Walking along my old stomping ground today in the lashing rain I came across a bright neon sign advertising a new bar on Capel Street; Melody Bar.

 

It's a new Chinese run bar and restaurant on the street that's fast maturing into one of the most bizarre streets in the city, with an interesting mix of sex shops / not yet illegal drug shops, pawn brokers, furniture places, fireplace places, pubs, restaurants, hardware stores, cafes, banks, fashion houses, offices, restaurants, apartments, gay resource centers, barbers, antique brokers, soup dragons, bagel merchants...the list goes on, and it's only about 600 meters long.

 

Anyways, I needed a beer. Owen, (his Chinese name was unpronounceable) the manager, gave me the hard sell; showed me all around the place....the sign says they do "probably the best Chinese food in town". I didn't have any, but they look as if they're giving it a good shot. There's loads of private booths downstairs for eating and karaoke, should you be into either. I liked the place. The Guinness was good and the digital jukebox free. Awful quiet though...

 

Part of the Boozin' set. See the Slideshow

Or check out the Bar Guide

With an assorted entourage in tow and the rain lashing down, US Air Force 9thRW Lockheed U-2S 'Dragon Lady' 80-1069/BB taxies down Fairford's runway to park in the static line-up during RIAT 2023

 

Here she's sans her Dorsal Span Pod and with a standard nose cone

 

Normally she'd fly festooned with an assortment of sensors - using a replacement nose, on those wing-mounted pods, in fuselage equipment bays and the dorsal mounted Senior Span or Senior Spur Pod

 

Here, the outriggers are attached which when the U-2 becomes airborne - they fall away to be collected and re-used after landing

 

The white 'muscle' car is the Dodge Chase car - used by another U-2 pilot to talk the flying one down through the last few critical feet before landing

 

Here's one I took recently, returning from Ops:

www.flickr.com/photos/29288836@N00/52953709346/in/photoli...

 

276A7615

Lough Leane, Killarny, Ireland.

Best view on Black (Please press 'L')

 

This stunning scenery changes by the second - Constantly.

It had been 'absolutely lashing down' all day long. Only a short time before taking this shot, the storm had started to clear....Just before Sun Set :)

 

Thanks for your visit, faves and comments - Have a great day all...

GAR INTELLIGENCE DOSSIER

CLASSIFIED - EYES ONLY

Grand Army of the Republic – 253rd Elite Legion

Secure Archive Reference: GAMOR-OP-BRAVO-CC1749-PT018

 

MISSION LOG ENTRY:

DESIGNATION: Protector-018 "Galaar"

UNIT: Vornskr Squad, First Regiment "Bralor's First"

Operation Codename: Couriers of Cruelty

LOCATION: UNKNOWN

DATE OF ENTRY: [REDACTED]

SECURITY CLEARENCE: LEVEL 4 – RESTRICTED ACCESS

STATUS: LEGION OBJECTIVE ALPHA: In Progress

--------

[FIELD LOG]

 

//..... REQUESTING ACCESS

//....AUTHORIZATION [REDACTED]

//.....ACCESS GRANTED

.

.

//...BEGIN PLAYBACK

 

"We had barely managed to board the Zygerrian ship before it fled Gamor. The raid had been successful, we had shut down the slavers' operation on the planet, capturing dozens of Zygerrians, their ships, and the contraband they’d been moving. We’d purposely allowed several Zygerrian vessels to escape, hoping to tail them back to their main base of operations. Command had deemed it necessary to determine whether they were being backed by the Zygerrian government, or possibly even the CIS.

 

Despite having infiltration teams on standby, Command had ordered me to halt my interrogation of the prisoners my squad had secured and to board a Zygerrian ship they’d somehow overlooked before it could lift off. With no time to rally the rest of my squad, I grabbed Spade and Rook, and the three of us made a run for it. The ship was already lifting off when we arrived, but using grappling hooks, we managed to latch on and pull ourselves aboard. We took down the deckhand before he could seal the cargo hold and sound the alarm.

 

The ship was a modified YV-865 Aurore-class freighter, and we found ourselves in a dimly lit cargo bay packed with cages holding all kinds of exotic creatures. They’d been agitated by the ship’s sudden departure, lashing out at the bars. Fortunately, the cages held, at least for the moment.

 

The Zygerrian crew must’ve heard the shot that dropped the deckhand, because they were waiting for us. A slaver clad in a massive suit of furs and armor, emerged from the shadows, swinging a heavy electrostaff. Before I could react, he’d slammed it into my helmet, tearing it off and sending me crashing to the deck. I was stunned, and with my vision blurred, I watched as Spade and Rook unloaded a steady stream of blue blaster bolts into the brute.

