Another shot from the Spring Grove Arboretum and Cemetery. Not the best shot I've ever taken, but I liked it for some reason.

It doesn't seem to have a good focal point, so my eyes wander around the picture, which, sometimes, I don't like... but today I do.

I put this into Slider Sunday group because I added the autumn color... which was nonexistent in this shot, and then fiddled with the colors and the focus a lot... so plenty of sliders were slid!

Been under the weather... no commenting tonight. Feeling not so good... not a good mental state for commenting on your beautiful photos! I am positively grumpy.

Happy Slider's Sunday to all... HSS!

You can follow along with me on this adventure on my YouTube Channel.

Part 1: youtu.be/nf4wxo8YQo8?si=V2k4lTyRueOUYHEe

Part 2: youtu.be/x7HNR9SWnBI?si=IV-QpAfkaiZEVFIX

Day 11

The ferocious wind tugged on my sleeping bag all the long night. At first, it blew up the canyon from the west and I was mostly sheltered by the large boulder. Then, at some point, it shifted and blew down the canyon from the east and I was no longer protected. Again, before sunrise, it changed a third time and rushed down the steep slopes to the north like an avalanche—and again, the shelter from the boulder was nonexistent.

The few times I poked my head out of the bag to drink or check the position of the stars and moon, the wind chilled my bones and I could feel that the temperature had dropped well below freezing. If it hadn’t been for my Middle Earth blanket giving me extra warmth, I would have shivered all night long. Even still, I probably slept only an hour or two.

Normally, at the first sign of dawn, I would get out of my bag and begin searching for places to take sunrise photos—but not in this frigid wind. I laid in my bag as long as I could and only enjoyed the alpenglow upon the peaks from inside it, and only with brief glances, looking out from its warm interior.

By the time I finally did get out of my bag, the pink glow had transformed into normal sunlight, though my camp was still in shadow. I put on all my layers and quickly and haphazardly packed up my gear in between the strong gales. My face was numb in the biting cold wind, as the lake raged and the lone willow at its shore whipped wildly around.

As soon as everything was stuffed into my pack, I set out into the full force of the icy wind beyond the large boulder whose shelter had waned greatly since finding it.

The small trickling, spring-fed seeps that flowed down into the lakes were frozen—and so was the foot-printed mud of the broken path that I followed. I walked against the wind with my gloved hand over my nose and lips to keep them from numbing, while underfoot the frozen mud crunched with each step.

If only I had walked five more minutes last night, I would have found the campsite I had been looking for. It was surrounded by four- to five-foot-tall pines that appeared more bush-like than tree-like. They provided little in the way of protection from the wind, with the exception of a hollow beneath and within their flailing branches. I crawled inside and huddled there until suntouch. It is surprising how much a simple shelter like this is so much warmer only because it blocks the wind. Wind chill is nothing to take lightly.

Now with the sunshine, I hoped it would be warmer—it was not. After eating breakfast in the hollow, I set out again. The wind blew just as strong as ever, and with the sun rising at my back, my face was still numbed.

After passing the last lake in the chain, the canyon opened up to reveal a wide valley. From here, I turned off my westerly heading and began climbing north up a grassy chute into a new lake basin. From here, there would be no more path or trail for at least four miles.

Here were three new, larger lakes to navigate around. Before they came into view, I got my first-ever glimpse of the Ionian Basin—its black peaks rising in the west beyond the Evolution Valley—a stark contrast to the rest of the High Sierra peaks whose summits gleam with white granite. One day I will journey into the Ionian.

Now the sun was high enough to bring much-needed warmth, and the wind seemed to have calmed, so I de-layered because I was beginning to sweat. As I did, I stood on a mountainside gazing over the first lake in this new basin, studying its shoreline, trying to figure out my next move.

I decided to stay on this southern shore because to traverse to the north would be a longer route. This southern route had some sheer cliffs blocking the way down low where the waves lapped over the rocky shore, so I climbed up the steep mountainside through patches of purple, swaying lupines and back into the shadow of the mountain.

All of a sudden, as I climbed higher, the wind returned with a vengeance—it didn’t care about my clothing, going right through my shirt to my skin like icy knives. I pushed through the frigid gusts that stole my breath, quickly making my way around the first of the three large lakes. Far below, the gusts raced across its surface, making waves that rolled from west to east.

The route I had chosen began to descend toward the far end, and now, between me and the lakeshore, cliffs stretched across where I needed to go. Thankfully, there were large natural steps in the rocks that allowed me a place to climb down.

The next obstacle that concerned me was a steeply sloped, iced-over snow patch that went all the way up to the mountaintop on one side and all the way to the lake on the other. The only open spot without snow was a section of steep, icy slabs. I thought this was the point where I would have to turn around and try the other side—until I noticed a crack going across the slippery slabs. Carefully, slowly, I walked along it to the other side. I made it!

Now came an easy talus field with cairns marking the way. Large waves (large for a High Sierra lake, but small compared to the ocean) broke on the rocky shore as I walked along it. Soon, I left the first large lake behind and came to the second, very quickly, since they were only a stone’s throw apart. This one was calm—both air and water. All I had to do here was pass by a short section of clear and calm glistening water gently lapping before climbing up to the third.

