Jackdaws mate for life. This pair perched harmoniously close together whilst the one methodically preened the other.

Built for the “Équipage à l'abordage” collaborative contest on the french forum Brickpirate, for the theme "Pink"

The crew of The Medusa consists of Lokiloki, Pistash and Lufobrick.

Their opponents are the crew of The Sea Guardian's King (SGK), composed of Seb71, Guilego and Konix.

After weeks of misfortune at sea, the crew of the SGK made a stop on a large island lost in the middle of the ocean. One morning, shortly after sunrise, the captain set out to explore the surroundings: an expanse of dunes, mangroves, and marshes stretched as far as the eye could see. The atmosphere was peaceful; the water was disturbed only by a few patches of sand. The wind, light but steady, did not seem to trouble the multitude of birds, insects, and fish that inhabited the marsh. Suddenly, the captain spotted on the horizon a massive pink shape that seemed to hover above the water. He decided to approach it discreetly to observe it more closely.

Tikal raised her spear, her eyes fixed on the bush, and approached it slowly. Suddenly, a strange black hat emerged, then two raised hands, and finally a pale, shivering face. It was not a fox or an otter, but indeed a man in odd attire, his clothes in tatters. Strangers were rare on the island, but always treated with respect. Moved by pity, Tikal handed him a cloth bundle filled with grilled fish and berries, then set off again to hunt on Yumká’s back, without a word.

Instagram: www.instagram.com/loic.glbr

Karlheinz Weinberger

« Swiss Rebels »

Swiss Rebels is a new retrospective covering the work of the politically engaged, self-taught, Swiss photographer and a Siemens warehouse clerk, Karlheinz Weinberger. An amateur photographer at the head of the company’s photo-club, he began taking pictures for the gay journal Der Kreis under the pseudonym Jim. Born in 1921 in Zurich, Switzerland, died in 2006 . In 1958, he came into contact with a gang of Halbstarke‚ those “delinquents“ from Zurich. Weinberger methodically photographed these Swiss-German outcasts who were fascinated by Elvis Presley and James Dean. He studied them like an ethnographer, with empathy, curiosity, and respect. They returned his affection. One by one, in couples or in groups, they camped before the camera, proud of the external signs of revolt. Taking photographs of immigrant workers, not to mention outcasts and reprobates, pays endless tribute to all forms of liberty. Well beyond ghetto photography, Weinberger turned his images into zones of resistance and pleasure.

I don’t know if our atmospheric conditions that mix summer air and the smoke from the Canadian forest fires will appear again this fall. With that in mind, my wife and I spent a couple mornings last week getting up early to see if we could get a photo or two during the brief time the reds and oranges were winning over the normal brilliant yellow of the sun that comes with clear skies.

We stopped alongside a road that runs between two wetland ponds with our vehicle off and our windows open in the near darkness while I took a few photos of the sun at several levels as it did its methodical morning climb.

Outside our vehicle the smoggy quietness was heavy, unbroken with the sounds of the day that had yet to arise from their slumber. From a good distance away we began to hear the raspy marble-rolling honks of the familiar sand hill cranes as they flew through the air.

I don’t hear like I used to and have difficulty discerning which direction sounds are coming from which my doc gleefully told me might be a problem at railroad crossings.

Therefore I had to ask my wife what direction the cranes were coming from. Luckily they were approaching our position from the north and cooperated with me for this shot when they passed between us and the sun though they ignored me when I asked them to move a little higher and fly in a single line.

(Photographed near Cambridge, MN)

A conductor trainee for CSX walks toward a switch that needs to be thrown in Cayce, South Carolina. The conductor who is on the engine will meet him at the switch. was very methodical with this young man. He let him throw the switches in the yard and made sure he know to look at the rail and make sure the tracks were lined up the right before he allowed the train to pass over them. Good luck to the trainee.

CSXT 7263 looks like just another wide cab GE. And, really, it is. It also has an interesting history. CSX specifies it as a GE CM44AC. It was built in in 1998 as AC4400CW 366. CSX rebuilt her in 2022.

Karlheinz Weinberger

« Swiss Rebels ».

Swiss Rebels is a new retrospective covering the work of the politically engaged, self-taught, Swiss photographer and a Siemens warehouse clerk, Karlheinz Weinberger. An amateur photographer at the head of the company’s photo-club, he began taking pictures for the gay journal Der Kreis under the pseudonym Jim. Born in 1921 in Zurich, Switzerland, died in 2006 . In 1958, he came into contact with a gang of Halbstarke‚ those “delinquents“ from Zurich. Weinberger methodically photographed these Swiss-German outcasts who were fascinated by Elvis Presley and James Dean. He studied them like an ethnographer, with empathy, curiosity, and respect. They returned his affection. One by one, in couples or in groups, they camped before the camera, proud of the external signs of revolt. Taking photographs of immigrant workers, not to mention outcasts and reprobates, pays endless tribute to all forms of liberty. Well beyond ghetto photography, Weinberger turned his images into zones of resistance and pleasure.

Paddy and Elk. Elk takes the cautious approach and climbs very methodically step by step .. Paddy just bounds up there .. and down

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. This beautiful adult pelican was photographed taking off 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

Naked-faced Barbet (Gymnobucco calvus) A noisy and sociable forest barbet, the Naked-faced Barbet is best known for its bare, dark facial skin and constant chatter echoing through the canopy. Most often encountered in small, restless flocks, it moves methodically through forest edges, clearings, and secondary growth, feeding primarily on fruit and figs, with insects taken opportunistically.