 

I reached for my blasters, only to feel one slip through the bars of a cage built into the deck. Cursing, I raised my remaining DC-17 and opened fire on the unarmored Zygerrians closing in from behind the portside cages.

 

Somewhere in the chaos, we’d ended up switching positions with the crew, our backs were now to the blast door that lead deeper into the ship, and theirs to the hold. I could hear Rook behind me, frantically working to slice the door, while Spade and I laid down suppressive fire to keep the slavers pinned.

 

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, Rook pulled me through the now-open blast door. As I stumbled backward, I heard Spade bark out a laugh before slamming his fist into a control panel on the wall of the hold.

 

In an instant, every cage dropped, their magnetic locks disengaged. The creatures, already agitated, went feral. They burst out and descended on the remaining Zygerrians. A Nexu took down the armored slaver in seconds; I heard his scream as its jaws clamped around his head. A moment later, the blast doors slammed shut, sealing the crew inside with the beasts.

 

From there, we’d pushed on to the bridge. It was deserted, the ship on autopilot.

 

We had taken the vessel."

 

///...END PLAYBACK

 

///...LOG COMPLETE

 

------------------

New Lambs hiding from the lashing rain and sleet.

Easter-day was cold, cloudy, and windy, after a night-long storm. The howling wind was lashing the sea into a white coffee fury. And the poles were standing up like sentinels watching the open sea - never shrinking from their heavy duty.

 

I have experimented a bit with luminosity masks here, discovering a wider range of tones than expected :-)

The unsettled August weather is bringing us strong winds once again and lashing the garden ... only one thing for it as the plants and flowers wave about in the wind ... a garden ICM

With the rain absolutely lashing down this morning, I still decided to head out to catch this move as I'd not got 69012 before. I decided on a long shot with my telephoto lens to get at least a little protection from the rain and even accentuate the effects of the weather... 69012 "Falcon 2" rounds the corner just north of Mortimer station with an Eastleigh to Long Marston move with South Western Railway's 701023 in tow.

 

Locomotive: GB Railfreight Class 69 69012 "Falcon 2" (Rebuilt from Class 56 56077).

 

Location: Great Park Foot Crossing, near Mortimer, Berkshire.

Elise Capalini can smell the sushi bar even from up this high. It makes her stomach growl. Crisp eggrolls and hot soup...she envies whoever is getting that for lunch today. She mews soft at Dazy, to warn her she's not alone up here before approaching any closer.

 

Dazy feels the catwalks move under her slightly, and her ears pin back when she hears the mew. Dazy would look over her shoulder even though she already knew who spoke.

 

Elise Capalini moves closer, eye trained on Dazy as she goes. "By the time I came back to the med den on Friday, you were gone," she says. Her eye takes in the bandages around Dazy's hands, the scarves she's still bundled in--like a wall against the rest of the world.

 

Dazy mrowls lowly "Can you blame me? I was asleep by Bianca's feet all night." She subconsciously draws her scarfs up against her nose again.

 

Elise Capalini shakes her head. "No." The word is soft. She feels like they're starting over and she's no idea where to begin. How are you seems like a stupid question indeed. "Are you back, then? To stay?" she eventually asks.

 

Dazy would shrug slightly "I don't exactly have answers for you. I'm not a happy kitty." She looks away from Elise and back towards the sushi stand and just shrugs again, truly unsure of what to say. Her green eyes sting a bit.

 

Elise Capalini's ears flatten. "Who is a happy kitty these days?" she asks in a voice that edges with a growl. She crouches down, tail lashing against the catwalk. "Have...you let anyone look at you...beyond Cat?"

 

Dazy looks down at Elise crouching.... "No. I drew my own blood for Volpe to take to the League. Guess I should have written a report on that, just figured you didn't much care." She says the last part maybe a bit too matter-of-factly. "I'm waiting for Bianca. I don't trust anyone else."

 

Elise Capalini's ears go flatter into her snowy hair. "Yeah," she says, still low and growly. "Didn't care. Watched seven cats injured in a week...didn't care...if you honestly believe that, maybe you never really knew me at all. Bianca's good to wait for--you're right to do that."

 

Dazy's hands itch and she knows they could quite possibly be infected, but at this point she truly doesn't care. She's been purposely hiding them. Folding her arms in front of her chest her eyebrows furrow "Then where have you been?"

