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I swung by the TRU near me and emptied the box (22 figs)! And no I didn't feel them out.
Location: USA, north east coast
My last self-portrait taken at the age of twenty-five. ;) This was taken on July 16th... my birthday is July 17th... I'm just so behind on uploads due to... life happening! Ahhh!
Think I'll do this every year now, as I did it last year at twenty-four.
Tonight was my last night of academics for graduate school. I start seeing clients in September, and then I'll be fully graduated this time next year! Holy frik! I'm excited! I found an apartment for Steve and I, and am so incredibly excited about the move! Woo! Big things are happening right now, and it's fabulous! I'm so grateful for life. ;)
If you fancy it... View On Black!!!
Blog will be updated soon, now that I have free time! Yay!
taken @ Cubao, Quezon City
*wala talaga akong masabi sa unit na to, ang ganda, bumagay pa sa livery, lalo na dun sa may bumper..
The ridiculous wait time of FIVE HOURS for the Anna and Elsa meet and greet at Princess Fairytale Hall in Fantasyland at the Magic Kingdom.
'Black Five' no 44806 rounds the curve at Darnholm near Goathland on the North Yorkshire Moors railway with the 10.30 off Grosmont. On the back is a class 37 (actually contributing only a few horsepower to the uphill effort) but there to ensure steady progress up the bank - with eight on.
Bus No: 965
Body: 2007 Kinglong XMQ6118JB Series
Engine: Nissan Diesel FE6TC
Chassis: KLQ6121RJQ
Suspension: Air Suspension
Transmission: M/T
Route: Cubao-San Carlos
Location: Dau Access Road, Mabalacat, Pampanga
Clay, NY. May 2022.
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If you would like to use THIS picture in any sort of media elsewhere (such as newspaper or article), please send me a Flickrmail or send me an email at natehenderson6@gmail.com
Body No.: 734
Body: Santarosa Philippines - Five Star Bus Body
Model: Exfoh
Chassis: Nissan Diesel RB31S
Engine: Nissan Diesel PE6
Route: Pasay-San Carlos
Location: Tibag, Tarlac City
I spent a delightful Saturday with the Famous Flickr Five+ Group in Blackwood at the Garden of St Erth. As my first Famous Flickr Five+ excursion, I was just delighted by how kind and welcoming everyone was. I look forward to future trips to places I have never been (such as the garden of St Erth) with the Famous Flickr Five+ Group in the future.
In 1854 a Cornish stonemason named Matthew Rogers decided to pursue his luck in the goldfields around Mount Blackwood in Victoria, so he packed up his life in Sydney and journeyed south. His venture proved successful, as he became one of the gold rush's most successful miners.
In the 1860s, Matthew built a modest sandstone cottage from stone quarried from around Bacchus Marsh behind a boot factory in an area known as Simmonds Reef, just outside what was then the very busy and thriving gold mining community of Blackwood which at the time had a population of some 13,000 people. He named it "St Erth" after his Cornwall birthplace. The original title was dated 1867, but it is believed the house was built before then.
The sandstone cottage is typical of Victorian architecture found in Australia at that time. Built in Victorian Georgian style. It features a symmetrical facade of exposed sandstone brick with sash windows either side of the front door, all of which are characteristics of Victorian Georgian architecture. The shady verandah, today covered in curling wisteria vine, features elegant, slender posts, which is also typical of the architectural style, as is the medium pitch corrugated iron roof.
Matthew attached a wooden building to the western end of his neat stone cottage which served as the Blackwood post office for a time, and also a general store; both essential parts of the burgeoning community.
The gold rush lasted for twenty eight years. Matthew's daughter Elizabeth and her husband Jim Terrill continued to maintain the store, but as gold ran out, the wooden buildings of the town were moved to Trentham. For a time the house lay empty and the bush moved back in. Eventually it was bought by a group of Melbourne businessmen who called themselves the Simmons Reef Shire Council.
Today, "St Erth" is the Garden of St Erth; a wonderful garden featuring fruit trees, an espalier orchard, heirloom vegetables, perennials, daffodils, tulips, flowering shrubs and a plant nursery. The Garden of St Erth is one of two main sites in Victoria for the Diggers Club, who specialise in growing and selling heirloom variety plants and old fashioned exotic plants. The homestead forms the entry to the beautiful garden, as well as a shop showcasing the heritage seeds, gardening equipment and myriad gardening products in line with the Diggers Club's commitment to sustainable gardening. Outside there's a plant nursery with a wonderful array of trees and plants for sale. A pretty cafe offers drinks, cakes and meals indoors or out featuring where possible local produce and some sourced from the garden.