The distance between these two was longer than I thought, but I eventually reached the third lake. Following in the footsteps of others who came this way, I walked along a sandy beach, then onto even bigger talus than before. I could see the pass at the far end—a low point between two peaks, Muriel Peak and a spur of Mt. Goethe.

Pikas chirped from beneath the talus as I passed on my way to the far side. Once I reached it, I began working my way diagonally up, aiming for cliffs on the western side of the pass as the lake slowly fell away below me. At the foot of the cliffs were easily navigable slabs—like a highway to the top.

Before ascending them, I took off my pack and sat down on a boulder for a break. The beautiful lake I had just walked beside shimmered far below, its deep blue waters glistening in gusts of wind sweeping toward me from the far end. This is one of those views I could stare at all day and never tire of. Maybe I’ll get a print of it and hang it on my wall.

After the break, I continued up the slabs. Not far above me, I could see the top—I was almost there. One foot after the other, I slowly but steadily pressed on. The steepness of the mountainside relaxed and the last 34 paces came easier. Then, as I reached the flat saddle, Goethe Lake appeared far away, down in the cirque on the other side. I had reached the top—12,333 ft.

There was only a small, refreshing, and gentle breeze here. I was ecstatic.

I dropped my pack, took off my shoes and socks, collapsed on a good sitting rock, and rested. Once I was recovered enough, I ate lunch. Today brought back fond memories of when I did the Sierra High Route (or Roper Route) eight years ago—it has been too long since.

The rugged remoteness of this place, the beautiful glacial desolation, the deep blue windswept lakes nestled in blinding white granite between jagged peaks, the thinness, crispness, and heaviness of the high elevation—11,000, 12,000, 13,000 ft—is where I am most happy. (Nothing compares to it. Nothing is even close.) These moments make the frustration and suffering brought on by unending, frigid wind worth it.

After a long, well-deserved rest, I continued down the other side through a labyrinth of massive granite blocks of talus—some the size of cars or larger. Carefully and slowly, I picked the best route I could find. After a while, I came to a cliff. Now I had to decide if I was going to go around its east side, west side, or maybe try the steep chute that split in two.

There appeared to be a narrow scree scramble through it, but it disappeared around a corner, and there was no way to know if another cliff lay hidden. I didn’t want to have to climb back up, so I headed east. Here, the cliff faded into the mountainside where another scree scramble descended. Surveying it, I saw several cairns and faint footprints marking a steep path down.

The loose gravel and scree tumbled and rolled as I purposefully slipped and slid down as carefully as I could. At the bottom was more large talus.

Far away and below was a grassy patch. That was my goal—I would aim for that. Using hands as well as feet, I climbed over some of the largest rocks yet. With fatiguing legs, I slowly inched closer to the grassy patch. Eventually, I reached the bottom of the downhill, and the terrain flattened out.

I still had to deal with the talus, but it was much smaller now, and forward travel became much easier. Soon even the small rocks were behind me and I was on solid ground. Relief flooded over me—I had never been so thankful for grass. I took off my pack, laid down, and passed out.

After the brief nap, I quickly reached the southern shore of Goethe Lake. After refilling my water and drinking a whole bunch of it, I began to circle the lake. The southern shore is not recommended to travel along if you're heading east—the talus is too big. I’ve heard it described as boxcar- to house-sized.

My book, where I get all my information, says the northern shore is the best side to traverse. So that’s what I will do.

This lake gets deep quick—the water is clear along the shore but soon turns a deep turquoise, then, as the bottom falls away into the depths, becomes a deep, dark blue. More large talus encircles the lake, making travel tedious. I tried to stay low, right on the blocks where the small waves lap, but soon I had to climb up to avoid cliffs with no stepping stones.

The whole way down the pass to the lake, there had been hardly any wind. Now, on the north side, the gusts were back—though not cold and biting like before. As the waves picked up in the rising wind, they made strange sounds as they lapped in hollows beneath the talus.

Soon the upper Goethe Lake was behind me—and so was the talus. Then I rounded the lower lake and put that behind me as well. Now I was on a defined path again—not a mapped trail, but that was still miles away.

I followed it over a rolling hill, and soon Muriel Lake, where I spent my second night on trail, came into view in the basin below. Once I was along its shores, the wind returned with a vengeance I hadn’t seen since this morning.

I had been thinking about spending the night here—but not in this wind. So, I continued on around the lake toward Piute Pass.

Maybe I’d spend the night at one of the many lakes below the pass, but the wind was raging just as much there too. So I swiftly headed downhill.

Once all the lakes were behind me and the trail mostly leveled out, I entered a lush aspen and pine forest. At some point within the last four days since I was last here, a massive pine tree had snapped in the vicious wind and was now lying across the trail, its branches scattered haphazardly around it.

This last day was supposed to be two—but it became one because of the wind. I finally reached my car. I was sore and exhausted. (11.5 miles were hiked today.)