 

Elise Capalini tilts her head. "Giving you and every other cat some space, before I smother the lot of you." She's not a mother, not in the truest sense, but she feels that for all her cats. Then, she realizes how that sounds, what she just said. "I want to hold all of you so tightly, but you're already hurt...and I thought..." She shakes her head. "In a week...seven cats, Pinkness. Seven." The nickname comes without thought.

 

Dazy lashes out verbally, ready to explode "Don't ever fucking call me Pinkness again. Do I look pink?" She then exhales with a huff and closes her eyes, attempting to calm herself down. "So... what you're saying is... when seven of your cats get hurt you give your cats space. You want to hug us but you don't?" Her voice shakes "Do you know how that sounds?"

 

Elise Capalini gets to her feet, and while she's still aware of the smells rising from the sushi bar and the low hum of conversation, she's focused on Dazy. She advances on her, drawing up short beside her with a snarl. "I know -damn- well how you react when injured," she says. "I didn't want to be pushed away again--didn't want..." She trails off.

 

Dazy snarls her lip under her scarf and shakes her head. "I spent nights in the den, waiting for you, sitting with Bianca. Have you even spoken with her yet since she got hurt?"

 

Elise Capalini's still snarling herself. "While you were safe in the den, we were tracking evidence--to find out where the fuck you were and who did this to you. When I last saw Bianca, she was still in bed, sedated. Seven cats hurt...and only one matron to try and put things right. Fortunately, Bails and Linds...they're stepping up."

 

Dazy cocks her head to the side "Huh... that's funny because YOU NEVER told me" She hisses those last four words. "Volpe talked to me about it. Discussed what she's been up to and looking at. You never mentioned anything... Besides it's not your job to 'make it right' you have an entire pride... minus seven... to assist you. Your job is to step up and lead."

 

Elise Capalini says, "Where the fuck were you to tell anything to? When you handed your pin to Bails...you were gone. Gone." She reaches out now and would give Dazy a shove if she didn't move. Not hard enough to knock her off the catwalk, but a shove nonetheless. "You walked away, so don't talk to me about stepping up and leading."

 

Dazy's shoulders are pushed back. She'd retort with a growl and a shove herself. Her hands both aim for seperate shoulders. The movement causing her new claws to break through her skin... again... Now the healing would have to start all over.... again. "How the fuck would YOU feel if you woke up on some fucking roof. Feeling like a 10 ton truck had just run you over... Looking like a monster... and not understanding what happened? When I saw Bails, looking like me, I finally realized she deserved the job more than I did when I had no fucking clue what was going on with myself."

 

Dazy lets out another growl, ashamed of what she just did. She leaps away.

 

Elise Capalini takes the shove, and crouches low in case another blow is coming, but Dazy is already running off. "I would have run straight the hell for my family, Pinkness!" she cries. The nickname is deliberate that time. Dazy will always be that to her--no matter what.

 

(To Be Continued... )

" Fairy Pools " The previous middle of the day I had walked to the peak in centre, passing literally hundreds of people, either in or by the side of the river, so took compass bearings, and worked out as this site is so far from the rest of the world, would suit an evening shoot, and they would all be gone. I shot the rapids? The clouds rising over The Cuillins were a portent to a ferocious storm that lasted for 24 hours, 60mph winds at sea level, lashing rain, ferries cancelled, and my tent turned flat, oh the joys.

What a morning.

Friday 13 and I am debating strongly with my intuition claiming that I take full responsibility of not bringing my camera into such a mad rain.

 

I had waited few minutes for the shower of lashing water to pass.

 

I am late working to work and then I look up. I see very light shadows at the end of a stormy cloud.

 

I put on my sun-glasses, yes I did look mad but I could really see what was up in the sky, smirking at me.

 

I had been waiting for you let's say relatively long time.

 

I had taken out the phone and tried my best. Excuse the poor quality.

 

Meet the cloud I wished to have in my gallery. If only Friday 13 was this lucky for all.

This male bird arrived with a female and boy did he get a tongue lashing from her.

He was told to get seed and be quick about it.

The female was back and forwards all day.

 

I can count on one hand the number of House Sparrows that come to the cage feeder so I was delighted to see them.

Conservation Red Listed birds

Website | tumblr | Facebook | Twitter

 

This is the view of the Taj Mahal from the top of the nature trail on the East side. The sun was playing hide-and-seek with the clouds and we were trying to get that perfect time when the clouds would move revealing a golden light.