Matthew Rogers was born at St. Erth, Cornwall, on 11th June 1824, he arrived in Victoria in 1854 with his wife Mary, and came to Blackwood about 1855. Matthew and Mary Rogers were the wealthiest people in Simmons Reef. Matthew did well from his mine called "Mount Rogers Big Hill Mine". He is stated to have made a fortune out of ore that yielded one and a half pennyweights to the ton. Mary Ann Rogers was born in Hayle in Cornwall 24th June 1828. She looked after the store and the Post Office attached to the house. The Rogers had no children, and adopted a girl born in 1872, called Elizabeth. Mary Ann Rogers died on the 27th of August 1896, aged 68 years. Matthew Rogers died on the 6th of January 1902.
Nestled against the Wombat State Forest, the township of Blackwood was originally founded in 1855 during the Victorian gold rush. The township's post office was opened in September 1855, and was known as Mount Blackwood until 1921. The township has shrunk significantly since the gold rush ended, and today many of its properties are weekenders for Melbourne professionals. The town still has a main street featuring a post office and general store, a pub, a cafe and an antique shop. It still retains some of its original miners cottages beyond "St Erth". It is a quiet, sleepy town, and is a delightful retreat for some peace and quiet. Blackwood is perhaps best known today for its music and culture festival held in November. It attracts artists from across the world.
Argoflex Seventy-five complete with green filter and piece of tape to keep shutter on instant release.
Film: 35mm ASA 64 FN64 Svema
Camera: Nikon N80
Developed Caffenol–CL
Scanned Epson V600 Edited in Adobe Elements 10
20150501N80-036-1
And so to the 54th and final East Anglian church of the autumn.
One of the many joys of churchcrawling is not knowing what you might find inside. Even if the exterior is of a single narrative, inside it might be a different story. Or not.
You might meet no one, or a welcoming rector, vicar or warden, another photographer, or, whoever knows.
Which brings us to Aldringham. We had left the delights of Thorpness and were heading in a northerly direction. Past the golf course, empty of golfers. Passing over the heath, we come to a junction and I see a sign pointing the way to Aldringham church.
Down a long lane, lined with trees, to a row of almshouses and opposite a small church with a bellcote. It looked so unpromising, and to make it perfect, a gentle rain had begun to fall. This was clearly going to be a waste of time, either it would be locked or there would be nothing of interest to see.
Inside was a long nave with no chancel arch, or one I can recall. At the west end there was a raised section like the slope of a theatre with a few rows of seats. Above that a very fine stained glass window, and one similar at the east in the chancel.
Two ladies were busy cleaning the carpets and dusting surfaces, all ready for the decorating of the building.
They were pleased to see me, and I was told in very positive terms the greatness of the church and that is is much older than it looks.
But the church is dying, I was told. Not many locals use it, not many tourists come here either.
We talk about Thorpness: visitors leave their brains at the village sign I was told. People park anywhere and let children run everywhere and you can't say anything.
She said she doesn't go to Thorpness in the summer months due to the visitors, and the fact they don't use the local shops. Locals can't afford to live there; a story from almost all the EA coast. You can't tell visitors anything, I was told, if you do you get a mouthful back.
She doesn't like the bright lights of Thorpness and its attractions. What do you think of Aldeburgh I asked. I never go there, she said. Never.
We talked more about young people not being able to afford to live in the area, outsiders buying houses for holiday use once or twice a year, killing the local economy.
I had been inside the church for half an hour and not taken a shot, time was getting on and Jools was waiting outside, although she was reading The Book of Dust, so was alright.
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Aldringham is the posh end of Leiston these days, I suppose. It merges into the agro-industrial greyness towards Coldfair Green; as you head into it from central Leiston, you pass the Ogilvie almshouses, a name we will meet again later.
If the village is rather mundane, then the same cannot be said of St Andrew. You head out across the heath towards the fantasy holiday village of Thorpeness, which we will also come back to, and then turn southwards on a track through the forest, out into the pines and broom. Incongruously, a row of 19th century almshouses looms into view, looking for all the world as if it had been picked up from the terraces of east Ipswich and dumped here. And there, at the western end, is the delightful church of St Andrew, looking very pretty among the pine trees. I had first seen it on a dull, dark, dismal day in November 2000, and so it was a pleasure to come back on the hottest day so far of 2010 in bright sunshine. At first sight, the church is entirely Victorian, and might even be contemporary with the terrace. However, a blocked door and lancet in the south chancel wall give us a probable original date of about 1200, and a rood loft stair buttress also tells us of this former, Catholic liturgical age. A very good modern extension leads off from the north doorway.
