View allAll Photos Tagged hibernate
Ilford Delta400
Fomadon Excel stock 8:00Min.
camera scan
Fuji X-Pro 2
Micro-Nikkor-PC Auto 55mmF3.5
Valoi 360
NegativeLabPro
Without foliage the structure of this old oak is easy to see. So are the bullet holes in the trunk.
Ricohmatic 225, HP5+, Xtol, Stock, 8.75 minutes at 20C.
23-00080_tu1
its been a while since i last post photos of my lovebugs.Lotus and Paris has been busy..doing nothing and just enjoying life as it is ...for those who is asking about them lol ❤
Hello my Flickrfriends, I know that it's have been a long time ago since I have uploaded a photo.
I want to apologize that I was that inactive, unfortunately I have (and had) to learn for my upcoming final exams, but there will be more photos soon.
Thanks.
-----German----
Hallo meine lieben Flickrfreunde, ich weiß, dass ich schon sehr lange keine Foto mehr hochgeladen habe. Es tut mir sehr Leid, dass ich so inaktiv gewesen bin. Dies ist meinen bevorstehenden Abschlussprüfungen geschuldet.
Es werden bald allerdings wieder mehr Fotos kommen.
Danke!
On this day I actually wanted to drive into the Black Moor in the Unesco Biosphere Reserve Rhön, unfortunately it is in winter closed. On the way home I took a short break and this panorama caught my eye. The moor is where the three countries of Hessen, Thuringia and Bavaria meet. (Three country corner). If I'm not mistaken, you look here to Hessen, but I'm not sure :-)
Thanks for stopping by, commenting and fave, much appreciated!
Happy evening everyone :)
This photo is not current but seems appropriate to me as winter has arrived. The high temperature today will be -9C/16F and there will be up to 15cm/6in of snow tonight to add to what is already on the ground.
This is a reprocessed photo. This version is brighter than the original in Comments, and I also eliminated that awful watermark. What was I thinking?
Ce mois de janvier frileux et neigeux m'a inspiré ce petit poème intitulé : Il n'est pas l'heure....
Tout dort encore,
Il n’est pas l’heure…
Janvier s’attarde,
Et puis musarde,
En sa demeure
De blancs frimas,
Et les lueurs
Grises du froid,
Emmitouflent
De leur effroi
La vie qui bat.
Il n’est pas l’heure !
Dit-elle tout bas….