Wilson’s Snipes forage by methodically probing in muddy ground for earthworms and other invertebrates. Their heads move up and down somewhat like a sewing machine running at slow speed. Individuals usually sit tight until suddenly flushing near your feet and flying off in fast zigzags. Displaying males fly high in the sky and make a curious whistling noise (“winnowing”), created by air passing over his modified outer tail feathers.

Wilson’s Snipe live in muddy pond edges, damp fields, and other wet, open habitats. Typically these contain thick, low vegetation into which these well-camouflaged birds can disappear.

 

Info from Cornell "All about birds" website

  

It surprised me yesterday when I saw that the Great Blue Heron's strike is not quick like a Rattler's. It's methodical. Taking photos of Great Blue Herons catching fish, I have no excuse for jerking my camera. That does not mean that I can always hold a camera steady enough to avoid blur in long-distance shots. (Perhaps I can start by avoiding enough blur for the eyes of the fish to show up as eyes.)

 

Thank you for stopping by. Your visits and friendship are greatly appreciated.

Churlish Stories for Curious Children

The Remisier Caper

Acte Two

 

Quickly the two women move from the kitchen and up the back stairs, moving past the locked, still-silent, study, reaching the dimly lit corridor in the wing where the guest bedrooms are located

 

Lightening flashes outside, adding an ominous feeling to the already electric air.

 

As the pair stalked down the hall, Emilee instructed her friend as to where Cecelia hides her jewelry case.

 

Her diamond tiara is locked in the hidden safe inside Sir Reginald’s study.

 

Much to her dismay, Emilee will not be helping rob this room. Cecelia must not be made aware the French maid has had any part in this.

 

So Emilee asked a favour.

“In the wardrobe, a long-sleeved white satin blouse with the ruffles. Please Mon Ami?”

 

The thief had winked, pulling out the torch from her kit.

 

Reaching the target, the maid stands guard outside in the hallway as the thief carefully opens the door and slips inside.

 

Inside the room, turning on her torch, the thief sweeps the interior.

 

Cecelia is fast asleep in her bed, elegant in a long white satin nightgown, as she lays out upon the purple satin sheets.

 

Her pretty evening gown is over a high-backed velvet-covered chair.

 

Fire flashed from the diamonds hanging around the sleeping girl's throat. The rest of her diamonds lay in blazing glory, invitingly sprawled out upon the room’s vanity.

 

The thief approaches the bed, and the wind outside shrieks as a crack of lightning illuminates the room, waking the sleeping girl.

 

Her eyes sleepily open, then go wide as she sees the masked intruder at her bedside. The thief puts a finger to her lips, and motions the girl to come off the bed.

 

Cecelia, still not fully awake, limply obeys, and the thief leads her to the chair. There, using one of her victim’s long satin gloves, she is gagged and with a rope, her satin-clad figure is quickly tied up.

 

As the victim watched, paralyzed with fear, the thief pulls off a satin pillowcase and going to the vanity sweeps off her glittering diamonds down inside it.

 

Then, as Cecelia whimpered, the masked thief leans down and opens the drawers of her vanity.

 

Of course, looking back at her captive as she does, not wishing her snooty victim to miss the show.

 

Reaching the bottom drawer, the thief see’s Cecelia uneasily struggling against her well-tied ropes.

  

Smiling, the thief quickly pulls out the silky clothes on top. At the bottom lies the prize.

 

Quickly several velvet-covered cases are extracted and opened with their shimmery contents dumped out inside the pillowcase. Then the cases are carelessly discarded off to the side, adding to the silky underthings already littering the floor.

 

Hearing the tied-up Celia trying to talk with muffled unclear words, the thief turns and faces the poor girl.

“Don’t worry luv, after I’m done cleaning you out, I’m sure that maid I saw in the dining room will be in to clean it up for you.

 

Turning back, the thief opens the last, and by far, largest velvet case, a royally dazzling display of large emeralds and diamond set jewellery almost blinds the thief’s eyes.

 

The case is closed and then added to the loot.

 

Holding the pillowcase, the masked intruder goes to the wardrobe. Opening it she reached and begins pulling out and checking over the designer dresses and gowns inside. Casually casting them off to the side as she goes do.

 

Coming to the white ruffled satin blouse she sees there is a black onyx pin holding the high-necked satin bow in place. Perfect.

 

She takes it to a full-length mirror and holds the blouse up, seeing Cecilia’s wretchedness reflected behind her in the mirror.

 

She doesn’t feel sorry for the bound and gagged lass.

 

The thief, in planning this little caper, had learned about the spoiled Cecilia’s tyrannical attitude towards, well, everyone and everything. Her personal servants, as well as her horse, and the family pets, have the scars, both real and emotional, to prove it.

 

Stuffing the blouse inside the pillow case the thief moves over to the tied-up girl and lifts the diamonds hanging down around her throat. The thief sees the pricy gems sparkling in Cecelia’s wide-open eyes.

 

The thief then reached back with her free hand and undid the clasp. Saying to her squirming victim as she pulls off the necklace.

“Very nice my haughty lady. I doubt any of the other guest rooms will have anything this nice. Hopefully, I’m wrong.”

  

She tweaks the poor girl's cheek, then pats thoroughly down her satin-clad, totally compliant figure, deliberately feeling along every bump and bulge for any more of the young lady’s valuables. Nothing is found, but the thief is by no means disappointed.

 

The thief cuts off the torch’s beam. Pulling off the satin pillowcase from a second pillow, the thief leaves the room as another flash of lightning ominously lights up the bedroom.

 

Giving poor Cecelia a backside view of the departing thief carrying away the pillowcase full of her heirloom quality jewellry.

 

The weak-minded girl finally passes out cold from all the anxiety.

 

The masked thief heads out the door into the hallway where Emilee keeps watch, standing along the wall beside the door.

 

The thief nods as Emily licks her lips looking at the small bulge at the bottom of the satin pillowcase.

 

The thief opens it up, and Emilee gives a squeal seeing the blouse she had so coveted while seeing Cecilia wearing it the day before, as well as the bewitching jewelry piled inside the pillowcase.

 

The thief gently chided her partner in crime, saying as she jovially rubs her shoulder.

“Quit your droolin lass, plenty of work ahead of us this evening.

 

Lightening again flashes as they begin to scurry down the hallway.

 

Quickly the pair then enters each of the occupied guest rooms located down the hallway. With a methodical determination, each room is picked clean of any jewels, money, and small valuable items.

 

It is quick work, with the upstairs maid Emilee pointing out where the lady guest’s better jewels are kept, they both make a fast, quite accurate, job of it.

 

Like Cecelia, Rose Buxton had her valuable jewels hidden away at the bottom of a vanity drawer full of lingerie.

 

Lady Susan Macready had her better baubles in a soft-sided jewelry case under her bed’s Pillow.

 

Diane, Spencer’s fiancé, had a private room, and her good jewelry was in a case conveniently left open on her vanity.

 

Mrs. Marlene Cabot—Hinny’s overly expensive ‘borrowed’ diamonds from the jewelry shoppe, were found tucked inside a suitcase hidden under the bed.

 

Emilee grins as the jewels are located and added to the growing loot being added to the satin pillowcase she is holding, her mind going to the ladies in the Parlour downstairs, totally oblivious as to the robbing of their valuables that is occurring above their high held heads.

 

Cases of sparking jewels are located and dumped into the satin pillowcase. Purses are riffled, bedside drawers checked, and looted of valuables.

 

Each room entered is left picked clean with expert prowess.

 

Finishing plundering the last guest room, the pair slink past the study, to the master bedroom next door.

 

Both enter the stately outfitted room.

 

Standing as the thief sweeps her torches’ beam. All the light touches conveyed a sense of glamour and very upper-class level wealth.

 

As with the guest rooms, the pilfering is methodically fast and easy with the Maid’s help.

 

Quickly the thief is shown the large jewelry amour, and it is opened, showing off a massive collection of jewelry in all styles, and shapes, made with pricey metals and some set with mesmerizing gems. No costume jewelry here. Two pairs of hands begin pulling off from hooks and emptying small drawers, brim full of expensive baubles.

 

Madeline’s good jewels are kept in the study safe. Next on the list.

 

The vanity is also ransacked.

 

A gold mirror, brush and several silver compacts are taken. Several wallets are found, then quickly emptied of cash.

 

Everything is placed in the same pillowcase.

 

Last is lord Reginald’s nightstand. Cases of watches, rings, and cuff links are found and emptied. A gold clip with folded notes is found, as well as four billfolds containing notes. All added to the growing pile of loot.

 

The thief looks around, itching to be done here and tackle the study.

 

The lightning flashes outside, coming a little more frequently, are adding a feeling of impending foreboding to the thief’s intoxicating “cat burglar’s dance” this evening.

 

“Anything else? what about the closets, worth it in this room?”

 

“Oh yes, I Bet there are Lovely things in there that were not in the others… Here

Let me show you”

 

Emilee opens a double door exposing gowns dresses and other fine designer apparel of all makes and material

 

Emilee starts on one end, her partner on yet other. Feeling for any broaches or pins. They are treated for their efforts by finding a solid gold broach set with dripping pearls and a pair of diamond clips from a very pretty satin evening gown.

 

“That’s it then?”

 

Emilee nods her head yes.

“The rest is in the study safe, mon ami”

 

Her partner grins…

“Not safe for long then…”

 

They leave and head to the study next door.

 

Emilee unlocks the study door, opening it. The pair blink in the brightness of the room as they survey the scene displayed in front of them.

 

The thief smiled, picturing Emilee and herself as a pair of vultures, eagerly waiting to pick through the carcasses that were the bodies of the sleeping rich men strewn about the room.

 

Emilee showed her partner where the safe was.

 

It was actually a small vault, a full meter tall and half that wide, hidden in the wall behind a sliding bookcase.

 

Crouching down, the thief began the task of opening it.

 

Emilee took the now weighty satin pillowcase and went to each of the passed-out cold gentlemen in turn.

 

She skillfully began searching their figures. Almost like using a practice dummy, slipping her hands inside theri breast pockets, extracting handsome leather billfolds.

 

So it was a rather enjoyable, as well as profitable, undertaking going through pockets and searching in their clothes. Taking anything else of value, along with wallets… watches, rings, precious metal cigar /cigarette cases, tie pins , and cuff links were also nicked from the knockout-drugged male victims.

 

Emilee quickly located with methodical precision all of the unconscious males valuables, reliving the items from their persons, and plopping them inside the pillowcase.

 

To the man who had ordered “tea”, Emilee went to last, taking extra time over.

 

She slid him from the chair he was on and dragged him over to the open part of the bookcase. She place one hand on the lever that opened the bookcase to access the safe. Then she unzipped his trousers and stuck his other hand (after removing a gold signet ring) deep down inside his boxers. He did not stir during the entire ordeal.

 

None of them did, the knock-out drops that had been added to the gift bottle of brandy would keep them all out for hours.

 

The thief in the meantime had opened the safe and was stacking the contents on the floor beside her. Piles of banded notes, bonds, and 2 score of jewellery cases. Including 3 that held gem-encrusted tiaras, had all been found inside.

 

Emilee came to her partner's side and began opening the cases and spilling the contents inside the pillowcase. The notes, bonds. And a few other selected items were added on top.

 

As she was working on this, the thief moved off Lord Reginald’s desk and pilfered the drawers.

 

From behind her Emilee instructed.

“Bottom drawer, right. “

 

That drawer was opened, exposing a black military pistol.

 

The thief unloaded the cartridges, keeping one loaded in the chambre. She then stuck it in her belt.

 

The thief looked at Emilee...

 

“Done?”

 

She nodded

“Done, for the now we have coup de grâce… we go downstairs to the kitchen, then to the parlour…”

 

The thief nodded.

 

Emilee licks her lips. Tossing the masters keys to her partner

 

Catching them, the thief turns out the lights and locks the study door behind them as they leave

 

They head to the servants' stairs. As the pair reached them, Emilee puts a hand on her partner's shoulders.

“Juste une seconde..”

 

Emilee scurried done the corridore. Reaching Cecelia’s room she gives a polite knock.

 

“Maid, Mademoiselle Ceceylia?, ne vouliez-vous pas plus de sherri ?… more sherri Mademoiselle?”

 

Emilee turns to face her partner waiting patiently by the stairs. With a smirk, she shrugs her shoulders and scurries back. Passed the thief with a grin, then headed downstairs.

 

Grinning also, she follows Emilee down the back stairs to the kitchen.

Emilee takes the empty cart and heads down the hallway to the parlour

 

The thief lays the full pillowcase by the pantry door. With the other, still empty pillowcase, hanging on her arm, she leaves the kitchen and, from a distance, follows the maid down the hall.

 

The thief waits out in the corridor.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Back in calm maid mode, Emilee wheels in the cart and starts to collect dishes

 

Lady Madeline is talking about how hard it’s been this weekend being down to just a cook and their worthless slag of a maid, due to the bloody holidays. The fact that Emilee was trained to be an upstairs maid and not a sever is completely not a considerate issue here.

 

The hostess looks up at Emilee, knowing full well the maid heard every word. She gives her maid a lecture before issuing a command:

“Emilee, I’ve rung you 3 times now. Clear the glasses Then tell the men we would like them to join us at the conservatory .”

 

“Yes Mum, and Sorry, I was checking on jeune femme Cecelia upstairs. ”

 

Lady Madeline is clearly still not happy…

“No matter. I think you should pack your things tonight. I probably will want you out of here in the morning. “

 

Emilee nods dejectedly, then begins collecting the empty wine bottles and glasses.

 

Lady Madeline’s mother Marlene then arose and says she needs to go to her room and get her wrap since she finds the conservatory chilly.

 

Marlene adds, looking at Emilee, as she walks out the door

“Your maid shouldn’t be bothering Miss Cecelia, I will check on her myself.”

 

Marlene no sooner walked out, than she came back in.

 

Walking backward, hands raised as the thief had the gun trained on the broach hanging from her shiny gown’s midriff.

 

Over Marlene’s head, The thief snarled a command to the rest of the occupants in the room.

“All right ladies, all of you line up against that wall…NOW!”

 

The startled ladies obey, their long gowns fluttering along their figures as they miserably line up along the far wall by the windows.

 

Here now, I’ll have that. Using her free hand the thief unfastened the heavy diamond broach wedged between Marlene’s bulging breasts.

 

She tried to protest, but in shock, words failed her, and she only managed a high-pitched squeaking noise.

 

Marlene is then boldly told to turn around.

 

Given no choice, with the pistol now poking her in the back, Marlene is pushed to go to the end of the line.

 

Outside lightning cracked, illuminated the gardens outside, casting an eerie light inside the Parlour.

 

The thief takes a step back into the center of the room, facing the elegantly dressed ladies wearing valuably shimmering jewels, lined up against the wall, all with their gloved hands stretched up.

 

“Now listen to me you miserable lot. I don’t want you on my tail as soon as I leave. So let’s begin by having all of you strip off those lovely frocks and only your frocks. You too maid, lose that pretty outfit.”

 

As a group, the ladies begin protesting, including Emilee. The thief points the pistol at the mirror over Marlene’s head and fires the pistol

 

The loud report, and cracking glass, made everyone jump.

 

“That was not a request, Strip out of the bloody things …now.”

 

Then, as if on a movie director’s cue, another bolt of lightning streaks outside, followed by a flash and loud retort, literally making every one of the victims jump again.

 

The ladies, getting the ugly message, begin undoing their luxurious gowns, letting them drop to their feet.

 

Emilee has to help a few of them unzip and undress.

 

Soon their elegant silk nickers, other rich shiny undergarments, as well as a bit of naked flesh, are all exposed.

 

The thief motions the pistol at the gawking maid stripped down to her bra and nickers.

 

“You, collect those gowns and pile them underneath the window. Move it.”

 

Emilee quickly moved to the beginning of the line, and reaching down begins to pick up the discarded finery. Taking the pile to the end of the room, she threw them all down on the floor in front of the window in a slickly shiny heap.

 

Emilee, then turned around to face the room.

 

Seeing the thief motioning to her with a finger, she hesitantly approached.

 

The thief tossed the empty satin pillowcase to Emilee, pointing her pistol at Susan, only wearing a two-piece thin blue see-through slip and top, and is first in line.

“Here maid, take this, stand in front of the bluebird.”

 

Emilee catches the case and goes to Lady Susan Macready, holding open the pillowcase.

 

The thief addressed all of her richly jewelled-up victims. Pointing the pistol with menacing intent at each of the semi-naked, satin glove-wearing ladies lined up against the wall in turn.