This species is a cooperative breeder, nesting communally in tree cavities where multiple adults may assist in incubation and chick-rearing. Its adaptability to disturbed habitats and tolerance of human presence have allowed it to remain common in much of its range. While rarely the most colourful bird in the forest, its animated behaviour and vocal presence make it one of the most conspicuous.

"A heron stood in the creek, perfectly still, and as I watched the heron took one very methodical step, its long stick leg lifting slowly up out of the water and then... slowly... it slipped gently back in. For a finale it stood motionless again as leaves floated past on the water like flower petals."

- Barry Macleod, The Tugwell Years

www.harlandpress.ca/

This Great Blue Heron was standing in unusually deep water, but I'm not sure that would be evident if it weren't for the tiny, perfect splash from a water droplet that rolled off its bill. The fishing was great that day. I watched it catch a penpoint gunnel and then a slimy sculpin - two species of fish that no doubt taste wonderful if you're a heron. (I have to assume, however, that no one reading this is a heron.)

I was actually trying to catch the droplet in mid-drop; this worked out better. This was one of my last shots as the heron worked its way toward me while I sat on the shore, making myself small and unthreatening. Cropped only to alter the format to 8x10 proportions.

* This image was uploaded a few years ago, but few of my current Flickr friends have seen it. Rather than repost, I reprocessed it into a new version.

Photographed at Esquimalt Lagoon, Victoria, Vancouver Island, British Columbia. Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission © 2007 James R. Page - all rights reserved.

(Egretta caerulea) - Little Blue Heron

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.

Read more at: www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Little_Blue_Heron/overview

Thank you for visiting - ❤ with gratitude! Fave if you like it, add comments below, order beautiful HDR prints at qualityHDR.com.

We are just back from a 3 day rocket event in the Black Rock Desert. It was Balls, the Wild West event of rocketry, with large and dangerous rockets. My son got invited to help prepare the most spectacular rocket, a two stage rocket that was designed to reach 200,000 feet altitude. I was invited to be the official photographer. Due to dangerously large motors, this rocket's launch pad was 3 miles away from the camp. Only a few people could see the preparation and launch up close.

This photo shows the owner of the rocket standing on the ladder and arming the rocket.

Spec of the rocket:

- two stage rocket built by Jim Jarvis from Texas

- total weight of rocket 250 lb

- booster (first stage) has a P motor built by Stu Barrett

- sustainer (second stage) has an O motor, made by CTI

- electronics: Stratologger, live flight status update by Kate

The booster flight was nominal, The sustainer flight was initially nominal, then Kate announced an anomaly at 40K+ feet altitude- the sustainer seems to have shredded at burnout at Mach 3.72. The cause of anomaly is not known at this time. The booster was recovered successfully.

What a project! Kudos to Jim and team for the achievement, even though it did not go as planned! As we all know from SpaceX, rocketry is hard. Jim had a multi page checklist, and everything was done very methodically. Hats off!

I processed a balanced HDR photo from an iPhone image, and carefully adjusted the curves.

-- © Peter Thoeny, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0, HDR, 1 exposure, iPhone 6 Plus, IMG_7657_hdr1bal1b

Every bit of sunshine

Every particle of light

Can be captured on a portable mirror

And be manipulated into

Arrays of tiny dots

With every dial turned

And every button pushed

Waves of light are transmitted and received

Burned into plates

And preserved in a

Methodical grid

A pattern of perfection

I look on the ground and see a tiny puddle

You see a pool of concentric circles

A glistening portal into space and time

I look to the sky and see some clouds

You see the feathery wings of an angel

The billowy flaxen tresses of a maiden

You see the world through a pinhole screen

And capture images like floating dreams

----A poem written for me by my wife----

Nikon D300s + Tokina 11-16mm f/2.8

Explored! Thank you! ^_^

I'm so happy the Hummingbirds are fond of the Lantana. I love watching the Hummers no matter where they feed, but it makes me smile all the more as they methodically flit about a Lantana. Cool stuff!

The last bit of ice in the low and wet part of a farm field floats like an island in in a rising sea, destined to disappear soon. Not a solitary soul will take note of its passing, because it is part of the methodical rhythm of nature, which underlies all places, all the time, and we no longer have the patience to let it guide us.

Cascade Volcanoes. An image capture I took a few years back on a trip to Crater Lake National Park. It was on an October afternoon while driving along Rim Drive after enjoying a few hikes and scenic views. This location was at a pulloff where a sign exhibit noted that one could see for miles and miles, even to Mount Shasta about 130 miles distant (according to Google Maps, at least). That peak is barely visible in the image I captured that day, but I could still zoom in to see it! So that's the story of this image with the view across Oregon and then into California. I posted the image here on Flickr: (www.flickr.com/photos/14723335@N05/9071547681/in/album-72...).

