View allAll Photos Tagged palimpsest
www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYjn4JNbHWM
>>>>>
My most grateful THANKS to all of you, each and everyone !!!
For your additions, comment & valuable feedback <3
>>>>>
A palimpsest is a manuscript page from a scroll or book from which the text has been scraped off and which can be used again. The word "palimpsest" comes from Ancient Greek παλίμψηστος (palímpsestos, “scratched or scraped again”) originally compounded from πάλιν (palin, “again”) and ψάω (psao, “I scrape”) literally meaning “scraped clean and used again”.
Because parchment, prepared from animal hides, is far more durable than paper or papyrus, most palimpsests known to modern scholars are parchment, which rose in popularity in western Europe after the 6th century.
The writing was washed from parchment or vellum using milk and oat bran. With the passing of time, the faint remains of the former writing would reappear enough so that scholars can discern the text (called the scriptio inferior, the "underwriting") and decipher it.
There were various reasons for reusing older material; budget considerations were not the least of them. Reuse by reason of shortages and for cultural and religious reasons are also documented. Instead of just burning the offensive material, reuse was a more economical way of getting information deleted. A famous example for such a use is the Codex Ephraemi Rescriptus; in the 12th century, the treatises of Ephraem of Syria were written over the text of an Egyptian Bible of the fifth century that was not in keeping with what the Church wanted to tell the faithful.
A number of ancient works have survived only as palimpsests. Vellum manuscripts were over-written on purpose mostly due to the dearth or cost of the material. In the case of Greek manuscripts, the consumption of old codices for the sake of the material was so great that a synodal decree of the year 691 forbade the destruction of manuscripts of the Scriptures or the church fathers, except for imperfect or injured volumes.
The Archimedes Palimpsest is a thirteenth century prayer book which contains erased texts that were written several centuries earlier still. These erased texts include two treatises by Archimedes that can be found nowhere else, The Method and Stomachion.
www.archimedespalimpsest.org/images/home-book-photo.jpg
www.philosophyofinformation.net/blog/uploaded_images/Pali...
a palimpsest is a manuscript page from a scroll or book that has been scraped off and used again.
or: a geographical feature composed of superimposed structures created at different times.
DSCF6828-09
Rappahannock River: Fish On
The love of fishing knows no bounds. Certainly not on the Rappahannock River, at least, where Virginia Senator John Warner’s passion for fishing his home rivers provided the final push needed to reconnect the 195-mile river from the Blue Ridge Mountains across the Piedmont to the Chesapeake Bay, establishing the longest free-flowing river in the East.
The mutual love of fishing brought Sen. Warner in contact with the Friends of the Rappahannock’s John Tippett, igniting an 8-year effort to remove the 22-foot-high Embrey Dam in Fredericksburg and free the river from its confines for the first time in 150 years. Breaching the outdated dam in 2004—thanks to federal funding secured by Warner—restored the free-flowing river, improved paddling and angling opportunities, and improved habitat for migratory fish. Hickory shad, striped bass and blueback herring can now travel some 170 miles from Fredericksburg up into the Blue Ridge Mountains.
There the fish join robust populations of smallmouth bass and redbreast sunfish to provide excellent angling above tidal influence. About 24,000 angler visits are tallied annually above Fredericksburg and the former Embrey Dam site. Species composition shifts with habitat, and largemouth bass, catfish, and anadromous species are more common in and below Fredericksburg.
The Rappahannock’s upper reaches, from the headwaters to Mayfield Bridge in Fredericksburg, are designated State Scenic River. In addition to being one of Virginia’s top destinations for smallmouth bass angling, the picturesque waterway offers outstanding canoeing and camping along an almost completely unspoiled historical river corridor. Brimming with Civil War history, the Rappahannock is considered one of the most scenic and best-protected river corridors in the Chesapeake Bay watershed. The Rapidan River, originating from the west side of the state, connects with the Rappahannock about 10 miles northwest of Fredericksburg, providing additional spawning habitat for migrating fish since the dam breach.
The Backstory
Some historians believe the Rappahannock served as a possible boundary between the North and the South during the Civil War. Certainly it was the site of early settlements in the Virginia Colony and of some major battles during the Civil War. The Battle of Fredericksburg and the Battle at Rappahannock Station both took place along the river in 1862.
Embrey Dam was constructed in 1910, replacing a crib dam dating back to 1853. The dam at one time provided water to a Virginia Electric Power Company power station and supplied drinking water for the city of Fredericksburg by way of a historic navigational canal. With the dam in place, the Rappahannock River was impassible above Fredericksburg to anadromous fish during their annual voyage from the Chesapeake Bay, causing many miles of potential spawning habitat to be lost.
The river once had great local significance as a port-of-entry, but gradually became less of a source of transportation and more of a source of recreation and beauty. The river remains a primary source of the growing region’s water supply.
American Rivers named the Rappahannock one of America’s Most Endangered Rivers® of 2017 due to the threat proposed hydraulic fracturing — fracking — for natural gas posed to the river’s clean water. American Rivers’ partners leveraged the report to encourage local municipalities to enact their own restrictions on fracking and improved statewide standards for fracking, including full disclosure of the chemicals pumped underground during drilling. In April 2020, Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam signed a bill into law banning fracking east of Interstate-95, protecting the drinking water supply for a large portion of the Commonwealth of Virginia.
The Future
Today, much of the river’s watershed is rural and forested but is facing increasing pressure from development and population growth. The relatively recent increase in development in the south suburbs of Washington D.C. is changing the appearance of the area and the local impact on the river.
American Rivers’ current focus is on reaching out to dam owners about removing unwanted barriers on Rappahannock River tributaries. The scope of that work will be more fully formulated following the completion of our strategic plan for the Chesapeake Basin.
palimpsest:
1. A parchment which has been written upon more than once, the earlier writing having been erased or obscured to make place for the subsequent.
2 Something reused or altered but still bearing visible traces of its earlier form
--------
the geneology of layers, built on layers, built on layers...
---------
old dictionary page,
2 of my own "faux" writing documents
old paper
Zwingle, Iowa, ca. 1928-1933
THE PALIMPSEST, APRIL, 1932
FROM BELLEVUE TO CASCADE
Beside the North Fork of the Maquoketa River, situated on the line between Jackson and Dubuque counties, lies the town of Cascade. As a pioneer village it was neglected by all the early railroad building activities, and the lack of such transportation threatened for a generation to doom the community to oblivion.
At intervals for thirty years, various projected railroad schemes included Cascade on their route, only to fail, one by one, leaving the community in deeper despair. The earliest of these proposed roads was the “Ram’s-Horn”, first broached in 1848. It was to have extended from Keokuk to Dubuque by way of Iowa City, Cedar Rapids and Cascade. An “air line” directly across Iowa, passing from Bellevue through Cascade, was suggested, but interest in this road was soon overshadowed by a more promising “Southwestern” route from Dubuque, which likewise pledged a station at Cascade. The organization of the Davenport and St. Paul seemed promising but it “also went up in thin air”.
If ever a community had reasons to feel discouraged Cascade certainly did. Outside aid had apparently failed, and it seemed that the town would have to build the railroad if there was ever to be one. Various citizens bestirred themselves.
On October 13, 1876, Dr. W. H. Francis of Cascade wrote to Captain M. R. Brown of Bellevue concerning the feasibility of constructing a narrow gauge road from Bellevue to Cascade. The matter “met with instant favorable response on the part of the people of Bellevue.” All winter the subject was discussed. On March 9, 1877, a meeting was held by the citizens of Bellevue for the purpose of organizing and financing a preliminary survey for a narrow gauge road to Cascade.
Not until August 4, 1877, however, was the Chicago, Bellevue, Cascade and Western Railroad Company organized at Bellevue. This arrangement was apparently not entirely satisfactory, for another meeting was held at Garrytown and a third at Cascade on August 30th when final details were settled. Officers and a board of directors, including three men from each township on the route of the proposed road, were elected. It appears that capable, energetic men were chosen, who believed that the road could actually be built. From the name of the company it may be assumed that the promoters held high hopes that the new railroad might eventually become an important link in a trunk line across the State connecting with the Milwaukee narrow gauge then building westward to Galena from the lakes.
The project was eyed jealously by Dubuque, for the “gate city” did not welcome competition at Bellevue. According to a Cascade Pioneer editorial in September, 1877, D. A. Mahony was urging “the business men and capitalists of Dubuque to take active steps to build, or assist in building a Narrow Gauge Railway to Cascade,” and warning them that “the loss of the trade of the southern part of the county” would be incalculable. He warned his fellow citizens that Cascade was “putting her shoulder to the wheel” in behalf of the Bellevue project.
“The time for action has come,” declared the editor of the Pioneer, “and our people have organized for a purpose, and that purpose is to secure a home market for the products of the surrounding country, and an outlet for other markets” by establishing rail connections with the grain market at Galena to the east and with the thriving cities on the Missouri River. “We understand”, he continued, “that Dubuque business men scoff at the very idea of the people of this section having the financial ability to construct the road. We beg to differ with them on that point, and refer them to the directory elected to manage the organization who alone if they chose to, or were required to furnish the capital could construct the line between Cascade & Bellevue.”
