The serene and natural beauty of the port of Sitia in Crete .The calm surface of the sea reflects the dramatic sky with its orange and gray clouds, while the anchored boats complete the scene. The port of Sitia, with its rich history, harmoniously combines tradition with breathtaking natural tranquility.

Harmonious fireworks at Epcot

SPNC - Year 3 - Instruction #22: "Reveal improbable moments in the expressions and attitudes; penetrate the soul of the street by choice framing harmonious and balanced." - Laurent Roch

Heshun is a peaceful and harmonious village situated four kilometers away from Tengchong County. This town is packed with stunning natural and man-made scenery. Visitors love to take pictures of the famous pavilions, lotus ponds, memorial halls and marble balustrades.

Heshun is well-preserved today. The villagers also maintain their customs and traditions that began even before the Qing and Ming Dynasties. The luscious green spaces, willow trees, smooth-flowing river and charming lotus flowers in the pond attract many photographers, painters and even film directors.

Cognitive powers

Imagination

Understanding

Seated one day at the organ, I was weary and ill at ease,

And my fingers wander'd idly over the noisy keys;

I knew not what I was playing, or what I was dreaming then,

But I struck one chord of music like the sound of a great Amen.

It flooded the crimson twilight like the close of an Angel's Psalm,

And it lay on my fever'd spirit with a touch of infinite calm.

It quieted pain and sorrow like love overcoming strife,

It seem'd the harmonious echo from our discordant life.

It link'd all perplexed meanings into one perfect peace

And trembled away into silence as if it were loth to cease;

I have sought, but I seek it vainly, that one lost chord divine,

Which came from the soul of the organ and enter'd into mine.

It may be that Death's bright Angel will speak in that chord again;

It may be that only in Heav'n I shall hear that grand Amen!

– Sir Arthur Sullivan

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Inas Shape by SOLO Shapes worn on Legacy Body Special Edition and Madrid LeLUTKA Head. Skin: [ VelvetVue ] Riley Skin :: Porcelain tone.

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From high above, I witnessed the mesmerizing spectacle that is Shibuya Crossing, an intersection where a torrent of humanity converges in harmonious chaos. With each traffic light change, a sea of people floods the streets, creating a symphony of movement and life.

The city's pulse is palpable as an ocean of individuals traverses the world's busiest pedestrian crossing. Overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of this urban symphony, I marveled at the synchrony and diversity of those making their way through the maze of bustling streets.

As my gaze expanded, I couldn't help but notice the captivating presence of the towering video screens mounted on nearby buildings. They illuminated the scene with vibrant colors, broadcasting a dazzling display of advertisements and glimpses into popular culture. Amongst the luminous screens, countless static signs vied for attention, further adding to the sensory overload of this bustling metropolis.

Although the blue hour had faded, the city's energy continued to pulse through its veins. From weary businessmen eagerly heading home to wide-eyed tourists eagerly immersing themselves in the urban spectacle, Shibuya offers an abundance of experiences and desires, catering to every whim and fascination.

This photograph is a testament to the dynamic spirit that encapsulates Shibuya Crossing. It captures the essence of a city that never sleeps, where tradition and innovation intertwine, where dreams and realities collide.

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© Marcus Antonius Braun

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A Dream of Venice

NUMB, half asleep, and dazed with whirl of wheels,

And gasp of steam, and measured clank of chains,

I heard a blithe voice break a sudden pause,

Ringing familiarly through the lamp-lit night,

“Wife, here's your Venice!”

I was lifted down,

And gazed about in stupid wonderment,

Holding my little Katie by the hand—

My yellow-haired step-daughter. And again

Two strong arms led me to the water-brink,

And laid me on soft cushions in a boat,—

A queer boat, by a queerer boatman manned—

Swarthy-faced, ragged, with a scarlet cap—

Whose wild, weird note smote shrilly through the dark.

Oh yes, it was my Venice! Beautiful,

With melancholy, ghostly beauty—old,

And sorrowful, and weary—yet so fair,

So like a queen still, with her royal robes,

Full of harmonious colour, rent and worn!

I only saw her shadow in the stream,

By flickering lamplight,—only saw, as yet,

White, misty palace-portals here and there,

Pillars, and marble steps, and balconies,

Along the broad line of the Grand Canal;

And, in the smaller water-ways, a patch

Of wall, or dim bridge arching overhead.

But I could feel the rest. 'Twas Venice!—ay,

The veritable Venice of my dreams.

I saw the grey dawn shimmer down the stream,

And all the city rise, new bathed in light,

With rose-red blooms on her decaying walls,

And gold tints quivering up her domes and spires—

Sharp-drawn, with delicate pencillings, on a sky

Blue as forget-me-nots in June. I saw

The broad day staring in her palace-fronts,

Pointing to yawning gap and crumbling boss,

And colonnades, time-stained and broken, flecked

With soft, sad, dying colours—sculpture-wreathed,

And gloriously proportioned; saw the glow

Light up her bright, harmonious, fountain'd squares,

And spread out on her marble steps, and pass

Down silent courts and secret passages,

Gathering up motley treasures on its way;—

Groups of rich fruit from the Rialto mart,

Scarlet and brown and purple, with green leaves—

Fragments of exquisite carving, lichen-grown,

Found, 'mid pathetic squalor, in some niche

Where wild, half-naked urchins lived and played—

A bright robe, crowned with a pale, dark-eyed face—

A red-striped awning 'gainst an old grey wall—

A delicate opal gleam upon the tide.

I looked out from my window, and I saw

Venice, my Venice, naked in the sun—

Sad, faded, and unutterably forlorn!—

But still unutterably beautiful.

For days and days I wandered up and down—

Holding my breath in awe and ecstasy,—

Following my husband to familiar haunts,

Making acquaintance with his well-loved friends,

Whose faces I had only seen in dreams

And books and photographs and his careless talk.

For days and days—with sunny hours of rest

And musing chat, in that cool room of ours,

Paved with white marble, on the Grand Canal;

For days and days—with happy nights between,

Half-spent, while little Katie lay asleep

Out on the balcony, with the moon and stars.

O Venice, Venice!—with thy water-streets—

Thy gardens bathed in sunset, flushing red

Behind San Giorgio Maggiore's dome—

Thy glimmering lines of haughty palaces

Shadowing fair arch and column in the stream—

Thy most divine cathedral, and its square,

With vagabonds and loungers daily thronged,

Taking their ice, their coffee, and their ease—

Thy sunny campo's, with their clamorous din,

Their shrieking vendors of fresh fish and fruit—

Thy churches and thy pictures—thy sweet bits

Of colour—thy grand relics of the dead—

Thy gondoliers and water-bearers—girls

With dark, soft eyes, and creamy faces, crowned

With braided locks as bright and black as jet—

Wild ragamuffins, picturesque in rags,

And swarming beggars and old witch-like crones,

And brown-cloaked contadini, hot and tired,

Sleeping, face-downward, on the sunny steps—

Thy fairy islands floating in the sun—

Thy poppy-sprinkled, grave-strewn Lido shore—

Thy poetry and thy pathos—all so strange!—

Thou didst bring many a lump into my throat,

And many a passionate thrill into my heart,

And once a tangled dream into my head.

'Twixt afternoon and evening. I was tired;

The air was hot and golden—not a breath

Of wind until the sunset—hot and still.

Our floor was water-sprinkled; our thick walls

And open doors and windows, shadowed deep

With jalousies and awnings, made a cool

And grateful shadow for my little couch.