 

Suddenly, the light drizzle turned into a heavy lashing. A gazebo on the trail protected us and the camera and we took some rain soaked shots.

With the rain lashing down, Stanier '5MT' 4-6-0 no.45212 climbs towards tunnel #4 at Beasdale with afternoon Fort William-Mallaig "Jacobite" train.

 

2020 Jacobite

As I mentioned earlier, I`m trying to expand my working field with the DA35mm macro limited. While I was walking in the fishingport of Scheveningen this scene caught my eye.

 

2 big and allmost identical fishingtrawlers (sch24 and sch118) moored side by side at the quai so I could stand in between. To give you an impression of size: SCH118 is 119 meters, SCH24 is 7 meters longer.

 

It was a really interesting sight and I thought it would make a good photograph at the time. But now I`m not so sure anymore, mayby it was not the right focal lenght for the job.

 

Pls tell me what you think, it will be appreciated.

Worm's eye view of the European Larch.

 

720nm IR-converted Olympus EM1 + Pentacon 29mm at f2.8, M42.

Check out your history of Wales and the 13th century Castell Trefor. Mysteriously, you won't find any mention of it even though it stands so prominently on the mountain side above the small village of Trefor. It commands a magnificent position looking from great height along the coast up towards Caernarfon. I find it strange too that so few people know the history of this place, have visited it or photographed it.

 

Today it was really windy up there and lashing rain at one time. Yet there were kids playing all over the place: goat kids. About eight of them, tiny little things, with their parents, and you can see some upper left and upper right in this shot.

 

For despite its ancient looks it was built in 1923, not even 100 years ago, and it's not a castle at all. It's a crusher house for crushing granite. But I thought it should have a fitting title and I named it "Castell Trefor"

A day of storm

 

In Roman mythology, Tartarus is the place where sinners are sent. Virgil describes it in the Aeneid as a gigantic place, surrounded by the flaming river Phlegethon and triple walls to prevent sinners from escaping from it. It is guarded by a hydra with fifty black gaping jaws, which sits at a screeching gate protected by columns of solid adamantine, a substance akin to diamond – so hard that nothing will cut through it. Inside, there is a castle with wide walls, and a tall iron turret. Tisiphone, one of the Erinyes who represents revenge, stands guard sleepless at the top of this turret lashing a whip. There is a pit inside which is said to extend down into the earth twice as far as the distance from the lands of the living to Olympus. At the bottom of this pit lie the Titans, the twin sons of Aloeus, and many other sinners. Still more sinners are contained inside Tartarus, with punishments similar to those of Greek myth.

  

Dans la mythologie romaine, le Tartare est l'endroit où les pécheurs sont envoyés. Virgile le décrit dans l' Enéide comme un endroit gigantesque, entouré par la rivière flamboyante de Phlegethon et de trois murs pour empêcher les pécheurs de s'en échapper. Elle est gardée par une hydre avec cinquante mâchoires béantes noires, qui se tient à une porte crissante protégée par des colonnes d' adamantin solide, une substance semblable au diamant - si dure que rien ne le traversera. A l'intérieur, il y a un château avec de larges murs et une grande tourelle de fer. Tisiphone , l'un des Erinyes qui représente la vengeance, veille sur le haut de cette tourelle, fouettant un fouet. Il y a une fosse à l'intérieur de laquelle on dit qu'elle descend dans la terre deux fois plus loin que la distance entre les terres des vivants et l' Olympe . Au fond de cette fosse se trouvent les Titans , les jumeaux d' Aloeus et de nombreux autres pécheurs. Encore plus de pécheurs sont contenus à l'intérieur du Tartare, avec des punitions similaires à celles du mythe grec.

Lashing rain and mist, had to put my hand over the top of the lens to keep the rain off.

Silk Way West Airlines 747-83Q(F) Reg: VQ-BWY backtracking along Rwy 03 at Maastricht in the lashing rain arriving from Baku.

This was taken on a wet damp windy day on the hills above where we live, I like the air of mystery with the wonky sign post pointing one way and then the track going to nowhere in particular. The clouds were low and full of rain the wind was blowing a goodun, when I took this I had contrasty mono in mind . Looks like we are stuch with weather like this for a few days to come with the tail of an old Hurricane lashing us later in the week.

Live www.youtube.com/watch?v=GveTPISdSvM from nowhere in Paticular

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.

~Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

Bails jumps up into a crouch as Dazy lands on her feet. She'd shake her head and let out a low growl backing up slightly from the other cat. She'd note you touching her shoe but wouldn't think anything of it, all she wanted to do was run and jump. With a loud mrowll she'd jump off to the next roof, her tail lashing out behind her.