 

“ In case it has not seeped in, this, ladies is a robbery. I’ll be having your jewels handed over. This will be over quickly as long as you lot don’t quibble. Your maid is holding the bag in front of you, I want you each to remove all, and I mean all, of your valuables. I’ve been watching from outside. So I know what jewels each of you fine ladies is wearing. Keep your hands up where I can see them until the maid reaches you.”

 

The thief waves the pistol along the line of desolate, rich ladies, ending up back Susan.

 

“Go one bluebird, time to pluck off those glittery feathers. Stop that whining. Let’s get going!”

 

Hands shaking, Lady Susan Macready begins removing her splendidly shimmering sapphire and diamond set jewels. Ears, throat, and wrists are all soon bare. As her last of four rings are pulled off, she steps back as the thief looks her dead in the eyes, the ugly black pistol pointed at her.

 

The thief speaks, looking at Susan

 

“Nicely done lady, now get those hands back up.”

 

Next in line is ravishing red-haired, impossibly large, emerald green-eyed, Diane, who is now only elegantly clad in an ankle-length crimson red half slip…and nothing above!

 

Standing there, half-naked, she sighs deeply, her face crestfallen.

 

The thief looks at her as if just noticing her condition of being half-dressed for the first time…

“You now, my perky red-breasted chick, I’ll be having those pearls.”

 

Diane lowered her hands and began slipping off her ropes of pearls and sadly dropping them inside the pillowcase.

 

As she was removing her necklace and working off her long earrings, then bending down to let them plop inside the open satin pillowcase, her naked breasts put on a show worthy of any French burlesque tease.

 

“And what is it about real pearls against naked skin that makes them look so sensuous ?”

 

Undoing her pricey bracelet last, she miserably watched it disappear inside.”

 

The thief calls out, startling everyone.

“I thought I said everything. The ring hunny bunny, now.”

 

Sadly Diane struggled, then finally managed to pull free her vulgarly large diamond ring, letting it drop inside the bag.

 

Emilee managed not to let her glee show, keeping her mouth tight, her eyes emotionally empty.

 

As Diane reassumed her position, raising her hands back up, points high and perked. The thief then turned the pistol to Lady Madeline.

 

Madeleine, wearing a full mint green taffeta slip, started to protest but was abruptly cut off by the thief.

 

“Zip it, don’t start lady, or I’ll remove those delicious emeralds your so richly wearing me self…”

 

lady Madeleine, use to being the one giving orders, not being ordered about, feels insulted.

 

Thinking any minute the men should be coming to their rescue. She says with a snarly voice only the very rich seem to be able to pull off

 

“My husband will be down any minute, let’s see how Insouciant you will be then…”

 

Annoyingly, the thief does not answer, only gives her a haughty look, and motions to the hanging satin pillowcase her maid is holding.

 

So with a sigh, she drops her hands, then begins to unhappily remove her emerald bracelet and rings from her green satin opera-length gloves, huffily tossing them into the pillowcase Emilee is holding.

 

She then pulls out her earrings, and finally, reaching up behind her neck, unfastened her long dripping-down necklace, plopping them all inside the makeshift bag in turn.

 

The thief points the pistol at her head.

“The diamond hairpiece, please. “

 

lady Madeleine tried to reason

“But it’s not real, surely you can see that..”

 

“Then I’ll take a chance on being a fool by taking it. Be a good rich girl and it over…”

 

Reluctantly the expensively flashy real diamond hairpiece is pulled out and added to the unseen collection inside the pillowcase.

 

Lady Madeline pulls her fallen hair back with an evil glare.

 

Rose is next to last in line.

 

Her petite necklace of diamonds flashes with a beckoning brilliance as her figure is tightly outlined by her stylish blue thin silk lingerie, her thinly covered breasts heaved up and down with the anguish she is feeling.

 

Emilee moved in from of her, and the thief also moved in behind, keeping the pistol trained on Lady Madeline.

 

The thief then moved the pistol to point at Rose. She begins addressing Rose, though her eyes never leave the stern-faced Madeline’s eyes. Much like a teacher keeps an eye on an insolent child as she resumes her lecture after being rudely interrupted.

 

“Okay my lady, remove those delicious diamonds and make it quick now.

 

Rose lowers her hands and begins working off all her lovely precious jewels. Plopping them piece by glittering pieces into the open pillowcase.

 

As she does, The thief spied Lady Madeline taking a glance towards the door.

 

The thief points her pistol toward her.

“Lady, I told you, helps not coming.”

 

Then points the pistol back at Rose

“Let’s hurry off with those rings, trust me, you don’t want me helping you!”

 

With a sigh, Rose pulled off the last ring from her sleek blue satin dinner gloves, then steps back and puts her hands up.

 

The thief, with unabashed attention, looks over Rose, her figure perked, points nicely outlined by thin blue silk.

 

“Thanks, lady, it looks to me like you are feeling a bit chilled. No worries, it’s almost over.

 

The thief then finally points the pistol at Marlene, clad in a stretched-out purple bra and knee-length half slip.

 

“Now as for you my plump purple bird, ripe for the plucking, so let’s prune off some of your shiny trimmings shall we…”

 

Marlene desperately pleads.

“The other’s jewels are real, mine are not. You already have my broach, The rest is worthless. Can’t you see? Don’t you have enough already? You’ll let me keep them then?”

 

The thief grins:

“Like I told the green bird, I’ll be the fool then, now be a luv and remove them.”

 

Marlene snaps;

“You’ll never get away with this.”

 

The thief walks up to her, leaning over Emilee’s shoulder she picked up Marlene’s long shimmery necklace.

 

The yanks it off her throat, dropping it In the pillowcase as the thief hisses with a snarky tone of voice:

“I do believe mum, I already am….”

 

Whimpering, Marlene stands stone-still. Shocked to the core

 

The thief snaps out an order.

“You, Maid, help the lady off with the rest. That’s the girl…”

 

Then, struggling not to show her glee over doing this, Emilee reached up with one hand and pulled free each of Marlene’s diamond earrings, plopping them one by one inside the pillowcase. She then went for Marlene’s glittering bracelet, slipped it off, and dropped it into the pillowcase. Then taking Marlene’s white satin gloves hands, works off the lady’s rings. Some of which were actually her own, and not “borrowed”.

 

Emilee looks back to the thief as she finishes. Thinking to herself how she would have loved to have done a bit of poking and prodding along priggish Marlene’s figure while removing her jewellery.

 

The masked thief, still training the pistol on the whining Marlene, beckons to Emilee with a free hand

“Good girl, now Maid, hand over the bag.”

 

Emilee did a neat little act of not wanting to give it to the thief. She looks at Lady Madeline as if for instructions.

 

The thief clicks her tongue.

“Don’t worry about your mistress, Let’s be a good girl now, hand it to me.”

 

Emilee hands it over, her back is to the ladies, and she winks as she does.

 

The thief keeps a stone face. Grabbing the dangling bag, she looks over the maid's head.

 

“Ok, Maid. Open that window.”

 

The thief, looking back down, spots the thin gold chain and cross the maid was wearing under her frock.

 

Come, come, now Maid…No holding out. I’ll have that gold crucifix of yours.

 

Unhappily Emilee removed it and reverently hands it over. The thief placed it on top of the loot inside the satin pillowcase.

 

Pouting, Emily turns and goes to open the window.

 

The thief then addresses them all, pointing the(now empty) pistol at the ceiling.

“Now maid, throw them clothes all out the window. And no shenanigans for the rest of you. I may or may not be a good shot. “

 

They all start to protest, but the thief waved the pistol at them, and they immediately shut up.

 

The Maid is forced to throw all the gowns and her outfit out the parlour window. The windows of the parlour are higher than the dining room windows, 3 full metres from the ground.

 

Everyone is watching Emilee. As the last shiny gown is dropped from the window sill, they all turn back to face the thief, only to discover she was already at the door, leaving the room with the pillowcase containing all of their nicked jewellery.

 

As the silent group watched. The thief turned off the lights, casting the room in darkness as she closed the door.

 

She then Locked the parlour door, turned, and made her way down the hallway to the kitchen.

 

In passing, she tossed the pistol and the keys on the cutting tables, then heads into the pantry.

 

She takes the empty Remisier brandy bottle, and adds it to the pillowcase she is holding.

 

Then picking up the first satin pillowcase, heavy with the upstairs haul, she heads outside into the yard. With the dark umbrella of rain-swollen clouds threatening overhead.

 

Outside by the door, the thief retrieved her rucksack.

 

Stuffing the pair of now full pillows inside she sprints around to the parlour window. Looking up she sees the shadows of her semi-naked victims moving about in the now-lit room above.

 

The thief quickly packs up the gowns, including the maid's costume, piling them inside her rut sack on top of the satin pillowcases. It fills up nicely.

 

Keeping an eye on the window as she does, but as earlier, no faces appear.

 

Flipping the happily full rut sack onto her shoulders she sprints from the shadows of the hedges and races across the yard as a bolt of lightning rips across the black swirling cloud-filled sky.

 

Rain starts pouring down as she reaches the treeline

 

The thief keeps a quick pace as she makes her way through the woods along the riding path she now knows by heart, having snuck up it several times over the last few months. Good thing too, since the dark sky and pelting rain are making visibility harder. She dared not lite up her torch. Going with the occasional lightning strikes to lite her way.

 

She safely made the almost 5-kilometer hike back to her hidden rental car without incident.

 

The journey of her escape had given the thief plenty of time to mull over the robbery…

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Little chance Emilee would be a suspect, she was a mere maid after all.

 

The thief thinks over the plan that had been put into motion for this evening, it had gone like clockwork.

 

She had bought the expensive Remesier brandy through a dealer and poured it into a secure decanter to celebrate with it later, just her and Emilee.

 

She had drugged a much cheaper high-quality brandy and poured it inside the empty Remesier bottle, resealing it. She wasn't going to waste good brandy on that lot.

 

Then had packaged it, written the note, and sent it to Sir Reginald.

 

They had also learned of how the unhappy upstairs maid was being treated by Lady Madeline and had paid her, through an intermediary, to give notice a week before the ball.

 

Emily applied and was accepted immediately.

 

She estimated that the entire takings from the robbery would be well over 8 mills.

 

By the end of the week, she would be out of the country, the mansion haul placed in her Swiss bank safety deposit box. Giving the hot ice time to chill.

 

As for the gowns, what she and Emilee didn’t want for themselves, would find their way to an OXFAM Shoppe Bin.

 

She was already planning on picking up a pretty leather skirt for Emilee to go with the lovely white satin blouse, imagining what a sexy outfit it would be as a distraction while on a future pickpocketing spree. That would be a delicious treat to help and watch her at “play” lifting fat wallets from leering males.

 

After Switzerland, the thief would then continue on vacation in Germany, Italy, and finally, France, where in a fortnight she and Emilee had already planned to meet up.

 

For it was in France that she had first met Emilee, actually more of an encounter…

  

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Our Thief, a few years before, had been in France to attend a wedding. The fact that she had not been invited was a trivial matter.

 

A few days before the weekend wedding, She had been walking down a street located in a busy shopping district. A well-dressed lady came out of a store carrying a large bag in her arm, talking to a female companion. On the wrist of the arm coddling the bag, was a fancy gold bracelet. As the lady’s head was turned to her companion, the thief had “bumped up against the lady, her fingers slipping easily up the long sleeve of her silk blouse, reaching the bracelet, and whisking it off her wrist in the process of apologizing to her in broken French.

 

As the thief had walked no more than a block away, a young long haired girl in a bohemian-style silk dress bumped into her. Realizing the trademark, the thief felt her pocket and realized the gold bracelet had been lifted. The stalker had been stalked herself.

 

The young stinker made her living robbing pickpockets.

 

The thief quickly caught up to the young girl, and keeping in step, began a guarded conversation, dropping enough hints to let this young version of herself know that there was a kindred spirit.

 

It worked and lunching over déjeuner woyj, wine, and Salade Niçoise, discussed their similarities. At first, the conversation was very guarded between the two, but by the end, it was one that fast friends would have.

 

Emilee had begun working the streets at a very young age. Using her looks and long fingers she found pickpocketing to be a pleasing and profitable profession to pursue.

 

Then she took it a level up and began robbing pickpockets of the items they had lifted from unwary victims. She soon was able to pick out the more professional thieves, accurately figuring out that they would be lifting from a richer class of persons.

 

Then she leaned the skills to be an upstairs maid. Using this to not only make a living but for herself to also level up into a better class of victims to use her nimble fingers on, discreetly of course.

 

For when a wealthy married male wanted a romp with an attractive, witty servant. Emilee played the seductress perfectly. And after a night satisfying the crétine (Pratt), if his wallet disappears, along with some of his wife’s jewels, well who was going to risk exposure by pointing a finger at her?

 

So over the course of a few months, as their lier (bond) grew, the thief introduced Emilee into her world of rich society, fancy dances, selections of wealthy victims, lifting of precious jewelry and wallets, as well as collecting information to rob mansions and other fancy dwellings of the ultra-rich.

 

Soon the pair as a team was doing quite well. Their adventure’s proving quite profitable. Emily only needed to work as a maid when the situation required it. Otherwise, she was the outside watcher for the inside cat burglar thief.

 

So how had tonight’s manor heist materialized?

 

^^^^^^^^^^^

 

While out on her own devices one evening, Emilee had taken a liking to a gold pendant worn by a boorish old lady she had spotted while “working” a reception.

 

She got close and as she watched the mesmerizing pendant, overheard what the lady was loudly droning on about, not caring who listened in, as long as they were impressed.

 

It appeared that she was claiming to be closely related to royalty, though her clothes and manner did not entirely back her story up.

 

But, smelling an opportunity, Emilee rolled the dice, changed tactics, and walking past the lady, easily lifted the wallet from the boorish lady’s designer purse.

 

She had contacted her cat burglar friend from wales to look into this, to see if this was a lead into something big.

 

It turned out it was the whole crux that lit the kindling which flamed up into the manor robbery scheme.

 

The boastingly boorish lady wearing the gold pendant's name?

 

Marlene Cabot-Hinny

 

And that would be the rest of the story.

 

Fini

 

We spent a lot of time on the beaches of Harris - it is an incredible landscape. This was taken predawn as I was searching for a good composition - the tide was coming in fast and in the end I left this location for another beach down the road. Some of the beaches have lovely white sand - I quite like this one as the sand has some texture and definition and adds a certain degree of balance to the shot. I am trying to become much more analytical and methodical when on location - this is an area I really need to work on throughout 2015. Two Key words I need to remember - "SLOW DOWN" !

+

  

Between Here and There , Tim Lowly © 1988, tempera on panel, 24" x 35". Private collection.

 

If you click on that + above you will able to see the painting at an extremely close vantage point.

 

Tempera (or, to be more precise, egg/ oil emulsion tempera) generally requires a very methodical approach. Tempera is very delicate; it can't be fussed with: previous layers will come off if you try to push the paint around like oil. The paint is applied in small strokes. In this painting that paint application is most evidently meaningful on the wall. Essentially the paint strokes have a sweeping wave-like movement on the wall. While I don't paint this way now I am no less interested in how a painting's making carries meaning.

 

2015! February already. Wow, time flies. Swat. I see the finalists for the mars colonization mission have been chosen, I didn't get an email so I guess I'm out. I'll just have to grace this precious blue orb for the rest of my glorious days with glee and wit wondering about the shimmering stars the same as you. I made the most of my sierra passions in 2014 with 5 trips. Although i have stayed away from the digital files for a bit while tending to other musical adventures and hillsides. Life can be so damn messy sometimes. I suppose our tidal life's trials and tribulations mimic the rising and falling of the sun in all its shortcomings, dull muted surprises and epic brain tingling explosions perfectly as only they could. Words escape me as of late. More often that not they go unspoken along the PCH each day, harmlessly dispersed from my subconscious meanderings. But, trust me, I'm still tending the garden. Deeply immersed in a pacific fog that comes and goes like a swinging pendulum, though now ever closer to the torn and stretched rope holding at bay my precious weight of the world. Tisk tisk. On a positive note, this is the year the tide returns. My precious spring moth has made a quick 2015 appearance although he hasn't stay just yet and the backyard swallows are soon to be on route. I'm starting to remember. NOW, despite Verizon lawless attempt at forcing me to pay for the same DATA in 3 places, which of course somehow includes my personal unwanted contributions to internet commercials that are a complete waste of my "MU%$A FU&$IN" time, my overall spring spirits are high. I actually cracked open my hard drive last night and looked into the recent past. Autumn 2014 to be exact. Enough non photographic rambling, lets get to it.