A subtle perfume stole about the room

From a small table, piled with purple grapes,

And water-melon slices, pink and wet,

And ripe, sweet figs, and golden apricots,

New-laid on green leaves from our garden—leaves

Wherewith an antique torso had been clothed.

My husband read his novel on the floor,

Propped up on cushions and an Indian shawl;

And little Katie slumbered at his feet,

Her yellow curls alight, and delicate tints

Of colour in the white folds of her frock.

I lay, and mused, in comfort and at ease,

Watching them both and playing with my thoughts;

And then I fell into a long, deep sleep,

And dreamed.

I saw a water-wilderness—

Islands entangled in a net of streams—

Cross-threads of rippling channels, woven through

Bare sands, and shallows glimmering blue and broad—

A line of white sea-breakers far away.

There came a smoke and crying from the land—

Ruin was there, and ashes, and the blood

Of conquered cities, trampled down to death.

But here, methought, amid these lonely gulfs,

There rose up towers and bulwarks, fair and strong,

Lapped in the silver sea-mists;—waxing aye

Fairer and stronger—till they seemed to mock

The broad-based kingdoms on the mainland shore.

I saw a great fleet sailing in the sun,

Sailing anear the sand-slip, whereon broke

The long white wave-crests of the outer sea,—

Pepin of Lombardy, with his warrior hosts—

Following the bloody steps of Attila!

I saw the smoke rise when he touched the towns

That lay, outposted, in his ravenous reach;

Then, in their island of deep waters,* saw

A gallant band defy him to his face,

And drive him out, with his fair vessels wrecked

And charred with flames, into the sea again.

“Ah, this is Venice!” I said proudly—“queen

Whose haughty spirit none shall subjugate.”

It was the night. The great stars hung, like globes

Of gold, in purple skies, and cast their light

In palpitating ripples down the flood

That washed and gurgled through the silent streets—

White-bordered now with marble palaces.

It was the night. I saw a grey-haired man,

Sitting alone in a dark convent-porch—

In beggar's garments, with a kingly face,

And eyes that watched for dawnlight anxiously—

A weary man, who could not rest nor sleep.

I heard him muttering prayers beneath his breath,

And once a malediction—while the air

Hummed with the soft, low psalm-chants from within.

And then, as grey gleams yellowed in the east,

I saw him bend his venerable head,

Creep to the door, and knock.

Again I saw

The long-drawn billows breaking on the land,

And galleys rocking in the summer noon.

The old man, richly retinued, and clad

In princely robes, stood there, and spread his arms,

And cried, to one low-kneeling at his feet,

“Take thou my blessing with thee, O my son!

And let this sword, wherewith I gird thee, smite

The impious tyrant-king, who hath defied,

Dethroned, and exiled him who is as Christ.

The Lord be good to thee, my son, my son,

For thy most righteous dealing!”

And again

'Twas that long slip of land betwixt the sea

And still lagoons of Venice—curling waves

Flinging light, foamy spray upon the sand.

The noon was past, and rose-red shadows fell

Across the waters. Lo! the galleys came

To anchorage again—and lo! the Duke

Yet once more bent his noble head to earth,

And laid a victory at the old man's feet,

Praying a blessing with exulting heart.

“This day, my well-belovèd, thou art blessed,

And Venice with thee, for St. Peter's sake.

And I will give thee, for thy bride and queen,

The sea which thou hast conquered. Take this ring,

As sign of her subjection, and thy right

To be her lord for ever.”

Once again

I saw that old man,—in the vestibule

Of St. Mark's fair cathedral,—circled round

With cardinals and priests, ambassadors

And the noblesse of Venice—richly robed

In papal vestments, with the triple crown

Gleaming upon his brows. There was a hush:—

I saw a glittering train come sweeping on,

From the blue water and across the square,

Thronged with an eager multitude,—the Duke,

And with him Barbarossa, humbled now,

And fain to pray for pardon. With bare heads,

They reached the church, and paused. The Emperor knelt,

Casting away his purple mantle—knelt,

And crept along the pavement, as to kiss

Those feet, which had been weary twenty years

With his own persecutions. And the Pope

Lifted his white haired, crowned, majestic head,

And trod upon his neck,—crying out to Christ,

“Upon the lion and adder shalt thou go—

The dragon shalt thou tread beneath thy feet!”

The vision changed. Sweet incense-clouds rose up

From the cathedral altar, mix'd with hymns

And solemn chantings, o'er ten thousand heads;

And ebbed and died away along the aisles.

I saw a train of nobles—knights of France—

Pass 'neath the glorious arches through the crowd,

And stand, with halo of soft, coloured light

On their fair brows—the while their leader's voice

Rang through the throbbing silence like a bell.

“Signiors, we come to Venice, by the will

Of the most high and puissant lords of France,

To pray you look with your compassionate eyes

Upon the Holy City of our Christ—

Wherein He lived, and suffered, and was lain

Asleep, to wake in glory, for our sakes—

By Paynim dogs dishonoured and defiled!

Signiors, we come to you, for you are strong.

The seas which lie betwixt that land and this

Obey you. O have pity! See, we kneel—

Our Masters bid us kneel—and bid us stay

Here at your feet until you grant our prayers!”

Wherewith the knights fell down upon their knees,

And lifted up their supplicating hands.

Lo! the ten thousand people rose as one,

And shouted with a shout that shook the domes

And gleaming roofs above them—echoing down,

Through marble pavements, to the shrine below,

Where lay the miraculous body of their Saint

(Shed he not heavenly radiance as he heard?—

Perfuming the damp air of his secret crypt),

And cried, with an exceeding mighty cry,

“We do consent! We will be pitiful!”

The thunder of their voices reached the sea,

And thrilled through all the netted water-veins

Of their rich city. Silence fell anon,

Slowly, with fluttering wings, upon the crowd;

And then a veil of darkness.

And again

The filtered sunlight streamed upon those walls,

Marbled and sculptured with divinest grace;

Again I saw a multitude of heads,

Soft-wreathed with cloudy incense, bent in prayer—

The heads of haughty barons, armed knights,

And pilgrims girded with their staff and scrip,

The warriors of the Holy Sepulchre.

The music died away along the roof;

The hush was broken—not by him of France—

By Enrico Dandolo, whose grey head

Venice had circled with the ducal crown.

The old man looked down, with his dim, wise eyes,

Stretching his hands abroad, and spake. “Seigneurs,

My children, see—your vessels lie in port

Freighted for battle. And you, standing here,

Wait but the first fair wind. The bravest hosts

Are with you, and the noblest enterprise

Conceived of man. Behold, I am grey-haired,

And old and feeble. Yet am I your lord.

And, if it be your pleasure, I will trust

My ducal seat in Venice to my son,

And be your guide and leader.”

When they heard,

They cried aloud, “In God's name, go with us!”

And the old man, with holy weeping, passed

Adown the tribune to the altar-steps;

And, kneeling, fixed the cross upon his cap.

A ray of sudden sunshine lit his face—

The grand, grey, furrowed face—and lit the cross,

Until it twinkled like a cross of fire.

“We shall be safe with him,” the people said,

Straining their wet, bright eyes; “and we shall reap

Harvests of glory from our battle-fields!”

Anon there rose a vapour from the sea—

A dim white mist, that thickened into fog.

The campanile and columns were blurred out,

Cathedral domes and spires, and colonnades

Of marble palaces on the Grand Canal.