 

Dazy licks her lips again, watching her sister leap away. She smiles, and makes a decision not to warn anyone within the Pride. This could make for an interesting next couple days.

Le "mai" de Saint-Léonard est une tradition païenne désormais associée à la fête patronale de St-Léonard, qui se déroule chaque année le premier dimanche du mois de mai dans le VILLAGE DE GAUVILLE (au sud ouest-de la somme, à la limite avec la Seine-Maritime).

Le "mai" est constitué de deux arbres: l'un, déraciné, qui est fiché en terre; l'autre, coupé, qui est fixé au premier par une enture (assemblage par entailles de deux pièces de bois mises bout à bout) et par des lianes prélevées en février.

On enlève le "mai" de l'année précédente que l'on remplace par le nouveau, après que les jeunes du village l'aient promené dans les rues du village et après la bénédiction du curé lors de la messe célébrant le saint patron.

//

This tree is called "le Mai de Saint-Léonard", because it is planted each year on the first Sunday of May, to celebrate the patron saint. It comes from an old pagan tradition.

The "Mai" is in fact made up of two different trees, the first one outrooted and planted again; the second one, chopped down, attached to the other by a lashing and by lianas.

Each year, the "Mai" replaces its one-year-old predecessor after the young villagers have walked it around and after the priest benediction.

 

"Je ne connaissais pas cette tradition. Jolie prise, effectivement on dirait une flèche." // "I didn't know this tradition. This is a fine capture and it looks like an arrow indeed." (SOPHIE C. / www.flickr.com/photos/26450367@N04/)

 

"Great texture for this interesting scene." // "Une belle texture pour cette scène intéressante." (Dave LINSCHEID / www.flickr.com/photos/33083567@N02/)

  

Own texture.

Please click this. :D

 

"I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it

is a fever, and a burden, too, whatever the poets may say. They are not

brave, the days when we are twenty-one. They are full of little

cowardices, little fears without foundation, and one is so easily

bruised, so swiftly wounded, one falls to the first barbed word. Today,

wrapped in the complacent armour of approaching middle age, the

infinitesimal pricks of day by day brush one lightly and are soon

forgotten, but then - how a careless word would linger, becoming a

fiery stigma, and how a look, a glance over a shoulder, branded

themselves as things eternal. A denial heralded the thrice crowing of a

cock, and an insincerity was like the kiss of Judas. The adult mind can

lie with untroubled conscience and a gay composure, but in those days

even a small deception scoured the tongue, lashing one against the

stake itself."

Totally ironic that, on World Water Day, we all came home this evening to messages from our local DPW saying that Western MA is no longer in a drought. And that our 8-month long water ban has been lifted. Thanks to the 15+ inches of snow last week, from Winter Storm Stella, reservoirs and water supply aquifers are back to normal levels.

 

This is a massive, old, 4-stories-tall oak tree next door as seen through the fury of Stella's lashing snow. One of my favorite trees in the neighborhood...with many stories to tell. ❤️️

Sitting listening to the wind howling and the rain lashing down I thought I'd cheer myself and rework and old image.

Captured during a recent trip to the Northern Territoty (Australia), and more specifically Kings Canyon, Uluru and Kata Tjuta. This was captured when some monsoonal like storms hit Uluru and Kata Tjuta. We were travelling in a car with frequent lightning flashes, rain and wind lashing the car. Taking a leaf out of a fellow travellers book the camera was set to 25 second exposures (sometimes shutting the camera off to stop and exposure in the desired time), and hand held.

 

Nikon D800e, 20mm f/2.8D lens.

6.5seconds at f/8 and ISO100

Mark Lucey is a 45-year-old freelance photographer from Mt. Beauty, Australia. He has been honing his skills for the last 25 years through reading and experimenting. Landscapes are his favorite, and he enjoys capturing long exposures in low lighting. Although he has no published works, his passion speaks for itself.

     

Story Behind:

   

I was on my way to Curl Curl Beach, a man made beach bath; a 45 minute drive from my place. I kept glancing towards the raging ocean which was rippling with mighty waves. Winter storms had been lashing the region for the past two days, creating a perfect mood in the sky. Today, I felt like I could end up making a seascape masterpiece. I had been learning a lot overtime, developing my understanding in the style of long exposure shots.