If you had come here 150 years ago, You would have found a tall, ruined 15th century tower, like the one at Corton, 20 miles to the north. The church was painted in 1842, and you can see the tower in the third small photograph at the top of this page. But that is all gone now, for St Andrew was consolidated and completely refurbished inside and out in the mid 19th century. I think the Victorians made a pretty good job of it. The chancel priest door is blocked, and beside it on a buttress is the parish WWII memorial.
The south porch leads down into the body of the nave, and you step down into a church which is full of colour.From a historical point of view the most important survival is probably the 15th century font. This is one of the typically East Anglian fonts, of which about 160 survive in Suffolk, showing angels and evangelistic symbols on the bowl, and lions on the stem. Of all of them, this is one of the best. The seating is banked at the west end, and above it is one of two excellent, large 19th century windows. For such a small church to have two such large windows is rather unusual. This one is by Alexander Gibbs, and shows the disabled man being lowered by his friends through the roof to Christ. The inscription reads This window was placed here in grateful memory of Letitia Caroline Susannah Cannon who died November 8th 1896 aged 81 years, helpless from paralysis during 11 1/2 years. She abounded in most generous gifts to the poor, the church, the churchyard and the endowment. At the other end of the church the window depicts the feeding of the five thousand. These two unusual subjects suggest a particularly evangelical hue to the 19th century congregation here, and create a church like no other in the area. There is a fine, more modern window of St Andrew in a lancet in the south side, which the 19th century restorers here would no doubt have considered idolatrous..
There is an outstanding Art Nouveau memorial in the north-west corner of the churchyard to Letitia Cannon and her husband. I assume that the elaborate ironwork decorative fencing came from the foundry at nearby Leiston. But probably the most memorable thing about this churchyard is the collection of Ogilvie memorials on the southern side of the churchyard. A narrow avenue of box hedging led from the south porch. When I came this way in 2000, this was punctuated by scatterings of parasol mushrooms, which made a very pleasant meal later that night. Today, in the heat of summer, I had been warned to watch out for snakes in the churchyard - adders are common on this wooded heathland. I continued towards what looked like the village war memorial. Indeed, it is used as the village war memorial, but that is not all it is. It is a memorial to one of the Ogilivies, killed late on in the first war; but, as it is so much grander than the simple, pretty one set in the rood stair buttress of the church, it was here in that November that I had found the wreaths of plastic poppies were leaning. The inscription mentions Alexander Walter Ogilvie, who died on October 30th 1918, by name, but also makes reference to Lasting Remembrance of the Great Host of Heroes who made the Supreme Sacrifice 1914-1918. The names of the Aldringham dead are hidden away behind it, as if an afterthought. As I reached it, I was staggered by the massed ranks of large tomb chests on either side of it; Ogilvies to the left of me, Ogilvies to the right. It is the grandest collection of 20th century family tombs in all Suffolk, not excluding the Quilters at Bawdsey. The Ogilvies were fabulously well-to-do, and their name is all over this part of Suffolk, including those almshouses towards Leiston.
The Ogilvies lived at Sizewell Hall, and quite literally shaped the map of Suffolk; theirs was the responsibility for building Thorpeness, the jolly holiday resort on the coast a mile to the east of here, and for the land on which the Sizewell nuclear reactor was built, also a mile away. But best of all, they are thanked every wet Saturday by the divorced and separated fathers of Ipswich, who can let their temporary charges loose in the Ogilvie Room at Ipswich Museum, the biggest public collection of Victorian stuffed birds in the Kingdom. There are simply thousands of the things, including a mighty representation of Bass Rock, and all manner of exotic creatures who met their maker during a flight over the Ogilvies' substantial domain. On more than one display case it says this is the only example of this bird ever collected in Suffolk, and so we may assume that Lord Ogilvie killed an awful lot of birds to make sure that he got these few, a thought which has struck me repeatedly on my many visits to the museum. Ironically, the RSPB's huge Minsmere bird reserve now stretches north of the Ogilvies' former property.