Joy-bells rang sadly and softly—far away;

Banners of welcome waved like wind-blown clouds;

Glad shouts were muffled into mournful wails.

A Doge was come to be enthroned and crowned,—

Not in the great Bucentaur—not in pomp;

The water-ways had wandered in the mist,

And he had tracked them, slowly, painfully,

From San Clemente to Venice, in a frail

And humble gondola. A Doge was come;

But he, alas! had missed his landing-place,

And set his foot upon the blood-stained stones

Betwixt the blood-red columns. Ah, the sea—

The bride, the queen—she was the first to turn

Against her passionate, proud, ill-fated lord!

Slowly the sea-fog melted, and I saw

Long, limp dead bodies dangling in the sun.

Two granite pillars towered on either side,

And broad blue waters glittered at their feet.

“These are the traitors,” said the people; “they

Who, with our Lord the Duke, would overthrow

The government of Venice.”

And anon,

The doors about the palace were made fast.

A great crowd gathered round them, with hushed breath

And throbbing pulses. And I knew their lord,

The Duke Faliero, knelt upon his knees,

On the broad landing of the marble stairs

Where he had sworn the oath he could not keep—

Vexed with the tyrannous oligarchic rule

That held his haughty spirit netted in,

And cut so keenly that he writhed and chafed

Until he burst the meshes—could not keep!

I watched and waited, feeling sick at heart;

And then I saw a figure, robed in black—

One of their dark, ubiquitous, supreme

And fearful tribunal of Ten—come forth,

And hold a dripping sword-blade in the air.

“Justice has fallen on the traitor! See,

His blood has paid the forfeit of his crime!”

And all the people, hearing, murmured deep,

Cursing their dead lord, and the council, too,

Whose swift, sure, heavy hand had dealt his death.

Then came the night, all grey and still and sad.

I saw a few red torches flare and flame

Over a little gondola, where lay

The headless body of the traitor Duke,

Stripped of his ducal vestments. Floating down

The quiet waters, it passed out of sight,

Bearing him to unhonoured burial.

And then came mist and darkness.

Lo! I heard

The shrill clang of alarm-bells, and the wails

Of men and women in the wakened streets.

A thousand torches flickered up and down,

Lighting their ghastly faces and bare heads;

The while they crowded to the open doors

Of all the churches—to confess their sins,

To pray for absolution, and a last

Lord's Supper—their viaticum, whose death

Seemed near at hand—ay, nearer than the dawn.

“Chioggia is fall'n!” they cried, “and we are lost!”

Anon I saw them hurrying to and fro,

With eager eyes and hearts and blither feet—

Grave priests, with warlike weapons in their hands,

And delicate women, with their ornaments

Of gold and jewels for the public fund—

Mix'd with the bearded crowd, whose lives were given,

With all they had, to Venice in her need.

No more I heard the wailing of despair,—

But great Pisani's blithe word of command,

The dip of oars, and creak of beams and chains,

And ring of hammers in the arsenal.

“Venice shall ne'er be lost!” her people cried—

Whose names were worthy of the Golden Book—

“Venice shall ne'er be conquered!”

And anon

I saw a scene of triumph—saw the Doge,

In his Bucentaur, sailing to the land—

Chioggia behind him blackened in the smoke,

Venice before, all banners, bells, and shouts

Of passionate rejoicing! Ten long months

Had Genoa waged that war of life and death;

And now—behold the remnant of her host,

Shrunken and hollow-eyed and bound with chains—

Trailing their galleys in the conqueror's wake!

Once more the tremulous waters, flaked with light;

A covered vessel, with an armèd guard—

A yelling mob on fair San Giorgio's isle,

And ominous whisperings in the city squares.

Carrara's noble head bowed down at last,

Beaten by many storms,—his golden spurs

Caught in the meshes of a hidden snare!

“O Venice!” I cried, “where is thy great heart

And honourable soul?”

And yet once more

I saw her—the gay Sybaris of the world—

The rich voluptuous city—sunk in sloth.

I heard Napoleon's cannon at her gates,

And her degenerate nobles cry for fear.

I saw at last the great Republic fall—

Conquered by her own sickness, and with scarce

A noticeable wound—I saw her fall!

And she had stood above a thousand years!

O Carlo Zeno! O Pisani! Sure

Ye turned and groaned for pity in your graves.

I saw the flames devour her Golden Book

Beneath the rootless “Tree of Liberty;”

I saw the Lion's legend blotted out,

For “rights of men”—unutterable wrongs!—

Dandolo's brazen horses borne away—

The venerable Bucentaur, with its wealth

Of glorious recollections, broken up.

I heard the riotous clamour; then the change

To passionate minor cadence—then the sad

And hopeless silence settle down; and then—

I woke. The flickering water-gleam was gone

From off the ceiling, and white snows of light

Fell softly on the marble walls and floors,

And on the yellow head of little Kate

Musingly bent down from the balcony.

The lapping of the tide—the dip of oars—

The sad, sweet songs, and sadder city bells,

Mellowly borne along the water-streets:—

The swirl and ripple around lumbering keels

Of heavy, slow, Rialto market-boats,

Adown the broad and misty highway, lit

With moonbeams and the far-strown light of lamps,

Following the track of vanished gondolas:—

The flutter of a fig-leaf in the wind,

A faded fig-leaf, flapping faded walls,

With faded, crumbling, delicate sculpture-crusts:—

The voice of dreaming Katie crooning out

A snatch of melody that the Austrian band

Played in San Marco's Place some hours agone,

While patriots, neath their shadowy colonnades,

Sauntered, and shut their ears, and ate their hearts:—

A measured footstep, pacing to and fro—

The brush of two strong hands upon my brows—

The tenor-music of dear English lips,

Whispering, between two kisses, cheerily,

“Wake up, my wife; Nina has brought our tea:”—

These were the sounds that called me back to life.

Rialto (Rivo alto)

Ada Cambridge

A harmonious blend of natural and man-made elements, highlighting the pavilion's intricate design with its golden illuminated roof and dark wooden pillars. The calm water reflects the pavilion's silhouette, creating a mirror-like effect that enhances the scene's tranquility. The sky transitions from warm orange hues near the horizon to cooler blues as it stretches upward, adding depth and contrast to the composition. The overall mood is one of peacefulness and contemplation, inviting viewers to appreciate the cultural significance and aesthetic elegance of this iconic landmark.in Hangzhou, Zhejiang province, China

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A breathtaking aerial shot of a bridge connecting lush green islands in Finland. This image highlights the harmonious blend of nature and infrastructure.

Descrizione in Italiano

Uno straordinario scatto aereo di un ponte che collega isole verdeggianti in Finlandia. Questa immagine mette in risalto l'armonia tra natura e infrastruttura.

© all rights reserved by B℮n

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Chianti is a red Italian wine produced in Tuscany. The first definition of a wine-area called Chianti was made in 1716. The earliest documentation of a Chianti wine dates back to the thirteenth century when viticulture was known to flourish in the Chianti Mountains around Florence. Discover the most celebrated region of Tuscany. The vineyards of this area produce one of the best wines in the world: Chianti Classico. This Wine represents a major source of wealth for the Chianti area, no wonder then that this product has been particularly looked after and protected, in order to distinguish its quality from other wine productions. This is why a rigid legislation has been introduced to regulate the production of Classic Chianti. The first limit obviously regards the geographical area where the grape must grow. But not only the vineyards must be cultivated in the prescribed area: the whole process of wine-making, storage and bottling must take place inside the protected zone. The grape variety from which Chianti is produced is Sangiovese. The alcoholic strength must not exceed 12 %. In addition to this, there are other requirements that must be followed, regarding the average amount of dry product (24 g/l); the acidity rate (4,5 g/l), the colour (intense ruby red), the smell (fruity, with nuances of wildflowers, berries, cherries or plums) and taste (harmonious, dry, strong and with respectable tannin).