And now some information on the digital painting I did with my iPad Pro using an Apple Pencil with Adobe Sketch...my focus was using broader stokes with one of my two favorite of Kyle's brushes: Rakes - Zen Grind and Paintbox - French Sharp Block. The latter for an impressionist style that allowed me to include a mixture of colors with each stroke. That was something I'd seen watching and learning from a friend and painter. The rack brush I used with trees, which gave me a lot of practice given the hillside after hillside I had at that overlook in Crater Lake National Park. My process was to break down the hillsides into sections and change the hue and tones and give the appearance of distance and terrain relief. Then it was a methodical process of slowly painting that out. When it came to the skies, I wanted to try out something I'd read (www.creativebloq.com/advice/5-simple-tips-for-painting-be...). Sometimes easier said (or typed) then done. So I went back to a master (Bob Ross) and watched his video where he discussed painting skies by using crossing over of brush strokes (www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7K7h6iyPw8) and then mixing tones and even hues to create a look. This is what a favorite painter and friend has mentioned to me a few years ago. Clouds are still a learning point for me. This painter (www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQt9r9uDe6I) helped me better process mentally what I needed to do; it’s a work in progress, but I like what I created a lot better now than in past paintings. I went about looking at some images I'd captured and others I'd just randomly seen on the Internet with clouds. I found one that I'd captured after finishing a workout at a local Austin Gold's Gym and then painted that out more free style with a Kyle acrylic type brush and let my arm and hand work as a single unit to brush it out what I wanted, alternating tones from a more pure white to darker ones.

In the left center foreground of the painting, you'll find that stick figure image of me "hiking" with my Cubbies hat, loving my time exploring the Oregon Cascades :-)

I find it a bit hard to believe that since Kodak reintroduced TMax 3200 I have only shot a single roll of the stuff. Then again, I am not all that surprised either. It is a testament more to how much I have going on than any disinterest in this film, which I historically loved shooting before it was initially discontinued. But I am trying to get myself around to doing more. While the majority of my work tends to be relatively methodical - think Hasselblad on a tripod - I have been remembering to carry my little Yashica T4 around with me everywhere, keeping an eye peeled for the weird little details like this that hint at larger stories.

Yashica T4

Kodak TMAX 3200

"Behind The Mask" by Maddie Diker (SL name)

Since October is ADHD Awareness month, and the Pose Fair on Second Life is conducting a contest, I thought I'd make something for ADHD awareness. This way I'd have created something meaningful to me and others, whether or not I win.

This was inspired by the imposter syndrome, depression, and shame that comes with ADHD and the masks we wear in order to appear normal. The flowers represent the parts of me that are trying to bloom, yet end up wilting and dying whenever the shame takes over. The internal struggle inside between defeat & growth.

I'm so proud of myself. It's so rare for me to be able to methodically work on a project little by little over the course of a few weeks without losing interest. I didn't miss the deadline either. <3 <3

#ADHDAwarenessMonth

#ADHD

Mask Prop with Pose:

by Po^Z, called "Two Face"

This image is of tombstones in a Confederate cemetery at the East flank of the Franklin Battlefield.

U.S. Major General George Henry Thomas's underling, Major General John Schofield, was first to confront Confederate Lieutenant General John Bell Hood and his army in Franklin, Tennessee. Franklin is where the Confederate Army of Tennessee experienced devastating losses after already losing Atlanta.

Although at the time he was busy back East fighting Robert E. Lee, Ulysses S. Grant, the commanding general of all U.S. military efforts, wrote in his memoir after the war about the Battle of Franklin in his typically understated mid-Western way: "The fight was very desperate and sanguinary. The Confederate generals led their men in the repeated charges, and the loss among them was of unusual proportions,” wrote Grant.†

Six thousand Confederate soldiers and six Confederate generals, some of the South's best, were killed at the Battle of Franklin.

It should be noted that Civil War generals typically designed and led troop maneuvers from the rear and not from the heated front of a deadly battle line. If a general was to be found in the front of a battle, it likely meant there was a big problem, an existential problem.

After the defeat of the Army of Tennessee at Franklin, Lieutenant General John Bell Hood, with his still quick and agile Confederate forces, would follow Schofield to Nashville, continuing the march towards arguably the greatest defensive general of the Civil War–slow and methodical Major General George Henry Thomas. Hood knew Thomas was there. He anticipated the battle against the renowned general in fortified Nashville.

The confrontation in Nashville, the capital of Tennessee that had fallen to the Union early in the Civil War, resulted in a coup de grâce, effectively destroying Hood's already handicapped army.

After the Civil War and having served two terms as President of the United States, Grant publicly reflected on the Confederate general's poor strategy at Franklin and Nashville: "If I had been in Hood’s place, I would never have gone near Nashville. I would have gone to Louisville, and on north until I came to Chicago. What was the use of his knocking his head against the stone walls of Nashville? If he had gone north, Thomas never would have caught him.”††

----

†S. Grant, Ulysses. The Autobiography of General Ulysses S Grant: Memoirs of the Civil War (p. 351)

††Grant, Ulysses S.; Young, John Russell. Conversations with General Grant (p. 51)

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.

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 winter is over. The mechanics have done their job and the equipment, some of which is 110 years old, is in top-notch condition. There is a large crew of new guys, older, experienced guys and even several highly experienced retired guys on board. The White Pass Snow Team has been methodically preparing for this operation for several months and now, it is time for them to test their mettle and the metal of their machines. Here, the mighty Rotary Fleet makes its workman-like departure from the White Pass Shops, to begin the 20 mile run up the hill to White Pass. There is no snow in Skagway, but that fools no one. The team on board knows they'll be facing 10-20 feet of snow in the passes and the mission will take several days. In the end, their mission will be successful. They will run this old equipment as hard as it ever ran back in the day and they'll clear the line in a mere 4 days, with ZERO mechanical failures.