I drove down the mountain to Bishop to get food. I learned a new thing while waiting for my order—reverse altitude sickness is a thing. I descended too quickly, and now, while waiting for food, I felt dizzy and lightheaded. I closed my eyes and did deep breathing. Thankfully, it didn’t last long and I was better by the time my food arrived.

I got a bed at the hostel and spent the evening listening to another backpacker shredding on an electric guitar while weed smoke swirled around him. (No, I did not partake.)

The next day, I headed back uphill to Jan’s to share my stories.

...

In a week and a half, I leave for my next High Sierra Adventure.

Skrzyczne is a mountain in southern Poland, in the Silesian Voivodeship, close to the town of Szczyrk. It is the highest mountain of the Silesian Beskids[3] and the fifth most topographically prominent peak in Poland.[4][a]

Skrzyczne is one of the peaks which make up the Crown of Polish Mountains, or a list of the highest points in each of Poland's 28 mountain ranges.[5] The peak can be reached by hiking paths, and there is also a gondola lift which starts in Szczyrk and comes up to around 1,000 metres (3,300 ft) above sea level.[6] The slopes of the mountain are also known for the many blueberries which grow on them and which are frequently collected by hikers and other visitors.[7]

A mountain hut, PTTK Skrzyczne, is located very close to the peak of the mountain. The first hut, built in 1933, was destroyed in a fire.[8] A second hut was built in the late 1930s, and stands to this day.[9] There is likewise a tall (87 metres (285 ft)) radio and television tower atop Skrzyczne,[10] which makes it easy to recognise the peak from afar.

In addition to multiple hiking trails, the Skrzyczne area also hosts a ski resort with several pistes,[11] as well as mountain biking trails.[12] Several trail races also cross the peak, most notably Zamieć, a 24-hour race which takes place in the winter.[13]

Legend has it that Skrzyczne takes its name from the croaking of frogs (in Polish: skrzyczenie), which supposedly inhabited the (now nonexistent) ponds near the peak.[14]

3 PANOs layered with James Tiliich insert. A major production, two mornings of work.

James Tillich is known worldwide as "the man who never existed." I ought to know. I created him.

It's been a couple of (long) years... With "stay home" orders, park closure and overcrowding, my visits to BPNP had been nonexistent. It was time to see if it still has a place in my heart ...

During the DirtbagMont weekend in eastern Washington, probably my favorite moment came on Sunday evening during a long wait for a northbound manifest on Union Pacific's Ayer Subdivision. My traveling companions Justin and Davis opted to scramble up a hillside near where we'd left the car, while I set out solo westbound on foot via the abandoned SP&S right of way. Two rainy hours later, I found myself several miles from the car and out of contact with my dirtbag companions due to sometimes spotty, and sometimes nonexistent cell phone coverage. The rain did not let up, and the light was failing quickly, but I decided to stick it out.

Between the time that I first heard the train grinding through Hooper, and the time it finally appeared, I had lost a full stop of light. But my time spent waiting in the rain communing with the drenched eastern Washington landscape, the ghosts of the SP&S, and occasional deer was as much of a reward as the accompanying photo. It was almost completely dark by the time I made it back to the car, and Justin and Davis were quite relieved that they weren't going to have to embark on a search and rescue mission.

A stranger who claims to have no memory of his past. Although some have tried, no one has been able to refute this claim - and none have been able to trace him from prior to his arrival on the beaches of Erkelon, far south of Okoto, in a strange "canister". What little knowledge he does have of his nature comes from his recent experience - although he has been awake for but fifteen months - and a few strange "premonitions". He is not even sure of his own name - "Jetera", he says, is only a reconstruction.

Shortly after his arrival, Jetera was chosen to be the Master of Storms of the Toa Vihagu. However, Jetera's control over his electrical element was inconsistent and best, and nonexistent at worst - so he used deception and surprise as his chief tools. Despite his initally aloof and sometimes outright hostile to his teammates, his affinity for them has grown greatly, and the friendships he has with them have become his driving force - as he had no fixed morality or sense of purpose upon arrival.

Inexistente.

With white extra flags flapping in the summer breeze, New Hampshire Northcoast's northbound empty gravel train crosses the calm water of the Salmon Falls River from Lebanon, ME into Milton, NH. The NHN main only crosses into the state of Maine for a few hundred feet here while the rest of line remains in New Hampshire. Solid green power on the NHN will pretty much be nonexistent for the foreseeable future with an FURX GP38-2 in maroon paint having arrived on the property in August. Although the power here isn't exactly matching, the patched ex-New England Southern GP18 beats the leaser in my book any day, especially due to the fact that the red unit typically leads the southbound.

