl built a small two-story hospital out of stone near the mouth of the cave. The spring which flowed from the cave was dammed up in order to force the pollen-free air into the hospital.
Over time, a small resort sprung up around the hospital, and people traveled from neighboring states to this remote Missouri spring where Dr. Diehl performed his wondrous healing. Unfortunately, the promise of a cure for asthma, emphysema, tuberculosis and “consumption” could not overcome the remoteness of the location. Lacking paved roads and other amenities, few were willing to make the arduous trip to Welch Spring located deep in the Missouri Ozarks.
Dr. Diehl died in 1940, and his family had little interest in maintaining the resort, which soon fell into ruin. The remnants of the hospital, seen here, are all that continue to stand of Dr. Diehl’s miracle cure.
© All rights reserved - - No Usage Allowed in Any Form Without the Written Consent of the photographer, Mark S. Schuver.
The best way to view my photostream is on Flickriver: Nikon66's photos on Flickriver
'Expect the unexpected' is what I have learned from three of years of landscape photography, especially on Dartmoor where the weather can be so unpredictable. Today there was no obvious sign of what was about to happen and I almost wondered if I’d sacrificed my sleep yet again. However, I had my suspicions that the early sun would provide some light and colour but perhaps not quite as impressive as this. Thank you for taking a look. Mk
The weather has been poor; we have had lots of rain, but this gent is obviously expecting things to get even worse!
Just won an eBay dress for £0.99. Woo Hoo! That's 2 new things to try soon. A top and a dress. And another dress. No....! 3... it's 3 new things. A top and a dress and a flirty dress... and another dress. 4! 4 new things. A top, a dress, a flirty dress and a sparkly dress. And another top..... I'll come in again.
This was not something I was expecting to catch today but thanks to a tip off from TugForty, I was fortunate enough to be in a position to be able to head out for shot.
With full sun both sides of the photo, a covering of cloud was obviously the order of the 30 seconds when the train was in-front of the lens....
You wait for two 86/6s and four of them turn up at once, making all of my christmases come together.
Freightliner class 86 no. 86628 leads classmate no. 86639 and further dead pair of 86/6s nos. 86614 and 86637 south on the slow line past Westwood Road, Atherstone with 4A96 Crewe Basford Hall- Wembley Wheel Lathe freightliner on 13th June 2020.
I presume that this is a way of getting two pairs of 86/6s in position for Monday morning's workings north as the two southbound liners from Trafford Park were worked by 66s today and following the cross county route to Ipswich.
The Class 86 locomotives built upon the Class 81-5 however they included some improved features such as quieter fans.
The locos were initially notorious for causing track damage due to a large amount of unsprung mass however, after modifications which led to the fitting of large flexicoil springs, the problems diminished. The initial class 86/0 subclass was limited to 85 mph due to the track-wear issue, those which were fitted with flexicoil springs were renumbered into the 86/2 series and were 100mph capable. 3 test bed class 87s were numbered 86101-103 and were 110mph locos.
Many locomotives have been exported to operator Floyd in Hungary and are used on freight trains over there.
The 86/7 subclass of two locomotives was 110mph capable however they were withdrawn in early 2013 due to lack of GSMR fitment. After several unsuccessful attempts to find work for 86701 and 86702, both locomotives were exported.
The 86/6 subclass is limited to 75mph and are used on Freightliner trains on a daily basis as working pairs.
From 2015 to 2019, 86101, 86401 and 87002 were hired in by GBRf in order to work ECS moves between London Euston and Wembley ICD for the Caledonian Sleeper. After the arrival of mk5 stock to the Caledonian Sleeper, 87002, 86101 and 86401 came off lease. 86101 and 87002 were sold to Locomotive Services Limited in Crewe and 86401 was sold to the West Coast Railway Company and is currently based at Carnforth.
After 50 years of service, 16 locos remain in service with Freightliner, one with Locomotive Services Limited, one with WRC and one with a private owner.
The European robin (Erithacus rubecula), known simply as the robin or robin redbreast in the British Isles, is a small insectivorous passerine bird, specifically a chat, that was formerly classified as a member of the thrush family (Turdidae) but is now considered to be an Old World flycatcher. About 12.5–14.0 cm (5.0–5.5 inches) in length, the male and female are similar in coloration, with an orange breast and face lined with grey, brown upperparts and a whitish belly. It is found across Europe, east to Western Siberia and south to North Africa; it is sedentary in most of its range except the far north.
The robin is diurnal, although has been reported to be active hunting insects on moonlit nights or near artificial light at night. Well known to British and Irish gardeners, it is relatively unafraid of people and drawn to human activities involving the digging of soil, in order to look out for earthworms and other food freshly turned up. Indeed, the robin is considered to be a gardener's friend and for various folklore reasons the robin would never be harmed. In continental Europe on the other hand, robins were hunted and killed as with most other small birds, and are more wary. Robins also approach large wild animals, such as wild boar and other animals which disturb the ground, to look for any food that might be brought to the surface. In autumn and winter, robins will supplement their usual diet of terrestrial invertebrates, such as spiders, worms and insects, with berries and fruit. They will also eat seed mixtures placed on bird-tables.
Male robins are noted for their highly aggressive territorial behavior. They will fiercely attack other males and competitors that stray into their territories and have been observed attacking other small birds without apparent provocation. Such attacks sometimes lead to fatalities, accounting for up to 10% of adult robin deaths in some areas.
