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The terraces were dug following the natural curves of the landscape. The thickness of the walls stores heat during the day and diffuses it at night. Thanks to this method it has been possible to obtain a different microclimate as one goes down and gets closer to the centre. An average temperature difference of 5°C was observed, whereas the difference is only 0.5°C over comparable height differences at the same location. Due to its sheltered position, each of the terraces represents approximately one thousand metres of altitude under normal growing conditions.
I happened to come by Marvin the other day and thought we could have some fun.
Happy Teddy Bear Tuesday
Penelope tries to explain Colin she is actually Lady Whistledown
Now at We Love Role Play event till 28th February:
- Belle Epoque Penelope dress Pink, 30% off during event.
- Viki Franz male outfit 8 colours Fatpack with hud to change colours of each part. Neck Gurard and Pants included
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- HISA Greyside Mansion- New renovated Victorian home! @ Cupid.Inc till 28th Feb
- Rise Design [ rD ] Indira Set: Necklace and Earrings with hud to change every part of it @ Mainstore
I have to explain that shot!!! this is not good.... :))))
Is Balea Lake! ...and there, on right is Cabana Balea!
This is a shot of mine of Cabana Balea! www.flickr.com/photos/alina-mihaela/5226132051/
Hello dear friends! :)
Thank you very much for your support and encouragement, for the good thoughts and beautiful comments!
Because of some problems with my left hand, I hardly manage to keep up with you, so I’ll post photos here rarely, until I’ll do better! That’s why my comments are fewer.
I really appreciate your work and I’m still admiring your photos!
I wish you a wonderful week, full of accomplishments, joy and love!
All the best to everyone!
To love and be loved every day!!!
Press L for better view!! :)
As I already explained, I only had my zoom lens on my camera when I visited Nancy. It was therefore impossible for me most often, to my great regret, to take overall views of the monuments I saw.
Here, I fortunately found a reflective half sphere placed on the sidewalk. You could admire a reflection of the cathedral there. By taking this sphere from afar, I was able to restore with my zoom lens an original overall view of this building.
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La cathédrale de Nancy en reflet
Comme je l'ai déja expliqué, je n'avais que mon objectif zoom sur mon appareil photo lorsque j'ai visité Nancy. Il m'était donc impossible le plus souvent, à mon grand regret, de prendre des vues d'ensemble des monuments que j'ai vus.
Ici, j'ai heureusement trouvé une demi sphère réfléchissante posée sur le trottoir. On pouvait y admirer un reflet de la cathédrale. En prenant cette sphère de loin, j'ai ainsi pu restituer avec mon zoom une vue d'ensemble originale de cet édifice.
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Nancy - Lorraine - France
Dave and Lee were both peering into dusty looking bags, brows furrowed, pulling out metallic black objects with bits of glass on them. These, I explained to them, were cameras. Their cameras in fact. “Do you remember cameras?” I asked. It was the pair of them that dragged me into this hobby. They looked a bit confused at this question and carried on talking about the football season that by now was all but finished for another year. “Would Ollie Watkins leave the Villa Lee? Apparently he’s a boyhood Arsenal fan and the Gunners desperately need to beef up their striking options.” Lee decided not to be too worried about the prospect of his team’s centre forward leaving for pastures new in the summer. “What’s this thing again?” “It’s a camera. You bought it on eBay, remember? What have you got now? Ooh a Pentax. You haven’t had a Pentax before have you?”
Getting these two to make themselves available at the same time and come out to play for an evening used to be so simple. Ten years ago, we’d be racing home from work, piling into Lee’s trusty old red Renault Kangoo (or Kenneth as he fondly called him), and pottering off to the coast for sunset, where Lee and I would usually end up pitching our tripods on the same square yard of rock in front of the lighthouse or whatever, and Dave, fine art degree at Liverpool Polytechnic and all, would ignore the obvious subject and wander off to do something interestingly creative with a thicket of brambles or a patch of nuclear green gunge in the shallows. If we were statistical samples, Dave would pretty much always be the outlier, and he’d usually produce what Lee and I would grudgingly concede was the shot of the night.