We drive on the glorious wine roads of Tuscany. We visit the farms and cellars and of-course taste the great Chianti wine. Here we visit Casale dello Sparviero. Harmoniously set in the hills of Castellina in Chianti, in the Siena's Classico area, the estate is spread 380 hectares. The vineyards are set on the altitude of 250 metres and encircled by woods and self vegetation.

Denk je aan Toscana, dan zie je stadjes op heuveltoppen, wijngaarden omzoomd door cipressen zover het oog reikt. Liefhebbers weten dat je overal tussen die landerijen. wijnhuizen kunt vinden waar je ook nog eens kunt proeven... het idee alleen al doet je toch bijna het water in de mond lopen. Ook als je weer thuis bent en je neemt een slok van je meegebrachte wijn, ben je er in je gedachten weer helemaal: op dat zonovergoten terras in Castellina in Chianti of bij dat fantastische restaurant met die truffelgerechten in Monteriggioni. Zeg je wijn in Toscana, dan zeg je Chianti, een wijn die zich in de laatste 30 jaar tot Classico heeft ontwikkeld. Chianti is de bekendste en populairste van alle Italiaanse wijnen. De wijn wordt gemaakt van de alom aanwezige Sangiovese-druif, die graag veel zon heeft en goed bestand is tegen grote temperatuurschommelingen. De belangrijkste Chianti-zones worden gevormd door de streek Chianti Classico gelegen rond Castellina. Zoals met zoveel in Italia, is ook de wijnbouw begonnen in het zuiden, maar hebben de noorderlingen het later overgenomen. Na de Romeinse tijd kwam de zuidelijke wijnbouw in de versukkeling. De oudste ononderbroken wijntraditie. In de Renaissance kwam de productie weer helemaal terug en wel in...Toscana. Rijke handelaars en bankiers zoals de families Frescobaldi en Antinori namen druivenrassen mee uit Frankrijk en legden daarmee de basis voor het feit dat Toscana tegenwoordig de oudste onononderbroken wijntradities van Italië kent.

This is based on my own photograph of white Asiatic lilies, white freesias, peonies and pink carnations.

Digtal watercolour and other effects achieved in Corel Paint Shop Pro Photo X2.

Thanks for all views, comments and fave adds. Very much appreciated.

In my humble opinion, the perfect reflection on the surface of the motionless water at Birkenhead Point makes this beautiful scene doubly pleasant!

'The harmonious & undisturbed amethyst hues of Birkenhead' On White

FOUR HARMONIOUS FRIENDS

This art work is seen throughout Bhutan

and is one of the most universal and loved tales. The image is of a bird, a rabbit and a monkey who all stand on each others shoulders on the back of an elephant.

The story starts with the bird finding a seed and planting it. After that the rabbit waters the seed and the plant is then fertilised by the monkey. When the seed germinates and starts to grow it is then protected by the elephant.

After time the small seedling grows into a large and beautiful tree which is full of healthy friut. By working together the four friends are now able to enjoy the fruits between themselves.

España - Ciudad Real - Viso del Marqués - Palacio del Marqués de Santa Cruz

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ENGLISH:

It was built at the end of the 16th century by Álvaro de Bazán, first Marquis of Santa Cruz. It is currently the headquarters of the General Archive of the Navy.

It is one of the two palaces built by this sailor, knight of the Order of Santiago, captain of the Ocean Sea and admiral of the Spanish Navy. It is located next to the church of Nuestra Señora de la Asunción, and since 1948 it has been rented by its owners, the Marquises of Santa Cruz, to the Spanish Navy, who first used it as a Museum of the Spanish Navy and later expanded its functions by also establishing the General Archive of the Navy.

The building was frequented by the first marquis thanks to its location, halfway between Madrid, where the Court was, and Seville, whose port he often went to as the Spanish Navy was anchored there, of which he was admiral during the reign of Philip II.

The palace was nearly destroyed by the Austrian troops of Edward Hamilton during the War of the Spanish Succession at the beginning of the 18th century, but was saved by the actions of the Marquis's chaplain, the poet Carlos de Praves, thanks to whom we can admire it today. It suffered some damage due to the Lisbon earthquake in 1755, which collapsed the ceiling of the hall of honour, where the great fresco depicting the Battle of Lepanto had been painted, and toppled the four corner towers, which the chronicles of Philip II described as magnificent.

In it we can find maritime objects from the period. A figurehead belonging to a ship commanded by the Marquis is noteworthy. During the War of Independence, the French razed it, and by the time the Civil War came it had served as a granary, school, stable, prison and hospital, until in 1948 and at the request of Julio Guillén Tato, director of the Naval Museum, Mrs. Casilda de Silva Fdez. de Henestrosa, descendant of Álvaro de Bazán, rented it to the Navy for 90 years as a museum-archive, which is its current function. Also, in the adjoining parish church there is a 4m long stuffed crocodile attached to one of the vaults, which was offered by the Marquis as a votive offering upon his return from one of his voyages.

Between March and April 1823, King Ferdinand VII spent the night there, after leaving Madrid for Seville, before the entry of the French contingent called the Hundred Thousand Sons of Saint Louis, about whose stay Ferdinand VII did not write a word in his travel diary. The palace was declared a National Monument in 1931 and was restored from 1948 by the Navy under the direction of Admiral Guillén.

The palace was built between 1564 and 1586 with subsequent modifications. It is a square-shaped building in the Renaissance style, built around a Renaissance atrium with a recumbent tomb. The walls and ceilings are covered with frescoes with two themes: mythological scenes on the one hand and naval battles and Italian cities related to the military career of the Marquis and his family on the other. The frescoes are by Italian Mannerist painters, the Péroli family. Upon seeing them, Philip II commissioned them to do work for El Escorial and the Alcázar of Toledo.

For its construction, the Marquis hired a team of architects, painters and decorators who worked on the building from 1564 to 1586. For some, the design of the building was due to the Italian Giovanni Battista Castello, known as the Bergamasco, who later worked in El Escorial; for others, it was designed, at least in its original plan, by Enrique Egas el Mozo.

The architecture is perceived as typically Spanish, without Italian arches, with smooth walls and square towers at the corners, influenced by the austerity of El Escorial and the Alcázar of Toledo, within the harmonious relationships characteristic of the Renaissance. The central space is occupied by a porticoed courtyard that, together with the staircase, forms a typically mannerist ensemble understood as an elegant and courtly style that goes beyond the merely architectural framework.

***

ESPAÑOL:

Fue construido a finales del siglo XVI por Álvaro de Bazán, primer marqués de Santa Cruz.​ Actualmente es la sede del Archivo General de la Marina.

Se trata de uno de los dos palacios construidos este marino, caballero de la Orden de Santiago, capitán del Mar Océano y almirante de la Marina española. Está situado al lado de la iglesia de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción, y desde el año 1948 es alquilado por parte de sus propietarios, los marqueses de Santa Cruz, a la Armada Española, quien primero lo destinó a Museo de la Marina Española y más tarde amplió sus funciones estableciendo también el Archivo General de la Marina.