...the Universe in size of monitor by definition

endless as infinity composing undulated-D

entirely with all aspects in own-Self,

proportion & its size of moving artifacts

compressed by Light from distant Stars, &

Sunny rays as shower-meteors from

outer belt by its historical disturbance

atmosphere, plus price of currency,

stability & growth declining markets,

cattle raised, cat-rains-&-dogs, plus

eggs, & precious indeed, all natural

organic spoons&forks on hefty shelf

at lunar supermarket around corner,

immediate effect before my eyes

as yesterday & now to invite all stored

somewhere in the mind ideas, visions,

tangibility in sum of powerless & frosted

trees, & their individual scions & every

branch that's witnessed adoration, & vigor,

inspiration, & even memory of touch its

coarse, & spurring greens to life anew

directly known & familiar from keen of

pines, & ardent oaks from early Summer's

times each eager recognize my voice, &

naive gesture most cheerfully transgressed

with age forgotten in the depth of utter

silence, suppressed by weight of solitary

syllables relayed to nonexistent words,

but gradually whispering, or recital

reflecting littered visions resembled

step-by-step in oriole September

covered Autumn: Ideal of colored

world behind adjacent streets, & avenues

stretched in parade-alley of pack renewed

& modern stand-up of mannequins I missed

recording their shabby sickness & choking

screams by oldie camera, long since it lost

entire motivation due & because of matrix

self-restrain & illusory breath of freedom

in visual conflict between content & verbal

inconsistence on streets & lanes fulfilled by

echo, & emptiness Abyss erects behind its

walls, & decorated families

palazzos, curved garden's entourage,

ordeal & architectural phantasm observing

stream of merciless Eternity by smiles

of Sun through bridges far across Neva,

& Siena, or Danube, or else - in Alps

pedaling Light irradiated by unbearable

Sunsets direct to eyes: unbearable

by its attraction to blend with glass

& similarity appearance, Venetian's

canal, gondola, floating charm

amidst mass-satisfaction repeating

own-selves & its reflections lame

as ducks afloat mixed entertained

by dancing crowds, its metronome

& ritual of waltz in illusory light

of 20th Century, presumably all happy

dancing Vienna's waltz, as if before

in 1917, depicting yellowish estamps

a-sepia on walls, in studios,

in halls, in ballrooms, & even

right before my eyes in imaginary

& diluted by sentiments of dusk,

nostalgic recollection...

As usual - alas.

...just lonely Birds, but no more than singing

flock in depth off cage supporting tired from

Opera's soloist on squeaking love-seat ritual,

traditional deformity of fawns

& cupids with faces a-La theatrical Ideal

in slide & fly antique a-fresco,

Pompeian's ecstatic benefits again

before the mirror in Teatro-alla-Magia

around corner & rue forgotten

exactly and before Caffe Grande,

touristy dream from travel catalog,

however such exact location eliminates

enigma to depict espresso taste by sturdy bare

everywhere trunk, its speechless shaking tops,

its dried-off fallen leafs, invariably

separated & elapsed, on grounds, amidst

the snow vanished upon season, & fully melted...

The bellowing in our area takes place from mid-September to early October.

Males begin before dawn with their shows. They are located in grasslands above the forest, halfway up, so that their howls are transmitted well by deep valleys. They are answering a few gold medals, competing in power and frequency. Females are attracted by the sounds that show greater strength.

The fights between males are the last resort to see who is dominant, so they are almost nonexistent in the north of the Iberian Peninsula.

Before noon, males, tired, retire to the forest, to resume bellowing midafternoon and prolong until total darkness.

When a group of females join a male copulations, after which males are removed until the following year are produced. The females remain in small groups to childbirth.

La berrea en nuestra zona tiene lugar desde mediados de septiembre hasta primeros de octubre.

Los machos antes del amanecer comienzan con sus demostraciones. Se sitúan en pastizales sobre el bosque, a media altura, de modo que sus berridos se trasmitan bien por los profundos valles. Unos contestan a oros, compitiendo en potencia y frecuencia. Las hembras son atraídas por los sonidos que demuestran mayor fortaleza.

Las peleas entre machos son el último recurso para ver quien es el dominante, por lo que son casi inexistentes en la zona norte de la Península Ibérica.

Antes del medio día, los machos, cansados, se retiran al bosque, para reanudar la berrea a media tarde y prolongarla hasta la total oscuridad.

Cuando un grupo de hembras se unen a un macho se producen las cópulas, tras lo cual, los machos se retiran hasta el año siguiente. Las hembras permanecerán en pequeños grupos hasta los partos.

©ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. My pictures may not be downloaded, copied, published, reproduced, uploaded, edited or used in any way without my written permission

I was disappointed with myself for hitting the snooze button this morning . . . although it was a little late to get out, I had a nearby location that I wanted to get out and explore. Thankfully I hadn't set out in the dark, because the "path" I had anticipated was really nonexistent. It is a miracle that my gear and I both survived this little expedition fully intact . . .

View On Black

Magritte's window

So this thing is nonexistent now. After deciding to try and finish it, it crumbled away as soon as I picked it up. So I didn't bother to rebuild it; instead, I packed away the pieces so they can be used for other MOCs.

idk which is funnier , the fact that she doesn`t recognize JOHN TAYLOR (imo , that`s like not recognizing big rob) or her expression when she realizes it . by the way , sorry for being MIA for the past few days :\ this is all i could come up with . my originality has been on the fritz so my jonas secrets have been nonexistent , but i don`t feel TOO bad , since no one else seemed to make them either -_- i`ll be outta town july 16-19 , so this may be the last one until sunday/monday . copyright claim . you will be fined if you redistribute or steal

everyone trying to make it around R4 (the red buoy center/right) in almost nonexistent breeze...