I spent about a hour at this tree. She was an unplanned yellow stop. I spotted her in the distance during a rather epic stormy road trip into the eastern sierra gateway this autumn. It was drizzling on and off that day, with classic rainbow weather conditions brewing. The rain was heavy in spurts and I did have to retreat from this image a few times because of that, but after a few compositions along the right and left shores and bridge top, my hope was soon justified by effort that proved there just might be something to call home about after all. Ring a ding dong. From the rickety overpass I was able to get a very centered mirror like image in the Yin and Yang style with converging stream lines leading to the subject which worked nicely, but how boring is that. The shoreline images however (left side seen here) had me dangling over the water like a circus clown in some yoga like stance, 2 tripod legs contorted in some archaic fashion, extended fully and planted in the sandy river bottom, both equally unstable in the heavy current of the flowing water. The third leg was crimped up, contorted and bent to it's absolute limit and crammed into a rock crevice on the shore for support and to keep me and the entire nonsensical contraption from falling into the river and flowing down stream with the rest of rainbow trout. I imagine I looked funny from the one or two passer byes that I now recall as I stretched myself out, perched and focused on not breathing, whilst barely skimming the waterline with my camera lens, manually focusing between quiet breaths, foreground to distance long exposure, Distance to foreground short exposure, so that I could capture the detail sharply throughout the exaggerated scene in all forms if needed. It's medicine to my soul. The hunt that is. The methodical process. The left shoreline stretch proved to be the winner in my opinion as it highlighted some rather long and more interesting underwater river vegetation, inadvertently creating some diagonal lines from the bottom corners of my frame which I found pleasing at the time. The long stretch and close proximity to the water surface also gives the illusion of me standing or hovering over the water which was a desired effect at the time, it was also the only way I could capture what was happening below the surface. A polarizer also helped in that respect, eliminating the foreground reflection quite nicely.

PS I guess mars will have to wait. Wonder if they are planning trips to jupiter?

 

Go Pats! Time to start thinking about a repeat repeat.

Taken in a shaft of sunlight. Hawfinches move around in a much slower and more methodical way than the other birds when foraging for seeds. They are of course much bigger than the other finches - but can sometimes be confused with a Chaffinch at a distance. If they sense something threatening overhead (such as the call of a Crow) they crouch down into the leaf litter blending in surprisingly well.

 

Winter is the best time to see them, numbers are increased by some migrant birds entering the country and they will often be feeding on the ground. In the spring they will change their diet to include insects and spend most of their time in the trees.

 

Took the morning off yesterday at the last minute on seeing some blue sky for a change!

On June 10, 1944, Waffen SS soldiers carried out a military operation against the civilian population of the small town of Oradour-sur-Glane, in Central France. They methodically massacred all the residents they rounded up and destroyed the entire town with fire and explosives. In all, 642 men, women and children were killed. The operation had no strategic or tactical value and was therefore mostly gratuitous. The decision was made immediately after the war to preserve the entire village as it was found by survivors and rescuers. It stands today as its own memorial to all of its victims. I visited it on the anniversary of the massacre on June 10, 2017 and was greatly moved by the experience.

Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.

 

Whilst her mistress is enjoying a weekend in Worcestershire, Edith, Lettice’s maid is using her time to give the flat a thorough dusting and airing. As she dusts the dining room, a noise she detests bursts into her quiet, methodical cleaning.

 

BBBBRRRINGGG!

 

The telephone in the drawing room starts ringing.

 

Edith looks through the double doors into the adjoining drawing room. “That infernal contraption!” she mutters to herself.

 

BBBBRRRINGGG!

 

She walks in and up to the black japanned occasional table upon which the silver and Bakelite telephone continues to trill loudly.

 

BBBBRRRINGGG!

 

“I should pull your chord out next time I’m Hoovering. Let’s hear you ring then!”

 

BBBBRRRINGGG!

 

Edith hates answering the telephone. It’s one of the few jobs in her position as Lettice’s maid that she wishes she didn’t have to do. Whenever she has to answer it, which is quite often considering how frequently her mistress is out and about, there is usually some uppity caller at the other end of the phone, whose toffee-nosed accent only seems to sharpen when they realise they are speaking to ‘the hired help’ as they abruptly demand Lettice’s whereabouts.

 

BBBBRRRINGGG!

 

“Come on now Edith!” she tells herself, smoothing her suddenly clammy hands down the apron covering her print morning dress. “It’s only a machine, and the person at the other end can’t hurt you, even if they are angry that you aren’t her.”

 

“Mayfair 432, the Honourable Miss Lettice Chetwynd’s residence.” she answers with a slight quiver to her voice. Her whole body clenches and she closes her eyes as she waits for the barrage of anger from some duchess or other titled lady, affronted at having to address the maid. A distant female voice speaks down the line. “Oh Mrs. Hatchett, how do you do. Yes, this is Edith, Miss Chetwynd’s maid.” Her anxiety lessens slightly, for even though Mrs. Hatchett is somewhat overbearing, she is a banker’s wife and therefore not born with a pedigree that finds talking to the staff offensive. She listens. “No. No, I’m afraid that Miss Chetwynd isn’t in residence Mrs. Hatchett.” She listens to the disappointed response. “She’s down at Wickhamford Manor in the Vale of Evesham.” She listens again. “It’s Worcestershire Mrs. Hatchett, so I’m afraid it would be a bit difficult for me to fetch her.” More bemoaning comes down the telephone from Sussex. “Monday. She’s there until Monday, Mrs. Hatchett. I’m expecting her home late Monday evening.” The distress down the phone is palpable. “I can take a message for you, if you like Mrs. Hatchett.”

 

After receiving an affirmative reply, she deposits the receiver next to the telephone with a trembling hand. It sounds as if Mrs. Hatchett’s arm might fall off in Lettice’s absence from all the moaning she is making. Yet Edith has had enough practice with her mistress’ clients by now to know that it will be some silly inconsequential matter about her interior design plans that she will want addressed. Edith brushes her clammy palms down her apron a second time and then picks up the pencil atop of the pad of paper that Lettice left for her to jot any messages on.

 

Picking up the receiver she says, “I’m ready for your message now Mrs. Hatchett. Please go ahead.”

 

She writes a message based on Mrs. Hatchett’s distressed response.

 

“Now, if you’ll just let me read that back to you Mrs. Hatchett. You’ve changed your mind about the Regency stripe for the soft furnishing covers, and you want chintz.” A further burbling comes down the phone. “You want blue chintz to match the walls.” She listens to Mrs. Hatchett’s confirmation. “Yes. Yes I’ll give her that message the very moment she comes through the door Monday evening, Mrs. Hatchett. Very good. Good day Mrs. Hatchett.”

 

Edith hangs up the receiver and sighs with relief. “Damn infernal contraption!” she says as she glares at the telephone shining brightly in the afternoon sun.

 

She re-reads her pencilled message and frowns. “Miss Lettice won’t like that. She hates chintz. Oh well!” She shrugs. “That’s her problem to solve.”

 

Edith returns to the dining room and takes up where she left off, hoping that the telephone won’t ring again until Tuesday at least, when Lettice will be back in residence.

 

The theme for “Looking Close… on Friday” this week is “telephone”.

 

I hope that this telephone, which kept people connected in the 1920s and keeps them equally connected today is suitable for the theme. This upper-class domestic scene is different to what you may think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures including items from my own childhood. The telephone you see before you is only two centimetres wide and two centimetres high.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:

 

The black Bakelite and silver telephone is a 1:12 miniature of a model introduced around 1919. It is two centimetres wide and two centimetres high. The receiver can be removed from the cradle, and the curling chord does stretch out.

 

The vase of orange roses on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.

 

The pencil on the pad in front of the telephone is a 1:12 miniature as well, and is only one millimetre wide and two centimetres long.

 

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The black japanned wooden chair is a Chippendale design and has been upholstered with modern and stylish Art Deco fabric. The mirror backed back japanned china cabinet is Chippendale too. On its glass shelves sit pieces of miniature Limoges porcelain including jugs, teacups and saucers.

 

To the left of the Chippendale chair stands a blanc de chine Chinese porcelain vase, and next to it, a Chinese screen. The Chinese folding screen I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.

 

The green tinged Art Deco glass bowl on the table in the foreground is a hand made miniature from Beautifully Made Miniatures in England.

 

The geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.

A Blue-winged warbler snatches a nice morsel out of the leaves. The way in which this guy methodically worked its way down on the branches in search for breakfast was quiet astounding. This warbler also mates with the Golden-winged warbler producing the Brewester's and Lawrence's warbler

It's My Job

 

Early in the morning in Millennium Park in Chicago, I watched this man power wash the large plaza. Slowly and methodically he moved the grit down the plaza. The lyrics to Jimmy Buffett's song "It's My Job" were spinning through my head:

 

"In the middle of late last night I was sittin' on a curb

I didn't know what about but I was feeling quite disturbed

A street sweeper came whistlin' by

He was bouncin' every step

It seemed strange how good he felt

So I asked him while he swept

He said 'It's my job to be cleaning up this mess

And that's enough reason to go for me

It's my job to be better than the rest

And that makes the day for me'."

 

After watching for quite awhile, it was clear to me this man was dignified and proud of his job. His effort showed. It made me stop and think, that like this man, I love what I do as both an engineer and a photographer. As they say, when you love what you do you never have to go to work.

 

I'm thankful that I've never felt in my bones that a Wall Street banker is any better off than this man power washing the plaza. To me, the greatest tragedy of all is never discovering who or what you were meant to be.

 

www.jsricephotography.com

  

DARK PURPLE - The Clematis Viticella (variety "Tuczka"?), commonly known as "Italian leather flower", "purple clematis" or "Virgin's bower", is a species of flowering plant in the buttercup family of genus Clematis; it is native to Europe. The genus name is from Ancient Greek clématis, ("a climbing plant"). Over 250 species and cultivars are known.

 

The clematis, despite being present for thousands of years in European territory, appeared in our gardens only in the Middle Ages ... and right at the return of the crusaders. Probably the more or less professional growers (a nice piece of land was a coveted reward for those who retired from their arms) thought of reproducing the pavilions that were made with jasmine in the East with the clematis. Clematis is perfect and only shadows when needed, that is, in the middle of summer. So it was grown in abundance and the peasants got into the habit of cutting off its branches and adorning their fields, ensuring that this favored the crops. In England it was even nicknamed "joy of the traveler" because it also grew freely in the woods and at the edges of the roads.

 

Alpine clematis, also called blue, although the color tends to veer towards violet, is currently one of the most widespread, because the mountain dwellers were among the first to cultivate this flower in the garden, given that they used its leaves to treat the sores difficult to heal, ulcers and even ulcerated skin tumors, both for men and for pets. Too loved in the Middle Ages not to end up at the stake of witches in the so-called Age of Reason! By studying methodically it was found that the plant belongs to the ranunculacee family, and is therefore potentially poisonous.

 

The clematis that grow in our gardens today (which no one uses to treat wounds anymore), all come from America, from Siberia, if not even from China, because, after three abundant centuries of oblivion, they were reintroduced as exotic ornamental plants , exclusively for the suggestion of colors.

 

Sources: Wikipedia; Mary Falco, "The Garden of Astarte - Clematis".

 

Sony a6000 with Selp18105g and Polaroid CPL filter. Natural light. Minimum edit in Adobe Lightroom.

 

#flower; #violet; #purple; #green; #black; #dark; #bloom; #five; #star; #nature; #soft; #silky;

#fiore; #viola; #verde; #nero; #fioritura; #scuro; #cinque; #stella; #natura; #soffice; #setoso; #clematide; #medioevo;

See Volume #2 here, and read the chapters associated :) Blake Baer did a great job carrying the torch.

 

"Footsteps quickened, and swords shone bare under the masked sun. Joshua’s heart raced, his feet pounding beneath him almost involuntarily. The moment had come, and he could feel nothing but the rough handle of the sword in his grip and the weight of his shield pulling heavily at his arm. The ground trembled under the pounding of the elephants and the charging line of armored knights. “Where are our brothers? Will they make it in time? With how many men?” were the last thoughts Joshua had before forcing it from his mind and gritting his teeth. With a deep, shaking breath he released his clenched jaw and joined the chorus of men; shouting in a united prayer as much as a battle cry before the hordes that awaited them.

 

Victoria glided effortlessly across the field, ashes swirling at her feet like a low mist. It was time to erase her past and paint a new future. To wash away the painful colors of life with the beauty of grey. Death knights advanced beside her methodically, without fear or urgency. Leading vicious scorpions and machines of war, they proceeded toward the line of hopeless men. “Hold nothing back! Your kindness is in your swiftness of execution. Remember you were once like them, clinging to a pathetic life before you were awakened to a new existence! Bring these desperate souls peace through our blades.” Victoria caught a glimpse of a face in the masses that rolled forward to crash with them, sending a ripple across the still, dark waters of her heart. For the briefest of moments something seemed to grow within her... what was it? The word came to her mind unwillingly, from some forgotten past. It was... a lily. Victoria clenched her fist, and the lily faded into ashes, steeling her current resolve. The war had begun."

 

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This is the end and compilation of Volume 1. Dont forget to read Volume #2!

 

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Its hard to see the detail from this picture alone, this is why I decided to break it down into 8 pieces. Thanks for following our story!! For those who are just joining us, look back at chapters 1-8 for the many intricate details. Thanks everyone for the fun journey, and support Blake as he helps us continue the story. I've seen his WIPs and they are very well done!

 

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This is a series that was built for the Mini Castle Contest at Classic-Castle. This is our entry as the first 8 chapters assembled together to create this volume.

 

Please forgive me for revisiting this saga so soon. For the thoughts of that witnessed moment in time which planted a seed for a story, still remains, still ticklingly entices my imagination..

And I think most of us know what a bugger an inkling like that can be...!

And the Chatwick in me had a yearning, actually no, a compelling, need to appease, so to tell the same story in a bit different take on the observed actions of the young lad I called the Hugger Mugger… had to be forthcoming post haste …

 

And So we Have.....

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The Importance of paper mache Princesses

Lucidity of Providence

 

I first noticed the lass whom I came to call the paper mache princess, as she slithered and swished about in the quite devastatingly pretty gown she was so winningly wearing along her youthful, but yet well appointed figure.

 

The gown was dyed the shade of fresh spring lavender, the satiny material, probably soft as a new borne downy chick, freshly shimmering and glistening as she stunningly exhibited it whilst wriggled in from the serving room.

 

My fancy was tickled by this, for my Sister had once worn a very similar dress , and I carried quite pleasant memories of the fun we had had shared that particular evening…..

 

But I only noticed this new lass’s apparel briefly though, for once I had her properly in my sights, her adorning jewels(rhinestone?) totally commanded my full and undivided attention.

 

For, see in my humbled opinion, it was silly for one so obviously saturnine, so quite gullibly young, to be wearing such shimmering sparklers! Though to truthfully admit, I had no real issues along those lines!

 

The sparkling jewels consisted of a thin silver plated necklace, matching dangling earrings and a thin bracelet worn around her satin gloved clad wrist.. , all were set with the fiery brilliance of (rhinestone?) diamonds.

 

Twas a pity someone darkly moody like that would be in possession of jewels so pretty.. She obviously had no inkling or care about em, in my observation of her, she probably could care less that she was wearing them, and probably had whined miserably about putting them on!

A hallowed mockery of all that is truly feminine.

 

An aloof paper mache princess who deserved to look more of a pauper in me own personal opinion...!

 

And that thought, I found to be quite enticingly entertaining on a personal level! Admittedly though, at that time, I was finding a great deal of my surroundings to being quite vexing.

 

But there was also a reason for my interests, for I will have to admit to possessing a bit of a rascally bird like, Magpie keen, interest in all things shiny!

 

And my curiosities had already been at peek height due to several other observations I had made upon my first arrival at the wedding reception: Including one subject in particular!

 

First off, the wedding was definitely upscale, and the wealthy Bride had chosen a rather unique venue for her reception.

 

Located in a rather daringly wrong side of the tracks area. The place was the site of an old brick, eel tinning factory that someone had cunningly restored and was princely offering as a uniquely posh reception venue for those rich enough to pay out the nose for something out of the ordinary. To me it looked like someone had extravagantly decorated up an old slummy red brick alleyway.

 

And as to why I was there..?

Well my friends, that’d be another whole tale in the tellin....

 

So, only tellin one tale at a time then......