Because of high mortality in the first year of life, a robin has an average life expectancy of 1.1 years; however, once past its first year it can expect to live longer and one robin has been recorded as reaching 19 years of age. A spell of very low temperatures in winter may also result in significant mortality.
For more information, please visit en.wikipedia.org/wiki/European_robin
This medium-sized alcove is like a smaller version of the Great Chamber, but without the stain patterns. It has a small sand dune inside. Located a short walk from a gas station in Page, Arizona, it is becoming a popular place for selfie photos and short visits. Expect lots of footprints on the dune.
This is a pano made from 3 vertical shots.
I really owe Amy a lot for this shot. She was forced to walk in front of this sign for like 20 times and I finally got, well, one quite satisfactory shot... :p She's a very professional model. And sorry, I'm a complete amateur photographer... :p
Sorry & Thank you, Amy! :****
As expected, not everyone showed up.
Dick: “Sorry Bruce...me and Steph are really busy. We’ve got to monitor the Titans. I’ll send in my girlfriend—“
Barbara: “I’m always here.”
Dick: “Thanks babe.”
Followed by none other than my adoptive sons. I saved out Jason for the occasion. And Cass...she was away like Kate and the rest.
Damian: “I’m here father. What do you need?”
Tim: “Bruce, I hope you’re not paranoid about this being so emergent....”
Bruce: “I’m not paranoid. I know what I’m doing. I just didn’t bring Jason for whatever reasons there is...”
Barbara: “I did ask Dick, then Roy. None of them have a single clue about him.
Bruce: “Looks like I’ll have to put together a team for this then....we need to investigate on his whereabouts.”
***
Damian: “Father, when was the last time you slept?”
Bruce: “Long ago. Don’t bother.”
Damian: “Pfft. If only I could visit this Morpheus...”
Bruce: “It’s none of your concern. Focus on the job.”
I can tell my son isn’t very pleased, as he would usually be. Even worse, Talia had been gone for three years, and that’s when we started to grow distant....
Gordon: “Dispatching available units to Gotham Alley. I repeat, dispatching available units to Crime Alley.”
Without a second though, I step my foot on the accelerator as the Batmobile goes quickly. We arrive in minutes after Gordon gives us a briefing through the comms.
There is a bloody trail that leads up to a building, just 20 metres away on that spot where my parents died. Gordon had warned me that there’s been quite some attacks that I wasn’t quite aware about.
Damian: “What if he’s setting us up?”
Bruce: “Don’t get your hopes too high yet. Oracle, try tracing the DNA.”
Barbara: “Hmm...it does seem to look like a murder case. It’s odd why no one knew until the police went through it to find out.”
Damian: “Weird thing for sure, they left some blood trails but without the bodies. Way to waste the bags when they don’t need it.”
Barbara: “Got it. It’s still very unclear on who it belongs to, but a match seems to indicate that a socialite stumbled here. Sorry Bruce, I’ll have to dig more.”
Bruce: “Do your best.”
My lenses do not tell me there are more people inside the building, but it is possible to look out on. I should be looking further beyond the lines....
And a kick nearly hits me in the ribs but I was able to anticipate it in time. Five muggers clad in masks, each with a armed weapon, start lunging. Damian throws a smokebomb quickly, as he does whips out his staff, hitting one in the head with a metal bat and the other carrying a chained machete.
And I am left dealing with three confused criminals. The leader is easy to recognise with his armed coat, and he takes two knives from his pocket and starts attacking blindly. However he is no match for me, and lays painfully on the floor from five hits to the ribs and one in front of the mask.
The last two men start to get worried, mostly due to my presence stepping out of the smoke. I throw a batarang which disables one of the men’s legs, falling flat to the ground while Robin pins the other, conscious one to the wall.
Damian: “Start talking or I’ll break your bones.”
Bruce: “Robin, don’t. Now tell me, who hired you?”
Mugger 5: I swear, Batman, I can’t say it!”
Bruce: “Fine. Then tell me, did you have anything to do with these murders?”
Mugger 5: “Y-yes! I didn’t want to! They pressured me into joining the False Face Society to murder these socialites! It was an accident! I didn’t want to hit him....”
Batman: “False Face Society? What more do you know about this?
Mugger 5: “A guy in a mask! He told me and my friends that we would be paid handsomely if we got the deal done!”
As Robin knocks him out and ties them together, I start questioning myself. Sionis? Back in town? I thought there was no way he could have returned form this gang war...
I’ll have to check it out inside.
Expect more cluster-y posts like this because I'm a little more active on Instagram than here. Enjoy :)
Wasn't expecting to see this in Dover tonight, and this vehicle is recently aquired by Crosskeys in December 2021, and has now been given this Special Heritage Paint similar to that carried by the first Bova Coaches they bought new in the early 1980's: www.flickr.com/photos/41244661@N02/8599043894/, to mark 40 years of the Company.
And be sure to check by my other acount: www.flickr.com/photos_user.gne?path=&nsid=77145939%40..., to see what else I saw 2 Weeks ago!!
We're expecting a bit of weather. Predictions are for between 15-20 cm before morning. Maybe. I'll not hold my breath.
Here in the city, we rarely get the severe weather that is predicted. But just a few km outside and it could be havoc.
I'd gone for lunch with an old friend and as we finished the snow started. I thought it very pretty and took my time before getting on the streetcar home.