El edificio era frecuentado por el primer marqués gracias a su ubicación, a medio camino entre Madrid, donde estaba la Corte, y Sevilla, a cuyo puerto acudía a menudo al mantener allí anclada la Armada Española, de la cual fue almirante durante el reinado de Felipe II.

El palacio estuvo a punto de ser destruido por las tropas austracistas de Edward Hamilton durante la Guerra de Sucesión Española a principios del siglo XVIII, salvándose por la actuación del capellán del marqués, el poeta Carlos de Praves, gracias a lo cual hoy podemos admirarlo. Sufrió algunos daños a causa del terremoto de Lisboa en 1755: el cual hundió el techo del salón de honor, donde se había pintado el gran fresco que representaba la batalla de Lepanto, y desmochó las cuatro torres de las esquinas, que las crónicas de Felipe II describían como magníficas.

En él podemos encontrar objetos marineros de la época. Llama la atención un mascarón de proa perteneciente a una nave que dirigió el marqués. Durante la Guerra de la Independencia, los franceses lo arrasaron, y para cuando llegó la Guerra Civil había servido de granero, colegio, establo, cárcel y hospital, hasta que en 1948 y a instancias​ de Julio Guillén Tato, director del Museo Naval, doña Casilda de Silva Fdez. de Henestrosa, descendiente de Álvaro de Bazán se lo rentó a la Armada por 90 años como museo-archivo, que es en la actualidad su función. Asimismo, en la iglesia parroquial aledaña hay un cocodrilo disecado de 4m de largo adosado a una de las bóvedas, que fue ofrecido por el marqués como exvoto al regreso de uno de sus viajes.

Entre marzo y abril de 1823, el rey Fernando VII pernoctó allí, tras abandonar Madrid rumbo a Sevilla, ante la entrada del contingente francés llamado los Cien Mil Hijos de San Luis, de cuya estancia Fernando VII no escribió ni una palabra en su diario del viaje. ​El palacio fue declarado Monumento Nacional en 1931 siendo restaurado a partir de 1948 por la Armada bajo la dirección del Almirante Guillén.

El palacio fue construido entre 1564 y 1586 con modificaciones posteriores, y se trata de un edificio de planta cuadrada y estilo renacentista articulado en torno a un atrio renacentista con una tumba yacente. Los muros y techos se hallan cubiertos de frescos de doble temática: por un lado, escenas mitológicas y, por otro, batallas navales y ciudades italianas relacionadas con la trayectoria militar del marqués y de sus familiares. Los frescos se deben a unos pintores manieristas italianos, los Péroli. Al verlos, Felipe II les encargaría trabajos para El Escorial y el Alcázar de Toledo.

Para su construcción, el marqués contrató a un equipo de arquitectos, pintores y decoradores que trabajaron en la obra desde 1564 hasta 1586. Para algunos, el diseño del edificio se debió al italiano Giovanni Battista Castello, conocido como el Bergamasco, que más tarde trabajó en El Escorial; para otros lo trazó, al menos en su plan original, Enrique Egas el Mozo.

La arquitectura se percibe como típica española, sin las arquerías italianas, con paramentos lisos y torres cuadradas en las esquinas, influidos por la austeridad de El Escorial y el Alcázar de Toledo, dentro de las relaciones armónicas características del Renacimiento. El espacio central está ocupado por un patio porticado que junto con la escalera forma un conjunto típicamente manierista entendido como estilo elegante y cortesano que desborda el marco meramente arquitectónico.

Sometimes, the smallest surprises bring the biggest smiles. A single bird can turn an ordinary moment into a special one, offering you the perfect pose through your lens.

This morning, under the warm embrace of the golden sunlight, a Blue Tit graced my camera with its striking colors—blue, yellow, white, and black blending harmoniously. Perched gracefully, it allowed me to capture its beauty before fluttering up to the tops of the low trees.

Nature’s little gifts never fail to amaze. I hope you enjoy this moment as much as I did. Wishing you all a wonderful week ahead!

"Blue Tits and Their Nesting Habits”

Blue Tits (Cyanistes caeruleus) are small, vibrant birds known for their intelligence and adaptability, particularly when it comes to nesting. They typically begin their nesting season in early spring, often choosing tree cavities, old woodpecker holes, or man-made nest boxes to build their homes. These birds are highly resourceful, using materials such as moss, feathers, grass, and animal hair to construct a warm and protective nest.

The female Blue Tit plays the primary role in building the nest and incubating the eggs. During this period, the male tirelessly provides food, often bringing caterpillars, spiders, and insects to sustain her. The clutch size usually ranges from 5 to 12 eggs, with incubation lasting approximately two weeks.

Once the chicks hatch, both parents work tirelessly to feed their young, making hundreds of trips per day to gather food. The chicks grow rapidly and fledge after about 16-21 days, leaving the nest to begin their independent lives.

Blue Tits are highly territorial during the breeding season, often defending their nesting sites from rivals or predators. Their remarkable dedication to their offspring and the intricate teamwork between male and female Blue Tits offer a fascinating glimpse into the resilience and beauty of nature.

I've captured some unforgettable moments with my camera, and I hope you feel the same joy viewing these images as I did while shooting them.

Thank you so much for visiting my gallery, whether you leave a comment, add it to your favorites, or simply take a moment to look around. Your support means a lot to me, and I wish you good luck and beautiful light in all your endeavors.

© All rights belong to R.Ertuğ. Please refrain from using these images without my express written permission. If you are interested in purchasing or using them, feel free to contact me via Flickr mail.

Lens - With Nikon TC 14E II - hand held or Monopod and definitely SPORT VR on. Aperture is f8 and full length. All my images have been converted from RAW to JPEG.

I started using Nikon Cross-Body Strap or Monopod on long walks. Here is my Carbon Monopod details : Gitzo GM2542 Series 2 4S Carbon Monopod - Really Right Stuff MH-01 Monopod Head with Standard Lever - Really Right Stuff LCF-11 Replacement Foot for Nikon AF-S 500mm /5.6E PF Lense -

Your comments and criticism are very valuable.

Thanks for taking the time to stop by and explore :)

A group of Fenders enjoy some harmonious conversation on a pleasant afternoon.

© all rights reserved by B℮n

Please take your time... to View it large on black

Chianti is a red Italian wine produced in Tuscany. The first definition of a wine-area called Chianti was made in 1716. The earliest documentation of a Chianti wine dates back to the thirteenth century when viticulture was known to flourish in the Chianti Mountains around Florence. Discover the most celebrated region of Tuscany. The vineyards of this area produce one of the best wines in the world: Chianti Classico. This Wine represents a major source of wealth for the Chianti area, no wonder then that this product has been particularly looked after and protected, in order to distinguish its quality from other wine productions. This is why a rigid legislation has been introduced to regulate the production of Classic Chianti. The first limit obviously regards the geographical area where the grape must grow. But not only the vineyards must be cultivated in the prescribed area: the whole process of wine-making, storage and bottling must take place inside the protected zone. The grape variety from which Chianti is produced is Sangiovese. The alcoholic strength must not exceed 12 %. In addition to this, there are other requirements that must be followed, regarding the average amount of dry product (24 g/l); the acidity rate (4,5 g/l), the colour (intense ruby red), the smell (fruity, with nuances of wildflowers, berries, cherries or plums) and taste (harmonious, dry, strong and with respectable tannin).