Nowadays, these gatherings have become almost as impossible as herding cats. Whenever I would attempt to wake up the Whatsapp group, one would be responsive and make appropriate noises while the other would remain electronically taciturn and a general sense of inertia would crawl across the entire enterprise once again. They’d take turns at being Mr Positive and Mr Ignoramus and I’d give up and go out on my own. Over the past three or four years these regular outings had almost all but died, replaced by flurries of shutter activity on the occasional residential field trip outside the county. The team at Morrison’s Cafe in Buxton are still counting the profits from our visit to the Peak District last May. Even now, we had one planned for Dartmoor in a couple of weeks, but Dave’s employers have decided to launch two new products at once, despite being short of key personnel, and he’s had to bail on the month entirely. So now we’re hoping to go at the start of September, when the colours should be a bit more interesting, and just before I head to Sweden for another photography jolly. It’s a busy old life you know.
But on Monday there was a pleasing sense of enthusiasm as the pair of them arrived and piled into my car - Kenneth is sadly long gone - for the short trip to Godrevy. Maybe we’d go down to Porth Nanven in a month or so when the white nights are here, we agreed. The field car park was open until nine, so we pulled up in front of the sea, where we sat, catching up with each other’s news. I wondered whether either of them would take the next step and actually get out of the car before it was time to go to the pub. Eventually we descended the steps down to the rocks to the right of the beach, where the tide was full. Late April is a good time to take a shot here when the sea is all over the foreground and the sun is creeping into the left hand side of the frame. But not so much when there are people everywhere. We moved on to where I really wanted to go this evening. The scramble down the cliff. “Remember that time we came down here when there was an amazing sunset?” “Yes, that was the first time we found this spot. Got some great shots that night but I deleted all my raw files afterwards.” That was ten years ago in fact. I don’t delete raw files anymore - not unless they’re complete duds.
An hour later, in time honoured fashion, Lee and I were standing on the same patch of rock taking more or less exactly the same shot, while Dave was a hundred yards to our left, facing in the opposite direction and shooting the sea moving in and out of a deep gully, although he’d forgotten his step up ring and couldn’t use his filters. “Do either of you by any chance have a 67-72?” We didn’t, but we each agreed that we might have one lying around somewhere at home, which wasn’t much use now. All was well in the world - well except for Dave not having brought all of his kit with him. He says he hasn’t got anything worth sharing, while Lee declared he was going to take another look. He at least must have an image to post here. He was standing in the same place as me, using the same filters. As for Dave, he’ll suddenly decide he’s got a masterpiece after all. We’re used to this reticence in demonstrating his genius in the editing suite. We await with bated breath. Will either of them post an image for the first time in forever?
It was time for the pub, three pints of Sea Fury and the customary appraisal of one another’s images from the evening. Dave left his camera in the car. He’s obviously still warming up. At least we were all out together again. That’s the best thing about it. A jolly boy’s outing to Godrevy on a beautiful spring evening with the entire summer ahead of us, and the prospect of more to follow soon.
IMPORTANT: for non-pro users who read the info on a computer, just enlarge your screen to 120% (or more), then the full text will appear below the photo with a white background - which makes reading so much easier.
The color version of the photo above is here: www.lacerta-bilineata.com/ticino-best-photos-of-southern-...
THE STORY BEHIND THE PHOTO:
So far there's only been one photo in my gallery that hasn't been taken in my garden ('The Flame Rider', captured in the Maggia Valley: www.flickr.com/photos/191055893@N07/53563448847/in/datepo... ) - which makes the image above the second time I've "strayed from the path" (although not very far, since the photo was taken only approximately 500 meters from my house).
Overall, I'll stick to my "only-garden rule", but every once in a while I'll show you a little bit of the landscape around my village, because I think it will give you a better sense of just how fascinating this region is, and also of its history.
The title I chose for the photo may seem cheesy, and it's certainly not very original, but I couldn't think of another one, because it's an honest reflection of what I felt when I took it: a profound sense of peace - although if you make it to the end of this text you'll realize my relationship with that word is a bit more complicated.
I got up early that day; it was a beautiful spring morning, and there was still a bit of mist in the valley below my village which I hoped would make for a few nice mood shots, so I quickly grabbed my camera and went down there before the rising sun could dissolve the magical layer on the scenery.