Junger Blaureiher (Egretta caerulea)

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_blue_heron

de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blaureiher

The little blue heron (Egretta caerulea) is a small heron. It breeds in the Gulf states of the US, through Central America and the Caribbean south to Peru and Uruguay. It is a resident breeder in most of its range, but some northern breeders migrate to the southeastern US or beyond in winter. There is post-breeding dispersal to well north of the nesting range, as far as the Canada–US border.

Description

This species is about 60 cm (24 in) long, with a 102 cm (40 in) wingspan, and weighs 325 g (11.5 oz). It is a medium-large, long-legged heron with a long pointed blue or greyish bill with a black tip. Breeding adult birds have blue-grey plumage except for the head and neck, which are purplish and have long blue filamentous plumes. The legs and feet are dark blue. The sexes are similar. Non-breeding adults have dark blue head and neck plumage and paler legs. Young birds are all white except for dark wing tips and have dull greenish legs. They gradually acquire blue plumage as they mature.

Ecology

The little blue heron's breeding habitat is sub-tropical swamps. It nests in colonies, often with other herons, usually on platforms of sticks in trees or shrubs. Three to seven light blue eggs are laid. The little blue heron stalks its prey methodically in shallow water, often running as it does so. It eats fish, frogs, crustaceans, small rodents and insects.

White little blue herons often mingle with snowy egrets. The snowy egret tolerates their presence more than little blue herons in adult plumage. These young birds actually catch more fish when in the presence of the snowy egret and also gain a measure of protection from predators when they mix into flocks of white herons. It is plausible that because of these advantages, they remain white for their first year.

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

Der Blaureiher (Egretta caerulea) gehört zur Familie der Reiher aus der Ordnung Pelecaniformes.

Aussehen

Die Vögel werden 60 Zentimeter lang, mit einer Flügelspannweite von einem Meter und einem Gewicht von 325 Gramm. Sie sind mittelgroße Reiher mit einem langen Hals und einem langen, spitzen, blauen oder grauen Schnabel mit schwarzer Spitze. Erwachsene Vögel haben ein blau-graues Gefieder. Die Beine und Füße sind dunkelblau. Während der Brut färbt sich der Kopf und der Hals purpurfarben. Außerdem wachsen dort längere Schmuckfedern, Beine und Füße werden schwarz. Jungvögel sind weiß mit gelben Beinen. Mit dem Älterwerden werden sie zunehmend blau.

Verbreitung

Der Blaureiher lebt in Sümpfen in den an den Golf von Mexiko angrenzenden Staaten der USA, in Mittelamerika, auf den Inseln der Karibik und in Südamerika bis Peru und Uruguay. Einzelne Tiere wandern nach der Brutsaison weit nach Norden bis zur Grenze Kanadas.

Lebensweise

Der kleine blaue Reiher ernährt sich von Fischen, Krebstieren und Insekten, denen er im flachen Wasser oder auf einem Ast am Ufer sitzend auflauert.

Er nistet in Kolonien, häufig zusammen mit anderen Reihern, auf Bäumen oder in Sträuchern. Es werden 3 bis 7 hellblaue Eier gelegt.

While out walking. This Hummer was methodically going down the row of plants along the fence, flower by flower. Intent and serious gets the work done.

This bird was methodically working the cobblestones of this driveway looking in between the stone for tasty morsels.

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.

Watched this guy methodically climb up to the top of this rock at sunset near Panther Beach in Santa Cruz, California

After a couple of snowy weeks and a forecast calling for a little more snow tomorrow, it's reaching that point of the winter where I'm ready to be done with it. Good thing we only have about 3 more months of winter weather left! Needless to say, I'm thinking about longer, warmer days, so here's what I'll call a "Susquehanna Saturday" offering.

In 2018, my wife and I were expecting our first child to be born in early August. Knowing full well how that would be a life-changing experience, I planned one, last full day of railroad photography with good friend Aaron Keller for June 2, 2018 (well ahead of my wife's due date in August). With a cloudy forecast, Aaron and I agreed that the bright yellow of Susquehanna would be a fitting subject, so we headed for Syracuse. We intercepted the northbound "Nation's Train" around Tully, pursued it north, then chased it all the way back south to Binghamton. Sweetening the deal, SD45 #3618 led the southbound train! Friend Brian Plant also joined in on the festivities and, as he always does, helped us find a couple spots that we otherwise might not have been aware.

This shot at Messengerville, however, was a total grab shot along the chase route. I usually don't do many grab shots, mostly because I have a pretty methodical approach where I often skip spots to ensure I have plenty of time to properly scope out the next shot I had in mind. But, that said, every now and then I do a grab shot, and sometimes those grab shots turn out to be some of my favorites from the day. Such was the case here.

NYS&W Train BH-2

Messengerville, NY

June 2, 2018

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.

A Wicked Turn

Acte 22

The Subtle Touch

He went down behind her and she arched back in an attempt to watch what he was up to!

He looked over at their figures image in the mirror, her coronet, necklace, and earrings vividly sparkling in the reflection, like fire on a distant mountain he thought drooling with anticipation…….