 

Anyhows, there I was, dressed up in my best, and starting to do a bit of visually opportunistic prowling about amongst the well heeled guests who were making merry in the venues’ rather dubious surroundings…. When I saw him...

 

Him, the laddie, a young male of about 13, scampering happily about at the reception hall .

 

Something about his mannerisms drew my mind to him, so I discreetly asked around.

 

I soon found out he was the son of a single mother, both the bride’s sister and maid of Honour. So he was pretty much being left to himself, which explained things a bit.

 

The lad was also obviously across the threshold of young puberty: as was witnessed by some of his antics, not only with the touchy teasing of the younger girls present, but also in the way he was treating certain poshly dressed adult females, especially in sneaking up and giving his darling grandmother hugs from behind.

 

She though, thought it was cute and just laughed, and squealed happily, “look another drive by hugging”, or “thanks for the warm hugging honey, just lovely”, encouraging to no end the youth to keep his voyeuristic advances up.

 

But the grandmother was a short lady, his size, and I knew what was going on, even if the silly twit didn’t have a bloody clue.

 

The Lads arms, as he hugged his grandmother’s warm figure before running off, were brushing just under her perk breasts, molded nicely by the tight fitted mother of the bride gown she was attired in.

 

I also knew that , along with copping a titillating feel, he was also enjoying the tingling sensation from the slick thicke material of the lengthy, swishing gown the rather youngish ,stylish grandmother was wearing…

 

I watched, the lad as he performed this trick several times, holding onto the warm sweaty figure of his still perky, grandmother, before I would finally admit to the fact, I was jealous!

 

Jealous, for she was wearing some rather pretty jewelry of diamonds, real ones too judging by the fiery pinpricks of flashes they was giving off. Grandad must have spent a bloody mint on them.. For an Anniversary or an apology? There laid the rub..

And I would have given anything for a closer gawk at the ladies finer points, if one gets my drift, eh ?

Nudge, nudge... as they say...

 

It was while watching the lad yet again going and performing his hugger mugger routine from a bar stool, that my I first laid my eyes on the young paper mache princess in the lavender gown and wearing her own set of diamonds( rhinestone?). I don’t know when she had entered the reception’s proverbial stage, but she was one of the last lot to be leaving the room where the food service was laid out.

 

She was all of 16 years old, probably bitter sweet, and most definitely, caustically, immature!

She was with a second girl, 14 years I would guess, possibly a younger sister, clad in a thin dress of red silk that poured out dancingly below a matching jacket of velvet. She was wearing a glistening set of, faux?, pearls, and a (rhinestone?) brooch on her jacket, the bauble shaped like a colourful humming bird set with coloured gemstones.

 

They both stopped at the doorway, watching the dance floor with a peaking interest .

 

The live band had started up, and a group was upon the floor, swishing and swirling about in a quite pretty display of both colour and glitter that was being caught up in the dim incandescent lighting of the olde re-imagined factory.

 

I allowed my interest to follow this action for a bit, before curiously allowing my eyes to again seek out the pair of lasses.. Sneaking in close by the bar for a better, keener look over as I did so.

 

When I found them I saw that they had been joined by the huggy strap of a lad. He was standing close to them, and I caught him gingerly sliding his hand up behind the paper mache princess , chubby fingers tentatively rubbing along the waistline of the slick lavender gown being worn so winningly by the vixen of a sixteen year old.

 

She giggled and turned to him, her eyes giving an “oh, its you” look to the lad. Oblivious to the look, he started talking the pair up, and I saw them both shake their heads no at whatever he must have been suggesting.

 

Both girls petite earrings’ swaying in the light as their heads moved side to side . The Paper Mache Princess’s inset diamonds of her earrings sparkling madly, while her smaller friends bobbling earrings of Faux pearl gleamed a glistening pure white.

 

The pair turned dismissively back to the dance floor, and he stared them down from behind their glimmery sleek dresses for a few seconds, before he walked away, head bent down like something of an admonished puppy!

 

I felt sorry for the young git, red faced, as he was walking away,.

 

Then I suddenly realized that his course was taking him right past me.

 

Not sure why at the time, but suddenly I wanted to capture this lad’s attention. For I was Bored and feeling peevishly mused to try and do something to quell those copious desires I had been mulling..!

 

So I played it by ear... Something which in my profession that I tend to do a lot of!

 

Now, since, sleight of hand and misdirection are a couple of me talents, I reached into my pocket , thoughtfully fingering one of my ever-present coins of the realm.

 

As the lad , sad head down, sauntered droopily by me, I caught his attention by dropping a penny.

 

He obligingly retrieved it for me, and as he handed it back, I turned down my wrist, then took my hand to his ear, appearing to change the penny into a twenty pee piece… Which I handed the coin to the amazed lad for keeps. Thereby also gaining his full and undivided attention.

 

“Want to see another?” I asked, and he shook his head yes eagerly. I pulled out an also ever-present deck of cards, and had him ruffle them up a bit. Talking it up to him as I did.

 

The simple card trick would allow me to banter and hopefully my words would thus stoke the id of his sexually driven impulses whilst the ego thoughts in the lad’s head where following the cards. With my intents to flaring up the lad’s super – located in the deep recesses of his mind were certain male thoughts are often guiltily , forcibly, kept alone to themselves.

 

The first trick was an easy one that had him picking his own card from a group laid out on the bar. It was as I went through the motions, and watching his focus on the cards, I mentioned how pretty I had thought some of the dresses worn by the girls here were.

 

That opened him up royally...

 

I soon had him chatting away, eating out of my hand as I told him a subtly suggestive story of my youth, centering around the true enough episode where I had danced with my sister who had been wearing a dress very similar to the one worn by the paper mache princess....

 

A tid bit of a description that I knew would send his little pubescent desiring mind whirling .

 

I then, also with casual finesse, asked him quite a few questions about himself, about the reception, and particularly centered around finding out a bit more about the paper mache princess.

 

He readily came out with the fact that the paper mache princess, the one I had truthfully said was dressed like me sister had been , was nothing more than his cousin. He also volunteered tid bits about her that led me to believe that she could be a bit fey, but liked to pretend and daydream.

 

He also chimed in that he liked to play games like hide an seek with her and her friend’s, when she allowed him to!

 

Not playing now I asked? Seeing a light opening up at the end of a certain tunnel of my thoughts.

 

No he said, she said that she did not want to get dirty, her friend either.. Too interested in acting like proper ladies, dancing and watching, he added sadly..

 

“Quite boring.. he also added quite drearily ..”

 

That was all I needed to hear! So, agreeing with the boring part, I drew him close in the confidence of a co-conspirator.

 

Tells you what kiddo, let me explain how we used to play tag games when I was your cousins age.

I bet she will change her mind to play this version with you today! ( Actually, I know she would have no choice but to play his game once we were done with her!)

 

Really, he said, his eyes wandering and latching onto the two swaying young vixens, looking them up and down as I spoke.

 

Certainty ‘Mon garçon’ I said, and began to explain, taking certain inventive liberties with the details to ensure capturing this young man’s burgeoning lusting fantasies !!

 

I explained that as lads we would play tag by having the crooks steal something, then the person who was robbed would chase us like a copper until we either got away, or placed in “prison”

 

Cops and robbers see.. ever hear of the game.?

 

He nodded his head assuredly that of course he knew the game..!

 

I could also see I had grasped a craving interest within him, so I then happily continued on

 

“Now, the girls in our group would sometimes dress up and wear ‘cheap’ play jewelry, like your cousin and her friend over there. “ I lied convincingly.

He turned to watch the pair of proper appearing princess wanna-bees, both with eye appealing resplendence in their gowns, jewels and fine frills..

 

“Then us boys would sneak up and try to distract them, so we could teasingly come away with some of their play jewels without them catching on to what we were on about.

 

Then we would point out their loss after a bit, and the girls would give chase to us trying get them jewels back !”

 

He smiles, liking the idea.

 

I could see he was chewing on my words while still Drooling over the two pretty young lasses and their shiny frocks and ample shimmering jewels.... rather convenient having the real thing in sight when telling my stories I devilishly thought.

 

I had captivated his interest, and could see that he was earnestly watching his cousin ( whose necklace I should mention, was quite invigoratingly rippling small sparkles of fire around her throat as she was swaying to the music.)

 

I began with renewed relish, allowing the seed I had planted to grow, by explaining in detail how to draw his pretty lass of a cousin into the “Game”!

 

Both his and mine!

 

Using as an example, a story on how I had played this same game I was proposing on, while dancing with me own lavender gown wearing sister for reference. Actually it was a true enough story, only the young lass I had played it out on had not been me sister, and the gown, which most definitely had been soft as a new borne downy chick, had been of a shiny ripe peach colour!

 

I explained in simple detail how to approach his cousin, and what words would work best in convincing her that a dance was in order.

 

Then once they were into the dance, I explained in easy detail, the next steps to be taken to ensure his cousin would be a player for the next phase of the game, namely the catchy, touchy, tag part of it.

 

I could see the laddie was doing quite well, grasping the rudimentary idea of it all. And as he shook his head vigorously yes when I asked if ready. I gently pushed his back, propelling his quite noticeably Horney figure loose towards his innocent victim.

 

Go get em tiger....

 

I watched with growing anticipation as the lad moved in, eagerly approached his victim, then again sliding a hand on along her waist, successfully prying and fully capturing his cousins attention away from the dance floor. He started talking affably and I could see her dart a look back to the dancers,then to her 14 year old friend, then finally back to her cousin. Her jewels nicely sparkling in the low lights as she carried out this performance.

 

Then, bless the faux pearl laden pixie, for as I watched, the paper mache princess’s young friend most advantageously helped out our cause. Chirpily chiming in her two cents worth. saying something excitedly as she tugged at the cousins dress whilst pointing to the lad and the dance floor!

 

And ‘Bob’s your uncle!’ a few minutes later the pair of them were on that polished wooden dance floor, looking exceptionally cute as a couple, as they danced to a romantic slow tune whose name has since slipped my mind. The young darlings mimicked the adults around them by embracing closely against one another.

 

I waited and watched with baited breath, so many things could go wrong, and there was no good reason they shouldn’t. I began to think my ideas had been quite folly. Draining my drink, I made my plans for a quick get away to avoid any attention and have to answer rather awkward questions if things went awry.

 

But they didn’t!

 

As he had been directed, he bided his time, no hurry.

 

I watched with baited breath as finally his hand cunningly started the process of snaking up along the back of her sensuous dress, a bit quick perhaps, but maybe his partner was feeling his hormones actively running wild and was responding in kind.

For she had no issues dancing close, and no notice of the shenanigans of the creeping male fingers nimbly reaching up her back. I could see that her own gloved hands were firmly grasping her dance partners waist. The diamonds on her thin bracelet merrily winking back at me!

 

She seemed so happy, her eyes closed shut as she was into what ever fantasies young sixteen year old paper mache princesses, wearing pretty gowns and flashy jewels, have going on!

 

But I was also fairly certain that those fantasies of hers did not dwell any where’s near the reality of what was being played out on her in real life at that moment!

 

I looked around, Nor were any of the adults paying the pair any heed..

 

Even the Sixteen year old’s young Faux pearl wearing pixie of a friend was watching something away from the dance floor, her own fingers idly playing with the shimmery rhinestone brooch on her velvet jacket as she, with no shyness, was ogling a bloke in a tux snogging with one of the bridesmaids in a secluded corner!

 

I perked up, setting my empty glass down, casually picking out a handful of pub nuts from a jar at my elbow, I thought, this trick may actually bloody work!!

 

His fingers finally reached the victim’s primed objective, the one I had suggested, namely the thin gem studded necklace. The pretty jewels that laid flickering around the high, glossy neckline of his victims gown. That fiery necklace had been dangling and moving about with an easy sliding fluidity along down the smooth satin of its’ wearers gown, making it a fairly easy pluck for any amateur’s game!

 

The gem stones were set in a finely woven silvery chain, there should be no telltale snagging, no matter how jerky the chubby fingers were in making the attempt the lift them!

 

Obviously I had been thinking this through as I had been carefully watching my pretty paper mache princess. And just as obviously I was now vicariously living those day dreams through the lads antics!

 

So it was with an unabashed delight, that I watched as his fingers glided along the pretty baubles chain till the necklaces hook in eye clasp was located, and pulled up ever so lightly!

 

He did fumble a bit with the clasp,( his first time after all) but I saw him carefully peeking over her shoulder for a better look, and using one hand he managed to delicately unhook the two ends on his second attempt.

 

The fraternal twin ends lay loose there, glimmering for a few seconds, as they hung freely unclasped down her back. His fingers slipped back over her shoulder and slyly lifted a sparkly end up.

 

He then methodically began to slide the long necklace up along the front of his dance partners rich, lubricious, satin gown! It was easily slipped away, slither inly over her shoulders’ satin sleeve and free fell down behind her back where it dangled for a few precious seconds in his chubby fingers, before the lad secreted the shimmering thing of beauty into his pocket ..

 

I released my breath not realizing I had been holding it.. He had gotten away with it, pretty as one pleases. His fantasizing, gorgeously dressed cousin, hadn’t a bloody clue as to what had just transpired as she and her glittery necklace were naughtily being parted!

 

And just as important, no one else had noticed my little hugger mugger in action either!

 

His victim still had her eyes blissfully closed, and was leaning her head back in what can be best described as dreamy happiness.

 

Her earrings and bracelet sparkled on, as noticeable in their positions, as the place her necklace had been, now was not!

 

Her male partners eyes were wide, and darting around. I was worried that he may end up alarming the girl, so I rose, and managed to catch his gaze, and smiled giving a thumbs up. This made him grin, and settling down a bit, grasped his partner close and twirled on.

 

I smiled, feeling rather excited meself, for watching the lad in action had been like reliving the somewhat similar, long past, incident that I had used as an example, lying to him that I had played the game on me sister!

 

^^^^^^

 

Well , they finally finished the dance, it seemed like an eternity, but it was thrilling to try and catch glimpses of the cousins’ now bare neckline!

 

Finally they broke apart and he walked off with her to the opposite edge of the dance area from where they had started. I held my breath again, but he seemed to inherently realize that as part of the game, he didn’t want her suspicions raised by being quick to leave. God bless his natural budding adult male like deviousness!

 

When he finally left her and came over , he was grinning ear to ear like some Cheshire Cat.

 

“Well done lad, you played that brilliantly! Fun Like I said it would be” I praised and questioned?

 

He nodded , quite pleased with himself, and that pleasure was evident in more places than just his face!!

He most definitely was getting a “titillating feel” for the playing the game. A feeling I could very well understand from me own personal experiences!

 

I turned him around to face his cousin, his back now to me.

 

The young paper mache princess was back to aloofly standing, watching, on the outer rim of the dance floor. As we watched, we saw her young friend returning, regaining a position up alongside her

 

I gripped my hand upon the lads shoulder, speaking into his ear as he conveniently faced away from me..

 

I explained that he needed to go up and do next ..

 

Sneak up and hug his cousin from behind( I could tell he liked that!) , then as you tickle her a bit, say something like “now catch the tickle thief” , and then, see that door just off the loo?

 

He turned his head over to where I was pointing.

 

I knew that the door was an exit, leading upstairs, then outside to a small park.

 

“Break away before she can catch you,, and RUN! through that door, then out into the park .”

 

I turned him back around to face me , I wanted to really drive home the last bit…

 

I was smiling mischievously in his eyes, which brightened up as he warmed up to the ideas I was planting.

 

“Then in the woods you can hide and touch tag as she tries to get her necklace back!”, and I tapped his pocket with my free hand, jingling the contents.

 

“But remember laddie, the trick is not to show her what you took. Make her chase you, and if she finally catches you, make her search you for it, or have her cry Uncle before handing it over!”

 

“And as she is so occupied, try for an earring or bracelet to keep the game on. Or if her friends is close enough then snatch…..”

 

But I stopped, I could see all too well in his wide eyed glazed over look, that he had caught onto the gigs gist, and there was no need to say more with out risking my hugger mugger to become too prematurely excited before playing it out.

 

I looked up over his head to make sure the stage was still set…

 

I suddenly stiffened....

 

Ere now, look lad, I think your game is beginning, she is noticing the loss.

 

We both looked, the young friend of the sixteen-year-old was pointing to the paper mache princess’s bare throat. No need to hear the question.

Then as We both gawked ,the cousins gloved hand shot immediately up to her throat ,fruitlessly feeling around as her face contorted up in a horrifying gasp.

 

“Now lad I said turning him back around so he was facing the dance floor., quickly toddle up behind and give your cousin that hug to start it off! That’s a good lad!”