We drive on the glorious wine roads of Tuscany. We visit the farms and cellars and of-course taste the great Chianti wine. Here we visit Casale Dello Sparviero. Harmoniously set in the hills of Castellina in Chianti, in the Siena's Classico area, the estate is spread 380 hectares. The vineyards are set on the altitude of 250 metres and encircled by woods and self vegetation. The Casale dated back to XVI century. The building houses the wine cellars, where wine continues its precious evolution in large oak barrels for quality wine.

Denk je aan Toscana, dan zie je stadjes op heuveltoppen, wijngaarden omzoomd door cipressen zover het oog reikt. Liefhebbers weten dat je overal tussen die landerijen. wijnhuizen kunt vinden waar je ook nog eens kunt proeven... het idee alleen al doet je toch bijna het water in de mond lopen. Ook als je weer thuis bent en je neemt een slok van je meegebrachte wijn, ben je er in je gedachten weer helemaal: op dat zonovergoten terras in Castellina in Chianti of bij dat fantastische restaurant met die truffelgerechten in Monteriggioni. Zeg je wijn in Toscana, dan zeg je Chianti, een wijn die zich in de laatste 30 jaar tot Classico heeft ontwikkeld. Chianti is de bekendste en populairste van alle Italiaanse wijnen. De wijn wordt gemaakt van de alom aanwezige Sangiovese-druif, die graag veel zon heeft en goed bestand is tegen grote temperatuurschommelingen. De belangrijkste Chianti-zones worden gevormd door de streek Chianti Classico gelegen rond Castellina. Zoals met zoveel in Italia, is ook de wijnbouw begonnen in het zuiden, maar hebben de noorderlingen het later overgenomen. Na de Romeinse tijd kwam de zuidelijke wijnbouw in de versukkeling. De oudste ononderbroken wijntraditie. In de Renaissance kwam de productie weer helemaal terug en wel in...Toscana. Rijke handelaars en bankiers zoals de families Frescobaldi en Antinori namen druivenrassen mee uit Frankrijk en legden daarmee de basis voor het feit dat Toscana tegenwoordig de oudste onononderbroken wijntradities van Italië kent.

2015

I really like the new fireworks show at Epcot. Even though I liked the other one as well, I always felt it lacked the fireworks the new show has.

Visit Disney Photo Tour on Facebook and Instagram

Harmonious fireworks at Epcot

Music (noun)

1. The art of arranging sounds in time so as to produce a continuous, unified, and evocative composition, as through melody, harmony, rhythm, and timbre.

2. An aesthetically pleasing or harmonious sound or combination of sounds: the music of the wind in the pines.

Music is an art form whose medium is sound organized in time. Common elements of music are pitch (which governs melody and harmony), rhythm (and its associated concepts tempo, meter, and articulation), dynamics, and the sonic qualities of timbre and texture. The word derives from Greek μουσική (mousike), "(art) of the Muses".

The creation, performance, significance, and even the definition of music vary according to culture and social context. Music ranges from strictly organized compositions (and their recreation in performance), through improvisational music to aleatoric forms. Music can be divided into genres and subgenres, although the dividing lines and relationships between music genres are often subtle, sometimes open to individual interpretation, and occasionally controversial. Within "the arts", music may be classified as a performing art, a fine art, and auditory art...

It's how dictionaries define this magic, inexplicable wonder called MUSIC...

But here is the story...

I saw this cellist at the very crowdy market in Berlin, Germany... Figure out...

all people buying, selling, or just hanging out and only he doesn't see all this mess surrounding him, just playing cello... and believe me that music was wonderful. In one moment, like after touch of magic wand I didn't recognize everything around. No market noise, no smells... just magic sounds.

Everything transformed into some amazing substance, surrounded me and i saw all world, with mountains and rivers, cities and forests. I began to understand songs of the birds and silence of the fishes. And only music did it...

People around were pooling me, saying something but I couldn't make any step out...

Created for The Dictionary of Image

Much better viewed large.

© all rights reserved by B℮n

Please take your time... to View it large on black

Chianti is a red Italian wine produced in Tuscany. The first definition of a wine-area called Chianti was made in 1716. The earliest documentation of a Chianti wine dates back to the thirteenth century when viticulture was known to flourish in the Chianti Mountains around Florence. Discover the most celebrated region of Tuscany. The vineyards of this area produce one of the best wines in the world: Chianti Classico. This Wine represents a major source of wealth for the Chianti area, no wonder then that this product has been particularly looked after and protected, in order to distinguish its quality from other wine productions. This is why a rigid legislation has been introduced to regulate the production of Classic Chianti. The first limit obviously regards the geographical area where the grape must grow. But not only the vineyards must be cultivated in the prescribed area: the whole process of wine-making, storage and bottling must take place inside the protected zone. The grape variety from which Chianti is produced is Sangiovese. The alcoholic strength must not exceed 12 %. In addition to this, there are other requirements that must be followed, regarding the average amount of dry product (24 g/l); the acidity rate (4,5 g/l), the colour (intense ruby red), the smell (fruity, with nuances of wildflowers, berries, cherries or plums) and taste (harmonious, dry, strong and with respectable tannin).

We drive on the glorious wine roads of Tuscany. We visit the farms and cellars and of-course taste the great Chianti wine. Photo of the warm colors of the Tuscany evening sunset taken on the Casale dello Sparviero estate.

Denk je aan Toscana, dan zie je stadjes op heuveltoppen, wijngaarden omzoomd door cipressen zover het oog reikt. Liefhebbers weten dat je overal tussen die landerijen. wijnhuizen kunt vinden waar je ook nog eens kunt proeven... het idee alleen al doet je toch bijna het water in de mond lopen. Ook als je weer thuis bent en je neemt een slok van je meegebrachte wijn, ben je er in je gedachten weer helemaal: op dat zonovergoten terras in Castellina in Chianti of bij dat fantastische restaurant met die truffelgerechten in Monteriggioni. Zeg je wijn in Toscana, dan zeg je Chianti, een wijn die zich in de laatste 30 jaar tot Classico heeft ontwikkeld. Chianti is de bekendste en populairste van alle Italiaanse wijnen. De wijn wordt gemaakt van de alom aanwezige Sangiovese-druif, die graag veel zon heeft en goed bestand is tegen grote temperatuurschommelingen. De belangrijkste Chianti-zones worden gevormd door de streek Chianti Classico gelegen rond Castellina. Zoals met zoveel in Italia, is ook de wijnbouw begonnen in het zuiden, maar hebben de noorderlingen het later overgenomen. Na de Romeinse tijd kwam de zuidelijke wijnbouw in de versukkeling. De oudste ononderbroken wijntraditie. In de Renaissance kwam de productie weer helemaal terug en wel in...Toscana. Rijke handelaars en bankiers zoals de families Frescobaldi en Antinori namen druivenrassen mee uit Frankrijk en legden daarmee de basis voor het feit dat Toscana tegenwoordig de oudste onononderbroken wijntradities van Italië kent.

SLURL : maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Angelsea/225/114/27

Live the caribbean dream in this mansion inspired by St-Barth. This property comes with a spacious swimming pool as well as a landscaped garden and stunning sea views. Located in the picturesque countryside of St-Chateau surrounded by banana fields, it is ideal for a vacation or as a permanent residence.