I wandered around the Ogilvies for a while, and then headed back into the church. It was only now that I noticed a simple brass memorial on the south wall of the chancel. It remembers forty-four year old Benjamin Croft, whose name also appears on the World War I roll opposite. What makes him significant (he isn't an Ogilvie, after all) is that he was killed on 10th November 1918, the last full day of the Great War. What an awful piece of luck for him and his family. In 2000, the memorial had combined with the weather outside to infuse me with a mood of gloom, and I remembered still my feeling of sadness. But in 2010 I stepped out into the sunshine, and got chatting to people having a picnic outside the south porch. They were parishioners taking a break from the late spring tidy-up of the graveyard, and they very hospitably asked me to sit down and join them in a glass of wine. It turned out that the Rector, who I had met in the church, had told them who I was, and it was good to meet some followers of the site. They seemd a very jolly, friendly lot, and I decided that Aldringham church must be a fine place to be a member of the congregation.
In 2010, it was the height of the day. I saddled up my bike and set off in the blistering heat towards Knodishall. Back in 2000, the day was ending. I had hoped to head on to find the site of the lost church at Thorpe, and survey the outside, at least, of the 1930s church of St Mary at Thorpeness. But it was not to be, and these would have to wait for another day. The rain was falling steadily, all over Suffolk. I hauled my muddy bike up the muddy path to the almshouses, and set off across the heath, the darkness closing in. On across Coldfair Green, dissolving into the landscape, following Sizewell's mighty pylons to Saxmundham station, and then home.
Simon Knott, July 2010
I've had JD (my camera) just 12 days short of five years. This picture of Sloane is one of the first I ever took with my Big Girl Camera. Five years, nearly ten thousand photographs, and fifty-two photo-shoots later, hers is still the face I most love to capture.
In the Rumbur Valley, North-west Frontier Province, Pakistan.
The Kalasha or Kalash, are a Dardic Indo-Aryan indigenous people residing in the Chitral District of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa province of Pakistan. They speak the Kalasha language, from the Dardic family of the Indo-Aryan branch. They are considered unique among the peoples of Pakistan. They are also considered to be Pakistan's smallest ethnoreligious group, practising a religion which some scholars characterise as a form of animism, and other academics as "a form of ancient Hinduism".
The Kalash are considered to be an indigenous people of Asia, with their ancestors migrating to Afghanistan from a distant place in South Asia, which the Kalash call “Tsiyam” in their folk songs and epics. Some of the Kalash traditions consider the various Kalash people to have been migrants or refugees. They are also considered to have been either descendants of foreign people, Gandhari people and the Indians of eastern Afghanistan. Based on their shared genetic drift, it is considered that they may be an ancient drifted North Eurasian stock.
The Kalash of Chitral have maintained their own separate cultural traditions.
Five Canon FD Breech-Lock lenses to use on the Olympus E-P1.
24 f:2.8, 50 f:3.5 Macro, 100 f:2.8, 200 f:4 - all are the S.S.C. versions with 55mm filter size, the 300mm f:5.6 dates to before S.C. or S.S.C. coatings and uses 58mm filters
And, if the desire arises to go out shooting with film, I have an excellent Canon FTb body that I can use with any of these lenses.
47813 works the 10:15 Clapham Jn. to Dollands Moor through Five Oak green on a cold grim morning with the barrier wagons for the next delivery of class 707's.
14 February 2018.
The FN Five-seven, trademarked as the Five-seveN, is a semi-automatic pistol designed and manufactured by FN Herstal in Belgium. The pistol is named for its 5.7-mm (.224 in) bullet diameter, and the trademark capitalization style is intended to emphasize the manufacturer's initials—FN.
The Five-seven pistol was developed in conjunction with the FN P90 personal defense weapon and the FN 5.7×28mm cartridge. The P90 was introduced in 1990, and the Five-seven was introduced in 1998 as a pistol using the same 5.7×28mm ammunition. Developed as a companion pistol to the P90, the Five-seven shares many of its design features: it is a lightweight polymer-based weapon with a large magazine capacity, ambidextrous controls, low recoil, and the ability to penetrate soft body armor when using certain cartridge types.
The Five-seven is currently in service with military and police forces in over 40 countries, such as Canada, France, Greece, India, Poland, Spain, and the United States. In the United States, the Five-seven is in use with numerous law enforcement agencies, including the U.S. Secret Service. In the years since the pistol's introduction to the civilian market in the United States, it has also become increasingly popular with civilian shooters.