Most human activity hadn't started yet, and I was engulfed in the sounds of the forest as I was walking the narrow trail along the horse pasture; it seemed every little creature around me wanted to make its presence known to potential mates (or rivals) in a myriad of sounds and voices and noises (in case you're interested, here's a taste of what I usually wake up to in spring, but you best use headphones: www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfoCTqdAVCE )
Strolling through such an idyllic landscape next to grazing horses and surrounded by birdsong and beautiful trees, I guess it's kind of obvious one would feel the way I described above and choose the title I did, but as I looked at the old stone buildings - the cattle shelter you can see in the foreground and the stable further up ahead on the right - I also realized how fortunate I was.
It's hard to imagine now, because Switzerland is one of the wealthiest countries in the world today, but the men and women who had carried these stones and constructed the walls of these buildings were among the poorest in Europe. The hardships the people in some of the remote and little developed valleys in Ticino endured only a few generations ago are unimaginable to most folks living in my country today.
It wasn't uncommon that people had to sell their own kids as child slaves - the girls had to work in factories or in rice fields, the boys as "living chimney brushes" in northern Italy - just because there wasn't enough food to support the whole family through the harsh Ticino winters.
If you wonder why contemporary Swiss historians speak of "slaves" as opposed to child laborers, it's because that's what many of them actually were: auctioned off for a negotiable prize at the local market, once sold, these kids were not payed and in many cases not even fed by their masters (they had to beg for food in the streets or steal it).
Translated from German Wikipedia: ...The Piazza grande in Locarno, where the Locarno Film Festival is held today, was one of the places where orphans, foundlings and children from poor families were auctioned off. The boys were sold as chimney sweeps, the girls ended up in the textile industry, in tobacco processing in Brissago or in the rice fields of Novara, which was also extremely hard work: the girls had to stand bent over in the water for twelve to fourteen hours in all weathers. The last verse of the Italian folk song 'Amore mio non piangere' reads: “Mamma, papà, non piangere, se sono consumata, è stata la risaia che mi ha rovinata” (Mom, dad, don't cry when I'm used up, it was the rice field that destroyed me.)... de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaminfegerkinder
The conditions for the chimney sweeps - usually boys between the age of 8 and 12 (or younger, because they had to be small enough to be able to crawl into the chimneys) - were so catastrophic that many of them didn't survive; they died of starvation, cold or soot in their lungs - as well as of work-related accidents like breaking their necks when they fell, or suffocatig if they got stuck in inside a chimney. This practice of "child slavery" went on as late as the 1950s (there's a very short article in English on the topic here: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spazzacamini and a more in depth account for German speakers in this brief clip: www.youtube.com/watch?v=gda8vZp_zsc ).
Now I don't know if the people who built the old stone houses along my path had to sell any of their kids, but looking at the remnants of their (not so distant) era I felt an immense sense of gratitude that I was born at a time of prosperity - and peace - in my region, my country and my home. Because none of it was my doing: it was simple luck that decided when and where I came into this world.
It also made me think of my own family. Both of my grandparents on my father's side grew up in Ticino (they were both born in 1900), but while they eventually left Switzerland's poorest region to live in its richest, the Kanton of Zurich, my grandfather's parents relocated to northern Italy in the 1920s and unfortunately were still there when WWII broke out.
They lost everything during the war, and it was their youngest daughter - whom I only knew as "Zia" which means "aunt" in Italian - who earned a little money to support herself and my great-grandparents by giving piano lessons to high-ranking Nazi officers and their kids (this was towards the end of the war when German forces had occupied Italy).
I never knew that about her; Zia only very rarely spoke of the war, but one time when I visited her when she was already over a 100 years old (she died at close to 104), I asked her how they had managed to survive, and she told me that she went to the local prefecture nearly every day to teach piano. "And on the way there would be the dangling ones" she said, with a shudder.
I didn't get what she meant, so she explained. Visiting the city center where the high ranking military resided meant she had to walk underneath the executed men and women who were hanging from the lantern posts along the road (these executions - often of civilians - were the Germans' retaliations for attacks by the Italian partisans).
I never forgot her words - nor could I shake the look on her face as she re-lived this memory. And I still can't grasp it; my house in Ticino is only 60 meters from the Italian border, and the idea that there was a brutal war going on three houses down the road from where I live now in Zia's lifetime strikes me as completely surreal.