Binomial name : Nettapus coromandelianus

Family:Anatidae

Other name : Cotton teal

Wikipedia (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cotton_pygmy_goose):-

It is a small perching duck which breeds in Pakistan, India, Bangladesh, southeast Asia and south to Queensland.

Male in breeding plumage is glossy blackish green crown, with white head, neck, and underparts; a prominent black collar and white wing-bar. Rounded head and short legs. In flight, the wings are green with a white band, making the male conspicuous even amongst the huge flying flocks of the lesser whistling duck, which share the habitat. Female paler, without either black collar and only a narrow or nonexistent strip of white wing-bar. In non-breeding plumage (eclipse) male resembles female except for his white wing-bar. Flocks on water bodies (jheels), etc. The call is a peculiar clucking, uttered in flight

പച്ച എരണ്ട

വിക്കിപീഡിയ (ml.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E0%B4%AA%E0%B4%9A%E0%B5%8D%E0%B4%9...) :-

കേരളത്തിൽ കാണുന്ന ഏറ്റവും ചെറിയ എരണ്ടയാണ് പച്ച എരണ്ട. ഇംഗ്ലീഷിൽ Cotton Teal അല്ലെങ്കിൽ Cotton Pygmy Goose എന്നാണ് പേര്. ശരീരത്തിന് പച്ചനിറമുണ്ട്. കണ്ണിനുമുകളിലൂടെ ഇരുണ്ടവരയുണ്ട്. ആണിനും പെണ്ണിനും ഒരേ നിറമാണ്. മുട്ടയിടുന്ന കാലത്ത് വേറെ നിറമായിരിക്കും.

ചെറു ജീവികളും ജലസസ്യങ്ങളും വിത്തുകളുമാണ് ഭക്ഷണം.

മുട്ടയിടുന്നത് മരപ്പൊത്തുകളിലാണ്.

Nonexistent architecture

Number: CT-1807

Rank: ARC Captian Grade I

Nickname: Scout

3rd Regiment of the 253rd Legion

///Log Entry\\\

"After our success in clearing the path for the Republic intervention force on Mon Cala command decided to keep us here, something about protecting high valued targets. My squad was orders to hold the grounds around the palace at all costs, giving the boys in the second regiment enough time to evacuate members of the Mon cal royal family. Upon our arrival at the palace, we were met by a Sergeant by the name of Carnage. He led us to the current extraction on a small platform on the western side of the palace, we were to hold this area until speeders could arrive and take the family to the surface. For a long time, things went smoothly, Carnage's men shuttled members of the family to the surface while my team stood guard, but just as the threat of a Separatist attack seemed nonexistent all hell broke loose. A platoon of aqua droids emerged from the ravine to our left and as we turned to face them a volley of blaster bolts strafed the platform killing Spade instantly and forcing everyone else to find cover. As the Manta droid lined up for a second pass the combined squads ditched the platform several dropping down to fight off the hoard of manta droids bellow and the rest booked it for the palace covering the remaining Mon Cala as they attempted to flee. Only me and Carnage remained on the platform, we both knew that with that Manta droid circling the palace there would be no chance of escape for the royal family. As the droid bore down upon us we stood our ground rifles raised and once it came within our range we fired."

Pleas excuse the terrible log entry, but I was kinda lost on ideas and uninspired (not to mention half asleep :P)

This was officially a lighting/angles nightmare, though in the end I think this came out great, minus the fact that all of detail on the bottom section is hidden from view :P

Might redo the build if I have time, I had a fantastic idea while uploading this that honestly would look better.

Anyway, credit for the quad cannon design belongs to Pyne and credit for the aqua droid design belongs to Commander Hess.

As always C&C is appreciated and TFVAHAGD!

Nonexistent stars

A crudely patched Conrail GP40 leads a westbound piggyback train through BENNY interlocking. The last unit in the consist appears to be missing any sort of logos or Conrail insignia. BENNY was a victim of Conrail's downsizing and was nonexistent by the mid 80s.

CR 3226. Benngington, PA.

April 21, 1979. Photographer unknown.

Adam Klimchock collection.

Copyright Susan Ogden

It is still a bit chilly here so Sunday afternoon was a perfect day to spend communing with the critters at the NC Aquarium. I could spend hours in the Jellyfish area, in complete zen. I think my whole being is totally relaxed in this room watching these floating and ethereal creatures. I am betting my breathing and blood pressure are slower and lower in there!

They really should have hammocks in that room...It is SO relaxing! I am thinking that I should have a tank of them...AND an octopus tank (with a locking lid since they are so smart and sneaky!) in my bedroom because I am inclined to believe my insomnia would be nonexistent if I did! For now I will rely on my sound machine that plays a dozen different soothing sounds ...and is always set on the sound of the waves of the ocean hitting the beach. It is helping somewhat.

It is time for bed...tomorrow I have a busy day, but one that will get things accomplished! I am now in 3 shops here...with the possibilities of a fourth in the next week or so! Exciting times...mixed with a touch of anxiety at being able to keep up with it all! I think I will need lessons in prioritizing! Otherwise, making dreams come true will turn into making them “Be careful what you wish for” instead!

There are streets and then there are streets but that pagoda rising above all its surrounding buildings really makes an impression, for close to a millennium!

The warm glow from the setting sun and the resulting light and shadows enhanced the scene.

FE 16-35mm f2.8 GM with B+W Kaesemann CPL filter.

This image brought back memories of photos I saw many years ago from photography enthusiasts who had to lug kilo-class DSLR cameras with their equally kilo-class Zeiss Otus lenses just to get that high resolution shot.

Back then there are not that many options but photographic equipment has been downsizing fortunately although it’s still a bit of a hassle and a potential killjoy today.

Many photographers still scoff at smartphones, AI will bring huge improvements to smartphone photography and you can’t get a smaller form factor than the smartphone that truly fits into your pocket. Camera manufacturers will not be able to leverage on AI as much as smartphone manufacturers can as the smartphone market has vastly greater economies of scale being almost 100x larger than the system camera/lenses market.

I’ve hence no incentive to upgrade my current photography gear since improvements are marginal to almost nonexistent to the subjects I shoot. Over the recent few years, I’ve focused instead on improving my post-processing and the related software to get more out of my RAW files and I’ve spoken about this for the longest time that we do not need the latest gear to take a better photo at all. Beware of photography equipment shills.

Kaluk, the Astronomer is a very paranoid Matoran, rarely leaving his hut or the observatory in fear of the various (and nonexistent) threats that are lurking in the outside world, but no matter what, he does his best to help his fellow Sah-toran.

Yeah I wasn't very happy with the first version of him, so I've gone back and changed him up a bit, I'm much happier with Kaluk now.

The nonexistent city

Back when colored fighting units were exceptional, and mixed fighting units were nonexistent.

Japan is known to keep rolling stock from the Showa era in excellent condition for use on everyday trains. For trams, the title goes to the Mo 161 series.

Built in the very beginning of the Showa Era, 1928-1930's, the Mo 161's are the oldest operating streetcars used in daily service in Japan. They were operated by Nankai (later Hankai) for use on the company's streetcar system in southern Osaka. A total of 18 were built, however 5 remain in (limited) service. Due to its age, operations are limited to the cool weather months, and holidays due to no A/C. Even then, parts are nonexistent, so it's only a matter of time before the company decides to retire them completely from daily service.

Here, Mo 162 pauses at Abikomichi Station as it gets ready to return to the engine house after working its morning services.

Hankai Tramway Hankai Line.

Hankai Mo 161 Series

Shimizugaoka, Sumiyoshi Ward, Osaka

I got the little Oystercatcher (top left) from Bruno Amadi's shop in Venice in 2017. In the next few years I made other visits and added other little critters to my collection. Last year someone knocked over the Oystercatcher and one of the legs broke off and was lost. It was still a Covid year and I didn't know when I would ever be able to get back to Venice, but I put the little bird in a box with some cotton.

Last month I made it back to Italy. When I arrived in Venice I asked my B&B host to call Bruno to find out when he would be open and learned he was in his shop. I dropped off my bags and went over to find him in the shop but with the iron grill down, I rapped on the window and when he saw me he made a "phone call?" gesture and I nodded. He let me in and I showed him the bird. He said he would try to fix it but it would be an "experiment.". He made a new leg while I looked at all the other little creatures on the shelves. My Italian is .... nonexistent, and his English is about as good, but we had a really nice visit while he packed up a new hen, the little horses ... and the healed Oystercatcher. He is a wonderful artist and an absolutely delightful man. He proudly said he has had his shop for 50 years. I hope I get to return many more times to see him.

Here's a good YouTube video interview in Italian done by a student for a project. It shows him working as he talks.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_2Tu8-7rrg

www.muranonet.com/en-en/blogs/unfold-venice/bruno-amadi-l...

The nonexistent balustrade

A great day here in Eastern Kansas with the weather near 60 degrees which allowed me to go on a bike ride. I capped the day off with a visit to the Wetlands. The water is almost nonexistent at the Wetlands, except for this lake at the end of the Boardwalk.

Baker Wetlands,

Lawrence (Douglas County), KS.

Kaluk is a very paranoid Matoran, rarely leaving his hut or the observatory in fear of the various (and nonexistent) threats that are lurking in the outside world, but no matter what, he does his best to help his fellow Sah-toran.

Trying to teach Adobe's Firefly (Generative AI) to create images based on other art. In this case I verbally described to Firefly the young maids' portraits of my namesake and famous painter - asking for a 'photo-realistic contemporary version' and that the face must look 'Bulgarian or Balkan'. Quite pleased with the result, tbh - will be playing more with it...

~

One of the numerous awe-inspiring landscapes that Iceland has to offer. It instantly made me feel like "And now what? Dinosaurs maybe?", I mean that I wouldn't even be the slightest surprised!