Saint-Chateau, a gem of the Caribbean, features pristine beaches, typical houses, and a vibrant French ambiance. This chic island paradise offers a harmonious blend of natural beauty in an idyllic maritime setting.

Residential Sites

FALLINGWATER

Mill Run, PA

Frank Lloyd Wright

About Fallingwater:

Fallingwater is a house designed in 1935 by renowned American architect Frank Lloyd Wright( 1867-1959) for the Kaufmann family, owners of Pittsburgh’s largest department store. Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater is one of his most widely acclaimed works and best exemplifies his philosophy of organic architecture: the harmonious union of art and nature.

Fallingwater is located in the mountains of Southwestern Pennsylvania, also known as the Laurel Highlands, in Mill Run, Fayette County, which is about 70 miles southeast of Pittsburgh. Wright designed Fallingwater to rise above the waterfall over which it is built. Local craftsmen quarried native sandstone and other materials from the property and completed the construction of the main house, guest house and service wing in 1939.

The Kaufmann family—Edgar J. Kaufmann, Sr. (1885-1955), Liliane S. Kaufmann (1889-1952), and their son, Edgar Kaufmann jr. (1910-1989)—used Fallingwater as a vacation house during their lifetimes. In 1963, Edgar Kaufmann jr. donated and entrusted Fallingwater and the surrounding 469 acres of natural land to the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy., a nonprofit conservation organization established in 1932. — fallingwater.org/what-is-fallingwater/

LIMENI, MANI - ΛΙΜΕΝΙ, ΜΑΝΗ

Located just 5 km from Areopolis and approximately 27 km from Gythion, Limeni is one of the most beautiful and traditional coastal villages of Mani combining harmoniously the sea and the unique landscape.

Taken during a 5 day vacation with my English wife Theresa Jane Brown.

Thanassis Fournarakos - Θανασης Φουρναρακος

Professional Photographer, retired.

Athens, Greece.

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

None of my images may be downloaded, copied, reproduced, manipulated or used on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit written permission. THANK YOU!

This photograph has achieved the following highest awards:

* GALAXY HALL OF FAME

Slipped off a shoe, for those that like hosed feet.

Tracy Prince's Captivating World of Fashion and Femme Elegance

Welcome to Tracy Prince's enchanting realm, a mesmerizing photo blog that celebrates the artistry of fashion, beauty, and the alluring allure of femininity. With a keen eye for elegance and a passion for exploring the spectrum of style, Tracy captures the essence of glamour through her lens, bringing you a collection that transcends boundaries and defies conventions.

In Tracy's world, "high heels" are not just a fashion statement; they are an embodiment of empowerment and confidence. Whether it's the sleek lines of thigh-high boots or the classic elegance of stiletto heels, each photograph tells a story of grace and poise. Tracy explores the world of heels with an unwavering focus on details, showcasing the intricate designs that make them not just footwear but works of art.

Lingerie takes center stage in Tracy's visual symphony. Delicate fabrics, such as satin and lace, weave a tale of sensuality and sophistication. From the timeless beauty of "tan pantyhose" to the provocative allure of "black stockings," Tracy's lens captures the delicate nuances of intimate apparel. Garter belts, a timeless accessory, add a touch of vintage charm, creating a perfect harmony between classic and contemporary femininity.

Tracy embraces the art of "X-DRESS," navigating the realm of crossdressing with a respectful and inclusive lens. Her collection celebrates the diversity within the crossdressing community, showcasing individuals expressing their identity with confidence and style. Tracy's portrayal of "tranny schoolgirl," "tranny in stockings," and "tranny in pantyhose" is a testament to the beauty that emerges when personal expression meets the canvas of fashion.

"Beautiful crossdresser," "classy crossdresser," and "sexy crossdresser" are not just tags in Tracy's blog; they encapsulate the spectrum of elegance she captures. Each image resonates with a unique blend of style and individuality, breaking stereotypes and embracing the beauty that comes with embracing one's true self.

The interplay of light and fabric highlights the shimmering allure of "shiny pantyhose" and the timeless charm of "nylons crossdresser." Tracy's lens transforms each image into a narrative, where every detail contributes to the larger story of empowerment and self-discovery.

"Thigh high boots" make a bold statement in Tracy's visual narrative, symbolizing strength and confidence. Paired with "satin babe" or "nylon," these boots become a symbol of fierce femininity, challenging traditional notions of beauty and style.

Tracy's exploration of beauty is not limited to a specific gender. Whether it's a "transvestite," "tgirl," "trans," or "transgender," Tracy's lens captures the unique beauty that transcends labels. "Sexy shemale," "transexual," and "transgender beauty" become expressions of confidence and authenticity, challenging societal norms and celebrating the diversity of gender expression.

In the world of Tracy Prince, "Femme" is not just a descriptor; it's a celebration of the myriad ways individuals express their femininity. Leather, boots, and the timeless appeal of "nylon" and "Thigh High Stockings" become tools for self-expression, allowing each person to craft their unique narrative.

As Tracy navigates the intricate landscape of fashion and beauty, she brings to light the complexity and depth of personal expression. "Pantyhose high heels," "stockings high heels," "garter belt stockings high heels," and "nylons high heels" are not just combinations of clothing items; they are the building blocks of a visual symphony, a harmonious blend of textures and colors that create a stunning visual tableau.

Tracy's lens explores the realm of "fellatrix," recognizing the beauty in the art of seduction. Whether it's a provocative gaze or a subtle pose, each image captures the essence of allure and confidence. Tracy celebrates the beauty of "slutty women" and "classy crossdressers" alike, breaking down barriers and embracing the diversity of expression within the world of fashion.

In Tracy Prince's photo blog, each image is a brushstroke on the canvas of beauty and self-expression. Through her lens, the world of fashion and femme elegance becomes a celebration of diversity, individuality, and the timeless allure of personal style. Step into Tracy's captivating world, where every photograph tells a story of empowerment, confidence, and the endless possibilities that come with embracing one's true self.

Peace is a journey of a thousand miles and it must be taken one step at a time.

~Lyndon B. Johnson~

This beautiful photograph captures the serene elegance of a tree in a striking black-and-white composition. The detailed texture of the bark contrasts beautifully with the delicate leaves, creating a harmonious blend of ruggedness and grace. The interplay of light and shadow enhances the depth and dimension of the image, drawing the viewer's attention to the intricate branching patterns

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Here - boinsogna.com/2167910/Tree%20mendous%20Elegance%20in%20Bl...

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1891 Rochester Optical Company Universal - G-Claron 210mm - f/45 - Fomapan 100 - 4x5 Film - HC 110 1+100 - Unaltered Negative Scan

Here in my quiet place

All is calm

All is peaceful

All is serene

All is tranquil

It is as placid as a cool spring day

The sound of a babbling brook fills my ears with a harmonious melody

The trees rock to the soft breeze's gentle lullaby

The crisp green grass crunches beneath my feet

A chorus of birds rejoice in the coming of a beautiful day

The sun's smile warms my skin

And the clouds, like a herd of sheep, graze in a large blue meadow

Here in my quiet place

I am relaxed

~by: Garrett Bradley

Details on my Blog

www.casteldelmonte.beniculturali.it

The History

..."Castel del Monte is of outstanding universal value in its formal perfection and its harmonious blending of cultural elements from Northern Europe, the Muslim world and classical antiquity. It is a unique masterpiece of medieval military architecture reflecting the humanism of its founder: Frederick II of Hoenstaufen".