He methodically decided to start with her Bracelets….

Holding her left wrist with his left hand, he let his right-hand travel up her squirming figure till he reaches her breast. Cupping it he began to with a slipping motion, massage it through her thin satiny slip.

She curled her figure against her bindings, closed her eyes, and began to whimper and moan lustily, opening her mouth just enough to keep her rings hidden inside!

As his right hand subtly pleaded her breasts, his left hand travelled down to a cuffed diamond bracelet. He began rubbing it up and down her gloved wrist in sync with his right hand, eventually worked it open and slipped it off from around her wrist, tossing it neatly into his pouch.

He repeated the performance on her right wrist as she continued moaning in total satisfaction.

If she noticed her twin bracelets were being removed in the process of having her breasts massaged, she did not appear to care.

Then, playing along with the lady’s game, he fruitlessly felt for her rings, hearing her muffled giggles above him as she squirmed.

“Mmmm,” she said, through gritted teeth not being able to open her mouth due to her rings.

He could see that what she was unable to voice, it was readable in her expression, reflected from the handy mirror!

Then he moved his hands, grasping her by the silken sides of her slip, and began to tickle her mercilessly, she started to uncontrollably giggle, then stated to sputter, finally letting loose with a gasping laugh!

This sent the three sparkling rings she had been holding inside her mouth, spinning out and plopping onto the green silk of her lap, where they slithered down between her knees!

“Dirty Play, Gaston!”

She admonished, snapping her legs closed to hide the rings, tears in her eyes as she laughed out her words…

“That wasn’t how… !

He hushed up her words by quickly plunging his gloved fingers down inside her slip, grasping and kneading her breasts in unison

Her whole being tingling with the exquisite pleasure, made her forget entirely how she had wanted him to play the game with her rings!

But he was now entirely in control of the situation, and she felt her whole figure limply wilt under his command!

He left his right hand inserted down her slip to carry on with the task, subtly extracting his left to then run fingers through her long blonde, luxurious feeling hair, pulling it back behind her head, where it hung down in a gold coloured silken mass!

Figuring if he did, she would lean right back to look up at him!

Which is exactly what she did, playing right into his trick!

Her eyes, though, were still tightly shut, as her focus went off to some erotic location, as she was reeling in the vivid pleasures of her game.

Her green satin gloved fingers tried to adjust her bonds so she could reach back out behind her, and he knew for what and responded appropriately by rising so she could reach her objective.

Then it became his turn to be the one moaning softly through gritted teeth…

He silently thought, while groaning inwardly…

“Easy on the family jewels there, missy!”

“Oh, My Darling Gaston!”

she responded, apparently, hopefully, waiting for a response.

He gave her one, though not verbally…

He leaned against the backside of the chair, getting as close to her as he could!

She began to grope quite furiously and he thought of a monkey he had seen once in the city zoo doing one such number on a banana.

He was also finding it increasingly difficult to keep his mind on the task at hand.

So, he pulled away from her grasp a little, allowing her fingers the barest of touch!

He then gently pulled back her blonde hair, and quickly started caressing her now sweating earlobes, taking advantage of where this lady’s reeling mind was otherwise occupied!

Slowly, carefully stroking up and off, he pulled out the gold hooks attached to her sparkling earrings from each pierced ear.

Freeing both of her lovely long earrings in turn and letting them drop, glimmering into his leather pouch!

He kept on caressing, deeply thrusting his right hand in and along her breasts for several minutes taking precious time with the task as to keep her mind away from what he was accomplishing from behind her trussed up back.

Meanwhile, his left hand moved up into a new position.

Her entire being was squirming, so enraptured and enthralled, that she never even felt him picking up the ends of the thin coronet: lifting oh so carefully, each end of shiny gold braided ends that were woven into her hair, and began gently lifting out each one free!

As he pulled it delicately away, she did not even miss the egg-shaped diamond as it stopped brushing against her sweat glistened brow!

Once he had freed the shimmering piece, he eagerly lifted to admire it!

She broke his trance by purring, opening her eyes as he quickly hid the jewelled coronet!

“Well, my Gaston! I can feel you desire me again, my darling! It has been quite a long time for you also!”

But though she may have felt that something growing between her captor’s legs, she had no inkling that he had been busy lifting her pricey jewelled headpiece!

Nor did she now hear it being dropped in the pouch at her foot!

So, oblivious that her earrings and coronet were gone, the bound, satin slip clad lady, quite seductively began murmuring these words as her fingers continued their gentle free play between his legs.

“You want me don’t you luv!”

She asked this seductively, wistfully as her eyes opened wide and looking up into his, catching him hovering over her, his eyes from the slits in his hood, looking down upon her.

He had stopped fondling her breasts with his right hand and placing that hand on her shoulder was looking down upon her with lust-filled eyes!

But she was entirely misreading the object of his also lustful gaze…

She again closed her eyes with a heavy sigh!

As his eyes went to what he now really wanted from her!

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

Backed by one of the town's historic "beehive" burners (more on these below), the yard scene at Hearst is humming with activity. ONR's 313 has dropped its interchange traffic, finished its work, and is ready to depart as 514 for Cochrane with ONR personnel at the ready for a roll-by and some maintenance work. On the right of the frame, CN 552's power idles away, its crew on duty in just a few minutes to pick up 313's inbound train for Oba via the Soo Sub (formerly WC/ACR). All the while, the formidable logging crane methodically rolls back and forth, moving logs around the mill for processing, while a CAT machine maneuvers mounds of sawdust and snow around.