So, back to my title for the photo above. "Peace". It's such a simple, short word, isn't it? And we use it - or its cousin "peaceful" - quite often when we mean nice and quiet or stress-free. But if I'm honest I don't think I know what it means. My grandaunt Zia did, but I can't know. And I honestly hope I never will.
I'm sorry I led you down such a dark road; I usually intend to make people smile with the anecdotes that go with my photos, but this one demanded a different approach (I guess with this latest image I've strayed from the path in more than one sense, and I hope you'll forgive me).
Ticino today is the region with the second highest average life expectancy in Europe (85.2 years), and "The Human Development Index" of 0.961 in 2021 was one of the highest found anywhere in the world, and northern Italy isn't far behind. But my neighbors, many of whom are now in their 90s, remember well it wasn't always so.
That a region so poor it must have felt like purgatory to many of its inhabitants could turn into something as close to paradise on Earth as I can imagine in a person's lifetime should make us all very hopeful. But, and this is the sad part, it also works the other way 'round. And I believe we'd do well to remember that, too.
To all of you - with my usual tardiness but from the bottom of my heart - a happy, healthy, hopeful 2025 and beyond.
The Ocean's Tides Explained
The alternating pattern of rising and falling sea level with respect to land is what we know as the tides. What causes this "motion of the ocean"? In one word, gravity. Specifically, the gravitational forces of the Sun and Moon.
The key to understanding how the tides work is understanding the relationship between the motion of our planet and the Moon and Sun. As the Earth spins on its own axis, ocean water is kept at equal levels around the planet by the Earth's gravity pulling inward and centrifugal force pushing outward.
However, the Moon's gravitational forces are strong enough to disrupt this balance by accelerating the water towards the Moon. This causes the water to 'bulge.' As the Moon orbits our planet and as the Earth rotates, the bulge also moves. The areas of the Earth where the bulging occurs experience high tide, and the other areas are subject to a low tide.
Moonconnection.com
♥
I'm wearing..
Newphe - Olli Shirt -
Fatpack came with a lot of colors and stamps.
Rigged for Reborn and Waifu - Lara and LaraX and PetiteX - Legacy and Perky and Bombshell sizes.
At Mainstore: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Maribella/50/202/2350
♥
Tomorrow it's the turn of another guy.
Jardin Charles-Trenet on Rue Brillat-Savarin, Maison Blanche (13e)
Paris, France 31.05.2022
Der Welterklärer
Morgen ist ein anderer dran.
Jardin Charles-Trenet an der Rue Brillat-Savarin, Maison Blanche (13e)
Paris, Frankreich 31.05.2022
IMGP1215
Name Change Explained - I am trying to be a bit less accessible on social media, I noticed that if I googled my name all my photos were there to see, and some were being pinned onto pinterest and other sites without my knowledge. I have stopped tagging my pics or adding them to groups as they can be shared from groups, even if your own Flickr settings are set. It would be a shame to not share my pics with Flickr friends and followers but my pics are not for general use or to be reproduced without my knowledge. They are just a hobby and pastime amongst friends and followers. Thanks for your support, Pamela.
(Pamela dot M or Alemap backwards !)
After a lengthy observation over the weekend, I realized that I had gotten the genders of the two birds switched around, which explains a lot concerning their individual behaviors and dispositions. So, I have decided to name them Zeus and Leto instead, which fits them as well, and, even better, is an actual pair in Greek mythology.
It seems impossible to explain with words, so pictures help try to express how it feels to live this experience.
[image created on 4-24-2024]
I have become very fascinated by digital pinhole photography. This image was created with a modified pinhole body cap. I think I’m drawn to this type of photography because I feel it relates to my life and it seems to teach me far beyond photography. There are strict limitations that can drastically alter how images are captured and the final outcome of the photos, there is a lack of clarity compared to how I normally capture images with a lens, it’s difficult to predict exactly how the image will look and beauty and meaning can be found in the process and the final photo. It gives me a chance to practice embracing the unfamiliar, change, finding beauty in imperfection and growing in new ways. And the look of the images reminds me of how it feels when the effects of trauma cause me to question reality and myself, feel terror, feel isolated, alone, deep sadness, dissociation, body memories and a range of other indescribably challenging experiences. When my voice is stolen and I cannot speak or find adequate words to describe what I face I am thankful I can relate my experiences to what I see in pinhole photography rather than “keeping it all inside.”