 

“I guarantee you she is going to play into your game now.” I said, sending the words off after him as he scurried stiffly off.

 

He was definitely carrying off with him a quite “hard” vested interest in the game at hand.

 

He approached the pair, both of whom were now looking about their feet for the missing necklace.

 

I saw him readily grasp, then pull up his Cousin into a slippery hug..

She jumped a bit ,alarmed!

But no blaming the sullen looking lass. Worries about her missing necklace combined with someone unexpectantly grasping her from behind, then feeling something hard being pressed up against her, would cause a bit of inherent distress for any poshly attired damsel!

 

Startled as she was, she stood stiffly in her fast waning shock, as her male cousin whispered into a bejeweled ear, then letting her go, the lad dashed off towards the exit as planned.

 

The two girls looked at each other questioningly, the pixy was holding her faux pearled necklace, the cousin a hand to her bare throat. They then stared at the fleeing cousin, before, in a shimmering, swishing, fluttering, flurry, taking off after the escaping lad.

 

I turned away and watched as he disappeared through the exit door by the loo.

 

The female cousin and her similarity dressed young friend, were following almost upon the lad’s heels, gowns whirling , and they too slipped through the closing door. I, probably for the last time, admired her taunting bracelet, as it flashed and sparkled, while she gripped to hold open the closing exit door..

 

All three had now disappeared from the venue without anyone a noticing.

 

I believe free booze, and the length of drinking time that the adult guests had been imbibing played a rather big part in that the trio of escapees were not paid any heed!

 

Babes in the woods, going beyond the security of the pale. I thought, making my way through the thronging crowd of merry guests .

 

I headed out towards the main exit located on the opposite side of the building from the restrooms.

 

Just before taking my permanent leave I looked around the venue again. The dim lighted red brick lined walls of the old ell tinning factory did indeed resemble an olde alleyway. And one can just imagine the types of mischief that would be going on in olde alleyways!

 

Reaching the outer walk I forced meslf to meander on till I had safely gained some distance, stopping as I came up to a patch of woods.

 

Where, next to an ancient Wytch Elm tree with its grotesquely reaching branches, started a thin path leading off amongst the trees towards the other side of the olde eel tinning factories building..

 

I stood there, and after checking around me, Pulled a chrome flask from a vest pocket.

I took a good long swig of ginger brandy in celebration of the moment!

 

“The path less travelled today mate! .”

 

Replacing the flask, I reached a hand in my suit coats pocket for me pipe and tobacco, .

Feeling as I did the now cold hardness of the quite genuine, quite expensive, diamond necklace that I had so quite easily lifted from the youths jacket pocket ( pickpocketing - another of my skills)

 

As I packed my pipe and then cupped my fingers as I struck a match to get it going, I allowed my mind a quick remembrance….

 

I played out how pretty that young lass had been in her peach satin gown. We both had been around 14 years, socially awkward as youths that age can be.. She had suggested the dancing, and I was amazed at the feel of her in my arms. Never had I felt anything so warm, so incredibly soft. And how sparkling her necklace had been. As we danced, and as I secretly admired her necklace, I remember meself subtly lifting the pretty thing up from her throat. Then it had suddenly unclasped, and I found meself pulling it off from around her throat and stuffing it in a pocket. She had had no clue, and I and me mates had used it’s loss to tease her before giving it back.

 

It had been a most satisfying newly acquired feeling for me at that age.... Which I had gambled would be the same feelings my young hugger mugger lad would also feel.

 

With a wry smile I wondered what my hugger mugger lad’s reaction would be as he would finally was made to give back the necklace. And what the overall reaction of the group would be when instead of the paper mache princess’s pricey diamonds in his pocket, he finds the small bits of pub nuts I had switched out with the necklace.

 

What I would have given to be able to witness that moment in time I thought , as I threw away the match and began puffing smoke from the lit pipe. I imagined what the three youths puzzled, gasping expressions would be like..!

 

Indeed, whose game had they been playing at?

 

I wondered if anybody would ever figure it out, or would it remain a mystery?

 

After a few puffs I looked in the direction of the park.. where I imagined the three were have gleeful adventures, for a bit anyways., and hopefully no further mis adventures...

 

I gave another long , thoughtful pull at me pipe...

Now, Just down that path would be that very park where at that very moment, a young lady clad in sleek lavender satin and sporting the remains of her dazzling collection of expensively brite sparkling diamonds ,was running about willy nilly in the woods.

 

Her eye catching gown and glistening, baiting jewels unsuspectingly openly exposed to the wilds outside, and fully unprotected by any observable means...

Not to mention there is also a spare, herself fetchingly attired in red silk and velvet. Herself wearing spiffen faux pearls and a glistening rhinestone hummingbird brooch!

 

It could very well be like taking away the proverbial candy from silken clad Babes...

 

Hmmm, a rather treasure trove of an opportunity indeed!

 

After a few minutes ponderings, I finally Let out an exasperated puff of smoke, as I regrettably shook my head NO..., no teasing my recently bestowed acte of providence, not by this Bloke.... and certainly not this evening !!

 

One in hand, I scolded meself ..

 

So, let it be Cheerio, I thought nodding down the side path of the woods towards the park in a solemn’ fare thee well’ salute..

 

And walking out into the glooming twilight of the evening, strode down the side walk to disappear into the misty aire..

 

Taking the smoking pipe from me mouth, I began Whistling the tune ...

 

‘Who put “Bella in the Wytch Elm”?

 

After all, who does not like coming up across a mystery?

 

“vade ad victor spolia”

 

Fini

 

First posted on September 25, 2012

 

- Parque das Nações, Lisbon, Portugal -

 

The building was under construction and behind a huge multi-story sheet of gauze (it is not a texture) used presumably to keep the debris and dust from falling on passers by. I watched her from a distance for a time as she methodically worked at polishing the brass railing. All the while she seemed lost in deep thought ... perhaps, I imagined, worrying about some troubles that she faced after work? It's a strong memory even though it is a photo from years ago.

when there are road signs

all over your mind,

haphazardly telling you which path to take;

the signs that only you can see in your cerebral imprisonment.

the paths are so worn now, that you don't even need to look down to walk through those menacing places.

it is all rote. methodical.

the furrows are set.

so worn.

so tired.

no thought is needed to follow the path that your mind now requires of you.

 

but that doesn't make it easy to scale its walls

escape its boundaries

and finally reach the end or the beginning

(or whatever it is that this zone is called)

in which the people on the outside

have no idea

what you just went through

to turn on a light

American Crows are familiar over much of the continent: large, intelligent, all-black birds with hoarse, cawing voices. They are common sights in treetops, fields, and roadsides, and in habitats ranging from open woods and empty beaches to town centers. They usually feed on the ground and eat almost anything – typically earthworms, insects and other small animals, seeds, and fruit but also garbage, carrion, and chicks they rob from nests. Their flight style is unique, a patient, methodical flapping that is rarely broken up with glides.

The green oriole or Australasian yellow oriole, (Oriolus flavocinctus) is an inconspicuous inhabitant of lush tropical vegetation throughout New Guinea and northern Australia, including Cape York Peninsula, the Top End and the Kimberley.

Green orioles forage slowly and methodically through the mid and upper strata of dense forests, taking fruit in the main. Typically alone or in pairs, they sometimes form small flocks in the non-breeding season. They are often difficult to locate, as their yellow-green plumage blends with the foliage and only their deep bubbling musical calls can be heard. They are nevertheless common in suitable habitat: rainforests, mangroves, thickets along watercourses, swamps, and lush gardens.

 

The Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta is a photographer's playground. Yes, I specialize in landscapes, but sometimes it is fun to cut loose and do something completely different. Well, the Balloon Fiesta is certainly that.

 

During the early morning "Dawn Patrol" event back in 2022, I came upon this colorful scene. Now, if I were shooting landscapes, I would have done hours of research, set up my tripod, and methodically adjusted my settings. But in this case, I was just walking around with my camera, shooting handheld shots at 1/125th of a second with my ISO set to Auto. The result was this shot at ISO 8000, which I would have considered a travesty in my landscape work, but since I was shooting for fun, I just went for it. Thankfully, modern cameras and Topaz DeNoise can work wonders...even in situations like this.

 

To make it even better, this shot ended up winning 2nd place in one of the Fiesta's Photo Contests. Sometimes, a trip down an unfamiliar path has benefits!

 

Cheers!

Jeff

My Website ¦ My Blog ¦ Facebook

  

… Continued from Part 1

 

He could hardly believe his eyes that morning when he saw her through his upstairs bedroom window. Young and beautiful she was with generous curves in all the right places, her hair sparkling and her flawless skin glowing in the morning sun. She looked breathtaking and she was perfect for the project he wanted to work on next.

 

He observed her from the shadows as she walked through his workshop and when she was engrossed going through a box of satin ribbons he pulled the lever that opened the passageway behind the curtain leading to his private laboratory. As soon as she noticed the beckoning glow of his machines and gave in to her curiosity, just as he hoped she would, he rushed to the entrance to his workshop and locked the door before placing an "Away On Business" sign in the shop window.

 

Now here she was in his arms into which she collapsed, and he carried her over to his workbench. He carefully laid her on top after elbowing a few stray tools out of the way and checked her vital signs. The special blend of narcotics that he injected her with was intended to keep her paralyzed and in a deep, coma-like sleep. Once he was satisfied that she was in no distress, he jumped to action and swiftly cut her garments away with a pair of sharp scissors, before grabbing a scalpel and with practiced hands went to work.

 

He's been laboring for hours, deeply focused on his task, ignoring the passing of time and the occasional distant sounds of brief knocking on the locked doors to his workshop. People never lingered once they noticed the sign. The large laboratory was filled with the sinister buzz of electricity and the rhythmic squelching sounds of the pump that was replacing her blood with the alchemical concoction he invented, which will keep her body from decaying and have it function indefinitely.

 

He methodically removed all her inessential organs like those used for food processing and kept only the ones meant to circulate, filter and recycle the new fluid. He also carefully removed both her eyes and then filled her eye cavities with the alchemical brew he knew would soak into her brain and the rest of the soft tissues of her head. With a few incisions on her cheeks and jawline, he changed her appearance, knowing that her new "blood" would repair her skin swiftly, and finally, he affixed a permanent mask to her face by sewing it to her head.

 

When after several long hours he was finished with his main task he stood back, powered up his workbench and watched as her newly saturated body quickened, her arms and legs twitched, bent at the elbows and knees and her head turned from side to side. "Marvelous!" he exclaimed turning the power back down before being galvanized into motion. He washed his hands then quickly put his waistcoat on to cover up his blood-spattered shirt. He gathered her discarded organs and belongings into a bundle and rushed off to his cellar to burn them in his massive coal furnace. Only after all evidence of her past life was destroyed, did he go back to stuff the cavities of her missing organs with a special blend of dried herbs and alchemical paste, and then sealed up her body.

 

Finally, he began to dress her.

 

To be continued…

El Oro Parakeet (Pyrrhura orcesi) - Buenaventura Reserve, Ecuador

 

While easy to hear and see when they were flying when the El Oro parakeets would settle into a tree they would seem to disappear! As you can see here they are actually quite well camouflaged and we frequently lost sight of them among the foliage as soon as they settled down into a tree. When they fly they almost always fly as a group and they all call to each other for the duration of the flight, for this reason they are easy to see and hear from far away. When they settle into a tree they usually stop vocalizing, instead they focus on eating, preening, reproducing, or just taking a break. I followed this group of parakeets to the tree in which you see this individual now, they flew to the tree to feed. It was interesting watching them move about the branches they would crawl around using their beak as an anchor and dragging their feet up to the same position and then continue on, there was no hooping or flying from branch to branch it was all a very methodical crawl. This is an endangered species with only approximately a 1000 individuals left, this species needs forest with a variety of food trees about, unfortunately much of its habitat has been cleared to make room for pastures and cows.

Mr. President, Ladies and Gentlemen!

We expect a strong reaction from the world to today's Russian terror. We expect the reaction of partners. We expect the reaction of friends - not just observers. We expect the reaction of all those who really recognize the UN Charter.

We are doing everything possible. Ukraine presented the Peace Formula. The world heard it.

10 points - how to restore the full power of the UN Charter violated by Russia, and guarantee the safety of Ukraine, the safety of Europe and all the peoples of the planet who suffer from the consequences of Russian aggression.

In response to our Peace Formula, Russia is following the steps of its formula of terror.

The very next day after I proposed the Ukrainian Peace Formula at the G19 summit in Indonesia, we received ten Russian missiles per each point of the Peace Formula.

The strikes continued.

We liberated Kherson - and as soon as the Russian army fled from there, it began to methodically destroy this city. Strikes every day.

This night – another missile attack on the Zaporizhzhia region, on the hospital – on the buildings where the maternity ward was located. Russian terrorists took the life of a baby - the child was 2 days old when it was killed by a Russian missile!

And then again - dead, dead, dozens of wounded. In the city of Vyshhorod this afternoon, a residential building was hit, 35 people were injured, 4 were killed.

This is one of the main points of the Russian formula of terror - missiles.

Only today - almost 70 missiles. Against our energy infrastructure.

Unfortunately, a residential building was also hit.

Hospitals, schools, transport, residential areas - everything was affected.

Russian terror led to a blackout – and not only in Ukraine. The light also went out in neighboring Moldova.

But the understanding of what Russia wants to achieve with such strikes should not disappear anywhere in the world.

Energy terror is an analogue of the use of weapons of mass destruction.

When the temperature is below zero outside, and tens of millions of people are left without electricity, heat and water as a result of Russian missiles hitting energy facilities, this is an obvious crime against humanity.

 

Ladies and Gentlemen!

Among you are representatives of a state that offers nothing to the world except terror, destabilization and disinformation. Any Russian formulas do not provide for anything else.

And that's why I emphasize once again - it's time to support the Ukrainian Peace Formula!

There must be no opportunity left for terror in the world!

That is why we are turning to our partners for support to protect our skies. We need modern and effective air defense and missile defense systems, and I thank everyone who is already helping.

What can a representative of a terrorist state tell you now? That civilians do not suffer from their missiles? Everything is obvious. It's all too obvious.

And I urge you to take concrete steps to protect humanity and life!

Russia has long been trying to turn the UN Security Council into a platform for rhetoric. But the Security Council was created as the world's most powerful platform for decisions and actions. This is what we can demonstrate.

The Security Council should provide a clear assessment of the actions of the terrorist state in accordance with Chapter Seven of the UN Charter. Ukraine proposes that the Security Council adopt such a resolution condemning any forms of energy terror.

Let's see if anyone in the world will be able to say, along with Russia, that terror against civilians is supposedly a good thing.

I confirm the invitation from Ukraine regarding the mission of UN experts to critical infrastructure facilities of our country that have been or may be hit by Russian missiles.

It is necessary to give a proper assessment of damage and destruction. It should be stated that these are strikes against the very infrastructure that ensures the lives of tens of millions of people.

And finally, justice must be restored within the UN structures themselves.

The terrorist state should not participate in any voting on the issues of its aggression, its terror.

It is a stalemate when the one who caused the war, the one responsible for the terror, blocks any attempt by the UN Security Council to fulfill its mandate.

This is nonsense that the veto right is reserved for the one who is waging a criminal war.

It is necessary to lead the world out of this impasse.

It is absolutely possible.

The world should not be held hostage by one international terrorist.

Russia is doing everything to make the electric generator a more powerful and necessary tool than the UN Charter. We must and can return real meaning to all things - and above all to the UN Charter.

Your decisions are needed!

Thank you for the opportunity!

Thank you for your attention!

Glory to Ukraine!

Sibley & I went to Leadville over the weekend, for our first try at a nosework trial, & Sibley qualified & earned a new title. This was NACSW, Level 1, & took place at an intermediate school. To qualify, the dog has to find a hide -- essential oil of birch at Level 1 -- for each of the 4 elements: containers (which are rows of cardboard boxes at Level 1), vehicles, interiors & exteriors. And the handler has to recognize the dog's alert signal & make the call -- that's where the teamwork comes in, as the handler needs to trust the dog.

Sibley worked extremely well, very methodically with super clear & definite alert signals. (She typically puts a paw on the box or spot -- some of the hides were on the underside of a bench or a car bumper, none of them visible to the handler.) Her consistency earned her a ranking of #5 among the 10 dogs who titled (out of some 30 entered). And she got "pronounced" on the exterior hide, which means the judge thought her work was exceptional.

A fun weekend, as Sibley really enjoys this activity -- though exhausting for both of us. Focused sniffing is hard work!