Beehive burners were used as incinerators by sawmills to burn sawdust and scrap wood, the name referring to their conical shape. These posed obvious air quality issues, spewing large amounts of smoke and ash directly into the atmosphere and were eventually phased out by environmental regulations, the last active one in Hearst running into the early '80s. Just a landmark now, the burner still stands tall preserving some of Hearst's heritage as a leader in the forestry industry.

As I have been working thru my photos from our recent Africa trip, I've been posting in essentially chronological order. Which means that so far, there has been a preponderance of night hide shots.

If I was smart I would mix it up with later shots of lions, cheetahs, buffalo etc. My wife would say I am too rigid to do this (actually she uses another four letter word starting with "A".). I prefer to think of myself as organized and methodical. :)

In any case, this is the last hide shot I will post. Not the best of the shots I have shared, but I felt fortunate to see this guy. I was not familiar with Striped Hyenas, and certainly had never seen one. Twice, one (probably this same guy) approached the hide but would not come up. But finally the last night he did.

From what I've read, they are very much nocturnal and rarely if ever seen during the day.

They have a large range, over eastern and northern Africa and into the middle east and over to India. But outside of eastern Africa, the populations are quite fragmented and their numbers appear to be decreasing. They are listed at Near Threatened unfortunately.

It was the evening of June the 12 in the year of our Lord 2018. I had made several trips into and out of our RV trying to get a TV to work. I was at wits end and cussing mad with visions of the set hurling through the air into Lake Huron. And then it happened. The door to the RV opened at exactly 6:49pm and my bride of 33 years said aloud what every man wants to hear from his dearest while at his peak of frustration…”John, there is a porcupine out here!” No sweeter words have these ears ever heard!

Grabbing my camera in a full run, I do not remember using the four steps to the ground. Now outside, I looked up to see Joann, Steve and Cheryl all pointing across the street, all with the same grin…that grin of knowing that someone you care about is going to love what they are about to see…and they were right!

I covered the distance to the porcupine with the same speed and agility normally found in a buck chasing a doe…well a really old buck…missing a leg…with a back thigh cramp…and a crick in its neck…yea, it was a lot like that! Anyway I took up my position and started working my camera settings to get the shot. He wasn’t very happy with presence and spun around displaying his hindquarters with hundreds of quills. I snapped off several shots including this one. He then started heading into an area of tall grass and trees. I thought our photo session was over but as Steve entered the area from behind and I from the front, he slowly and methodically climbed up into a half dead pine tree.

I took several more shots and we left him so that he could continue his nighttime foraging. At the ripe old age of 57 I can now add “Porcupine Chaser” to the resume. A feat that placed Steve and I in a very elite club, headed up by one Marlin Perkins no doubt!

Taken through the front window, as the Flicker preened, scratched and stretched for over 10 minutes. The Flicker was very methodical in preening, it appeared as though every feather was worked on.

Northern Lapwing / vanellus vanellus. Morston Quay, Norfolk. 14/01/16.

'CRESTFALLEN.'

I've had to dig really deep in my files to retrieve this image of a lone Lapwing I photographed at Morston Quay, 9 winters ago! It favoured a raised, grassy bank, in-between the car park and boat storage yard and worked its way back and forth methodically, finding plenty of large earthworms to eat. I remember the weather that day was atrocious with a biting, icy wind and shortly after the image was made, a sudden sleety blizzard. It created a total white-out for a moment or two, before melting.

It was all very dramatic and in sharp contrast to conditions there today when I visited ... blue sky, wall to wall sunshine and only a light breeze. Sadly though, apart from several Brent Geese flyovers, plus 2 x Oystercatchers, c10 x Teal and the obligatory BHGs, there was nothing else of interest.

BEST VIEWED LARGE.

Scrub Jays are bullies. Plain and simple. Quite frankly, they don't care if you can fly, bark or meow. They will pick on you. There is no such thing as a communal bird feeder; it's theirs! We had two Jays that frequented the backyard. I used to give them peanuts in the shell. They were very methodical. Grab one peanut, hide it, grab another peanut, hide it. The dogs sniffed out most of the peanuts and ate them. That kind of disoriented the Jays because they were sure about the hiding locations. The Jays would talk to each other. "Hey, did you steal my nuts?" "Why would I steal your nuts, I've got my own nuts!" Then they would go pick on other birds or the dogs or the cat. Woody the Cat thought it was hilarious to watch the Jays look for missing nuts.

Bakersfield, California 2011

The Española Mockingbird is one of four species of Mockingbirds which are endemic to the Galapagos Islands. As the name suggests, this particular species is endemic to the Island of Española.

There was a large group of Marine Iguanas basking in The Sun when we arrived on the Punta Suarez shore. A number of mockingbirds were methodically hopping around the iguanas, foraging for their ectoparasites.

Española Mockingbird (Mimus macdonaldi)

Adult

Family: Mimids

Española--Punta Suarez

Galapagos, EC

2017/08/23

ebird.org/ebird/view/checklist/S38982664

painting on linen (painted over a methodical field covered in charcoal)

sold. permanent collection, pgh, pa.