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As a way to cope with circumstances beyond my control, survive and work to keep fighting for life I decided to try to take at least one photo (or more) each day. I call this “a photo (or more) a day.” Practicing this form of therapeutic photography helps me work to focus on the present moment, gives me something familiar and enjoyable to focus on as I use photography skills that have become like second-nature to me and being able to view the images I capture helps me recall what I was thinking, feeling and noticing at the moment when I created the photos. More of the photos from this series can be seen on my Instagram account
I may not always have the energy, time or capacity to share photos from this series—especially with the very challenging circumstances my family and I are experiencing—and will do my best to continue taking a photo (or more) a day even if I’m not able to share.
If you would like to support my work and my family, one way you can do so is by ordering my zines:
Many thanks for your support.
I should perhaps explain "Peedie" Peedie is a traditional Orkney word meaning small and in this particular setting it obviously means "Small Sea" so it would be fair to ask how this come to be?
The reason is the sea in Kirkwall originally went all the way up to the steps of St.Magnus Cathedral and over the centuries the sea was reclaimed by the people of Kirkwall leaving only a very small Sea which would have been created by the Geological feature of an 'AYRE' which is a bar of shingle or stones forming on a narrow spit of land from the shore.
Recent Archaeological excavations very nearby to the Cathedral unearthed old piers possibly used in the building of the Cathedral.
Kirkwall's name comes from the Norse 'Kirkjuvagr', meaning 'Church on the bay'
I cannot. A double-exposure, the first thing one would jump to, is out. How could the second exposure on the same frame just selectively put in the three rectangular images without all the surrounding details? Very weird. I cannot possibly explain it but maybe one of you can. This was not taken through a window. I was standing out on our balcony in the open air.
Yashica FX-3 Super 2000 with Yashica ML 28mm f/2.8
Portra 400
February 9, 2021
Not being from the area, I can't explain the SP train on BN at Highlands, IL. I can vouch for one thing. It appeared to run every day at the same time. SP SD40T-2 No. 8319 leads the westbound train under the signal bridge and past the station on May 9, 1991.
Normally, Jongmyo Shrine is only open for guided tours on most days. However, I was able to get in without a guided tour because it was on a Saturday which was the only day not needing a guided tour. Still, I got a glimpse on how much importance South Koreans put on cultural education to their kids.
Right over here in this photo was a guide in hanbok explaining to the kids what was Jongmyo Shrine used in the past. A really interesting thing to note is that despite fast changes and foreign influence over the decades, Korea has still managed to keep many of its traditions.
Jaffa, in Hebrew Yafo (Hebrew: יָפוֹ, About this soundYāfō (help·info)) and in Arabic Yafa (Arabic: يَافَا) and also called Japho or Joppa, the southern and oldest part of Tel Aviv-Yafo, is an ancient port city in Israel. Jaffa is famous for its association with the biblical stories of Jonah, Solomon and Saint Peter as well as the mythological story of Andromeda and Perseus, and later for its oranges. Jaffa is mentioned in an Ancient Egyptian letter from 1440 BCE. The so-called story of the Taking of Joppa glorifies its conquest by Pharaoh Thutmose III, whose general, Djehuty hid Egyptian soldiers in sacks carried by pack animals and sent them camouflaged as tribute into the Canaanite city, where the soldiers emerged and conquered it. The New Testament account of Saint Peter bringing back to life the widow Dorcas (recorded in Acts of the Apostles, 9:36–42, takes place in Jaffa, then called in Greek Ἰόππη (Latinized as Joppa). Acts 10:10–23 relates that, while Peter was in Jaffa, he had a vision of a large sheet filled with "clean" and "unclean" animals being lowered from heaven, together with a message from the Holy Spirit telling him to accompany several messengers to Cornelius in Caesarea Maritima. Peter retells the story of his vision in Acts 11:4–17, explaining how he had come to preach Christianity to the gentiles. Sourse: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaffa