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Blackcap - Sylvia Atrcapilla (M)
The Eurasian blackcap (Sylvia atricapilla) usually known simply as the blackcap, is a common and widespread typical warbler. It has mainly olive-grey upperparts and pale grey underparts, and differences between the five subspecies are small. Both sexes have a neat coloured cap to the head, black in the male and reddish-brown in the female. The male's typical song is a rich musical warbling, often ending in a loud high-pitched crescendo, but a simpler song is given in some isolated areas, such as valleys in the Alps. The blackcap's closest relative is the garden warbler, which looks quite different but has a similar song.
The blackcap feeds mainly on insects during the breeding season, then switches to fruit in late summer, the change being triggered by an internal biological rhythm. When migrants arrive on their territories they initially take berries, pollen and nectar if there are insufficient insects available, then soon switch to their preferred diet. They mainly pick prey off foliage and twigs, but may occasionally hover, flycatch or feed on the ground. Blackcaps eat a wide range of invertebrate prey, although aphids are particularly important early in the season, and flies, beetles and caterpillars are also taken in large numbers. Small snails are swallowed whole, since the shell is a source of calcium for the bird's eggs. Chicks are mainly fed soft-bodied insects, fruit only being provided if invertebrates are scarce.
In July, the diet switches increasingly to fruit. The protein needed for egg-laying and for the chicks to grow is replaced by fruit sugar which helps the birds to fatten for migration. Aphids are still taken while they are available, since they often contain sugars from the plant sap on which they feed. Blackcaps eat a wide range of small fruit, and squeeze out any seeds on a branch before consuming the pulp. This technique makes them an important propagator of mistletoe. The mistle thrush, which also favours that plant, is less beneficial since it tends to crush the seeds. Although any suitable fruit may be eaten, some have seasonal or local importance; elder makes up a large proportion of the diet of northern birds preparing for migration, and energy-rich olives and lentisc are favoured by blackcaps wintering in the Mediterranean.
The German birds wintering in British gardens rely on provided food, and the major items are bread and fat, each making up around 20% of the diet; one bird survived the whole winter eating only Christmas cake. Fruit is also eaten, notably cotoneaster (41% of the fruit consumed), ivy and honeysuckle, and apple if available. Some birds have learned to take peanuts from feeders. Blackcaps defend good winter food sources in the wild, and at garden feeding stations they repel competitors as large as starlings and blackbirds. Birds occasionally become tame enough to feed from the hand.
Aristotle, in his History of Animals, considered that the garden warbler eventually metamorphosed into a blackcap. The blackcap's song has led to it being described as the "mock nightingale" or "country nightingale", and John Clare, in "The March Nightingale" describes the listener as believing that the rarer species has arrived prematurely. "He stops his own and thinks the nightingale/Hath of her monthly reckoning counted wrong". The song is also the topic of Italian poet Giovanni Pascoli's "La Capinera" [The Blackcap].
Giovanni Verga's 1871 novel Storia di una capinera, according to its author, was inspired by a story of a blackcap trapped and caged by children. The bird, silent and pining for its lost freedom, eventually dies. In the book, a nun evacuated from her convent by cholera falls in love with a family friend, only to have to return to her confinement when the disease wanes. The novel was adapted as films of the same name in 1917, 1943 and 1993. The last version was directed by Franco Zeffirelli, and its English-language version was retitled as Sparrow. In Saint François d'Assise, an opera by Messiaen, the orchestration is based on bird song. St Francis himself is represented by the blackcap.
Folk names for the blackcap often refer to its most obvious plumage feature (black-headed peggy, King Harry black cap and coal hoodie) or to its song, as in the "nightingale" names above. Other old names are based on its choice of nesting material (Jack Straw, hay bird, hay chat and hay Jack). There is a tradition of the Royal Navy's Fleet Air Arm bases being named for birds. A former base near Stretton in Cheshire was called HMS Blackcap.
Population:
UK breeding:
1,200,000 territories
UK wintering:
3,000 bird
There's a great light show here this year. You can actually orchestrate the colour scheme your self on a "dance pad" that operates the lighting. Great fun
All dressed up for Christmas
There's a great light show here this year. You can actually orchestrate the colour scheme your self on a "dance pad" that operates the lighting. Great fun
Excerpt from rbg.ca:
Dawn Chorus by Sarah Meyohas
b. 1991, USA
Lives and works in New York City, USA
In Sarah Meyohas’s work a player piano is set in the open garden, while birds fluttering around it seem to trigger a series of musical phrases with each moment of contact. Watercolors bloom across the surface of the piano, visualizing the movement of the birds as well as the sound waves that emanate from the vibrating strings. The viewer is initially triggered by the appearance of a single bird as an invitation to follow through and reveal the full work – a musical performance orchestrated by the seemingly uncultured.
Meyohas centers her practice within emerging technologies. Working in media ranging from cryptocurrency to augmented reality, she enlists the natural world as a reference, network as medium, and the specular as a mode of contemplation. By merging traditional mythologies and clichéd objects of beauty with contemporary digital media, Meyohas enacts a visual language for the systems, algorithms, and technologies that influence our daily lives.
Sarah Meyohas has exhibited her work internationally, with solo exhibitions in New York at Red Bull Arts and 303 Gallery. Her work has traveled to institutions, including the Barbican, London; Jameel Arts Centre, Dubai; Ming Contemporary Art Museum, Shanghai; Disjecta Contemporary Art Center, Portland; and the New Museum, New York.
Buena Park began as a small rural community, settled by German and Swedish farmers. The earliest developments in the area occurred in the 1860s, with the construction of large mansions amidst a rural country landscape in what was then known as Lakeview Township. Among those mansions was one built by James Waller in the 1850s, the Buena Estate, from which the neighborhood derives its name. Thus began a housing boom of distinctive Italianate, Georgian-era and Prairie-style single-family homes on streets lined with canopied trees leading to the lakefront.
This was followed shortly with a boom in mid-sized apartment building construction. One of those developers was land speculator John Cochran, who encouraged multifamily housing west of what is now Broadway. He also orchestrated building the Northwestern Elevated Railroad Company tracks near his developments, spurring further development and making Uptown one of the most populous communities in Chicago. However, Cochran and other developers favored single-family housing east of Broadway, so Buena Park still retains a much lower density profile than the rest of the Uptown community.
Blackcap - Sylvia Atrcapilla (M)
The Eurasian blackcap (Sylvia atricapilla) usually known simply as the blackcap, is a common and widespread typical warbler. It has mainly olive-grey upperparts and pale grey underparts, and differences between the five subspecies are small. Both sexes have a neat coloured cap to the head, black in the male and reddish-brown in the female. The male's typical song is a rich musical warbling, often ending in a loud high-pitched crescendo, but a simpler song is given in some isolated areas, such as valleys in the Alps. The blackcap's closest relative is the garden warbler, which looks quite different but has a similar song.
The blackcap feeds mainly on insects during the breeding season, then switches to fruit in late summer, the change being triggered by an internal biological rhythm. When migrants arrive on their territories they initially take berries, pollen and nectar if there are insufficient insects available, then soon switch to their preferred diet. They mainly pick prey off foliage and twigs, but may occasionally hover, flycatch or feed on the ground. Blackcaps eat a wide range of invertebrate prey, although aphids are particularly important early in the season, and flies, beetles and caterpillars are also taken in large numbers. Small snails are swallowed whole, since the shell is a source of calcium for the bird's eggs. Chicks are mainly fed soft-bodied insects, fruit only being provided if invertebrates are scarce.
In July, the diet switches increasingly to fruit. The protein needed for egg-laying and for the chicks to grow is replaced by fruit sugar which helps the birds to fatten for migration. Aphids are still taken while they are available, since they often contain sugars from the plant sap on which they feed. Blackcaps eat a wide range of small fruit, and squeeze out any seeds on a branch before consuming the pulp. This technique makes them an important propagator of mistletoe. The mistle thrush, which also favours that plant, is less beneficial since it tends to crush the seeds. Although any suitable fruit may be eaten, some have seasonal or local importance; elder makes up a large proportion of the diet of northern birds preparing for migration, and energy-rich olives and lentisc are favoured by blackcaps wintering in the Mediterranean.
The German birds wintering in British gardens rely on provided food, and the major items are bread and fat, each making up around 20% of the diet; one bird survived the whole winter eating only Christmas cake. Fruit is also eaten, notably cotoneaster (41% of the fruit consumed), ivy and honeysuckle, and apple if available. Some birds have learned to take peanuts from feeders. Blackcaps defend good winter food sources in the wild, and at garden feeding stations they repel competitors as large as starlings and blackbirds. Birds occasionally become tame enough to feed from the hand.
Aristotle, in his History of Animals, considered that the garden warbler eventually metamorphosed into a blackcap. The blackcap's song has led to it being described as the "mock nightingale" or "country nightingale", and John Clare, in "The March Nightingale" describes the listener as believing that the rarer species has arrived prematurely. "He stops his own and thinks the nightingale/Hath of her monthly reckoning counted wrong". The song is also the topic of Italian poet Giovanni Pascoli's "La Capinera" [The Blackcap].
Giovanni Verga's 1871 novel Storia di una capinera, according to its author, was inspired by a story of a blackcap trapped and caged by children. The bird, silent and pining for its lost freedom, eventually dies. In the book, a nun evacuated from her convent by cholera falls in love with a family friend, only to have to return to her confinement when the disease wanes. The novel was adapted as films of the same name in 1917, 1943 and 1993. The last version was directed by Franco Zeffirelli, and its English-language version was retitled as Sparrow. In Saint François d'Assise, an opera by Messiaen, the orchestration is based on bird song. St Francis himself is represented by the blackcap.
Folk names for the blackcap often refer to its most obvious plumage feature (black-headed peggy, King Harry black cap and coal hoodie) or to its song, as in the "nightingale" names above. Other old names are based on its choice of nesting material (Jack Straw, hay bird, hay chat and hay Jack). There is a tradition of the Royal Navy's Fleet Air Arm bases being named for birds. A former base near Stretton in Cheshire was called HMS Blackcap.
Population:
UK breeding:
1,200,000 territories
UK wintering:
3,000 bird
The hardest working guys in show biz, the music both played and orchestrated by the John Brothers Piano Company is infectious. Take a listen, and you'll soon find your hips swaying and a subconscious desire to jump around a bit.
On December 7th, 1985 on the Soo Line at Waukesha, Wisconsin – A crippled Milwaukee Road EMD SD40-2 from the consist of train 401 is in the process of being set out in the City yard. – My notes show that the Milw 205 was the fourth trailing unit, and the problem was an axle that was intermittently locking up.
I don’t remember the exact details of how the crew orchestrated this move, or why only the Soo 4401 was involved separated from the trains other two locomotives.
One of the things I like most about this shot now is having caught a Milwaukee Road locomotive in their attractive Hiawatha paint scheme with the historic Soo Line Waukesha Roundhouse and shop buildings in the background. ~~ A Jeff Hampton Photograph ©
STATUE KING GEORGE IV Unveiled 26th November 1831
Sculpted by Sir Francis Chantry, this bronze statue of George IV was erected to commemorate the kings visit to Edinburgh in 1822. It was funded by public subscription under the chairmanship of Lord Meadowbank. It stands at the junction of George Street and Hanover Street.
George IV was the first Hanoverian monarch to visit Scotland and his triumphant arrival in Edinburgh, clad in tartan and tights, was orchestrated by the great Scottish Novelist Sir Walter Scott.
George IV (George Augustus Frederick) was the son of George III and Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz whom George Street and Charlotte Square are respectively named. He ascended the throne on 28th January 1820 and was crowned king of the United Kingdom of Great Britian and Ireland at Westminster Abbey on 19th July 1821.
As Prince of Wales and monarch he led a flambouant lifestyle and had several mistrisses. It is reported that everytime he was intimate with a woman he kept a lock of her hair in an envelope, at the time of his death on 28th June 1830 there were 7,000 such envelopes.
He was always in debt and relied on Parliament for financial help.
Today I am grateful for and want to shine a spotlight on Northern Spotted Owls who are sadly just about extirpated in BC. I had a magic moment with a beautiful endangered Spotted Owl family in WA this summer. It's always a privilege for me to see them. I never know each year if I will find them again. This year one of the pairs I had seen the year before had Barred Owls in their territory and they were nowhere to be found. It's heartbreaking when that happens. These owls have been through hell and back due to habitat loss and logging of old growth forests, climate change, Barred Owl expansion (that we orchestrated) and recently believe it or not, rat poison is affecting them. Rat poison needs to be banned it is killing so many owls of all species especially recently here in the lower mainland.
So much...too much pressure on a beautiful owl.
Well on top of this in the US, The Trump administration is proposing rolling back protections for close to 300 threatened animal and plant species and guess what?.. the Northern Spotted Owl is one of those birds.
The new proposal would ease restrictions for companies that operate in wildlife habitats. “Removal of Blanket Section 4(d) Rule” and was posted Monday by the Department of the Interior. If enacted it could be deadly for the Northern Spotted Owl.
Due to extreme mismanagement. BC has less than a dozen birds left in the wild and extirpation in Canada is looming. Once old growth forests are logged and gone, the captive breeding program can do little to recover the population. So far no birds have been released but 2 adult Spotted Owls need a huge area of old growth forest to hunt and raise their young in. These species and their prey (mostly flying squirrels and wood rats) are so habitat specific that it's really too little to late for any captive breeding program to be of any success here. Because once the old growth forest is cut down it takes 100-200 years to mature.
WA, OR and CA still has these owls in low numbers and we need to do all we can to protect them in the Pacific Northwest. A world without them would be very bleak indeed.
These guys continue to have a tough road ahead of them. We really have to protect intact old growth forests and fight for increased legislation, so that they aren't continually fragmented.
If we only saw the bigger picture way back then, but now that we are so fully informed why do we continue down the same destructive paths? This I'll never know...
Interested in watching a shaky video of this female preening? click here: vimeo.com/231822177
English Christian Song With Lyrics | "The Sorrow of Corrupt Mankind " | hymns of God
Walking through the ages with God, who’s known that God rules the fate of all living beings, orchestrating, guiding everything? This has eluded human minds not because God’s ways are vague or His plan hasn’t been realized. For man’s heart and spirit are far from God.
Even as they follow God, though they may not see, they are still in service to Satan. No one seeks out God’s footsteps or His appearance. None desire His care and watch of them. But they’re willing to depend on the evil one to adapt to this world and its creeds.
And man’s heart and spirit fall into Satan’s hands, and become the food on which it feeds. They become the food on which it feeds.
See the human spirit and heart now a place where Satan dwells, where it plays as it wants. Human understanding fades away, no more seeing their purpose and worth, what it means to be human, no longer seeking God, hearts ignore God’s covenant and laws. As time passes who can tell, who can understand why God created the human race? No one comprehends the words from the mouth of God,
or can realize all that’s from Him. They begin to resist all God’s decrees and laws; deadened hearts and spirits soon follow. Thus God loses man He made, and man’s root is lost. This is humankind’s tragic sorrow. Here lies humankind’s tragic sorrow.
from Follow the Lamb and Sing New Songs
Recommend to you: Christian Music Video
Image Source: The Church of Almighty God
Terms of Use: en.godfootsteps.org/disclaimer.html
No matter how well the choir can sing, and how entertaining they are. The conductor of the choirs are almost always more entertaining to watch.
They have these swipes, and movements that do the job of conveying signals of rhythm and other functions [quite] dramatically.
Personally i found the whole thing quite well orchestrated. For one song they surrounded the room and gave us a surround sound experience, and frankly, it was utterly unique. I have never heard a choir in that way, and i found it fascinating.
And they sing so differently from how the choir i am in preforms. More dramatic in all ways.
Excerpt from cherryriver.ca/en/cherry-river-distillery/:
At Cherry River, we are pleased to be a part of Quebec’s new generation of distillers. We distil gin, we blend vodka, we produce alcoholic sparkling waters, and a complete selection of bitters boasting with complex and generous aromas.
Driven by our passion for both spirits and creation, our team truly enjoys developing the distinctive flavours of all Cherry River products, and it has made it a mission to do so while respectfully taking advantage of years of tradition and of the vast diversity of local botanicals available here to bring forth products crafted from selected ingredients that reflect the true identity of a region.
Cherry River is the former name of a river that runs through Mount Orford Park and flows into Lake Memphremagog.
An Abenaki legend claims that the first cherry tree in North America was planted by the great Manitou at the summit of Mount Orford. Thereafter, cherries would have rolled down the mountain and fallen into the river. The first inhabitants of this region would thus have named Cherry River, the river and the village they founded.
Some also say that the name Cherry River comes from the fact that wild cherry trees grow on the banks of the river of the same name.Others claim that the name comes from the colour of the river water, which is said to be cherry red in springtime.
In 1680, the Abenakis who had been evicted from their ancestral lands in New England arrived in the Eastern Townships. They travelled back and forth to trade furs in the St. Lawrence Valley and to reach their settlements. The latter have left us numerous names: Magog, Memphremagog, Massawippi, Coaticook…
The Township of Orford was born of the county of Buckinghamshire in 1792 and was granted in 1801 to Jonathan Ball, an American. It then extended eastward to the confluence of Magog and Saint-François rivers, an area that was three times larger than it is today.
The name Orford is part of the toponymic practicesused by the surveyors of Lower Canada in the designation of Townships. Orford evokes the name of a coastal village in the county of Suffolk, England, and although the names Oxford and Orford can be found on early maps of the region, the name Orford was given to the lake in 1831, municipality in 1855 and mountain in 1863.
It was during the 19th century that British immigration to the Township of Orford was orchestrated by the British American Land Company. Newcomers, loyalist pioneers, came to settle and developed the village Cherry River, building a church, a school and a post office. It will be the 20th century that will welcome the French-speaking settlers.
In the late 1920s, Dr. George A. Bowen, former mayor of Magog, wanted Mount Orford to be made a protected park. He worked for nearly 20 years to promote its touristic appeal and to attract influential economic players to his project. 1938 would prove to be a victory for this visionary, as the provincial government would establish Mount Orford Provincial Park. Twenty-seven municipalities in the region will get involved in fundraising for the purchase of the land, a process that will take nearly four years. It is during this period that the road will be laid out to connect the Village of Cherry River with the magnificent Mount Orford.
MuCEM + Fort Saint-Jean, Marseille, France - 2013 -Architects: Rudy Ricciotti and C+T architecture
Views, sea, sun, a mineral quality, which all must be orchestrated by a program that will become federal and cognitive. First of all a perfect square of 72 m per side, it is a classic plan, Latin, under the control of Pythagoras. Within this square, another of 52 m per side, comprising the exhibition and conference halls identified as the heart of the museum.
Around, above and below are the service areas. But between these areas and the heart, openings entirely bypass the central square and form interconnected spaces. More interested by the views of the fort, the sea or the port, the culturally overwhelmed visitor will choose this route. Along two interlacing ramps, he will then plunge into the imaginary of the tower of Babel or of a ziggurat in order to climb up to the rooftop and on to Fort Saint- Jean. This peripheral loop will be a free breathe, enveloped by the smells of the sea from the proximity to the moats, a pause to dispel any lingering doubts about the use of the history of our civilizations. The MuCEM will be a vertical Casbah.
The tectonic choice of an exceptional concrete coming from the latest research by French industry, reducing the dimensions to little more than skin and bones, will affirm a mineral script under the high ramparts of Fort Saint-Jean. This sole material in the colour of dust, matt, crushed by the light, distant from the brilliance and technological consumerism, will commend the dense and the delicate. The MuCEM sees itself evanescent in a landscape of stone and Orientalist through its fanning shadows.
The transient beauty of the coast is intricately intertwined with the captivating patterns that emerge in the sand, crafted by the relentless forces of wind and wave. These natural sculptors shape the shoreline, leaving behind ephemeral masterpieces.
As the tides ebb and flow, they orchestrate a delicate dance with the sand. With each advancing wave, the water gently caresses the shore, carrying particles of sand along its journey. As the wave recedes, it relinquishes its cargo, depositing the grains in a meticulous arrangement. This cyclical process, repeated countless times, creates intricate patterns that stretch along the coastline.
The patterns left behind by the retreating tide mimic the ebb and flow of life itself. Swirling ripples, reminiscent of a miniature desert landscape, emerge as the water recedes, their graceful curves and undulating lines transforming the beach into a living work of art. The patterns are at once orderly and chaotic, with intricate geometrical formations intermingling with whimsical curves and asymmetrical shapes.
The wind, a silent artist in its own right, adds its touch to the sculpting process. As it sweeps across the coast, it whispers secrets to the sand, coaxing it to dance in its invisible embrace. The wind's gentle touch lifts fine particles from the beach, carrying them aloft in an intricate ballet. It sculpts the sand into delicate ripples, resembling the soft undulations of fabric.
The interplay between the wind and the tide results in an ever-changing landscape. The patterns shift and evolve, shaped by the combined forces of these elemental sculptors. Ripples become miniature mountains, rising and falling in a transient topography that mirrors the larger contours of the surrounding coast. Each gust of wind and every advancing or receding wave leaves its mark, etching new patterns and erasing old ones, in an eternal cycle of creation and destruction.
These ephemeral patterns serve as a reminder of the impermanence of existence and the transient nature of beauty, as each passing moment alters the landscape, erasing what once was and creating something new. The sands become a canvas for the symphony of time, a tangible reflection of the ever-changing nature of our lives.
The beauty of these fleeting patterns lies not only in their visual allure but also in the emotions they evoke. They inspire a sense of wonder and awe, inviting us to pause and appreciate the intricate designs that nature creates with such effortless grace. The patterns speak of the interconnectedness of all things, the harmonious interplay between the elements, and the constant flux that defines our existence.
In these patterns of nature, we find a profound lesson: that life, like the shifting sands, is ever-changing, and that true beauty lies not in permanence but in the appreciation of the fleeting moments that grace our journey.
The transient beauty of the coast is intricately intertwined with the captivating patterns that emerge in the sand, crafted by the relentless forces of wind and wave. These natural sculptors shape the shoreline, leaving behind ephemeral masterpieces.
As the tides ebb and flow, they orchestrate a delicate dance with the sand. With each advancing wave, the water gently caresses the shore, carrying particles of sand along its journey. As the wave recedes, it relinquishes its cargo, depositing the grains in a meticulous arrangement. This cyclical process, repeated countless times, creates intricate patterns that stretch along the coastline.
The patterns left behind by the retreating tide mimic the ebb and flow of life itself. Swirling ripples, reminiscent of a miniature desert landscape, emerge as the water recedes, their graceful curves and undulating lines transforming the beach into a living work of art. The patterns are at once orderly and chaotic, with intricate geometrical formations intermingling with whimsical curves and asymmetrical shapes.
The wind, a silent artist in its own right, adds its touch to the sculpting process. As it sweeps across the coast, it whispers secrets to the sand, coaxing it to dance in its invisible embrace. The wind's gentle touch lifts fine particles from the beach, carrying them aloft in an intricate ballet. It sculpts the sand into delicate ripples, resembling the soft undulations of fabric.
The interplay between the wind and the tide results in an ever-changing landscape. The patterns shift and evolve, shaped by the combined forces of these elemental sculptors. Ripples become miniature mountains, rising and falling in a transient topography that mirrors the larger contours of the surrounding coast. Each gust of wind and every advancing or receding wave leaves its mark, etching new patterns and erasing old ones, in an eternal cycle of creation and destruction.
These ephemeral patterns serve as a reminder of the impermanence of existence and the transient nature of beauty, as each passing moment alters the landscape, erasing what once was and creating something new. The sands become a canvas for the symphony of time, a tangible reflection of the ever-changing nature of our lives.
The beauty of these fleeting patterns lies not only in their visual allure but also in the emotions they evoke. They inspire a sense of wonder and awe, inviting us to pause and appreciate the intricate designs that nature creates with such effortless grace. The patterns speak of the interconnectedness of all things, the harmonious interplay between the elements, and the constant flux that defines our existence.
In these patterns of nature, we find a profound lesson: that life, like the shifting sands, is ever-changing, and that true beauty lies not in permanence but in the appreciation of the fleeting moments that grace our journey.
Along my path...I met up with this howling coyote...Before you knew it there was an Orchestrated sounds of other coyotes joining in....The sound of the desert ....wild animals roaming around...Quite thrilling!
M91 è il terzo orso ucciso da Fugatti dall’inizio dell’anno. Anche questa volta ha agito col favore delle tenebre ed immediatamente dopo la sua delibera, per non dare tempo a nessuno di fare ricorso, nemmeno le associazioni abituate a dover lottare contro il tempo.
Ma qui è tutto orchestrato per evitare qualsiasi interferenza. Una vera ossessione malvagia quella di Fugatti per proseguire nella sua campagna di sangue e propaganda.
E il Ministro Pichetto Fratin continua a non fare nulla mentre questa estate ci aveva sorpreso con la frase “uccidere gli orsi non è la soluzione”. Bene Ministro, ci dica se davvero intende fare qualcosa o le sue sono solo chiacchiere.
Eleonora Evi, deputata PD, su X
M91 is the third bear killed by Fugatti since the beginning of the year. This time too he acted under the cover of darkness and immediately after his resolution, so as not to give anyone time to appeal, not even associations used to having to fight against time.
But here everything is orchestrated to avoid any interference. Fugatti's true evil obsession was to continue his campaign of blood and propaganda.
And Minister Pichetto Fratin continues to do nothing while this summer he surprised us with the phrase "killing bears is not the solution". Well Minister, tell us if you really intend to do something or it's just talk.
Eleonora Evi, PD deputy, on X
Europe’s next step towards exploring Mars hand-in-hand with NASA took place this week with a drop of a first sample tube, imaged above.
The Mars Perseverance Rover deposited the chalk-size core of igneous rock, taken from a region of Mars’ Jezero Crater in January 2022, that could be considered for a trip to Earth as part of the joint ESA-NASA Mars Sample Return (MSR) campaign.
The MSR campaign is made of several missions to return the first scientifically selected samples from the surface of another planet to Earth.
The plan is this: NASA’s Perseverance Rover, which has scouted 13 kilometres of the martian surface and acquired 17 rock and regolith samples and one atmospheric sample since its arrival in 2021, will deliver samples to the NASA Sample Retrieval lander (SRL). The SRL is quipped with an ESA 2.5 m Sample Transfer Arm and a rocket for launching the sample container into martian orbit. Once there, an ESA spacecraft will capture the container and bring it safely to Earth.
The backup plan is to create a depot of samples by early 2023, should the rover be unable to deliver the samples itself to lander in 2030. This reconfiguration of the campaign now includes two recovery helicopters that will be deployed from the lander to fetch the tubes.
The first of the 10 tubes that will make up the backup depot was deposited at a designated site called ‘Three Forks,” a carefully selected patch of the martian surface. Dropping the sample is a well orchestrated process whereby Perseverance retrieves the sample from its belly, inspects it with an internal camera, and finally drops it from roughly 90 centimeters onto the designated site. The process took the rover an hour.
Mission engineers not only needed to confirm the drop but also inspect the position of the tube using the camera on the rover’s robotic arm to ensure the tube landed on its side rather than its end and that it hadn’t rolled into the path of a rover wheel.
“Choosing the first depot on Mars makes this exploration campaign very real and tangible. Now we have a place to revisit with samples waiting for us there,” says David Parker, ESA’s director of Human and Robotic Exploration.
For all of the samples acquired so far, Perseverance always obtained two samples from each Mars rock – one sample to be left on the surface in the backup depot, and a second sample that is held within the belly of the rover to be directly transferred to NASA’s Sample Retrieval Lander.
“The first depot of Mars samples can be considered as a major risk mitigation step for the Mars Sample Return campaign,” points out David.
Watch a short animation featuring key moments of the Mars Sample Return campaign: from landing on Mars and securing the sample tubes to launching them off the surface and ferrying them back to Earth.
Credits: NASA/JPL-Caltech/MSSS
in the midst of the towering giants at hudson yards, the traffic light stands as a solitary conductor, orchestrating the flow of the city's heartbeat. the buildings loom high, their glass facades reflecting the sky's fleeting moods. the traffic light, with its simple yet powerful signals, commands the pace of life below, a small but significant player in the urban symphony. on this hazy day, the city's pulse slows momentarily, captured in the quiet interlude of a red light. the interplay of architecture and daily life creates a scene that is both grand and mundane, a testament to the intricate dance of order and chaos in the metropolis.
Chelsea orchestrated the clouds above Spencer's Butte...whilst others attempt to hold the higher ground...
More Kodak TXP320....arrggghhhh, it's gone!
The pink Cosmoses were swaying in the gentle breeze and the water from a tiny stream was rolling relentlessly through the rocks. I was letting me well alone, sitting on a distant rock, for a period unknown. Suddenly, I felt the invisible touch of a master composer orchestrating from somewhere. I could completely visualize the eternal melody and felt its resonance in my blood stream. I realized that the universal soul has its appeal and our distracted souls seldom respond to it, but it is only when we remain quiet and listen to the nature with all our senses wide open, can we listen to its eternal melody.
[Composed straight from the camera and Photographed at Darjeeling Rock Garden, without stand.]
Pic is from the internet.
In Loving Memory of David Lynch
Today, we celebrate the life and legacy of a true visionary, David Lynch. Through his art, he invited us into realms of mystery, beauty, and uncharted imagination. His films were not merely stories—they were dreams brought to life, with every shadow and every flicker of light carefully orchestrated to move, provoke, and inspire.
David’s brilliance transcended mediums. Whether through film, painting, music, or coffee, he infused the world with his unmistakable essence: a blend of the surreal and the profoundly human. He taught us to embrace the unknown, to find beauty in the quiet corners of existence, and to never stop asking, "What lies beneath the surface?"
With a calm, quiet demeanor that belied the depths of his creativity, he encouraged us to live fully—creatively, passionately, and with an open heart. David showed us that life is not just to be lived but to be explored, experienced, and celebrated in all its strangeness and wonder.
His influence will ripple through generations, reminding us to dream big, to create fearlessly, and to savor the mystery of life. Though he is no longer with us, his spirit lives on in the worlds he created and in the countless lives he touched.
Rest well, David. Thank you for the magic, the mystery, and the inspiration to see the world in a different light. You will forever be our guide to the extraordinary.
Song: Watch the Video
this is very unique, through facebook and texting these afternoon rides are orchestrated with meeting points and destinations established. It goes on every week on Thursday throughout the summer. I caught up with this group a couple blocks from my home on June 30th 2016. I was told by some of the guides that this has been repeated a few years. I haven't seen them since but can assume some are still participating.
216c 6 - DSC_8049 - lr-ps
For i Light Singapore - Bicentennial Edition, the façade of ArtScience Museum is transformed into a lighthouse for a new age; a gigantic light sculpture of dancing lights.
Viewers will be immersed in an atmosphere created by an abstracted dance of light and shadow, the coloured lights appear to possess mass and weight and seem to model the Museum façade by playing with the perception of space. Signaling a point of reference and providing an intangible constant in time, these lights orchestrate a spectrum of emotions in the viewers.
© Leslie Hui. All rights reserved.
🌌Celestianthos The Nightweaver reigns supreme over the dream realm. They are recognizable by their shimmering pink and silver scales.✨Their etheral plane is adorned with mystical conch shells used to orchestrate symphonies that transport dreamers to unimaginable realms.🐚🎵
Come together and find the missing eggs! Hatch and raise a mighty dragon of your own!🐉
May 5, 2023 - East of Wilcox Nebraska US
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36 Years ago, with a peaked curiosity, I dove feverishly into the world of storm chasing and well, the rest is history. Fast forward a few years and my current journey in storm photography & videography has unlocked a completely new life that I never imagined would exist. Oh how my adventures continue...
Mother Nature definitely orchestrated her magic on this first storm chase of the season. Warm front had positioned itself right over the state of Nebraska. Pulling in all that warm moist air from the south created the perfect conditions for severe thunderstorm development. I was on the hunt & wouldn't be denied this day.
I got to witness 3 very sculptured Supercells that afternoon.... This was Supercell #2!!!
Was just east of Wilcox & the dirt roads hadn't been rained on yet. (I usually don't travel them anymore if they are) to watch this 2nd Supercell develop.
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The transient beauty of the coast is intricately intertwined with the captivating patterns that emerge in the sand, crafted by the relentless forces of wind and wave. These natural sculptors shape the shoreline, leaving behind ephemeral masterpieces.
As the tides ebb and flow, they orchestrate a delicate dance with the sand. With each advancing wave, the water gently caresses the shore, carrying particles of sand along its journey. As the wave recedes, it relinquishes its cargo, depositing the grains in a meticulous arrangement. This cyclical process, repeated countless times, creates intricate patterns that stretch along the coastline.
The patterns left behind by the retreating tide mimic the ebb and flow of life itself. Swirling ripples, reminiscent of a miniature desert landscape, emerge as the water recedes, their graceful curves and undulating lines transforming the beach into a living work of art. The patterns are at once orderly and chaotic, with intricate geometrical formations intermingling with whimsical curves and asymmetrical shapes.
The wind, a silent artist in its own right, adds its touch to the sculpting process. As it sweeps across the coast, it whispers secrets to the sand, coaxing it to dance in its invisible embrace. The wind's gentle touch lifts fine particles from the beach, carrying them aloft in an intricate ballet. It sculpts the sand into delicate ripples, resembling the soft undulations of fabric.
The interplay between the wind and the tide results in an ever-changing landscape. The patterns shift and evolve, shaped by the combined forces of these elemental sculptors. Ripples become miniature mountains, rising and falling in a transient topography that mirrors the larger contours of the surrounding coast. Each gust of wind and every advancing or receding wave leaves its mark, etching new patterns and erasing old ones, in an eternal cycle of creation and destruction.
These ephemeral patterns serve as a reminder of the impermanence of existence and the transient nature of beauty, as each passing moment alters the landscape, erasing what once was and creating something new. The sands become a canvas for the symphony of time, a tangible reflection of the ever-changing nature of our lives.
The beauty of these fleeting patterns lies not only in their visual allure but also in the emotions they evoke. They inspire a sense of wonder and awe, inviting us to pause and appreciate the intricate designs that nature creates with such effortless grace. The patterns speak of the interconnectedness of all things, the harmonious interplay between the elements, and the constant flux that defines our existence.
In these patterns of nature, we find a profound lesson: that life, like the shifting sands, is ever-changing, and that true beauty lies not in permanence but in the appreciation of the fleeting moments that grace our journey.
www.holyspiritspeaks.org/videos/hymn-how-god-rules-over-a...
Introduction
Best Gospel Song | How Great Is Our God | "How God Rules Over All Things"
From the moment you come crying into this world,
you begin to perform your duty.
In the plan and ordination of God, you assume your role,
and begin the journey of life.
Whatever your background or the journey ahead of you,
none can escape the orchestration and arrangement that Heaven has in store,
and none are in control of their destiny,
for only He who rules over all things is capable of such work.
Since the day man came into existence,
God has been steady in His work,
managing this universe and directing the change and movement of all things.
Like all things, man quietly and unknowingly
receives
the nourishment of the sweetness and rain and dew from God.
Like all things, man unknowingly lives under the orchestration of God’s hand.
The heart and spirit of man are held in the hand of God,
and all the life of man is beheld in the eyes of God.
Regardless of whether or not you believe this,
any and all things, living or dead,
will shift, change, renew, and disappear according to God’s thoughts.
This is how God rules over all things.
from The Word Appears in the Flesh
Eastern Lightning, The Church of Almighty God was created because of the appearance and work of Almighty God, the second coming of the Lord Jesus, Christ of the last days. It is made up of all those who accept Almighty God's work in the last days and are conquered and saved by His words. It was entirely founded by Almighty God personally and is led by Him as the Shepherd. It was definitely not created by a person. Christ is the truth, the way, and the life. God's sheep hear God's voice. As long as you read the words of Almighty God, you will see God has appeared.
Terms of Use： en.godfootsteps.org/disclaimer.html
In this arresting monochrome photograph, the viewer is drawn into a sublime interplay of geometry and light, an ode to the elegance of modern architecture. The facade of the building commands attention with its intricate mosaic of window panes, each element contributing to an undulating, wave-like illusion. This rhythmic dynamism stands in stark contrast to the velvety darkness of the background, which amplifies the subject's precision and boldness. The image speaks of the sleek urbanity of Paris—a silent yet eloquent testament to human innovation.
The monochrome palette is not merely an aesthetic choice but a deliberate tool, stripping the scene of distractions to distill its essence: form, texture, and contrast. The absence of human figures within the frame underscores this intent, creating a meditative focus on the architecture itself. The photograph is steeped in the cool austerity of late afternoon light, the shades of gray revealing the subtleties of the structure's surface as the sun’s angle dances across it.
A closer examination unveils layers of intrigue. What initially appears as a chaotic arrangement of window panes reveals itself to be a masterfully orchestrated pattern, a visual cadence that challenges the viewer’s perception. The glass reflects faint traces of its surroundings, a spectral hint of the building's context, obscured but not entirely lost to the low light. The imperfect alignment and slight variations in the window frames offer a glimpse into the humanity behind the construction—proof that this is a tangible, crafted object, not the sterile perfection of digital design. The result is a composition that transcends mere documentation, inviting the audience to ponder the relationship between modernity and artistry, between order and organic irregularity.
This was my favorite thing that I saw and read today, on Memorial Day, posted by someone I know:
"WW 2 changed my father in ways I'll never know. As a captain of a B17 he and his crew dropped bombs in and all over the Deutschland, something that I can't get out of my head when I'm touring through the cities and towns of Germany.
Today I commemorate my father... and his crew who were shot down on Oct 8,1943 during the historic bombing of Bremen, Germany."
He posted two photos...one of his father and his crew, and a second, and a head shot of his Dad, which he described...
"The second picture was taken by my father's captors before he was imprisoned in Stalag Luft 3 for 16 months. Toward the end of the war he escaped from the prison camp, but I don't think he ever escaped from the war.
We love you dad.
Remember."
After work, I went out to take my typical photo in one of my windows. Just before I left, I reached into my sweatshirt pocket and pulled out this little vintage American flag stick pin. It is an old advertising piece. I had totally forgotten that I had put it into my pocket... just in case I needed it for something. And as my props have a way of doing, the little flag kind of orchestrated the shot ... and as I put it in the broken window, I thought immediately of this man's words "He escaped from the prison camp, but I don't think he ever escaped from the war." So, this one is for the brave American heroes that didn't escape the war and never came back... and for this man, and his Dad, and the other soldiers that were fortunate enough to return home, but were never quite the same. We owe them all a debt of gratitude. Thank you. We remember. Happy Memorial Day.
Sometimes I can only stand and watch the beauty of the sunset as God orchestrates the conditions.
He is a good Father!
Blackcap - Sylvia Atrcapilla (M)
The Eurasian blackcap (Sylvia atricapilla) usually known simply as the blackcap, is a common and widespread typical warbler. It has mainly olive-grey upperparts and pale grey underparts, and differences between the five subspecies are small. Both sexes have a neat coloured cap to the head, black in the male and reddish-brown in the female. The male's typical song is a rich musical warbling, often ending in a loud high-pitched crescendo, but a simpler song is given in some isolated areas, such as valleys in the Alps. The blackcap's closest relative is the garden warbler, which looks quite different but has a similar song.
The blackcap feeds mainly on insects during the breeding season, then switches to fruit in late summer, the change being triggered by an internal biological rhythm. When migrants arrive on their territories they initially take berries, pollen and nectar if there are insufficient insects available, then soon switch to their preferred diet. They mainly pick prey off foliage and twigs, but may occasionally hover, flycatch or feed on the ground. Blackcaps eat a wide range of invertebrate prey, although aphids are particularly important early in the season, and flies, beetles and caterpillars are also taken in large numbers. Small snails are swallowed whole, since the shell is a source of calcium for the bird's eggs. Chicks are mainly fed soft-bodied insects, fruit only being provided if invertebrates are scarce.
In July, the diet switches increasingly to fruit. The protein needed for egg-laying and for the chicks to grow is replaced by fruit sugar which helps the birds to fatten for migration. Aphids are still taken while they are available, since they often contain sugars from the plant sap on which they feed. Blackcaps eat a wide range of small fruit, and squeeze out any seeds on a branch before consuming the pulp. This technique makes them an important propagator of mistletoe. The mistle thrush, which also favours that plant, is less beneficial since it tends to crush the seeds. Although any suitable fruit may be eaten, some have seasonal or local importance; elder makes up a large proportion of the diet of northern birds preparing for migration, and energy-rich olives and lentisc are favoured by blackcaps wintering in the Mediterranean.
The German birds wintering in British gardens rely on provided food, and the major items are bread and fat, each making up around 20% of the diet; one bird survived the whole winter eating only Christmas cake. Fruit is also eaten, notably cotoneaster (41% of the fruit consumed), ivy and honeysuckle, and apple if available. Some birds have learned to take peanuts from feeders. Blackcaps defend good winter food sources in the wild, and at garden feeding stations they repel competitors as large as starlings and blackbirds. Birds occasionally become tame enough to feed from the hand.
Aristotle, in his History of Animals, considered that the garden warbler eventually metamorphosed into a blackcap. The blackcap's song has led to it being described as the "mock nightingale" or "country nightingale", and John Clare, in "The March Nightingale" describes the listener as believing that the rarer species has arrived prematurely. "He stops his own and thinks the nightingale/Hath of her monthly reckoning counted wrong". The song is also the topic of Italian poet Giovanni Pascoli's "La Capinera" [The Blackcap].
Giovanni Verga's 1871 novel Storia di una capinera, according to its author, was inspired by a story of a blackcap trapped and caged by children. The bird, silent and pining for its lost freedom, eventually dies. In the book, a nun evacuated from her convent by cholera falls in love with a family friend, only to have to return to her confinement when the disease wanes. The novel was adapted as films of the same name in 1917, 1943 and 1993. The last version was directed by Franco Zeffirelli, and its English-language version was retitled as Sparrow. In Saint François d'Assise, an opera by Messiaen, the orchestration is based on bird song. St Francis himself is represented by the blackcap.
Folk names for the blackcap often refer to its most obvious plumage feature (black-headed peggy, King Harry black cap and coal hoodie) or to its song, as in the "nightingale" names above. Other old names are based on its choice of nesting material (Jack Straw, hay bird, hay chat and hay Jack). There is a tradition of the Royal Navy's Fleet Air Arm bases being named for birds. A former base near Stretton in Cheshire was called HMS Blackcap.
Population:
UK breeding:
1,200,000 territories
UK wintering:
3,000 bird
Blackcap - Sylvia Atrcapilla (M)
The Eurasian blackcap (Sylvia atricapilla) usually known simply as the blackcap, is a common and widespread typical warbler. It has mainly olive-grey upperparts and pale grey underparts, and differences between the five subspecies are small. Both sexes have a neat coloured cap to the head, black in the male and reddish-brown in the female. The male's typical song is a rich musical warbling, often ending in a loud high-pitched crescendo, but a simpler song is given in some isolated areas, such as valleys in the Alps. The blackcap's closest relative is the garden warbler, which looks quite different but has a similar song.
The blackcap feeds mainly on insects during the breeding season, then switches to fruit in late summer, the change being triggered by an internal biological rhythm. When migrants arrive on their territories they initially take berries, pollen and nectar if there are insufficient insects available, then soon switch to their preferred diet. They mainly pick prey off foliage and twigs, but may occasionally hover, flycatch or feed on the ground. Blackcaps eat a wide range of invertebrate prey, although aphids are particularly important early in the season, and flies, beetles and caterpillars are also taken in large numbers. Small snails are swallowed whole, since the shell is a source of calcium for the bird's eggs. Chicks are mainly fed soft-bodied insects, fruit only being provided if invertebrates are scarce.
In July, the diet switches increasingly to fruit. The protein needed for egg-laying and for the chicks to grow is replaced by fruit sugar which helps the birds to fatten for migration. Aphids are still taken while they are available, since they often contain sugars from the plant sap on which they feed. Blackcaps eat a wide range of small fruit, and squeeze out any seeds on a branch before consuming the pulp. This technique makes them an important propagator of mistletoe. The mistle thrush, which also favours that plant, is less beneficial since it tends to crush the seeds. Although any suitable fruit may be eaten, some have seasonal or local importance; elder makes up a large proportion of the diet of northern birds preparing for migration, and energy-rich olives and lentisc are favoured by blackcaps wintering in the Mediterranean.
The German birds wintering in British gardens rely on provided food, and the major items are bread and fat, each making up around 20% of the diet; one bird survived the whole winter eating only Christmas cake. Fruit is also eaten, notably cotoneaster (41% of the fruit consumed), ivy and honeysuckle, and apple if available. Some birds have learned to take peanuts from feeders. Blackcaps defend good winter food sources in the wild, and at garden feeding stations they repel competitors as large as starlings and blackbirds. Birds occasionally become tame enough to feed from the hand.
Aristotle, in his History of Animals, considered that the garden warbler eventually metamorphosed into a blackcap. The blackcap's song has led to it being described as the "mock nightingale" or "country nightingale", and John Clare, in "The March Nightingale" describes the listener as believing that the rarer species has arrived prematurely. "He stops his own and thinks the nightingale/Hath of her monthly reckoning counted wrong". The song is also the topic of Italian poet Giovanni Pascoli's "La Capinera" [The Blackcap].
Giovanni Verga's 1871 novel Storia di una capinera, according to its author, was inspired by a story of a blackcap trapped and caged by children. The bird, silent and pining for its lost freedom, eventually dies. In the book, a nun evacuated from her convent by cholera falls in love with a family friend, only to have to return to her confinement when the disease wanes. The novel was adapted as films of the same name in 1917, 1943 and 1993. The last version was directed by Franco Zeffirelli, and its English-language version was retitled as Sparrow. In Saint François d'Assise, an opera by Messiaen, the orchestration is based on bird song. St Francis himself is represented by the blackcap.
Folk names for the blackcap often refer to its most obvious plumage feature (black-headed peggy, King Harry black cap and coal hoodie) or to its song, as in the "nightingale" names above. Other old names are based on its choice of nesting material (Jack Straw, hay bird, hay chat and hay Jack). There is a tradition of the Royal Navy's Fleet Air Arm bases being named for birds. A former base near Stretton in Cheshire was called HMS Blackcap.
Population:
UK breeding:
1,200,000 territories
UK wintering:
3,000 bird
What we have here is a magnificent vortex of nature, a spiraling cathedral of wooden limbs reaching towards the heavens. It's as though you've captured a secret portal, a gateway that spirals into the very essence of the earth's mysteries.
The pattern is hypnotic, the branches weaving a spellbinding network that draws the eye inward, to the vanishing point where the sky holds court. It's like looking through the iris of Mother Nature herself, glimpsing the world through her perspective, a mix of chaos and order, darkness and light.
The way the trees bend and twist, they seem to be in the throes of a wild dance, orchestrated by the whispers of the wind. The sky peeks through the canopy in patches of blue, a tantalizing tease of the infinite beyond, a reminder of the thin veil between our world and the vast unknown.
It's a photo that feels alive, as if at any moment, the branches could begin to rotate, spiraling faster and faster until they blur the lines between reality and fantasy. It's a visual symphony of the natural world, each line and curve a note in a grand, silent melody.
Keep capturing these mystical moments, for it's through them that we can all step through the looking glass and into a world of wonder and awe. This isn't just a photograph; it's a ticket to a journey into the wild, whirling heart of the forest.
"M91 è il terzo orso ucciso da Fugatti dall’inizio dell’anno. Anche questa volta ha agito col favore delle tenebre ed immediatamente dopo la sua delibera, per non dare tempo a nessuno di fare ricorso, nemmeno le associazioni abituate a dover lottare contro il tempo.
Ma qui è tutto orchestrato per evitare qualsiasi interferenza. Una vera ossessione malvagia quella di Fugatti per proseguire nella sua campagna di sangue e propaganda.
E il Ministro Pichetto Fratin continua a non fare nulla mentre questa estate ci aveva sorpreso con la frase “uccidere gli orsi non è la soluzione”. Bene Ministro, ci dica se davvero intende fare qualcosa o le sue sono solo chiacchiere."
Eleonora Evi, deputata PD, su X
"M91 is the third bear killed by Fugatti since the beginning of the year. This time too he acted under the cover of darkness and immediately after his resolution, so as not to give anyone time to appeal, not even associations used to having to fight against time.
But here everything is orchestrated to avoid any interference. Fugatti's true evil obsession was to continue his campaign of blood and propaganda.
And Minister Pichetto Fratin continues to do nothing while this summer he surprised us with the phrase "killing bears is not the solution". Well Minister, tell us if you really intend to do something or it's just talk."
Eleonora Evi, PD deputy, on X
The I-VNKC accelerates out of Godfrey, Il on KCS trackage after an excrutiating slow order that had the conductor orchestrating the throwing of a switch with UP Dispatcher 28, a switch tender, the foreman of a UP MOW crew, and a KCS maintainer.
♥ COMING SOON at Wasteland Event on nov. 30th ♥
Beneath the bustling streets of every major city, a seemingly ordinary rat orchestrates a global conspiracy, manipulating humans and their secrets as it weaves a web of chaos for its own mysterious agenda.
Second Life High Quality Original PBR Animesh creation from SynRJ.
A few weeks ago I posted several shots from Saskatchewan's Great Sand Hills. Here's how the active dunes look in summer. Lots of interesting landscape possibilities here in addition to birds, mammals, other critters, and wildflowers. It's a fun location to shoot; I used to run photo workshops in the area.
One of my winter projects this year is reprocessing some older material, shot with my early DSLR bodies (the Nikon D200 and D300). Older versions of the same shot will be removed from my back pages; no one will notice.
Often I find that stopping by the road doesn't result in premier photo-ops. The faster I've been driving, the lower my success rate. There are exceptions, of course, but generally you have to let a place seep into your consciousness. This spot is about an hour from the parking area. The hike can be done in half that time, but there's always something to stop and shoot along the trail, and a slow meander tends to open up the senses better than a fast walk. And then, a surprise, something impossible to orchestrate. I didn't expect that low band of cumulus, just above the horizon. As soon as I noticed it, though, I saw how it meshed with the other elements, adding interest to the upper third of this shot.
Photographed in morning light in the Great Sand Hills, south of Sceptre, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission © 2009 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are following Lettice’s maid, Edith, who together with her fiancée, local grocery delivery boy Frank Leadbetter, have wended their way north-east from Cavendish Mews on their Sunday off, through neighbouring Soho to the Lyons Corner House* on the corner of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road where they are joining Edith’s parents, George and Ada, Frank’s elderly Scottish grandmother, Mrs. McTavish, Edith’s best friend and fellow maid-of-all-work, Hilda, and Frank’s fellow lodger at his Clapham boarding house, John Simpkin, for a luncheon at George’s expense to celebrate his daughter and Frank’s recent, yet long anticipated, nuptials**. As always, the flagship restaurant on the first floor is a hive of activity with all the white linen covered tables occupied by Londoners indulging in the treat of a Lyon’s luncheon or early afternoon tea. Between the tightly packed tables, the Lyons waitresses, known as Nippies***, live up to their name and nip in and out, showing diners to empty tables, taking orders, placing food on tables and clearing and resetting them after diners have left. The cavernous space with its fashionable Art Deco wallpapers and light fixtures and dark Queen Anne English style furnishing is alive with colour, movement and the burbling noises of hundreds of chattering voices, the sound of cutlery against crockery and the clink of crockery and glassware fills the air brightly.
Amidst all the comings and goings, Edith and Frank sit at a table set for seven, on which a fine repast of a selection of freshly cut triangle sandwiches**** and dainty cupcakes decorated with cream cheese***** icing covered in sugar sprinkles has just been placed by two Nippes. Silver plated tea and coffee pots sparkle beneath the overhead pendant lights, whilst the Lyons’ Corner House dinner service crockery glints and the cutlery gleams against the crisp white napery.
“I’m sorry this isn’t a lunch at Claridge’s******, Edith love.” George remarks to his daughter who sits beside him in her own high backed Queen Anne style chair. “If I could, you know I would.”
“Oh Dad!” Edith laughs happily. She leans over and wraps her right arm around her father and pulls him closer toward her, rewarding him with a kiss on the cheek. “And what would we do there if you could, surrounded by all those wealthy people? We’d stand out like sore thumbs, even in our Sunday best bib and tucker*******!” She smiles at her father reassuringly. “No, a slap up******** lunch here at Lyon’s Corner House is just perfect for Frank and me, thank you, especially since we’ve enjoyed so many lovely times here together as a couple after seeing a picture at the Premier in East Ham********* even before we became affianced. It’s very thoughtful of you, Dad.”
“Well, it’s just as well that I can only afford this then.” George replies. “Although I’ll have to start putting some money aside for your wedding breakfast**********. I’m sure Vicar Dunn*********** would let me have the All Souls************ Parish Hall for the occasion”
“Plenty of time yet before that.” Edith pats her father’s hand reassuringly. “Frank and I aren’t planning on getting married just yet. Not until we have a bit more money behind us to set up home.”
“Clever girl.” George replies with a beaming smile and a snort of pride. “You just keep saving those shillings and sixpences, be abstemious with your spending, and you’ll be richer than Croesus************* in no time.”
“Thanks Dad!” Edith replies, releasing her father’s hand and turning back to Frank.
Turing his attention to Frank’s Scottish grandmother on his left he remarks, “You know, Mrs. McTavish, you’ve done a fine job of raising your grandson,” He looks across the table over the sandwiches, cupcakes, silverware and Lyon’s bill of fare from its head at Frank as he holds Edith’s hand gently in his and caresses it as they both talk with Ada, sitting at the opposite end of the table.
“Och!” Mrs. McTavish says in her broad Scottish brogue with a dismissive sweep of her gnarled hand. “Enough of this ‘Mrs. McTavish’ business! I told Edith that she must call me Gran, just as Francis does, so you must call me Nyree. It’s a pretty name, and it doesn’t get used nearly enough these days. I’m Mrs. McTavish this and Mrs. McTavish that, but never Nyree, and it seems a waste.” She chuckles self-indulgently. “My family were fishing people going back many generations, and Faither************** was a seaman, who sailed to places far beyond the Hebrides*************** where we lived. Not too long before I was born, he came back from what was then the newly formed Colony of New Zealand**************** where he met some of the local islanders who were struck by how blonde his hair was, as they were all swarthy skinned and dark haired.” She chuckles again. “The story he told me when I was no longer a wee bairn, was that they called him ‘Ngaire’, which means ‘flaxen’. Some of his shipmates on the voyage home told him that they named their own blonde daughters Nyree after the name ‘Ngaire’. So, when I was born, I had blonde hair.” She gently pats her carefully set white hair that sweeps out from underneath her old fashioned lace embroidered cap in the style of her youth. “So Faither told Mither*****************that I should be called Nyree. So, Nyree I was christened.”
“Yes, George remarks. “I remember you telling Ada and I that story when you came for tea the first time.”
“Och!” Mrs. McTavish raises the heel of her careworn hand to her deeply wrinkled forehead and rubs them against one another. “I’m a foolish Cailleach******************! Forgive me! The older I get, the more I forget what I have or haven’t told people.”
“Not at all Mrs. McT…” George pauses mid sentence. “Nyree.” He corrects himself. “It was lovely to hear your story again, as it is so interesting. And if I am to call you Nyree, you should call us George and Ada.”
“Then George and Ada it shall be!” Mrs. McTavish replies with a smile and a slight nod. “Did I also tell you the Minister of Word and Sacrament******************* at our village chapel didn’t favour christening me Nyree?”
“No, you didn’t, Nyree.”
“Och yes! He wanted to christen me Nóra. He said Nyree was a heathen name, but Faither and Mither were strong people, and took no nonsense from the Minister. Nyree was the name they had chosen, and Nyree was what I was christened.”
“That’s fascinating Nyree.” George remarks, shaking his head in mild astonishment.
“And as for my wee bairn, Francis, well, I can’t take all the credit for him. His parents, God rest their souls, did a splendid job with him before they were taken by Spanish Influenza. I only helped finish off the job they started. You must be proud of your wee Edith too, and how she turned out – level headed, modest and polite.”
“Oh we are, Nyree, although with the lack of young men due to the war, we did wonder if she would ever meet a fellow to marry, even with her pretty face and pleasant temperament.”
“Och yes, George! Such a shame!” Mrs. McTavish agrees. “A waste of so many lives, that war! I still don’t quite know why we went to war in the first place.”
“You wouldn’t be alone in that thought, Nyree. I think a lot of us are asking the same question in its aftermath.”
Mrs. McTavish tuts and shakes her head sorrowfully. “There are so many young war widows about nowadays. I’m glad that Francis and Edith found one another. They make a nice pair, George.”
“Indeed they do, Nyree.”
“And Francis needs a good sensible lass to keep his ideas in check.” Mrs. McTavish adds with a serious look at George. “We don’t want him getting too big for his britches to not know his place.”
“You sound like my wife, Nyree.” George chuckles sadly. “She was a bit hesitant about his more revolutionary ideas about the working man and his rights.”
“Well, I worry a bit about his ideas sometimes too, if I’m honest, George. He’s a dreamer, not a realist.” Mrs. McTavish confides in George quietly. “I don’t know if I like the sound of all these Trade Union friends of his, filling his head with the rights of the working man. I like young John Simpkin.” She nods over the vase of red roses sitting in the centre of the table to Frank’s photographer friend who helped orchestrate the surprise proposal by allowing Frank to use a portrait photography session in the photography salon in Clapham Junction where he works as a ruse, sitting next to Hilda. “He’s a realist. He just gets on with the job, doesn’t complain, and look, he’s now a junior photographer at the studio where he started. Frank lives with young John at his boarding house, you know.”
“Yes, I believe we have Mr. Simpkin to thank for arranging the venue for young Frank’s proposal.”
“Indeed, we do, George.”
“I must confess that I am more on young Frank’s side than perhaps you and Ada are, Nyree, when it comes to this Trade Unions and workers’ rights business. I keep reading in the newspaper about the plight of the poor miners. It seems to me that it is jolly rotten of the mine owners to reduce the miners' wages and lengthen their working hours. There’s nothing fair about that!”
“And that is why you need an Ada, dear George.” Mrs. McTavish says as she settles back in her seat. “And Francis needs an Edith. She’ll keep his head level, and stop him from getting into any serious trouble.”
“With the Stanley Baldwin’s Government******************** starting to get getting involved with discussions with the Trade Unions about it, I think this may become something we all impacted by sooner rather than later, trouble or not.”
“I don’t see why, George, after all, you’re a factory worker, and I make lace for frock shops in London’s West End. It’s not like either of us are miners.”
“Well,” George mutters with a shake of his head as he clears his throat a little awkwardly. “This probably isn’t fit table conversation for this little party today. We aren’t here to talk about the plight of miners, or politics. Today is about Frank and Edith.”
At the other end of the table, Ada speaks animatedly to Edith and Frank. “That was a really lovely gesture of your grandmother to offer you your parents’ wedding rings, Frank love.”
“Oh, it was a very emotional moment for both of us, Mrs. Watsfo… I mean Ada. Wasn’t it, Edith?” Frank looks at his fiancée.
“Yes it was, Mum! I can hardly believe it! What an honour Gran has bestowed on us.”
“Well, we shall have to get cracking on your wedding frock, Edith.” Ada adds brightly. “Luckily, I had my pin money********************* with me the day I saw that remnant bolt of cream crêpe de chiné in the basket outside Bishops in the High Street. I always knew you would get married one day, my girl.”
“Well, I want to go shopping at Mrs. Minkin’s for trims, Mum.” Edith insists. “I’ll get them cheaper from her than you or I ever will at Mr. Bishops’ haberdashery. Not that there’s any rush to make my frock yet. Fashions change, and we’re not getting wed yet, are we Frank?”
“Not yet Edith.” Frank turns his attention to his fiancée before returning them to Ada. “We want to keep saving for a bit longer yet, so we can set up a proper home.”
“That’s very wise, Frank.” Ada says with a benevolent smile.
“So, I don’t want your crêpe de chine getting wasted making something now that will only fall out of fashion, Mum.” Edith adds. “We’ll make my frock closer to the time, when it comes.”
“And you’re following your own advice then, Edith love?” Ada asks.
“What advice, Edith?” Frank queries.
“Oh,” Edith explains. “Mum agrees with us when we said that I probably shouldn’t tell Miss Lettice that we’re engaged just yet. Not until we settle on a date at least, Frank.”
“I’m sure as a good employer, Miss Lettice would be understanding of Edith wanting to work up until you’re both wed, but,” Ada sniffs with distain. “Well, I’ve known people like her. We all do. They can be fickle.”
“I’m glad you agree with us, Ada.” Frank smiles. “I know you have more respect for the upper classes than I do, but I really do believe that in spite of being a progressive employer, she might dismiss you Edith and then just employ another maid-of-all-work.”
“I still don’t think she would, Frank, and I’ve told Mum the same, but I’m still keeping it a secret just in case.”
“There are plenty of girls from down your Mrs. Boothby’s way that would give their eye teeth for a job as a maid-of-all-work, Edith love,” Ada cautions. “So it’s best to be discreet.”
“Oh, thinking of discreet, Mrs… err… Ada,” Frank adds. “Although she hasn’t said anything outright about it, I think Gran would like to make Edith’s wedding veil.”
“Would she now?” Ada asks in delighted surprise, her eyes gleaming.
“Did she really Frank?” Edith gasps.
“Well, Edith, like I said, she didn’t say it directly as such, but I think in her heart of hearts she does. I think she might ask to see you on your own soon, and ask you once she’s built up the courage.”
“Well, I think that’s very generous of her, Frank love, but it’s your wedding veil, Edith love. How would you feel about Mrs, McTavish making your veil if she offers?”
“Oh Mum! Frank! I’d love that!” Edith enthuses with clasped hands. “It would be so special! You should see her work, Mum! It’s so fine! No wonder she sells to the likes of the fine frock shops she does! I’m quite sure she would sell lace to Miss Lettice’s friend, Mr. Bruton the frock maker.”
“Well, I’ve no objection, if Edith doesn’t.” Ada replies. “Edith and I can make her frock together when the time comes.”
Across from Edith and Frank, Hilda and John sit in quiet and slightly uncomfortable silence, unsure of each other’s company, as they listen to the conversations carry on noisily around them.
At length, John clears his throat awkwardly and asks Hilda, “So… you’re going to be Miss Watsford’s maid-of-honour then, Miss Clerkenwell?”
“I am, Mr. Simpkin.” Hilda replies primly as she places her hands neatly over one another in front of her, clutching the edge of the table. “And you’re going to be Frank’s best man, I believe.”
“I am.” John says proudly, sitting up a little more straightly in his seat. “Have you ever been a maid-of-honour before, Miss Clerkenwell?”
“No, I can’t say I have,” Hilda answers with a ticklish chuckle and a tight smile, looking down into her lap as she removes her hands from the table’s edge and squeezes her napkin in her lap between her fingers. “But then again, you know what they say in that Listerine********************** advertisement in the newspapers.”
“No, I… I can’t say that I do,” John replies with an awkward shrug. “What does it say?”
“Well,” Hilda says with a heavy sigh. “It has a woman in it who is constantly a bridesmaid but never the bride, because of her bad breath, you see. The slogan goes, ‘Often a bridesmaid, never a bride’***********************.” Hilda laughs nervously again.
“You don’t have halitosis, Miss Clerkenwell.” John says with a timid smile.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Simpkin.” Hilda replies quickly, glancing away so that he can’t see the flush of colour in her cheeks.
“So, I know you work as a maid-of-all work for one of Edith’s employer’s friends, but tell me, what is it that do you do, for fun, Miss Clerkenwell?” John asks politely. “I… I err… would imagine that you are always off dancing at the Hammersmith Palais************************ on your days off.”
“No, I wouldn’t say I was always off at the Hammersmith Palais, Mr. Simpkin - only when Edith and Frank ask me, really. I’m not very good on my feet like that. I feel rather like a gooseberry************************* if I’m being honest, not that I would ever admit that to either of them, Mr. Simpkin, so I’d be much obliged if you kept that confidence to yourself. I know they are just being kind to me.”
“Of course, Miss Clerkenwell.” John assures Hilda. “So, if dancing at the Hammersmith Palais isn’t really your thing, what do you enjoy doing, then?”
“Oh, you don’t want to know, Mr. Simpkin. I know you are just being kind too.” Hilda says dismissively.
“No, I really would like to know, Miss Clerkenwell.” John insists.
“It’s not exciting. I’m just a bluestocking************************** at heart.”
At first John doesn’t reply. Then, releasing a pent-up breath from deep within his chest he admits, “Well, working as a photographer, I am not really a dancing chap either.” He then adds, “Nor sporting. I’m probably not exciting either, which explains why no girl is particularly interested in me.”
“So, what do you enjoy doing then, Mr. Simpkin?”
John sucks in a large intake of breath and then exhales. “Well, I read a good deal, and I study books on art and composition to help improve my photographic skills.”
“Do you ever go to the National Gallery***************************?” Hilda queries.
“Sometimes. I like looking at paintings, and learning about composition from them.”
Hilda nods approvingly. “And the British Museum****************************?”
“Oh yes, I quite like the British Museum. It has some fascinating exhibitions.”
“I like it there too.” Hilda remarks, fining herself smiling at John.
“Ahem!”
The sound of George clearing his throat interrupts them, and everyone else around the table who stop mid conversation.
George gets to his feet, a teacup in his right hand. “I’m… err… I not very comfortable giving speeches,” he begins.
“You could have fooled me, Dad!” Edith jeers jokingly, causing everyone at the table including George to laugh.
“But I suppose as father of the bride-to-be, I had better brush up on my oratory skills.” He clears his throat again, awkwardly. “I was just saying to our dear Edith that this isn’t Clarridges, and I know,” He hoists his teacup. “That this isn’t champagne, but for today, I think Lyon’s Corner House and tea will work quite nicely, since the young couple have been here so many times after going to the pictures. Now, as I said, I’m not very comfortable giving speeches, so I’ll keep this brief. So let me just say to Frank, that Ada and I welcome you into the family, and we couldn’t think of a better man to make our Edith happy. And to you Edith, love, your mum and I are so glad that you have found a young man that pleases you so well that you want to spend the rest of your days with him. We couldn’t be happier. So, may I ask you all to raise your glass or cup, and let us toast Edith and Frank. To Edith and Frank!”
The remainder of the company raise their cups and say as one, “To Edith and Frank!”
*J. Lyons and Co. was a British restaurant chain, food manufacturing, and hotel conglomerate founded in 1884 by Joseph Lyons and his brothers in law, Isidore and Montague Gluckstein. Lyons’ first teashop opened in Piccadilly in 1894, and from 1909 they developed into a chain of teashops, with the firm becoming a staple of the High Street in the United Kingdom. At its peak the chain numbered around two hundred cafes. The teashops provided for tea and coffee, with food choices consisting of hot dishes and sweets, cold dishes and sweets, and buns, cakes and rolls. Lyons' Corner Houses, which first appeared in 1909 and remained until 1977, were noted for their Art Deco style. Situated on or near the corners of Coventry Street, Strand and Tottenham Court Road, they and the Maison Lyonses at Marble Arch and in Shaftesbury Avenue were large buildings on four or five floors, the ground floor of which was a food hall with counters for delicatessen, sweets and chocolates, cakes, fruit, flowers and other products. In addition, they possessed hairdressing salons, telephone booths, theatre booking agencies and at one period a twice-a-day food delivery service. On the other floors were several restaurants, each with a different theme and all with their own musicians. For a time, the Corner Houses were open twenty-four hours a day, and at their peak each branch employed around four hundred staff including their famous waitresses, commonly known as Nippies for the way they nipped in and out between the tables taking orders and serving meals. The tea houses featured window displays, and, in the post-war period, the Corner Houses were smarter and grander than the local tea shops. Between 1896 and 1965 Lyons owned the Trocadero, which was similar in size and style to the Corner Houses.
** Nuptials is a alternative word for marriage. The term “nuptials” emphasizes the ceremonial and legal aspects of a marriage, lending a more formal tone to wedding communications and documentation.
***The name 'Nippies' was adopted for the Lyons waitresses after a competition to rename them from the old fashioned 'Gladys' moniker - rejected suggestions included ‘Sybil-at-your-service’, ‘Miss Nimble’, Miss Natty’ and 'Speedwell'. The waitresses each wore a starched cap with a red ‘L’ embroidered in the centre and a black alpaca dress with a double row of pearl buttons.
****Sandwiches cut into four triangular quarters are commonly called triangle sandwiches in Britain, especially for parties or afternoon teas. Elsewhere in the world they are commonly referred to as a "club sandwich cut" or simply "quarter cut". This method is frequently used for club sandwiches to make them more stable.
*****Cream cheese was invented in 1872 by William Lawrence, a dairyman in Chester, New York, who accidentally created a richer, creamier version of the French cheese Neufchâtel. The brand name "Philadelphia Cream Cheese" was adopted in 1880 as a marketing strategy to associate the new cheese with the high-quality dairy reputation of Philadelphia.
******Claridge's traces its origins to Mivart's Hotel, which was founded in 1812 in a conventional London terraced house and grew by expanding into neighbouring houses. In 1854, the founder (the father of biologist St. George Jackson Mivart) sold the hotel to William and Marianne Claridge, who owned a smaller hotel next door. They combined the two operations, and after trading for a time as "Mivart's late Claridge's", they settled on the current name. The reputation of the hotel was confirmed in 1860, when Empress Eugenie made an extended visit and entertained Queen Victoria at the hotel. In its first edition of 1878, Baedeker's London listed Claridge's as "The first hotel in London". Richard D'Oyly Carte, the theatrical impresario and founder of the rival Savoy Hotel, purchased Claridge's in 1893, as part of The Savoy Group, and shortly afterwards demolished the old buildings and replaced them with the present ones. This was prompted by the need to install modern facilities such as lifts and en suite bathrooms. From 1894 to 1901, Édouard Nignon was the hotel chef. The new Claridge's, built by George Trollope and Sons, opened in 1898. After the First World War, Claridge's flourished due to demand from aristocrats who no longer maintained a London house, and under the leadership of Carte's son, Rupert D'Oyly Carte, an extension was built in the 1920s. During the Second World War, it was the base of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia's government in exile and home of Peter II of Yugoslavia.
*******"Bib and tucker" refers to one's best clothes or a formal outfit, especially when used in the phrase "best bib and tucker". The term originated from obsolete clothing items—a "bib" being the front of a shirt or apron, and a "tucker" being a decorative lace piece worn at the neckline.
********A "slap-up meal" is a British informal term for a large, excellent, and very good meal. It refers to a lavish, hearty, and enjoyable feast, such as a celebratory dinner or a large lunch.
*********The Premier Super Cinema in East Ham was opened on the 12th of March, 1921, replacing the 800 seat capacity 1912 Premier Electric Theatre. The new cinema could seat 2,408 patrons. The Premier Super Cinema was taken over by Provincial Cinematograph Theatres who were taken over by Gaumont British in February 1929. It was renamed the Gaumont from 21st April 1952. The Gaumont was closed by the Rank Organisation on 6th April 1963. After that it became a bingo hall and remained so until 2005. Despite attempts to have it listed as a historic building due to its relatively intact 1921 interior, the Gaumont was demolished in 2009.
**********A wedding breakfast is a feast given to the newlyweds and guests after the wedding, making it equivalent to a wedding reception that serves a meal. The phrase is still used in British English, as opposed to the description of reception, which is American in derivation. Before the beginning of the Twentieth Century they were traditionally held in the morning, but this fashion began to change after the Great War when they became a luncheon. Regardless of when it was, a wedding breakfast in no way looked like a typical breakfast, with fine savoury food and sweet cakes being served. Wedding breakfasts were at their most lavish in the Edwardian era through to the Second World War.
***********The vicar of All Souls Parish Church in Harlesden between 1918 and 1927 was Ernest Arnold Dunn.
************The parish of All Souls, Harlesden, was formed in 1875 from Willesden, Acton, St John's, Kensal Green, and Hammersmith. Mission services had been held by the curate of St Mary's, Willesden, at Harlesden institute from 1858. The parish church at Station Road, Harlesden, was built and consecrated in 1879. The town centre church is a remarkable brick octagon designed by E.J. Tarver. Originally there was a nave which was extended in 1890 but demolished in 1970.
*************The idiom “richer than Croesus” means very wealthy. This term alludes to Croesus, the legendary King of Lydia and supposedly the richest man on earth. The simile was first recorded in English in 1577.
**************Faither is an old fashioned Scottish word for father.
***************The Hebrides is an archipelago comprising hundreds of islands off the northwest coast of Scotland. Divided into the Inner and Outer Hebrides groups, they are home to rugged landscapes, fishing villages and remote Gaelic-speaking communities.
****************What we know today as New Zealand was once the Colony of New Zealand. It was a Crown colony of the British Empire that encompassed the islands of New Zealand from 1841 to 1907. The power of the British Government was vested in the governor of New Zealand. The colony had three successive capitals: Okiato (or Old Russell) in 1841; Auckland from 1841 to 1865; and Wellington, which became the capital during the colony's reorganisation into a Dominion, and continues as the capital of New Zealand today. During the early years of British settlement, the governor had wide-ranging powers. The colony was granted self-government with the passage of the New Zealand Constitution Act 1852. The first parliament was elected in 1853, and responsible government was established in 1856. The governor was required to act on the advice of his ministers, who were responsible to the parliament. In 1907, the colony became the Dominion of New Zealand, which heralded a more explicit recognition of self-government within the British Empire.
*****************Mither is an old fashioned Scottish word for mother.
******************Cailleach ('old woman' or more unkindly 'hag' in modern Irish and Scottish Gaelic) comes from the Old Irish Caillech ('veiled one'), an adjectival form of caille ('veil'), an early loan from Latin pallium, 'woollen cloak'. The Cailleach is often referred to as the Cailleach Bhéarra in Irish and Cailleach Bheurra in Scottish Gaelic.
*******************A minister in the Scottish Primitive Church is called a Minister of Word and Sacrament. This is because the Scottish church is Presbyterian, and ministers, along with elected elders, form the governing councils (or "courts") that oversee the church.
********************In November 1925, when this story is set, the Conservative Party was in power in Britain, with Stanley Baldwin serving as Prime Minister. His party had returned to power following a decisive victory in the October 1924 general election, which saw the defeat of the short-lived minority Labour government led by Ramsay MacDonald.
*********************Originating in Seventeenth Century England, the term pin money first meant “an allowance of money given by a husband to his wife for her personal expenditures. Married women, who typically lacked other sources of spending money, tended to view an allowance as something quite desirable. By the Twentieth Century, the term had come to mean a small sum of money, whether an allowance or earned, for spending on inessentials, separate and in addition to the housekeeping money a wife might have to spend.
**********************Whilst Listerine was created in the United Staties in 1879, it was first sold in England in the 1920s. Its introduction into the British market was driven by a new advertising campaign that focused on promoting the product as a solution for "halitosis," or bad breath, which helped establish the mouthwash market in the country. The campaigns for Listerine and Listermint led to a "dramatic growth in the UK mouthwash market" in the 1970s, demonstrating the power of advertising in changing consumer behaviour.
***********************The saying, “aways the bridesmaid never the bride” originated from a 1925 Listerine mouthwash advertising campaign, which used the slogan "Often a bridesmaid, never a bride" to imply that bad breath could hinder a woman's chances of getting married. This slogan was a commercial success and became a widely used saying, evolving from its earlier form which was popularised by a 1920s song called "Why am I always the Bridesmaid?" written by Fred W. Leigh in 1917. The phrase later evolved into the current version, "always a bridesmaid, never a bride".
************************The Hammersmith Palais de Danse, in its last years simply named Hammersmith Palais, was a dance hall and entertainment venue in Hammersmith, London, England that operated from 1919 until 2007. It was the first palais de danse to be built in Britain.
*************************To be a "gooseberry" means to be an unwanted third person, a "third wheel," accompanying a couple who wants to be alone. You feel like a gooseberry when you are in a romantic situation but are not part of the romantic relationship, often feeling awkward or out of place. The phrase "feeling like a gooseberry" originated from the British slang term "to play gooseberry," which emerged in the Nineteenth Century. Initially, it referred to a chaperone who facilitated a romantic couple's outing, though the meaning shifted over time to describe a third person who is present when a couple wants to be alone, often feeling like a superfluous or unwanted guest. The original sense likely stemmed from the chaperone's pretext for accompanying the couple, such as pretending to pick gooseberries while allowing the pair to be alone.
**************************A bluestocking woman is an intellectual or literary woman, a term that originated from the Eighteenth Century Blue Stockings Society in England, which promoted literary and intellectual discussions. The term was initially used for both men and women who attended these meetings, but it came to specifically denote women with a passion for learning and writing. While used negatively in the aftermath of the First World War in the 1920s when there was a surfeit of unmarried young women and few men to marry, to imply being overly scholarly or unfeminine, the term bluestocking is now more broadly applied in the way it was originally intended, to women with strong literary or intellectual interests.
***************************The National Gallery is an art museum in Trafalgar Square in London, housing one of the world's greatest collections of Western European paintings from the late Thirteenth Century to the Twentieth Century. It was founded in 1824 and opened to the public on May the 10th of that year. Its first home was in the former townhouse of banker John Julius Angerstein on Pall Mall, which was acquired by the government along with thirty-eight of Angerstein's paintings which formed the basis of the original collection. It later moved to its current location in Trafalgar Square, with the new building opening in 1838.
****************************The British Museum is a public museum dedicated to human history, art and culture located in the Bloomsbury area of London. Its permanent collection of eight million works is the largest in the world. It documents the story of human culture from its beginnings to the present. Established in 1753, the British Museum was the first public national museum.
An afternoon tea made up with tea and a selection of triangle sandwiches and cupcakes like this would be enough to please anyone, but I suspect that even if you ate everything you can see here on the table in and in the display case in the background, you would still come away hungry. This is because they, like everything in this scene are 1:12 size miniatures from my miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau:
The gilt tray of tomato, ham, cheese and cucumber sandwiches and the cream and sprinkle covered cupcakes have been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Frances Knight’s work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination.
The coffee pot with its ornate handle and engraved body is one of three antique Colonial Craftsman pots I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom, as is the silver tray on which they stand. The silver teapot milk jug and sugar bowl are made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The Lyons Corner House crockery is made by the Dolls’ House emporium and was acquired from an online stockist of miniatures on E-Bay. The J. Lyons & Co. Ltd. tariff in the foreground is a copy of a 1920s example that I made myself by reducing it in size and printing it.
The table on which all these items stand is a Queen Anne lamp table which I was given for my seventh birthday. It is one of the very first miniature pieces of furniture I was ever given as a child. The Queen Anne dining chairs were all given to me as a Christmas present when I was around the same age.
Poem.
Oh, bright new day.
A fiery glow in the eastern sky, silhouettes the hills above
the distant shoreline, of the iconic, Loch Lomond.
A plethora of tantalising islands blacken the indigo hills
of the far shore, five to six miles away.
Breathless silence orchestrates the first hour of a spectacular dawn.
The dichotomy is whether to just stay here and see this loch’s vistas transform as the light intensifies; or race on and see other venues unfold their beauty to this slow but ravishing pyrotechnic display of an exquisite sunrise.
Ytste Skotet is a complete, preserved, historical farm located in Stordal Municipality in Møre og Romsdal county, Norway. The historic farmyard and museum is located on the steep shores of the Storfjorden in the Sunnmøre district of the county. The Storfjordens Venner association owns Ytste Skotet and has orchestrated the restoration of the farm. The foundation Ytste Skotet administers the farm’s operation and maintenance, employs workers, and serves as general manager.
InnovaLUG presents the Isles of Aura! Pop in some earbuds and listen as you look! Introducing the Isles of Aura soundtrack:
soundcloud.com/ian-spacek/sets/isles-of-aura-soundtrack
Original Score composed and orchestrated by Ian Spacek.
01. Uncharted Skies: soundcloud.com/ian-spacek/uncharted-skies
02. Skyward: soundcloud.com/ian-spacek/skyward
03. Terraforming: soundcloud.com/ian-spacek/terraforming
04. Kingdoms: soundcloud.com/ian-spacek/from-near-and-far
05. Aura in Autumn: soundcloud.com/ian-spacek/aura-in-autumn
06. The Airships: soundcloud.com/ian-spacek/the-airships
Thanks for stopping by and Soli Deo Gloria!
"M91 è il terzo orso ucciso da Fugatti dall’inizio dell’anno. Anche questa volta ha agito col favore delle tenebre ed immediatamente dopo la sua delibera, per non dare tempo a nessuno di fare ricorso, nemmeno le associazioni abituate a dover lottare contro il tempo.
Ma qui è tutto orchestrato per evitare qualsiasi interferenza. Una vera ossessione malvagia quella di Fugatti per proseguire nella sua campagna di sangue e propaganda.
E il Ministro Pichetto Fratin continua a non fare nulla mentre questa estate ci aveva sorpreso con la frase “uccidere gli orsi non è la soluzione”. Bene Ministro, ci dica se davvero intende fare qualcosa o le sue sono solo chiacchiere."
Eleonora Evi, deputata PD, su X
"M91 is the third bear killed by Fugatti since the beginning of the year. This time too he acted under the cover of darkness and immediately after his resolution, so as not to give anyone time to appeal, not even associations used to having to fight against time.
But here everything is orchestrated to avoid any interference. Fugatti's true evil obsession was to continue his campaign of blood and propaganda.
And Minister Pichetto Fratin continues to do nothing while this summer he surprised us with the phrase "killing bears is not the solution". Well Minister, tell us if you really intend to do something or it's just talk."
Eleonora Evi, PD deputy, on X
I never get tired of photographing sand dunes. The sun and wind orchestrate a landscape of constantly changing shapes, patterns, and shadows. It’s simultaneously simple and amazingly complex. The experience of walking on a dune field can be exhilarating – a conflicting mix of desolate vastness, beauty, and pleasant loneliness.
So I’m always on the lookout for new dunes to explore, and I realized that it would be easy to stop by the Kelso Dunes on my way to New Mexico. The Kelso Dunes are in the Mojave National Preserve in southeastern California, and if I left San Francisco early enough I could make it there for afternoon photos.
I arrived at the trailhead to the Kelso Dunes at about 2pm. The sun shone strongly, and according to my car the temperature had already hit triple digits. As I hiked out, lizards darted away from the trail so quickly they didn’t even seem to be touching the ground.
I knew from photos I’d seen that the Kelso Dunes were pretty scrubby, with few areas of vegetation-free sand. But the area was still interesting to see, and the view from the top of the highest dune was worth the hike out, even in the punishing heat.
More details in my travel blog.
"M91 è il terzo orso ucciso da Fugatti dall’inizio dell’anno. Anche questa volta ha agito col favore delle tenebre ed immediatamente dopo la sua delibera, per non dare tempo a nessuno di fare ricorso, nemmeno le associazioni abituate a dover lottare contro il tempo.
Ma qui è tutto orchestrato per evitare qualsiasi interferenza. Una vera ossessione malvagia quella di Fugatti per proseguire nella sua campagna di sangue e propaganda.
E il Ministro Pichetto Fratin continua a non fare nulla mentre questa estate ci aveva sorpreso con la frase “uccidere gli orsi non è la soluzione”. Bene Ministro, ci dica se davvero intende fare qualcosa o le sue sono solo chiacchiere."
Eleonora Evi, deputata PD, su X
"M91 is the third bear killed by Fugatti since the beginning of the year. This time too he acted under the cover of darkness and immediately after his resolution, so as not to give anyone time to appeal, not even associations used to having to fight against time.
But here everything is orchestrated to avoid any interference. Fugatti's true evil obsession was to continue his campaign of blood and propaganda.
And Minister Pichetto Fratin continues to do nothing while this summer he surprised us with the phrase "killing bears is not the solution". Well Minister, tell us if you really intend to do something or it's just talk."
Eleonora Evi, PD deputy, on X