For those who are surprised...I was not any less so when I methodically went through the Frisco slides from '72 and '73. As I said before, the Frisco still ran a couple of hot connections from the southeast - Birmingham and Memphis - to the West Coast via connection to the Santa Fe at Floydada, Texas. They had been routed for many years via Oklahoma City, the subsidiary Quanah Acme & Pacific, and to Floydada. The Santa Fe's own route from there to what we now know as the "Transcon" was a little convoluted too, through Plainview and Lubbock to Texico on the New Mexico/Texas border, and finally on the Chicago-California mainline. Plans were already afoot at this time to rebuild the Frisco route from Tulsa's Cherokee Yard straight west to Enid and on to a connection with that almighty future Transcon at Avard, Oklahoma. But it hadn't happened yet. My friend who was midnight operator at Oklahoma City still held his job until these trains were re-routed as I recall; soon he'd change from Third to Second Trick (afternoons) and from OKC to Tulsa. But MEANWHILE, as Stephen Colbert would say, somebody was hurting for power, and I'd venture a guess it was Frisco. I'd love to have heard the phonecalls. Probably a five unit set of F-units (just your average power set in the Texas panhandle on the Santa Fe) were sent east all the way to either Tulsa or Springfield on the hot counterpart CTB (California-Texas-Birmingham) to be bounced back on QLA or QSF. I may have been alerted by my buddy in OKC or another in Claremore, about 25 miles east of Tulsa, or maybe I just decided to skip the studies and have a look at Cherokee Yard. The Wagonmaster's "babies" appear to be getting ready to hook onto the westbound freight while one of Frisco's FM switchers - themselves endangered by now as new SW1500's were showing up - has a hold of the Santa Fe caboose to go to the other end. I'm on the service road that leads to the yard tower to my left at the south (timetable west) end of the yard, and I think the "Crest Tower" at the top of the hump was between me and the yard office.

Sperry Rail Service has been methodically converting its operations to hi-rail trucks, so I consider this a pretty great find. Of all the Sperry cars, I've probably shot this one the most over the past 20+ years. Glad to see it still in operation.

SRS 145 backs past former Illinois Central "HX" Tower at Ashkum, IL.

I do not know how to paint this. I do not know how to frame it. It has colours and these colours come in definite shapes and these shapes diverge. I count them through the window. I count them out with you incessantly, patiently, methodically, my arms crossing yours and we laugh. Staring at you as you rest undisturbed, I sweat on my tries and progress is made, the wings of control refracted against the sandstorm blocking our view. If you knew and if you could see them one by one with precision you would say they encompass the candid horizon. And as our vision dissolves and your flesh evaporates between my hands in a blast of gold and anger, impatient and subdued like quartz improperly cut by the hands of a child, these shapes collapse.

Now you can tell if I had the respect due to my ancient fathers, to my own father, the respect for his dying face, the face I ought to shave in his sick days with the affection soon to become memory vague, I would lay my hands onto your blind hazel eyes and let go. But I have no such respect and I have not aged as you wished. Yes, I know, so many times, to the obnoxious closing of our lips, to exhaustion, to the annihilation of senses you have told me that I was wrong. And yes, I was wrong. And yet, as the blade cuts us and our blood goes on to feed the next round of stars, your lunacy fits in nicely with mine.

That is my life, cherished and inevitable, missing, as the shades of our guilt repel the listening wind that yes, one more day, one more time, more promises to fill our basket and be the one branch that keeps the other branches up, facing the warmth of our wounds, screaming where sound won't travel.

Now you can tell these repetitions, these harmonies, the blood stains on your teeth I scrape avid with mine like chords entangled between the eyes of a spider, the blinding white clouds coming down from the sky ravenous for your skin as you sleep and his face comes to visit you, a condensate of magnesium and granite. In his last days, looking as he does from behind the window, never condescending, alien and detached in every meticulous way, waving his left hand right into your face and you stare at his estranged old eyes, judging and heavy, his relentlessly beautiful eyes. And I wave for my eyes to be yours and stare at his face as he shakes you and snaps his arms and scares with the harsh and incoherent slap of his voice and what I see is the face of a man who does not know.

It is a chant that keeps me alive, the notes of a broken language, the shades of a forgotten circle of mania. There I stand by the window as the sins get accounted and paid for, there I stand as the leftover storm crashing down in waves and the smell of indifference fills the air and you sing without a word, without a voice, without reason.

Note for Group Admins: The author of this text is myself.

Water splashed gently against the side of the Argo. The methodical sound of the oars cutting through the sea pounded in Jason’s ears. The men behind him, some of the greatest warriors in the world, were talking quietly amongst themselves. Yet, a spirit of restlessness hung over them. They were sailing into the unknown, into…adventure!

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This is my entry for Category C of the Wrath of the Titans contest over in the Greco-Roman LEGO group. It was a very, very fun build, especially the shaping of the boat. I wish I could build the whole thing, but I ran out of pieces...

As Obi-Wan would say, "at least they're still sailing half a ship." ;)

This is also a chance to showcase my water technique, using the trans-black. I'm really curious to know what y'all think about it. :)

Soli Deo Gloria! :)

Chowing down on Maple Tree seeds. This bird was methodical, eating seed after seed after seed.

Try to praise the mutilated world

Remeber June's long days,

and wild strawberries, drops of rose wine.