 

LINK to 3 of Sibley's runs (they don't film interiors so as not to interfere with the dog working), filmed by Mountain Dogs LLC : drive.google.com/drive/folders/1kpc9Sg9LOQuPq09pQBct4fDYu...

  

A Tea for the Tillerman

Acte 4

 

A Most Curious Conclusion

 

A slow sinking feeling came over me as I saw the distraughtly gutted look in Ginny’s eyes as she realized the fancy necklace she had been wearing had somehow fallen away and had been lost.

 

We both immediately began to look down around her feet.

 

Finding nothing Ginny looks up at me with worried eyes, her fingers still stroking her sheath dress’s high neckline. I tell her soothingly…

 

“Need to retrace your steps luv, since the last time you knew it was still there. That’s probably the best course of action.”

 

“I don’t remember…” she said panic-stricken.

 

I thought hard, not an easy thing to do with the after-effects of a bit too much alcoholic drink. Then my eyes lit up as I hit upon it.

 

You still had it on when I left you at the pagoda to visit the loo.

 

“I left there when I started looking for you, Cade. Cor Blimey, been back to the house, and everywhere in between since haven’t I?” She told me this with a miserably unhappy sigh. “I would really hate to have lost that .”

 

Taking her arm we then began retracing her steps in backorder, searching the ground in vain until we finally, now quite dejected, made it back to the still deserted pagoda.

 

We began to search the area in a now desperate manner. But nothing sparkled that would have given away the lost

necklaces hiding spot.

 

Ginny came over to me.

 

I watched, her black satin Qipao sheath dress with the green lining flowing elegantly along her figure, the rhinestone dragon with the emerald eyes shimmering. It was a shame that someone looking that pretty should be so sad I thought with pity.

 

“Would Cleo have gone off with it?” I pondered aloud as I squatted, peering under the steps.

 

“That Estella scared him off,” Ginny said from the other side of the pagoda.

 

“Estella?” I asked

 

“ She was with Claire, and that odd lady who I told you was taking to Cassie.”

 

“Estella had intentionally scared away poor Cleo and then went chasing after the poor thing.

 

What about” Wood Bead Lady? I asked

 

Ginny half-heartedly snickered. “ I like that name.”

 

Then went on…

 

“She sat down, literally right next to me. Claire reached over wanting me to hold her. Which I did. We chatted for a bit. Estella came back alone, and stood behind me teasing Claire.”

 

“It was then I decided to head off to find you. Leaving your “Wood Bead Lady, whom I handed Claire back to, and Estella there.

 

“That lady sure is an odd one, Dontcha think?” Ginny commented.

 

I arose, agreeing with her, my mind racing. Something was nagging at it, but for the life of me, I couldn’t think of what it was. All I could focus on really was trying to help my friend find that errant necklace of hers.

 

“It’s not here, is it?” Ginny said with a miserable tone of voice.

 

I went over and reassuringly hugged her.

 

“ Let’s go find my mum. Maybe someone found it and turned it over to her. Wouldn’t it be funny if we spent all this time looking and she had it all the while?”

 

This cheered her up, and we began to walk back, a bit more happy and hopeful.

 

==========================

 

We passed the lady in purple silk who was drinking wine as she chatted away with several other ladies.

 

Gone was the “Wood Bead Lady” and her gang of followers.

 

The ladies turned to us as we passed.

 

I stared with an open mouth…

 

Gone also was the lady in purple silk’s diamond and sapphire necklace!

 

The other two were surprisingly not wearing necklaces either, and one, wearing an old satin and lace wedding dress, I could have sworn had been wearing a rather handsome pearl choker!?

 

“Cheers, “ they said to us

 

“Cheers” Ginny answered back half-heartedly

 

But I didn't answer. My attention had been pulled away, as the several things I had observed recently tried to click together in my mind, but it was like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces.

 

We were almost at the table when Cassie caught up with us and greeted Ginny. I was looking away, watching mum straighten a few things at the tables. Her necklace sparkled as she bent over.

 

Then I spotted Estella carrying Claire over to mum.

 

Claire reached out her arms to be picked up. Mum stopped what she was doing, reached down, and lifted her. Then she was hugged and patted by my mum as she spoke to the caterer. While sneaky Estella watched from alongside them.

 

Claire’s mother Clarice had just then come up to join them.

 

I gasped upon seeing that little Clair had that quickly unclasped and was now holding the ends of mum’s diamond necklace in one hand.

 

As her mother pulled her away, Claire let go and I saw the necklace fall inside the front of my Mum’s dress. She was wearing a full silk slip which must have prevented her from feeling it siding down.

 

I saw it plop out and fall to the ground between her shimmery silver sandals.

 

With relief, I saw Estella bend down to the ground behind mum to retrieve it.

 

Relief turned to horror as I then saw Estella, instead of handing the diamond necklace over, quickly walking off with it, unnoticed by the others.

 

I gasped, hand to my throat, too frozen in disbelief to act.

 

Estella disappeared behind a tall hedge that blocked the portable toilets the guests were using, from sight.

 

It was then I saw the “Wood Bead Lady” coming from around the side corner of our house. And also disappeared behind the same hedge.

 

Then, that quickly the Wood Bead Lady appeared from the hedge on the side Estella had entered.

 

Remembering the game, I assumed that Estella had handed the diamond necklace off to her. The lady’s actions appeared to confirm that.

 

She had stopped, and I could see her looking at Mum, who was still chatting away, clueless as to what was going on.

 

Then the “Wood Bead Lady” saw me gaping at her.

 

With a start, she held up her skirt turned, and moved off across the green towards the gardens. I knew then she was heading for the thicker ring of woods that borders our property on the other side.

 

No one except me has been paying any attention to what was happening.

 

Wood Bead Lady” had almost entered the gardens before I finally was able to give a warning voice to Ginny over the situation.

 

“Hurry, she may be getting away with them” I snapped, grabbing a puzzled Ginny by the arm.

 

I started to apologize to Cassie that we had to go when suddenly I was gobsmacked. Cassie no longer was wearing a necklace either!

  

From behind me, I heard a bewildered Ginny ask...

 

“Who is getting away with what?”

 

I turned and nodded in the direction of the fleeing lady.

 

“Wood Bead Lady, No time to explain” I yelled behind me as I pulled Ginny away.

 

We began weaving in and out of quests, leaving bewildered ladies in our wake.

 

I saw Mrs. Shannon directly ahead and gently moved her away.

 

“Hello Cade, what's up?”

 

“Explain later” I called out over my shoulder

 

I looked back at her and gulped, Mrs. Shannon was no longer wearing what had been her rather expensive ruby necklace. Nor was Gabriella wearing hers…

 

I swore under my breath as I remembered what I had seen by the wrought iron bench in my secret garden. I pictured the lady we were pursuing, Estella, and little Claire playing what I had thought was a game of keep away using their necklaces...

 

“Bloody hell am I a twit, it had not been a game played merely to amuse a young child.” Claire had been a pawn, groomed to be the necklace-lifting “Finger Smith” to use an old pickpocketing term. I was now swearing to myself not to have caught on sooner.

 

“Perfect gambit. If wee Claire was caught removing your necklace, the assumption was merely a young child playing and accidentally undoing my necklace. . The victim would twitter to the tyke teasing her as you silly dickens, while the necklace was retrieved and the young miss Claire would be hugged for being so precious.

 

Buggers, if I haven’t seen them play acting in the secret garden, I’d have thought the same if it had been me. But I probably would not have been one to catch on, and have lost my necklace as a result, as Ginny had.“

 

I thought all this as Ginny and I was scurrying our way through the garden as fast as our heels would let us.

 

We reached the outer edge of the garden, a green space of about 28 meters, only to see the thief had run into the woods ahead. I caught a glimpse of her using the well-worn dirt path that led through them. The path would eventually be ending up in an old cemetery with the road(Abbots Chase Lane)on its outskirts.

 

When we finally reached that path and entered the cool woods, all was quiet. No sound or sign of the lady thief. We removed our heels and slowed to an uncomfortable walk...

 

I warned Ginny as she walked beside me.

“Keep your eyes open”

 

“So could you at least tell me now what's going on? She asked

 

“I think that Wood Bead Lady has mum's necklace, and I strongly suspect she has yours also. Along with the Shannons and who knows how many other necklaces she got that Mum’s guests were wearing. I told her in between gasps of now quite labored breaths.

 

Ginny stopped me with a gasp, a hand to her breast...asking...

 

“Cadence, are you saying my necklace was not lost but nicked?”

 

I nodded, “ By the Wood Bead Lady I repeated.”

 

“ How did she manage all that?” Ginny asked, her turn to be gobsmacked.

 

“She had a helper. “

 

I moved Ginny on, continuing the pursuit, slow as it was. I explained in a hushed voice what all I had observed, as we walked on.

 

================

 

After what felt like an hour, but only had really been ten minutes, we finally reach the cemetery. Looking around we see nothing moving. All is eerily still and silent.

 

We had just begun moving in along the path when suddenly Ginny swore very loudly and grabbed my shoulder. “Bloody well twisted an ankle!” She wailed quite loudly.

 

I led her off to the side of the path. “Here sit on this bench,” I instructed her as I helped her down.

 

“Go on..” she screeched aloud, wincing In pain massaging her ankle.

 

I went on alone, cautiously, leaving my whimpering friend behind.

 

I felt a bit more vulnerable now that some of the excitement of the chase appeared gone, and I was now alone. Though my adrenaline was still making my heart beat fast.

 

I passed by a mausoleum, catching my reflection in the mirror.

 

“All dressed up and alone.” I thought fearfully to myself. “What a wicked turn of events.”

 

Reaching an open gate on the other side I go out onto a small parking lot.

 

Which lets out on the paved road that intersects the road our house is on. I hear a car's tyres screech off in the distance.

 

Miserably I admit to myself

“I think we lost her”

 

And with her had gone mums diamonds Ginny's pendent, Mrs. Shannon's and her daughter rubies, that innocent lady's sapphire necklace, Cassie’s diamond garnet necklace, and who knew what other guests had lost their expensive necklaces to Claire's seemingly innocent hugs...

 

If only I had been quicker on the uptake I sighed as with my mind's eye I pictured little Claire hugging mum and the terribly unsettling aftermath.

 

Now totally feeling both dejected and depressed, I turn and make out way back to Ginny waiting alone in the cemetery.

 

>>>>>>>>

  

I made it back to the stone bench, only to find it empty

 

I hear a familiar voice whimper close by…

 

It was Ginny!

 

I move off and from behind a tree saw down into a small gully

 

There I see the “Wood Bead lady” holding a knife to Ginny's chest as her free hand was eagerly removing my friend's remaining emeralds.

 

She had already taken Ginny's emerald earrings and was now gleefully stuffing her emerald bracelet, down inside her purse. As I saw them. She then began working off Ginny's pretty ring, saying wickedly to her victim in the process.

 

“ Find the catered private parties, I always say, they have nice stuff with easy pickings, like this one, wouldn't you agree dearie?

Heard about this one from two school girls flapping their whiney lips on a city double-decker about having to work here as caterers.

Then I found that simply precious little one and her gullible sneaky friend, who I was able to use in acquiring several of these rich twits necklaces. Yours was the first my sweet. Didn’t feel a thing did you? Well, none of ‘em did, so engrossed in playing with the young ‘un weren’t they now. When I finished that game by playing it on that Shannon broad, I left the tyke in the hands of Estella. Then I paid a “visit” inside the house to find the ladies' bedrooms. That’s where the good stuff usually can be found. Pity the Hostess was wearing the good diamonds, but I found enough in her jewel case to compensate, and in her cheeky daughters also. Cleaned them both out., did it I ” she cackled with delight.

 

I gasped inwardly, heart sinking, remembering I had left my case open. All my jewellery, including the rings and bracelet I had taken off, had been stolen. And all of my mum’s pretties also….

  

The “Wood Bead Lady“ continues as she finished working off the emerald ring from Ginny’s finger and plopped it into her purse. She began to methodically paw a shaking Ginny over checking that nothing had been missed as she happily smirked to herself…

 

“Was quite hard to pass up the opportunity of acquiring that far too lovely diamond necklace the Hostess was so alluringly wearing, just begging to be plucked off. Funny, when I was going through her bedroom, I was fantasizing that she would have to come into the house for something so I could…but she didn’t. So I had to have one more look at the pretty things before leaving…Didn’t I?… Wait now….What was that?”

 

As I listened in, with a deep sinking feeling, I move back, my expression shows that I’m desperately thinking of a way out of this.

I end up stepping on a twig in the process, the sharp crack it makes giving me away.

 

The Wood Bead Lady” stopped talking and immediately looked towards the source of the sound she had heard.

 

Seeing me, “Wood Bead Lady” grabs Ginny. Pulling my struggling friend tightly up against her, now holding the knife to Ginny’s throat.

 

“Wood Bead Lady” snarls at me, her lip raising like a bulldog. Her words dripping with a coveting wickedness

 

“Welcome here my pretty one. Should have let me go. Come down now and join your friend my sweet and let me have

another close peek of your pretty party dress.”

 

She beckons me to come down with the knife.

 

“Then I'll make you a bit more comfortable. It must be hot walking around weighed down with all those lovely jewels your a wearin! “

 

I took a step back, Ginny smirks, giving me a wink as the “Wood Bead Lady” continues.

 

“Don't run away love. I have your friend, and if you don’t want any harm to befall her…”

  

She left her sentence dangling, her focus now entirely on me, and off from her now still captive.

 

A bit encumbered by the tight-fitting Qipao dress, Ginny had slowly positioned her legs. I saw her take a deep breath, and in a fluid motion grabbed the lady's arm and with a yell that resounded loudly through the cemetery, neatly backflipped her, In a perfectly executed jit Jitsu move.

 

The knife had flown from the thief's hand clattering against the side of a gravestone.

 

Not at all surprised, I had kept my wits, As I quickly moved down into the gully and quickly snatched it up.

 

Walking over to her prone, dazed figure, I spit out my words with a great deal of relief and satisfaction as I pick up her weighty purse...

 

“Wood Bead Lady’s” eyes were opened wide, watching me while she lay sprawled out on the ground. as I spoke.

 

“If you hadn't been such a greedy bitch, luv, you would have gotten clean away with your little scheme. You went “a bridge too far” as the saying goes by having Estella going for me Mum’s diamonds. That’s when My cheeky ass finally caught on, otherwise, you would have got away scot-free with the jewels!”

 

Ginny comes over and hugs me. I opened the “Wood Bead Lady’s” purse and hearing the lady thief moan, I continued…

 

And really ‘DEARIE’ was it worth it being unscrupulous enough to take the jewellery from innocent children like Claire and Gabriella! Ginny figured you would hide like the coward you are, and came up with the idea to fake the hurt ankle. Figuring she would present an easy-looking victim, the kind you obviously prefer, whose shiny emeralds would be a far too tempting lure to bring you out of hiding. Ginny is a pretty damn good actress wouldn't you say!?”

 

The lady just moans more. I open the purse so Ginny and I can have a look.

 

Our eyes bulged as we take in the not small pile of expensively glistening jewelry inside.

 

At that moment We all hear the tyres of a car crunching in the parking lot. Soon I hear the welcome voices of papa and my brother calling out.

 

It must have been his car I head heard the screeching of it’s tyres off in the distance.

 

It was a happy reunion, and a relief to see the “Wood Bead Lady” being led off wearing papa’s cuffs.

 

As an addendum, I have to admit I had it wrong.

 

It was discovered that the weaselly Estella, had indeed been helping the “Wood Bead Lady” with her scheme by standing behind a lady holding Claire, waiting to snatch up the dropped necklace.

 

But, when the “Wood Bead Lady” had disappeared after taking Mrs. Shannon’s rubies ( to break in and pilfer our bedrooms) Estella then started to use Claire’s game to her own advantage. First to acquire Gabrielle’s ruby necklace, then apparently boldly upping her game by going for Mum’s diamonds.

 

This became clear after it was discovered that Mum’s Diamond necklace was not inside the “Wood Bead Lady’s “ handbag.

 

Estella was questioned, caught in a lie, and eventually admitted she had sold both necklaces in a pawn shop for £25. They were both recovered.

 

So it was just a coincidence that the two passed by each other behind the Hedge.

 

A coincidence that I happened to have seen, and was probably the only reason the “Wood Bead Lady” was caught red-handed with the jewels.

 

Fini

 

Outside of my comfort zone. Photographing people and events isn't my forte'. I am mainly into the slow and methodical landscape photos. Living close to DC my wife and I sometimes like to go downtown and witness history. We wanted to see the happenings around the White House. This is the day after the media announced Biden the winner. This isn't meant to be a political statement, just a moment in time.

[Twitter] -- [Website] -- [Facebook] -- [Blog] *NEW*

 

Canon 5DmkII + Canon 17-40mm f/4.0L USM

ISO640, 30sec, f/4.0 @ 17mm

 

I went to bed early last night, and for once I managed to wake up to my alarm at 2am. Of course, knowing that there was fog predicted for this intended destination does wonders for the motivation.

 

So I head out and start shooting by 3:15, the moon light keeping exposure down to a decent 8 minutes. methodically I work my way through a list of shots I'd already planned in my head. This shot, the one I liked the most from the morning, was simply a product of chance and opportunity. On another note, i really need to learn how to stay more still for these 30 second exposures.

  

Make a choice.

This female Blackburnian Warbler, Setophaga fusca, was methodically checking the branches of a tall bush. These warblers are fairly common in Ecuador which is at the southern end of their wintering grounds.

 

Pasochoa Wildlife Refuge, Ecuador. October 15, 2019.

The American White Pelican (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) is one of North America’s largest birds, with a 9-foot wingspan, they are also among the heaviest flying birds in the world. They are superb flyers and often travel long distances in large flocks by soaring. When flapping, their wingbeats are slow and methodical. American White Pelicans feed from the water’s surface, dipping their beaks into the water to catch fish and other aquatic organisms. They often upend, like a very large dabbling duck, in this process. They do not plunge-dive the way Brown Pelicans do. During the breeding season, breeding adults grow an unusual projection or horn on the upper mandible near the tip of the bill. I was able to photograph this young American White Pelican bathing in the waters of White Rock Lake in Dallas, Texas.

 

Click on the link below to explore your options. Select from fine art prints, canvas, acrylic or metal prints for your home or office. Make sure you subscribe so you don’t miss out on updates, sales, and new blog posts.

www.cuttsnaturephotography.com

   

The Great Gallery in Utah's Horseshoe Canyon is huge, gorgeous, and impressive.

 

As a photographer, I also found it to be intimidating.

 

Many talented photographers have well documented the Gallery and as I stood before it, I wondered how I could possibly craft an image of my own.

 

At first, I just photographed the individual figures. They are detailed and captivating and I found that an hour quickly slipped by as I methodically documented them one by one.

 

But as cool as the pictographs are as stand alone pieces of art, I really wanted to capture them as a group. So walked to the center of the panel, put on a wide-angle lens, and started shooting panoramas. I shot dozens of them. But as I scrolled through the shots, I couldn't help but notice that although they were technically fine, they seemed dry and 'soul-less.'

 

Frustrated, I walked down near the dry streambed and sat down in the shade under a tree.

 

As I sat there in my self-induced funk, I finally noticed the sound of the cottonwood leaves rustling above me. It made me look up. As I did, the brilliant red color of the flowers on the Scarlet GlobeMallows on the streambed caught my eye. It slowly dawned on me that I had in front of me one of the fundamental tenets of landscape photography...a killer foreground.

 

The shot above is the result.

 

It was a long day. A long hike. A long drive.

 

Worth every second.

 

Cheers!

Jeff

 

PS: Shout out to Alan Vandendriessche whose photo of the entire panel inspired me to keep at it until I was able to come up with this shot.

 

Check out my portfolio of Native American Rock Art here: www.firefallphotography.com/rock-art-gallery/

 

My Website ¦ My Blog ¦ Facebook

   

Well, here it is. At last. My F-4J MOC, in the VF-74 "BEDEVILERS" Naval Fighter Squadron. It took loads of work and lots of hours, but I'm so glad I can say I finally did a Phantom.

 

Initially designed with the U.S. Navy in mind, the McDonnell aircraft company -- creator of the F-4 Phantom -- of the early 1950s tirelessly and methodically analyzed the Navy's needs and desires. They determined that the jet ideal for current and future carrier operations was an aircraft that was quick, technologically advanced, and able to fill multiple roles (i.e., dogfighting, ground attacks, etc.). Initially, designers from McDonnell wanted to modify their F3H Demon aircraft to simply be faster, more modular (to perhaps have different nose or cockpit variations), and more efficient. However, while beginning to proceed with this idea, many Naval officers consented that they had the role of an attack fighter already fulfilled by emerging aircraft from other companies. Eventually, McDonnell started working on a highly-requested all-weather defensive interceptor that would become the F-4 Phantom. Though this was a tall order to fill, F-4 deliveries began in the early 1960s to the U.S. Navy, and, proving highly versatile, eventually was given to the U.S. Marine Corps and U.S. Air Force.

 

The F-4J is one, later variant of the Phantom family, and with modifications to the airframe, engines and weapons systems, it was certainly one of the more advanced models. In fact, it was the first fighter in the world to incorporate a look-down/shoot-down targeting system. Among the Naval Fighter Squadrons that recieved the F-4Js, the VF-74 "BEDEVILERS" were certainly some of the finest that received them. Transitioning from their F-4Bs to the new F-4Js in the early 1970s, they partook in aerial combat in Vietnam, and didn't lose a single aircraft to enemy forces. They were also successful elsewhere, winning many awards during peacetime -- one of which was the Admiral Joseph Clifton Award, rendering them as the top Naval Fighter squadron in 1976. My F-4J is in a typical, later skin they'd use on the USS Forrestal (CV-59) aircraft carrier.

 

My model itself features dual, opening canopies, room for two minifigures in their respective tandem cockpit arrangement, functioning landing gear, and a simulated loadout of two AIM-7 Sparrows and four AIM-9 Sidewinders. I worked very tirelessly on both the diorama and the jet, and I do hope you like it. Comments, faves, and constructive criticisms, as always, are greatly appreciated!

A small, dark heron arrayed in moody blues and purples, the Little Blue Heron is a common but inconspicuous resident of marshes and estuaries in the Southeast. They stalk shallow waters for small fish and amphibians, adopting a quiet, methodical approach that can make these gorgeous herons surprisingly easy to overlook at first glance. Little Blue Herons build stick nests in trees alongside other colonial waterbirds. In the U.S., their populations have been in a gradual decline since the mid-twentieth century.

 

Source: Cornell Lab of Orinthology

View on Instagram instagr.am/p/CnZ4d-2pv4c/

The American White Pelican (Pelecanus erythrorhynchos) is one of North America’s largest birds, with a 9-foot wingspan, they are also among the heaviest flying birds in the world. They are superb flyers and often travel long distances in large flocks by soaring. When flapping, their wingbeats are slow and methodical. American White Pelicans feed from the water’s surface, dipping their beaks into the water to catch fish and other aquatic organisms. They often upend, like a very large dabbling duck, in this process. They do not plunge-dive the way Brown Pelicans do. During the breeding season, breeding adults grow an unusual projection or horn on the upper mandible near the tip of the bill.

A captured this young American White Pelican

preparing to land at White Rock Lake in Dallas, Texas.

 

Click on the link below to explore your options. Select from fine art prints, canvas, acrylic or metal prints for your home or office. Make sure you subscribe so you don’t miss out on updates, sales, and new blog posts.

www.cuttsnaturephotography.com

 

Outside of my comfort zone. Photographing people and events isn't my forte'. I am mainly into the slow and methodical landscape photos. Living close to DC my wife and I sometimes like to go downtown and witness history. We wanted to see the happenings around the White House. This is the day after the media announced Biden the winner. This isn't meant to be a political statement, just a moment in time.

Outside of my comfort zone. Photographing people and events isn't my forte'. I am mainly into the slow and methodical landscape photos. Living close to DC my wife and I sometimes like to go downtown and witness history. We wanted to see the happenings around the White House. This is the day after the media announced Biden the winner. This isn't meant to be a political statement, just a moment in time.

After three days and nights of high winds and rain this Barn Owl was desperate to get hunting again. A sense of urgency about his flight as he frantically, but methodically, quartered the marshes searching for Voles.

"Down on the left a busy little digging mechanism had come into view, emitting jets of green vapour and working its way round the pit, excavating and embanking in a methodical and discriminating manner. This it was which had caused the regular beating noise, and the rhythmic shocks that had kept our ruinous refuge quivering. It piped and whistled as it worked. So far as I could see, the thing was without a directing Martian at all..."

 

Martian machine from Jeff Wayne's The War of Worlds, 1998 PC strategy game. Reference image.

 

Render by P681.

Title.

Central Park sidewalk.

 

( LUMIX G3 shot )

Central Park, Manhattan, New York, USA. 2017. ... 7 / 9

(Today's photo. It's unpublished.)

  

Images:

The Beatles … Across The Universe

youtu.be/eqUzU552X8A?si=LDd91wXz4ROBUYco

  

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My new novel

B♭ (B Flat)

 

Volume 15 😄

The following is still in its draft stage and will be revised further.

Key parts are not disclosed.

The order of the content shown here is mixed.

(Of course, this is not the final version.)

 

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My new novel

B♭ (B Flat)

 

The summer afternoon light in Manhattan flashed off the glass faces of the towers; each time the asphalt’s heat shimmered through an alley, the vast edifice of the FBI’s New York field office seemed to inhale the city’s clamor and, while remaining immovably composed, exuded the taut vigilance and tension within. Behind the heavy iron door set at that corner, the countless gazes of surveillance cameras and the movements of guards intertwined, announcing an order that would not be shaken by the heat waves or the bustle outside.

Special Agent Veronica Reeves—bearing a wealth of experience yet possessed of an uncompromising, honed gaze—sat reading, in quiet concentration, through the sheaf of reports that had been compiled so far, spread across the long table by the window. Whenever the summer breeze outside brushed the glass and rippled the air, her thought answered in kind, narrowing to the tiniest details and sculpting, in three dimensions within her mind, the range and consequences of the incident.

Her hands reconstructed the numbers and map symbols on the pages as if to include the city’s heated pedestrian flows, traffic lines, and the density of clustered buildings; her methodical ordering of the initial response bore a cold, tranquil certainty. The white glare of the overhead fluorescents trembled across the papers; even the shadows that wavered at the edge of her sight seemed to be folded into her analysis as unknown variables. With a fingertip she traced a point on the map, instantaneously combining thoroughfares, crowd densities, and building concentrations, rendering a volumetric sense of the scene inside her head.

The ring of telephones, the faint hiss of radios, and the distant wail of sirens in the streets were not mere noise to her but additional strata of information to be quietly assimilated. Her eyes were the very image of composure; yet the slight twitch in some muscles, the tremor in her fingers, betrayed a crisis-awareness coiled within—she displayed no outward emotion, advancing only with facts and inference.

She gathered the documents, exhaled deeply, and, staring out at the summer light and heat beyond the window, quietly contemplated her next move. Slowly she settled into her chair, arranged the bundle of reports before her, and with the city’s wavering heat at her back began to reconstruct the timeline in her mind. The intersections where red and green signals interlaced, the scent of exhaust hanging at street corners, the walking pace of passersby, the shadows of cars parked along curbs—each of these linked to the figures on the page and the marks on the map to conjure the three-dimensional flow of New York within her thought.

Fragments of reports arriving via radio and phone were drawn into the net of her analysis and placed into time and space. At what moment, and in which place, did the flow of people shift? Who might have entered which building? Combining traffic congestion, crowd movement, and the structure of buildings, she sought to reconstruct the entirety of the scene with minimal margin for error.

Her eyes remained calm, yet the fine tension of her muscles hinted at the vigilance beneath. Tracing a point on the map with a fingertip, she called up memories of past incidents and urban-planning data, calculating risk for each scenario. City layout, crowd density, locations of exits—every element was aligned upon a grid of logic, and all conceivable contingencies were hypothesized.

The outside heat warped the window glass; the city’s murmur and the distant siren did not break her focus but rather deepened the realism of the scenario she ran in her mind. Numbers on the page and the city’s tangible image overlapped within a cold rationality, and she prepared to derive the next action with precision.

Her gaze rested on photographs among the documents; she scrutinized the expressions of the crowd, the placement of security personnel, the positions of obstacles. Her look was merciless and exacting, missing no slight incongruity, refusing to be swayed by the city’s heat, attempting instead to enclose every variable within the net of reason.

In the office, where the cool air from the conditioning braided with summer’s heat, her thinking increased in speed—quietly, inexorably. What might happen next? Which routes were safe and which dangerous? Momentary judgments here could determine the safety of the crowd and the candidate’s life. Logic, steady and unyielding, wound through her hands like the thread that could untangle the city’s complexity.

Before her lay not only papers but computer screens and radio displays—sources of fragmented information that gained meaning only after passing through Veronica’s filter. The work of composing the whole from data and observed reality advanced, cool and silent, amid the city’s warmth.

Each time her fingertip traced the map, Manhattan’s streets materialized three-dimensionally in her mind: building density, pedestrian flows, surveillance-camera arcs, guard positions—linked together by a merciless chain of logic that suggested the next moves. Veronica inhaled and exhaled deeply; in that mute rhythm she connected all variables, fixing her attention on the heart of the matter. The distant sirens, car horns, and the footfalls of people pausing at an intersection became pieces of a puzzle that melted into a stream of reason. The city shimmered under heat; light and shadow fractured and scattered—but Veronica’s mind passed through that heat and outlined the incident in its entirety.

She reached for the office extension, feeling the cool resin of the handset between her fingers, and called Deputy Special Agent Elliot. “Put me through to Jack Vance of the Secret Service,” she said.

“Copy. I’ll contact Jack immediately.”

On the other end, his voice feigned calm while carrying a filament of tension. His eyes were on the streets beyond the window, unconsciously tracking intersections and pedestrian flows, instantly computing each possible outcome. Fingers rested on the keyboard; he checked the radio terminal and looped the next potential events into the net of his thought. Elliot’s “copy” was not a mere acknowledgment but a confirmation of steady judgement in the face of urban turbulence—and a quiet testament to his faith in Veronica.

A black Ford SUV tore through the heat of the streets. Jack gripped the wheel; impatience etched his profile. In the back seat, Anna drew herself close, stretching an arm protectively over the children while still forcing her voice out. “Watch the road, Jack!” The vehicle bucked under its own motion; the children’s voices rose—part cheer, part scream—caught between terror and exhilaration. Beside them, Mika bit her lip and, speechless, stitched her gaze to the window.

Behind, a pursuing car growled; bullets kissed the asphalt and left a metallic tang in the air. Sparks flared against concrete facades; gunfire scraped at the city’s skin. Jack’s Ford ignored lights and crowds alike, mounting the sidewalk as if to fling aside the screams of the throng in its wake.

Soon the massive shadow of the Jacob K. Javits Federal Building fell across them. The tower of steel and glass reflected the noonday light with a hard edge, standing high and concentrated like the city’s own tension made architecture. Veronica Reeves stood by the window and followed the car’s black silhouette at her feet. “…No,” she said under her breath. “That Ford tearing along the sidewalk—surely that isn’t you?”

Jack’s voice crackled over the radio, rough and breathless. “We were being chased! We just happened to come here—this isn’t my doing!”

Veronica held her breath and instantly issued orders to Deputy Special Agent Elliot. “Contact the NYPD now. Lock down every street and avenue.”

  

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My new novel:

B♭ (B-flat)

There’s still more to come. 😃

(This is not the final draft.)

Set in New York City.

  

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Soundtrack.

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...

  

Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:

youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV

  

iTunes Playlist Link::

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD

 

My new novel:

B♭ (B-flat)

Notes

1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"

•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.

•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).

•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.

•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.

2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing

youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K

3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally

youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT

  

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  

Title.