    

I parked my car and started unpacking my gear. Last but not the least, I took my trustee umbrella. This umbrella had taken me through all kinds of weathers so I always carry it with me. As I walked up the steps leading up to the bath, I looked up and was astonished by the view that met me. The scene looked incredible, the blue waters over flowing out over edge of the bath like white smoke matching with the froth on the waves in the sea. Incredible...

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

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Monument to the Discoveries, Belem, Portugal.

 

The Age of Discovery or Age of Exploration was a period from the early 15th century that continued into the early 17th century, during which European ships traveled around the world to search for new trading routes and partners. Global exploration started with the Portuguese discoveries of the Atlantic archipelagos of Madeira and the Azores in 1419 and 1427, the coast of Africa after 1434 and the sea route to India in 1498.

 

Thirty three prominent Portuguese figures from the history of the Discoveries are featured around this inspiring monument inaugurated in 1960 on the north bank of the Tagus River in Lisbon to commemorate the 500th anniversary of the death of Henry the Navigator, seen at the forefront of the edifice holding a carrack. Other figures include monarchs, missionaries, cartographers, explorers, navigators, mathematicians, painters and discoverers including Vasco da Gama, Ferdinand Magellan and Saint Francis Xavier. All are positioned to show movement towards the front, bravely facing unknown seas.

 

In the background, the 25th April Bridge, (Ponte 25 de Abril in Portuguese) is the longest suspension bridge in Europe. It has two levels, the top level for cars and the lower added in 1999 for trains. It was designed by the American Bridge Company, also responsible for the San Francisco Golden Gate Bridge.

 

The wind and rain were lashing so hard on this day that I had to abandon my DSLR equipment in favor of quick takes with my iPhone 8 Plus.

  

“I thought Toa always put the interests of Matoran first,” Garan said.

“I thought Matoran were taller,” Kongu replied.

“Just another of life’s little disappointments."

 

Valiant and Forthright, yet ever Cynical;

the former Captain of the Le-Koro Gukko Force may be a cold, biting wind, yet he plays a vital role in holding his companions accountable.

Equipped with a Laser Crossbow and the Suletu of Telepathy, Kongu’s thoughts, words, actions and bolts pierce directly into the heart of any issue.

 

[ Hakann, the Explosive ] [ old version ]

[ Avak, the ChainSmith ]

[ Vezok, the Beast ]

[ Toa Kongu, the Wrangler ] [ old version ]

[ Toa Nuparu, the Prodigy ]

[ Toa Matoro, the Legend ]

 

Through my rose-tinted glasses much of Kongu's identity is informed by him as a M(c)atoran;

Ever-quick wind-rider and leaf-runner of high-tree Le-Wahi, and proud-standing rocker of that song-sweet Teal!

Even as a Toa he was reluctant to commit to his new destiny; always grumbling and lashing out at teammates as he reminisced of much simpler days.

I went for athletic proportions and used leaves and Kahu feathers for a powerful, somewhat fancy look befitting a (homesick) Captain of a jungle village.

 

More photos are available on my:

Instagram: poordisadvantaged

Twitter: @PDisadvantaged

 

“That does make sense. I can’t argue with it. But destiny, for whatever reason, gave me this mask. There has to be a reason for that.”

“Destiny has a sense of humor?” jeered Kongu.

“I think I am supposed to have it. I’m not going to give it up, not yet,” Nuparu replied. Then he broke into a grin.

“Besides, flying’s kind of fun.”

“Wonderful,” said Kongu, shaking his head.

“They can deep-carve that on our memorial stones – ‘But at least Nuparu had fun.’”

It was a dreich night in the village and had a heck of a time keeping the lens clean (of course I didn't have a lint-free cloth with me). The Nikon took a lashing and the fellow who came in to use the loo gave me a strange look as I rotated the camera under the hand dryer. I kind of like the wet bokeh look here though.

A night with Fat Albert

 

While Lynn and Blue watched the night sky from the car I made my way down to a small cove across from the campground where campfires raged under a Milky Way sky. Suddenly I realized there was someone already there. A large doe had decided to come to the lake for a cold sip of the sparkling water lit by the small town of Bass Lake. I said hello Jane and her ears perked up and she stood there and stared at me. I said, well one of us is going to have to take the pictures and I don’t think you know how to use a Nikon. After a bit of debate she relented and with one leap over the logs bounded up the hill towards the forest. I settled in with Fat Albert and we spend the night star gazing at a most magnificent site. The more shots I took the longer I wanted to stay but headlamp was fading, the phone all but dead and Lynn & Blue were waiting. I turned and made my way back to the car where Blue was thrilled as ever to see me and I received a good tongue lashing for having taken so long. I shared the images with Lynn on the small screen of the camera and we both agreed it was well worth the effort. We drove slowly back up the lake with the windows down enjoying the night air with the occasional hint of a campfire. We were both content to go slow and enjoy the wonders of the wilderness around us.