With these words, in 1966, the UNESCO Committee for the World Patrimony included the castle, built about 1240 by Frederick II of Hohenstaufen, in the World Heritage List.

In a letter written on the 29th of January 1240 to Riccardo di Montefuscolo, his judge and officer in Capitanata, the Sovereign ordered him to buy lime, stones, and all that would be useful and necessary "...pro castro quod apud Sanctam Mariam de Monte fieri volumus" (for the castle we want to be erected near St Mary's on the mountain). And this is the only document about the Castle we have of those times and moreover susceptible of different interpretations because of the word actractum used in it. In Latin it means pavement, or flattening out of the ground, or roof covering, till a more generic meaning of building materials.Then the only thing we have for sure is that in 1240 there were works in progress in the site, on the state of which Frederick II asked to be frequently informed. The experts don't agree on the nature of these works, if they were of foundation or of completion.

Some notes seem to strengthen the second supposition. The castle was built directly on the rocky bank and no preliminary work of levelling the ground before starting to build can be seen. It seems more reasonable that here the Latin word actractum had the meaning of "roofing" .

In the Statutum de reparatione castrorum (the regulations for repairing the castles), a list of the castle structures needing repairs, written in 1241-46, Castel del Monte is mentioned moreover as a finished construction, which is justified only by bringing backwards its foundation as to 1240.

Seemingly isolated and peripherical, as a matter of fact the castle stood not far from the road connecting Andria to Garagnone, two important settlements of the period; on a hill 540 metres high on the sea level and well apparent in the distance, Castel del Monte was a fundamental component in the communication system among the defensive constructions, although great number of experts have excluded the military function of the castle as it had no moat, nor machicolations and drawbridge.

Anything but casual, and not only with respect to strategy, is the choice of the place: a hill overflowed by the sun in every hour of the day, with which the monument seems having a continuous relationship. The sunlight and the deriving shadows magnify and outline the forms of the monument, regular and yet finely different, and give value to the colours, uniform and changeable at the same time.

A relationship with the sun that in the Middle Ages conditioned the orientation of the sacred buildings and appears more than obvious

in the case of Frederick II, deeply interested in astronomy and compared or even identified with our star. In this way his son Manfred announced his death: "The sun of justice has waned, the defender of peace is dead".

In Swabian world the word castrum refers to mainly defensive structures, even not excluding other kinds of exploitation; in this case the presence of baths and fireplaces on both floors of the castle, the luxurious fittings, the refined set of sculptures make reasonable to think it was used as a residence or a state residence, probably reserved to a narrow circle of privileged people, very close to the king.

It is also undeniable that owing to its high position and to its particular form Castel del Monte, still able to charm our contemporaries, excited an enormous amazement and admiration in subjects, allies, and enemies. It was, then, one of the most effective means Frederick II had imagined to impress on them the feeling of his greatness. In this respect it was the most representative product of his conception of "art serving power".

Then a plurality of functions characterized this exceptional monument, emblematic expression of the many-sided personality of its client, a man of the Middle Ages who united in himself great qualities such as a vast culture, varied interests, intelligence, tolerance, love for peace and justice to a great pride and ambition. (M.T.)

This has happened before, and now a conjunction of events is making it happen again: I have run out of photographs to upload to Flickr. The main event responsible for this sorry state of affairs is the (more and more habitual, alas!) heat waves of the summer: I feel increasingly unwilling to go out into the blazing heat carrying backpack and tripod and cutting short the outside photos, only to find refuge in the relative coolness of the inside. Then, there is also the fact that I am quite busy shooting for a book project for the Fondation du Patrimoine, which does force me to travel all over the Auvergne–Rhône-Alpes region to shoot anyway, making it quite painful enough in this heat to make me refuse to add any more discomfort to the situation.

Under each photo, I will also reproduce the caption I published under the original, color one, so that the people who missed it the first time may know what the photo is about.

In the old French province of Quercy, the small town of Beaulieu-sur-Dordogne lies almost on the border of the modern-day département of Corrèze, nested along the meanders of River Dordogne. This is where, in 855, local lord Raoul (or Rodolfus) de Turenne funded the foundation of a Benedictine abbey. To further warrant the development of the budding abbey, Raoul gifted it the relics of three saints, Prime, Félicien and Félicité, which he had obtained in Rome. During the Middle Ages, the veneration for saintly relics was such that possession of them would guarantee a steady flow of pilgrims. Very few of those were wealthy (although some were), but their sheer numbers created richness wherever they congregated, regardless of the amount spent individually by each pilgrim. Additionally, the abbey was on a side itinerary to Compostela, although not on one of the main routes, which also brought a steady inflow of pilgrims who needed to be sheltered for the night and fed.

The abbey church as we see it now was begun in the early 1100s and replaced an earlier one. Parts from the 800s and 900s still remain. Listed very early on as a Historic Landmark in 1843, the church was strongly influenced by architectural traits from the neighboring province of Limousin. It was affiliated with Cluny in 1076, which is certainly what prompted the design and erection of a new, larger church, which consequently retains many characteristics of Cluniac architecture and art as well.

I visited this abbey church during my “Grand Tour” of 2022, among at least half a dozen first-class masterpieces of Romanesque architecture and art; Beaulieu ranks easily among them, even though it is probably the less well-known.

The off-white and beige stones inside the church are a welcome change from the dark ones of Mauriac or Orcival. The church is wide, tall, deep, impressive in every way and perfectly balanced and harmonious in its proportions. It is a great architectural achievement with few historied capitals or other adornments.... but how those stones can sing...!

from this picture and others taken in his favorite "honeypieLiving" has created a mosaic on the theme of wood that is very, very good shape and very harmonious colors ... it is here: www.flickr.com/photos/honeypielivingetc/2541611340/

LIMENI, MANI - ΛΙΜΕΝΙ, ΜΑΝΗ

Located just 5 km from Areopolis and approximately 27 km from Gythion, Limeni is one of the most beautiful and traditional coastal villages of Mani combining harmoniously the sea and the unique landscape.

Taken during a 5 day vacation with my English wife Theresa Jane Brown.

Thanassis Fournarakos - Θανασης Φουρναρακος

Professional Photographer, retired.

Athens, Greece.

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

None of my images may be downloaded, copied, reproduced, manipulated or used on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit written permission. THANK YOU

This photograph has achieved the following highest awards:

* GALAXY HALL OF FAME

Harmonious Glade is a forest village where every breeze, every rustle of leaves, and every chirp of birds weaves together into an eternal melody.

The air hums with the whispers of the departed, their voices carried on the wind, blending seamlessly with the natural sounds of the forest. This is not a place of mourning but of peaceful remembrance.

Every path through the forest leads to sacred sites where the echoes of elven songs reverberate, paying tribute to those who have passed beyond. It is a place where time flows gently, where grief transforms into harmony, and where the memories of those who have transitioned beyond are carried forever.

A Shopping Region -

Sponsored by Harshlands & Belle Epoque

Region by Kadaj Yoshikawa & Janire Coba

1891 Rochester Optical Company Universal - Ilex Paragon 260mm - f/45 - Fomapan 100 - 4x5 Film - HC 110 1+100 - Unaltered Negative Scan

May everyone have a happy, healthy and harmonious 2015! Thank you for all the views, comments and favorites. They are all truly appreciated!

The photo was taken at Dongchuan, China, and the man and his sheep just look so harmonious in this pose.

via National Geographic Photo of the Day ift.tt/1TR4BAI