セントラルパークの側道。

  

( LUMIX G3 shot )

  

マンハッタン。ニューヨーク。アメリカ。2017. … 7 / 9

(今日の写真。それは未発表です。）

  

Images:

The Beatles … Across The Universe　和訳

note.com/yutosn/n/na8a3ff93b391

  

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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僕の新しい小説。

　B♭　（ビーフラット）

  

第15弾。 😄

以下は、まだ初稿の段階です。まだ推敲します。

重要な部分は公開していません。

公開している内容の順番はバラバラです。

(もちろん最終稿ではありません。)

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

僕の新しい小説。

 

　B♭　（ビーフラット）

 

　マンハッタンの夏の午後の光が高層ビル群のガラスにぎらつき、アスファルトの熱気が路地を揺らすたびに、FBIニューヨーク支局の巨大な建物は都市の喧騒を吸い込み、どっしりと静けさを保ちながらも、その内部に張り詰めた警戒と緊張をにじませていた。その角に設えられた厚い鉄の扉の向こうでは、監視カメラの無数の視線と警備員の動きが絡み合い、外界の熱波や人々のざわめきにも揺るがぬ秩序を守っていることを告げていた。

　ヴェロニカ・リーヴス特別捜査官は、豊富な経験を背負いながらもなお研ぎ澄まされた眼差しで、窓際の長机に広げられた、これまでに起こった報告がまとめられた資料の束を静かに読み解いていた。外の夏風がわずかに窓に当たり、空気を揺らすたび、彼女の思考もそれに呼応するように細部まで集中され、事件の可能性や影響範囲を論理の中に立体的に描き出していった。

　書類に記された数字や地図の記号を、熱せられた街の動線や人々の流れ、ビルの密集度までを含めるかのように頭の中で再構築し、事件の初動を論理的に整理していく手つきには、冷たくも静かな確信が宿っていた。

　天井の蛍光灯の白い光が、紙面に落ちる影を揺らし、視界の隅で揺れるその影さえも、未知の変数として分析に取り込まれているかのようであった。ヴェロニカは指先で地図上の一点をなぞり、都市の動線、人の密度、建築の密集度を瞬時に組み合わせ、頭の中で現場の立体的な状況を描き出していた。

　電話のベルや無線のかすかなノイズ、外の街路で響く遠いサイレンの音も、彼女にとっては雑音ではなく、分析のための情報の層として静かに整理されていった。

　瞳は冷静そのもので、しかし微細な筋肉の動きや指の震えは、内側に潜む危機意識を示し、見る者には感情を一切表さず、事実と推論だけを前に進める姿勢が伝わってきた。

　ヴェロニカは書類をまとめ、深く息を吐き、窓の向こうに広がる夏の都市の光と熱を見据えながら、静かに次の一手を思案していた。

　ヴェロニカはゆっくりと椅子に腰を下ろし、資料の束を前に整えると、窓の外で揺れる熱気を背に、まず事件の時間軸を頭の中で再構築しはじめた。信号の赤や青が交錯する交差点、街角に漂う排気ガスの匂い、通行人の歩行速度、路上に停められた車の影――それらすべてが、紙面の数字や地図上の印と結びつき、ニューヨークという巨大な都市の立体的な動線を彼女の思考に浮かび上がらせた。

　無線や電話からの断片的な報告も、彼女の分析の網に吸い込まれ、時間と空間に配置される。どの瞬間に、どの場所で、人々の流れが変化したか。誰がどの建物に潜入した可能性があるか。交通の混雑状況と、観衆の動き、建築物の構造を組み合わせ、最小の推測誤差で現場の全貌を描く。

　彼女の瞳は冷静そのもので、しかし微細な筋肉の緊張が、その奥に潜む危機意識を示していた。手元の地図の一点を指でなぞり、過去の事件や都市計画のデータを呼び出しながら、シナリオごとにリスクを計算する。都市の構造、観衆の密度、出口の配置――あらゆる要素を論理のグリッドに沿って並べ、想像されるすべての事態を仮定する。

　外の熱気は窓ガラスを揺らし、街のざわめきや遠くで響くサイレンは、彼女の集中をかき乱すどころか、逆に現場の臨場感を補強し、頭の中のシミュレーションに奥行きを与えた。紙面の数字と街の実像が、冷たい理性の中で重なり合い、彼女は次の一手を論理的に導き出す準備を整えていった。

　ヴェロニカは資料の中の写真に目を留め、観衆の表情や警備員の配置、障害物の位置を詳細に分析した。その視線は冷徹でありながらも、微細な違和感や不自然さを見逃さず、都市の熱気に流されることなく、論理の網の中に全ての変数を捕らえようとしていた。

　冷房の空気と夏の熱気が交錯するオフィス内で、彼女の思考は静かに、しかし確実に速度を上げていく。次に何が起こりうるか、どのルートが安全で、どのルートが危険か。瞬間ごとの判断が、観衆の安全と候補者の命を左右する。論理は揺るぎなく、都市の複雑さを紐解く糸のように彼女の手の中で絡まり合った。

　彼女の前には資料だけでなく、コンピュータの画面や無線のディスプレイも並ぶ。それらは断片的な情報の源にすぎず、ヴェロニカの思考というフィルターを通すことで初めて意味を持つ。データと現実の光景を繋ぎ、事件の全体像を構築する作業は、夏の街の熱気の中でも冷たく静かに進行した。

　彼女の指先が地図をなぞるたび、都市の街路が脳内で立体的に浮かび上がり、建物の密度、通行人の流れ、監視カメラの視野、警備員の位置が、冷徹な論理の中で連鎖し、次の行動を示唆する。ヴェロニカは深く息を吸い、吐き出すと同時に、無言のうちに全ての変数を繋ぎ合わせ、事件の核心へと視線を固定した。その瞬間、遠くの街路から聞こえるサイレンの音や車のクラクション、交差点で立ち止まる人々の足音が、彼女の頭の中ではパズルのピースとなり、論理的な流れの中に溶け込んでいった。都市は暑さに揺れ、光と影が乱反射するが、ヴェロニカの思考は静かに、その熱気を透過して事件の全体像を描き出していった。

　ヴェロニカは、静かに内線電話の受話器を手に取り、その冷たい樹脂の感触を指先で確かめながら、エリオット副特別捜査官を呼び出し、いった。

「シークレットサービスのジャックバンスにつないで」

「了解。ジャックに直ちに連絡する。」

　受話器の向こうで、彼の声は冷静を装いながらも、微細な緊張を含んでいた。目は窓の外に向けられ、街路の交差点や通行人の流れを無意識に追い、あらゆる可能性を瞬時に計算する。手元のキーボードに指を触れ、無線端末を確認しながら、次に何が起こるかを思考の網にかける。

　エリオットの「了解」は、単なる返事ではなく、都市の混沌を前にした冷静な判断の証であり、ヴェロニカへの信頼を静かに裏付けていた。

 

　黒のSUVフォードは、夏の熱気を押し裂くように街路を駆け抜けていた。ハンドルを握るジャックの横顔には焦燥が張りつき、後部座席に身を寄せたアナは、子供たちを庇うように腕を伸ばしながら、それでも必死に声を張り上げた。

「前を見て、ジャック！」

　車体の振動に身を揺らしながら、子供たちは歓声とも悲鳴ともつかぬ声をあげ、恐怖と興奮の境を知らぬままに笑った。その隣でミカは唇を噛み、言葉を失ったまま窓の外に視線を縫いつけられていた。

　背後では追撃の車が唸りを上げ、硝煙の匂いを残して弾丸がアスファルトを跳ねた。コンクリートの壁面に火花が散り、都市の皮膚を削るようにして銃声が響く。ジャックのフォードは信号も人波も無視し、歩道へと飛び込み、群衆の悲鳴を振り払うように疾走した。

　やがて、ジェイコブ・K・ジャヴィッツ連邦ビルがその巨大な影を落とした。

　鉄とガラスの塔は真昼の光を硬質に反射し、都市の緊張を凝縮させてそびえ立っていた。ヴェロニカ・リーヴス特別捜査官は窓辺に立ち、視線を落とした足元に黒い車体の影を認めた。

「……まさか。歩道を突っ走っているあのフォード、あなたたちじゃないでしょうね？」

　無線に混じってジャックの声が荒々しく返る。

「追われてたんだ！　たまたまここに来ただけだ、俺のせいじゃない！」

　ヴェロニカは息を詰め、即座にエリオット副特別捜査官へと指示を放った。

「すぐにNYPDへ。すべてのストリートとアヴェニューを封鎖して。」

  

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  

僕の新しい小説。

　B♭　（ビーフラット）

 

舞台はニューヨークです。

 

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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...

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Soundtrack.

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...

  

追記　この小説を多少説明しました。

youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV

  

メモ

 

1

「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」

•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。

•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。

•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。

•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。

 

2

2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』

youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K

 

3

Shots fired at Trump rally

youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT

  

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Edição: Fotografia.

SketchingNow foundations

Lesson 11: Working from a Focus, indoor prompt - living room scene

 

My usual pace is slow, methodical, with acute attention to every detail. But I knew my dog would roll over if I didn't sketch quick, soooooo... Two scribbles later and a dash of color and here's my pooch! (Not sure he'd approve...)

Photographed in San Jose, California

 

The three birds in the photo were in a flock of 20+ birds that were methodically moving though and feeding in an open field.

  

AB2A0774-1_fCAFlkr

This picture is #12 in my 100 strangers project. Find out more about the project and see pictures taken by other photographers at the 100 Strangers Flickr Group page. www.flickr.com/groups/100strangers/pool/

 

Sorry this is so long winded. Please do not feel the need to read it all.

 

Everything I have read suggests the photographer should head out with a specific goal and the best results can be accomplished.

 

In the case of the 100 strangers project I guess that would be having your patter ready to approach people, knowing where to find the people you want to shoot and scouting around for suitable backdrops.

 

While some, maybe even most may try to be methodical in the way they work, it is not always possible.

 

When I photographed Warwick Davis I was not expecting to take any portraits.

 

I arrived at college for my photography class & we were taken to Leicester Square.

 

The brief was to take photos in landscape view and produce a set of around six to ten images with a theme.

 

I see Leicester Square a lot in my day to day life, I’d love to visit London as a tourist and see it with fresh eyes but its just Leicester Square! I found it difficult to get into the swing of things but did come up with a theme.....

 

So while working on my theme I was walking along one of the small roads that runs into the square and noticed someone who looked like he worked in the security industry. Not like a close protection type but more of a bouncer/nightclub doorman.

 

I then noticed walking between us was Warwick Davis.

 

I promised myself I would not go all paparazzi on celebs but I did think he would be a great addition to my 100 strangers. He has a warm, friendly, characterful and interesting face.

 

So, I said hello and as we walked I told him about my class project and the 100 strangers project. I asked if he would be happy to pose for a portrait & he kindly agreed, promptly stopped and posed.

 

I only took one shot and he sounded surprised when he asked “Is that it?”

 

I still have this thing of not wanting to hold people up & it is something I am getting really hung up on.

 

While Warwick was not in an obvious rush he was clearly walking with a deliberate pace & heading somewhere.

 

I didn’t ask specifically about putting him on this page but he was made aware of it prior to taking his photo and he had stopped to pose, so, I’m taking that as his consent.

 

I didn’t really get to have much of a chat with him because once he had stopped for me; the world and its wife then wanted to take selfies with him.

 

The shot was taken in Landscape view because that was our brief for the Leicester Sq. project. I had also set the lens to 35mm & intended to use that focal length to add further uniformity to the images.

 

When Warwick agreed to me taking his portrait I was a bit surprised, actually I’m not sure who was more surprised, me at him agreeing or him at actually being asked rather than just papped.

 

Anyhow, I ended up taking the portrait with the settings I was already using but I had been adjusting these as I was walking around.

 

On this occasion I think it worked using the focal length and not turning the camera to portrait view.

 

I had a quick peek at the image on the camera and noted the histogram looked okay. Confident I had the shot I thanked Warwick & abandoned him in a sea of fans & tourists.

 

Warwick if you read this, I hope you didn’t get held up too much and thank you for allowing me to take your portrait.

 

As always, hints, tips, general thoughts and constructive critique is always welcome.

 

Thanks for viewing and if you read all of the above, sorry there was so much waffle.

This is one eating machine. Seen here chowing down on our fennel. It turns later on into a Blue Swallowtail Butterfly. It was very methodical in its relentless pursuit of food... we were worried about the fennel but in the end let it eats to its hearts content... I have noticed Blue Swallowtails of late...maybe?

One of Munn’s decisive contributions to Canadian art was her fervent fusion od Christian symbolism in Cubist form. In the late 1920s she began a methodical practice of drawing scenes from the Passion of Christ, resulting in a fresh and radical update to one of European art history’s most traditional themes – an unusual subject for a Canadian modernist. This is one of the final drawings in the series, which included more than a thousand works on paper.

A storm clears the Friendship and the nearby Pedrick House. This building is the original building that was built in 1770 in Salem and at some time moved to Marblehead. In 2003 a local historian noted that this was not a building orignally in Marblehead but a Salem building. The park service managed to get the building transferred to them and Salem and then a labor of love began as it was taken apart very methodically and brought to Salem. It was then piece by piece put back together and it sits much as it had in the 1700s.

Berry Springs, Northern Territory, Australia

 

The green oriole or Australasian yellow oriole, (Oriolus flavocinctus) is an inconspicuous inhabitant of lush tropical vegetation throughout New Guinea and northern Australia, including Cape York Peninsula, the Top End and the Kimberley.

Green orioles forage slowly and methodically through the mid and upper strata of dense forests, taking fruit in the main. Typically alone or in pairs, they sometimes form small flocks in the non-breeding season. They are often difficult to locate, as their yellow-green plumage blends with the foliage and only their deep bubbling musical calls can be heard. They are nevertheless common in suitable habitat: rainforests, mangroves, thickets along watercourses, swamps, and lush gardens.

Breeding takes place during the wet season (October to March). A neat, deep cup is constructed from strips of bark and vines,

Explore #169 October 7, 2012

 

SOOC

 

Slow, methodical and solitary work using a metal detector along the shore of Lake Erie.

To the 10,000 people who viewed this progress shot (including the one mean guy who actually took the time to post "if this is interesting, I am the Pope" -- he doesn't know what's what): well, I am sorry, but Rachel's beautiful Sewing Room Swap package migrated its way to me, of all people! I really am considering buying a lottery ticket tomorrow:)

 

I was having fun in the SRS, round 2 group, but when Rachel posted this earlier progress shot, I really was completely smitten by it. I recall being overcome by admiration for Rachel's fabric and colour selection skills (I could never have pulled these fabrics together myself), her obvious ability to sew thin strips together without them going all wonky (see also her latest project, Irish chain quilt a la Denyse), and her clearly methodical work process. But most of all, I remember feeling greedy, and I remember thinking about how badly I wanted this for myself! In my head, I started wondering who my "competition" was (basically everyone) and what I could do to get this mini from them (basically nothing). But lo and behold, it's here! I can't say that I deserve it, with all the "me me me" feelings that I experienced over the past few weeks, but I sure am thrilled. I've been on a pretty good karma kick lately and just about ready to pay it forward, and I'll remember to do that every time I look at these two beauties.

 

Thank you so much again, Rachel, and Linda, Sue, and Rachel (again)! I can't stop smiling:)

What a view from on top of this hill! Locals and lovers probably know this place well, but what a surprise for me.

 

On the other side of that big chunk of skyscrapers of downtown Nashville lies the Cumberland River. On the other side of that unseen river that the modern skyline blocks are some truly great spots to take photos of downtown Nashville's northeast facing skyline.

 

But this overlook from on high of downtown’s southwestern back is also picturesque and historical. Later, in post-edit, I inserted an image of the moon that I had taken earlier. The sky in my image seemed to want it so.

 

How did I find this spot? I like to pursue and photograph what remains of Civil War historical spots. I discovered this particular hill and beautiful overlook through the horrors of war, from the research I did on important Nashville military positions during the American Civil War.

 

Civil War battlefield history: This overlook supported the eyes of the Union’s right flank, which was located here on old Bald Hill at the southwest section of Nashville. Nashville fell to the Union early in the Civil War, February 1862. This spot had a Union fortification during the occupation of the city. United States troops at this fortification could see movement in the city below, and they could observe around the Union military headquarters at what then was called Fort Andrew Johnson (which is the lit up Tennessee State Capitol building on the far left of the photo).

 

In December of 1864, General John Bell Hood of the Confederacy desperately hoped to pull General William Tecumseh Sherman away from marching his Union troops to the sea by deploying his own Southern troops to march in the opposite direction. The Confederate general hoped Sherman would turn around from lopping off the legs of the Confederacy in order to stop Hood. If Hood could retake occupied Nashville in northern Tennessee, surely, that would force Sherman to come after him. The Confederacy’s attempt late in the war to retake the city would be known as the Battle of Nashville.

 

Sherman would not be distracted. Instead, he and General Ulysses S. Grant put General George Henry Thomas in charge of stopping Hood. In the Battle of Nashville, Thomas would frequent this very spot where I am standing to observe the battlefield. Right here, nearly 155 years ago.

 

General Thomas' watchful eyes, careful planning and methodical execution paid off. Wikipedia observes: "In one of the largest victories achieved by the Union Army during the war, Thomas attacked and routed Hood's army, largely destroying it as an effective fighting force."

 

The Civil War was drawing to a close.