I tried to improve my nonexistent landscape photography skills while exploring this magnificent land.

Anyway, I believe this is Hengifoss waterfall which is one of the highest Icelandic waterfalls.

Als Natur- oder Landschaftsfotograf hat man's im Januar/Februar in unseren Breiten oft nicht leicht. Schnee, Eis, Raureif gibt es kaum mehr, für Blumen oder frisches Grün ist noch viel zu früh, die Wälder und Felder sind oft trist und alles scheint wie mit einem schwarz-grünen Algenschleim überzogen zu sein. Bähhh. Moose, Flechten sind nun mit die besten Motive. Ja und mit ein wenig Glück findet sich auch noch das eine oder andere herbstliche Blatt im Sonnenlicht. Das Ganze, wie hier, vielleicht noch jeweils mit hübschem Bokeh im Hintergrund (hier das glitzernde Wasser der Wutach).

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Being a nature or landscape photographer in our latitudes in January/February is often not easy. Snow, ice, and hoarfrost are almost nonexistent; it's far too early for flowers or fresh greenery; the forests and fields are often dreary, and everything seems covered in a blackish-green algal slime. Yuck. Mosses and lichens are among the best subjects now. And with a little luck, you might even find the odd autumn leaf in the sunlight. All of this, as seen here, perhaps with a pretty bokeh in the background (in this case, the glittering water of the Wutach River).

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Please darken your room and

turn the brightness of your display all the way up,

lay back, press L button and

enjoy this picture in full screen size ;-)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . looks muuuch better. PROMISE !

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Thanks for your visit, 1000 thanks for commenting

Thanks for watching the picture before FAVing 😉

I saw my first-of-year Bluebird just 9 days ago, but didn’t get any decent photos. Today however, I found at least 4 birds and got within photo range more than once. With this nearly nonexistent winter, I have to keep reminding myself that it’s still February and not April. Hennepin County, MN 02/21/24

Rex is an adorable little kitten that I just got as a new client. He is extremely affectionate and playful. He lives with four other cats and two dogs. And he seems to rule the roost!!

My apologies for disappearing for several weeks. I had hyper parathyroid surgery on 5/20 and the surgeon made the mistake of paralyzing my vocal cord. This caused me to have trouble speaking and breathing!!!! I suffered through over 1,000,000 breaths. It was awful. It’s now almost 2 months later and I’m finally getting some relief from this problem. I spoke like Mickey Mouse for two months as well. Needless to say taking and editing pictures became nonexistent. I’m finally on the mend due to many many prayers from my contacts on Facebook as most of them are friends from way back in high school And the help from God

Explore #40

Ektar 100 and thirty-ish seconds. The color shift of this film is almost nonexistent and I cannot get over how much detail you can get out of it.

It's been a couple of (long) years... With "stay home" orders, park closure and overcrowding, my visits to BPNP had been nonexistent. It was time to see if it still has a place in my heart ...

Thor's Hammer in Bryce Canyon using comic and graphic novel filters in Photoshop, and adding nonexistent clouds to the background.

It is easy to imagine a golden mountain, even if no such thing exists.

Reference: plato.stanford.edu/entries/nonexistent-objects/

In other words, yet another update. Only difference is I waited a week for the sake of being different. Anywho... from left to right, we have...

Upcoming DC figures

First off I’ll be finishing my bat series which I’m pretty close to being done with at this point but just haven’t posted all the pictures. Secondly there are some DCU figs I’ve got in the works. I’ll be making the main leaguers and the rest after that. Possibly some villains though I wont say who for the sake of spoilers. Last but not least, darkseids elite. So far you’ve seen darkseid and I think desaad but I’ve yet to start a lot of them. I’m also considering the female furries afterwards

Something DCU related

Fairly self explanatory. Should be dropping any day now

Batcave MOC

Since I’ve been away, progress has been nonexistent to say the least but now that I’m back I should be getting it done soon enough

League of extraordinary gentlemen figures

I think there’s maybe about 2 or 3 of you that actually care about this series but I for one love the book (singular) and have enjoyed putting the group together. You can probably guess who these two are. After I make the group, a few of their rogues and allies might have to get made aswell as a custom cavorite

I'm gobsmacked by several things here. First, the light was nonexistent. Yet the Sony A7RII performed extremely well at incredibly high ISO. Second, using knowledge developed around a digital Zone System, I knew precisely where I wanted the tonal values and was able to place them accordingly. Third, I am happy to confirm the dynamic range of the sensor extends usefully to below Zone 0 (Zone -2!), even at such high ISO settings. Fourth, 1950s German optics can do the trick. These images were made using a triplet wide angle. Who would design such a thing and make it work? Micro-contrast is something to be seen, otherwise you wouldn't believe it.

You can follow me at:

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Small individuals of this species are the smallest waterfowl on earth, at as little as 160 g (5.6 oz) and 26 cm (10 in). White predominates in this bird's plumage. Bill short, deep at base, and goose-like.