The nettles that methodically overgrow

the abandoned homesteads of exiles.

You must praise the mutilated world.

You watched the stylish yachts and ships;

one of them had a long trip ahead of it,

while salty oblivion awated others.

You've seen the refugees going nowhere,

you've heard the executioners sing joyfully.

You should praise the mutilated world.

Remember the moments when we were together

in a white room and the curtain fluttered.

Return in thought to the concert where music flared.

You gathered acorns in the park in autumn

and leaves eddied over the earth's scars.

Praise the mutilated world

and the grey feather a thrush lost,

and the gentle light that strays and vanishes

and returns."

-- Adam Zagajewski, 2000

Great Egret ~ #102 in Explore 4/5/14

Saint Augustine, Florida

(another photo a few seconds before

and a 6-shot series in the comments)

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Egret

At times the past year has raced past in a haze. Streets have emptied and we have retreated to our cocoons. Cooped up. Waiting for the storm raging outside to subside. The images in this, Kit Young’s second publication, appear as if from a dream state. Moments in time, brought to life in the darkroom and weaved together to create a journey.

Where the Rain Clouds Gather is a visceral memory of a trip taken under more certain skies. Following characters as they wait with anticipation for their journey to begin in quaint coastal bus shelters and steam plumed train stations seemingly from another time. Out and into elements. Flashes of the sea flicker through windows as we wind along glistening pathways. Stopping only to soak up the epic vistas under blackened and tumultuous skies. Those characters have become silhouetted ants now. Visible in the distance. Almost indistinguishable from the rich veil of grain that adorns each scene.

“I consider myself to be a photographer and a printer. I think that’s an important distinction to make. I don’t just take photos; I make photos too. The photographer in me is responsive, impulsive, reacting to subject matter on the spur of the moment, more often than not giving very little thought to anything more than the lines and tone of what’s in front of me; the printer in me is methodical, exacting, always working in a more meditative way. I do, however, think that both the photographer and printer in me are curious, inquisitive and often playful – and neither is afraid to make mistakes.” - Kit Young

Where the Rain Clouds Gather

Edition of 400

20x15cm / 44 images / 90 pages

Soft cover, fabric tape bound

Metallic on 135gsm black paper throughout

Shipping 6 May, 2021

x4 silver gelatin print copies also available

This evening I posted shots of two Sandpipers that are often confused especially in the juvenile phase - Solitary Sandpiper and Spotted Sandpiper.. This is a juvenile Spotted Sandpiper.

Juvenile Spotted Sandpipers don't have spots on the breast and flanks. Adult Spotted Sandpipers have spots there. The juveniles of both species have a bold white eye ring. This eye ring on the adult Solitary extends to the base of the bill creating a spectacle look.

The bill of the Solitary is shorter and more slender than that of the Spotted Sandpiper and darker overall through adulthood, The bill of the adult Spotted Sandpiper turns a bright orange with a dark tip.

The Solitary Sandpiper is spotted on the mantle, scapulars and wing coverts. As it matures, those areas grow darker, and the spots become whiter and more obvious.

The scapular feathers of the juvenile Spotted Sandpiper are scalloped shaped with a buffy interior edged with black like in this example. The mantle and wing coverts are uniformly brown with no white spots unlike the Solitary Sandpiper.

The juvenile Solitary Sandpiper is dark on the throat and breast with clean white flanks. The Spotted Sandpiper is white on the throat with a thick brown line extending from the mantle below the breast and then clean white flanks.

The legs of the Solitary are a dull greenish colour compared to the brighter yellow of the Spotted Sandpiper.

I think the best way to differentiate these species is by observing behavior. The Solitary Sandpiper forages by walking methodically along the shore line lifting its longer legs up and down while peering around.

The Spotted Sandpiper moves more quickly on shorter legs often pausing and moving its rump up and down it a "teeter-totter" motion.

Cooking Lake. .Strathcona County, Alberta.

This Tufted Titmouse was seen at the bird feeder outside the Visitors Centre at Rondeau Provincial Park. Tufted Titmice are acrobatic foragers if a bit slower and more methodical than chickadees. They often flock with chickadees, nuthatches, and woodpeckers and are regular visitors to feeders, where they are assertive over smaller birds. Their flight tends to be fluttery but level rather than undulating.

247) Intermediate Egret

Intermediate Egret, Mesophoyx intermedia, Bangau

It is a resident breeder from east Africa across the Indian subcontinent to Southeast Asia and Australia. This species, as its scientific name implies, is intermediate in size between the great egret and smaller white egrets like the little egret and cattle egret, though nearer to little than great. All-white plumage, generally dark legs and a thickish yellow bill. The intermediate egret stalks its prey methodically in shallow coastal or fresh water, including flooded fields. It eats fish, frogs, crustaceans and insects. It often nests in colonies with other herons, usually on platforms of sticks in trees or shrubs.

Tiada nama khas tempatan untuk spesis ini. Ia secara amnya dipanggil bangau. Saiznya antara Bangau Besar dan Bangau Kerbau. Seperti bangau lain, ia adalah pelawat tetap dari Afrika Timur yang terbang melintasi India untuk ke Asia Tenggara dan Australia.

Exif: f8, 1/1000, ISO 500, focal length 500mm, Cik Canon EOS 50D, lens Canon 400mm, TC 2.0, tripod Feisol