 

Howling winds. Lashing Rain. A bombardment of hail. Roaring thunder and lightening bolts hurtling to the ground. A perfect day............to curl up with a good book and a cup of tea.

The gunship descended through the thick smoke of the battlefield while crushing the trunks of dead trees below it. Ace jumped out guns blazing, followed by his squad. Blaster bolts whizzed by ears left right and center, crashing into clones behind them. The squad slid into a flooded trench. Only now had he realised the lashing rain hitting his once shiny white armour, in his moment without desperation for cover.

"what's your scan?" Ace asks.

"bunker at 11 o' clock sir."

He counted to 3 with his fingers, blaster in the other hand. They sprung up and began to obliterate the nationalists scurrying away from the scene into their bunker. Few got away. Ace points towards the bunker and they continued the assault.

An old cattle ring........

  

My first real meeting with Rek--no, I'm not really sure what we talked about...

 

Rekrul McCullough chest rumbled with a laugh as he noted Ali's claw" Don frag wit me munter...'im takes dat ting on 'er 'ind en 'er tinks 'er 'ard" He watched the neko for a moment befor turning back to Guine, shrugging his shoulders slightly" 'er 'as sumtin ta eat's?"

 

Guinevere Fouroux brightens a bit, relieved at last to have something that she could latch on to. "Food!" Then she sobers, remembering Zoe's is closed. He didn't seem the sushi sort, but, well... "There's, um... noodles. Soup? Do you want some of that?" She glances toward the beach, half-hoping Kat would materialize out of thin air.

 

Alisanne Campese frowns at him again, tail lashing behind her with a mind of its own, irritation painted all over her small face. She tapped the heel of one small foot against the ground. If he was going to call her names she didn't understand.. "Maudit diable. 'Brasse mon tchue."

 

Rekrul McCullough blinked his lone eye slowly at Guine, shaking his head some from side to side" 'im don eat's 'er noodles " his left hand reaching out slowly to try and tap a metalic finger against the top of her scalp...Ali's jibberish catching his attention"ya keep's yakin dat drek an 'im gunna tickles 'er toss pot, skagg" he offerd Ali a sneer of metalic teeth, as he wiggled those bladed fingers in her direcion..mimicking a tickling action of sorts.

 

Alisanne Campese sneers right back, always been a little mouthy, the small cat had. And she'd gotten worse since "The Incident". "Ain't mah fault ya don' speak decent english. Mebbe ya oughta take some lessons er some gradeu like dat." She wrinkled a pert little nose at him, then reached her unclawed hand into her pocket, pulled out a little silver ball and began to roll it around her fingers. It jingled as she toyed with it.

 

Guinevere Fouroux tries not to flinch as he reaches for her, tapping the top of her head with a very sharp... finger? "OK, OK, no noodles." She shifts on her feet, turning her head to look at Ali, giving her her best 'shushing' look. "And no eating her, either. No matter what she says."

I took this this morning at sunrise, it was incredibly still, and amazingly stormy as well, after a while an incredibly strong wind blew up and I made a run for the car.... lashing rain, hail and flash flooding followed.... the drive home was hairy in the Fiat Panda, and I had to pull over because I couldn't see for the rain and hail.... but hey, stormy weather gives the best light, doesn't it...

The secret world of the STS

 

You wait an eternity for a lone tree on this stream and along comes a second one straight away, but you're not interested in all that... you just want to hear about the further adventures of the STS and who's made it through to the next stage!

 

We pick up the recruits after the midnight drive north and over the border into hostile enemy territory. Arriving in darkness, the two armoured transporters park up in a layby. Most just want to sleep, but C6 is already out of the second transporter with camera and tripod reccying the area. Recruit C5 has apparently slept all the way since leaving Wigan and can't be arsed stirring from his improvised coat come duvet. The rest decide they will grab a few hours kip before sunrise but unbeknownst sleep deprivation techniques are part of the STS training manual and before anyone can doze off, white noise bellows out in transporter one in the form of deep heavy snoring! The same happens in transporter two.

 

Morning breaks all too quickly for the recruits and C6 is already up, packed and ready for the off. The other recruits suspect he's been out all night... could he be the unknown DT directing operations from behind the scenes. Only time will tell.