Male in breeding plumage is glossy blackish green crown, with white head, neck, and underparts; a prominent black collar and white wing-bar. Rounded head and short legs. In flight, the wings are green with a white band, making the male conspicuous even amongst the huge flying flocks of the lesser whistling duck, which share the habitat. Female paler, without either black collar and only a narrow or nonexistent strip of white wing-bar. In non-breeding plumage (eclipse) male resembles female except for his white wing-bar. Flocks on water bodies (jheels), etc.

-Wikipedia

I used a piece of black felt on the ground to collect snow falling from the sky. I waited a relatively long time, about an hour, for the felt to cool down, but which also included a piece of plexiglass on which I placed crystals on. I also used a smaller piece of felt placed about four inches below the plexiglass to try to create the darkest background possible in-camera, but the plexiglass was wiped about once every five minutes because of too much snow falling on it, and that created smears that were wiped off. It was about twenty three degrees during the entirety of looking and photographing the snow, about two hours in total. The snow during most of that time fell in enormous amounts, but relatively slowly and was made up of an enormous variety of crystals. To get more than just a few worthwhile photos like this is usually much time. One thing that can be great is when the sky is overcast, which can make for perfectly diffused, even, lighting without shadows. It's especially great if during such time, it's either snowing very lightly or not at all and without wind soon after a snowfall. The lens used for this, the Mitakon 20mm 4X (set at F/5.6) for this photo is limiting in the fact that the magnification range is small or nearly nonexistent, meaning that to photograph large crystals such as stellar dendrites can take up about eight or more times longer and require that much more photos to be able to increase depth of field in post processing as well as to stitch the focus stacks into a large mosaic, though such a process can be done the other way around, which in theory might work but in practice is very impractical (focus stacking multiple mosaics). The use of less magnification has been a desire of mine (but not less than 1X) because it can in theory result in more depth of field and less light might be needed to achieve a perfect photo; in general, smaller magnification can make macro photography easier and, at least for depth of field, can make for better rendition of fine details.

UP 2007 and three more EMD's lead a loaded grain train out of a unit train facility at Chemung, Illinois. This was once a through route between Kenosha, Wisconsin and Rockford, Illinois. Today it's been reduced to a 5 mile branch line that is only used by the occasional grain extra heading to and from this facility. The solitary code line pole next to the tracks shares a similar story. Both were once part of a greater network, but have been reduced to almost nothing over time.

On a different note I apologize about the several month hiatus, but between finishing up college and working two jobs my free time has been nonexistent. And with me starting a full time job as a conductor for CN in a few days, I won't have much time to be online. With that being said, I'll still post stuff here; but not as frequently as in the past.

Shadows stretched themselves out to twice their normal length as the sun set, leaving the world suspended in a gray-blue luminosity that would soon turn to the darkness of night.

Any normal person would have found themselves at a bar or a poker table, surrounded by friends and affable strangers. But one man stood alone in a dark alley, just beyond a downtown bus stop. His clothes portrayed his immense wealth, but his dreary surroundings seemed a stark contrast to the finely-tailored suit and silk tie; said alley was remote and dismal, and the man was beginning to feel ill-at-ease. Still, he knew that he must wait. Time would yield to his patience eventually…

He began to pace, feeling slightly unnerved by the sound of his own footsteps echoing off the brick walls of the buildings on either side of him. It reminded him of a blunt and simple fact that somehow toyed with his mind more ferociously than a cat with a half-dead sparrow: He was alone.

There were no windows facing the alley, and the street beyond was deserted. A row of graffiti-marred dumpsters lined the opposing wall. A rusty old fire escape loomed over his head.

The windowless walls of the two buildings flanking the narrow alley may as well been the bars of a cage.

The world had a way of making cages. The man knew that fact quite well. Too well...

Only a dim streetlamp lit the scene.

How much longer? he thought to himself. He would have glanced down at his watch, but it was broken; frozen at half-past nine. Minuets dragged by, but they seemed like hours. Years, even!

Once again, he realized he was trapped in a cage—a world confined within another world; where time and space may as well been nonexistent from the start.

All the while, a mounting fear was tearing its way into the man’s mind. The shadows were shifting in his thoughts.

He saw them.

Like creatures lurking just out of his peripheral vision, wary and hungry, white eyes glowing like vivid stars. His fears now had become real. A physical manifestation of something his own mind had created...

--Sarah Baretell. 2007

Image and story are both under copytight. Do not use without permission.

© All rights reserved.

Any unauthorized use of this photo is illegal and strictly prohibited.

a little plant in a nonexistent world ;)

Shot taken in downtown Beirut, Lebanon.

I have been sharing a few pictures from my last trip to Lebanon. I am always rejoiced to see the reactions from people to seeing their first ever pictures of my country, since many assume (rightfully so) that it is an absolute wreck.

Nothing is ever black or white and there is certainly a lot of beauty in Beirut that waits to be discovered and explored.

It was said that Beirut was destroyed and rebuilt 7 times. In 2020, another carnage hit Beirut through the famous port explosion. The streets seen in these shots were mostly ruined 5 yars ago. They were rebuilt, not through the efforts of the nonexistent government, but rather the individual efforts of the Beirutis as well as aids provided by some NGOs.