 

The first assignment is sunrise at Buachaille Etive Mòr, a mere warm up for the team, but today is about endurance and a long way to base camp. Enthusiasm gets the better of some of the recruits who's initial burst rates max out their data cards in a frenzy of continuous bracketed shooting. It's late and although sunrise didn't materialise the recruits are not disheartened as the forecast storm stayed at bay. The effects of the night-before curry are wearing off and hunger sets in. Blackrock cottages and clutchgate are bypassed in favour of some fluid rebalancing at the Clachaig Inn... a favourite haunt of serving STS members. Refreshed, our recruits hit the road again for Fort William. Just as they near the junction for Spean Bridge, the walkie talkie crackles into life.

"For your next assignment, take the A830 for Glenfinnan and shoot the marooned boat at Corpach... get there by any means but don't get wet".

 

This is nothing but a decoy, planned to delay our recruits from reaching base camp at a reasonable hour.

The boat is shot... it rains... the recruits get wet and it's back to the transporters for the push to base camp. The weather is turning and heavy rain impedes progress. There isn't even time to stop at Eilean Donan Castle as lashing rain prevents even an amateur shot through the windows... much to the annoyance of C4 who failed here last time.

 

The transporters speed by without a single flash exposure going off. They cross over the Skye bridge and head for Broadford - the nearest the recruits will get to civilisation over the next four days. The barracks lie several miles down the B8083 to Elgol or as other visitors know it.... the road of the underwhelmed.

 

As expected of the STS, needs are basic and minimal. The barracks have been selected to test the very limits of the recruits comfort levels and endurance. There are only five bedrooms catering for 10 people, a single lounge with four sofas of which only two had reclining seats. A kitchen with only basics... a six burner grange, multi- fridge/freezer combos, microwave, dishwasher and a double dining setup that could cater for breakfast at one and evening dining at the other to save on clearing up.

Worst of all for the recruits... there were only three bathrooms, each with their own shower cubicle.

One of the recruits was heard to mutter... "I don't think I can keep this up for five nights, Grandma. I think I've made a big mistake coming here!"

A French army Gazelle makes its way through lashing rain at RIAT 2023.

To simply stand and watch the sun come up and bathe this place in beautiful soft warm light was a treat indeed. The stillness and calm in stark contrast to the strong winds and lashing rain that had pelted our tents only hours earlier. 5:51 am

Taken in Costa Rica guided by Juan Carlos Vindas of Neotropic PhotoTours and Don Hamilton Jr.

waves lashing

i really love bees and i am trying to get closer and closer to them . this is about the closest i have got so far . i took a ton of shots of this little fellow i loved how the pollen was all over him . this is just a crop of some of the other shots i took maybe one day i will get closer without to crop so much i hope so

 

wishing you all a great day today it is lashing out of the heavens here it looks like we skipped autumn and went straight to winter haha

This is Cullen in the Northeast of Scotland ...20.45hrs ....for most of the day it had been very stormy with very strong winds , waves crashing up the sea defences and lashing rain .A few hours after it stopped it was like it had never happened ....A beautiful sunny evening and gentle waves lapping the shore

I remember a sunny day when I look at this which is rather nice when it's lashing with rain.

 

I wish you all well in whatever way is most appropriate for you but cannot take on the extra work of writing it to you individually. Thankyou for your good wishes and to those who have made me their contact. Due to poor health, eye problems and low energy I regret I can't take on any new contacts but nearly always manage to reply to your comments. Please no more than 1 invite.

one community

that loves killing its own

Muslims hate prone

each one killing

the other

hearts

made of stone

Muslims love

killing Muslims

hate overblown

historical enmity

between two

sparring brothers

home grown

lashing out

at the soul of humanity

like a disastrous cyclone

the unborn Muslim child

not yet a Shia not yet

a Sunni lets out a moan

in his mothers womb

all alone

the thought

of coming to a hate filled world

if he could he would postpone

an Islamic tragedy unknown zone

above his head flies

an American drone

mans sin his child will atone

 

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Another Folkestone long exposure that I had fun experimenting with! It was a really windy day and to gain access to this area you had to walk along an old pier (to the right of the shot). By the time I had finished the waves were lashing over the top like crazy, I was mortified that my camera was going to get ruined trying to get back. I had to roughly time the waves, which were approx every 5 - 10 seconds and make the 30-40 meter dash back to 'dry land'. I ran like whippet and made it by 1 second! Phew! :)