Even in those times, however, when the wages of unskilled labor were as low as fifty cents a day, railroad building was expensive, and few roads were completed without one or more reorganizations. The capitalization of the company was fixed at $200,000, and stock was distributed in sums ranging from $5000 to a few shares held by enthusiastic boosters along the way, some of whom, not having the money to pay, arranged to assist by working out their subsections with teams and labor. In 1878, a tax was voted in Bellevue and in various townships along the route. The people of Bellevue were particularly loyal in their financial support of the new road, as they felt such a railroad would be advantageous in securing the relocation of the county seat at that place.
Perhaps the most important task confronting railroad builders was the location of the route. The determination of the grade between Bellevue and Cascade was particularly difficult, for the altitude of the river town was only about six hundred feet above sea level while the table land only a few miles to the west attained an elevation of eleven hundred feet. But the financial support which might be expected from the various communities that were directly benefited was as important as the engineering factors in determining the location of the right of way.
At the lower end of Bellevue, Mill Creek empties into the Mississippi, and it was the valley of this little stream that afforded the only practicable opportunity of reaching the prairies inland. For a distance of about two miles, the line runs on the north side of Mill Creek, then crosses to the south side for about three miles, and thence returns to the north side, climbing steadily all the while until it emerges upon the uplands. Passing on westward with a great sweeping S curve, the road reaches the first station at the town of La Motte, eleven miles from Bellevue. A mile and a half east of La Motte is a long siding which is used for “doubling”, since the grade ascends there at the rate of about one hundred feet per mile.
Beyond La Motte the topography of the country is of bold relief, and the line contains many stiff grades and sharp curves. Passing Zwingle slightly more than four miles west of La Motte, the line continues down grade to Washington Mills on Otter Creek, twenty-two miles from Bellevue. About fourteen miles from Bellevue, the road passes into Dubuque County and thence along the county line between Dubuque and Jackson counties through Bernard and Fillmore to Cascade. At two sharp curves the right of way dips over into Jackson County for a distance of about a mile in each instance. Nineteen and sixteenths miles of the entire route lies in Dubuque County and sixteen miles in Jackson.
With very little ready cash in the treasury but with unswerving faith that the job could actually be accomplished, the directors launched bravely upon their undertaking and on September 19, 1878, the first ground was broken at Cascade. According to the Cascade Pioneer, it was an event “that will never be forgotten by the present generation. It was a grand gala day for Cascade and five thousand people were present to participate in the happy occasion.” The line was partially graded in Washington Mills, and some work was done at Zwingle and La Motte that year.
By the close of the season, however, the cash was practically exhausted and reorganization was imminent. On January 7, 1879, J. W. Tripp resigned the office of president whereupon Vice president James Hill assumed the management until March 1st, when he was made president. On May 9th, George Runkel, acting in behalf of J. F. Joy, a Detroit capitalist, proposed to take over the unfinished road and complete it without further delay, the offer was accepted and the old company’s franchise was transferred at Zwingle on May 17th to the Joy interest, operating under the name of the Chicago, Clinton, Dubuque & Minnesota Railroad Company. The new management prosecuted the work of construction with vigor, and on January 1, 1880, the road was completed from Bellevue to Cascade.
“At Last We Have It!” proudly announced the Cascade Pioneer. “On Monday it became apparent that the track would be completed to the town on Tuesday. Although no general celebration was announced, yet a large number of people gathered at the depot to see the last rail laid and the train come in. The laying of the track to the depot was completed at noon. Engineer Allen Woodward and his fireman, Sam Elmer, on No. 2, were patiently waiting for the completion of a switch east of the depot, while an immense crowd of men and boys occupied every available space on the cars, to enjoy their first ride on the narrow gauge.”
As soon as the switch was completed, “Woodward seized the bar of the throttle valve of No. 2” and backed the train up the track “as far as the O’Brien place,” then, reversing the lever, he “sent the little engine flying towards Cascade, and in a few minutes drew up at the depot” where a cheer of welcome went up from the multitude. Vice-president Runkel honored the members of the press by inviting them to ride in the cab of the engine. Among the number were John Blanchard of the Monticello Express, Tom Duffy of the Dubuque Herald, and the editor of the Pioneer.
More than fifty years have now elapsed since the celebration of this notable event in the history of Cascade, but the little narrow gauge trains still make their daily trip from Bellevue and return. At seven in the morning, after the arrival of the mail at Bellevue, the little engine and cars, constituting the mixed train, begin their “up” trip, which is made on the leisurely schedule of ten miles per hour. Between stations, however, considerably greater speed is attained than the schedule indicates, as one hour is allowed for climbing the steep grade up Mill Creek to La Motte. When business is heavy or the track is slippery, this is accomplished by “doubling”. The train is divided and part is taken up and side tracked at the summit while the engine and crew return to the bottom of the hill for the remainder of the train.
There is always considerable switching at the stations en route, “spotting” cars at the elevators, coal sheds, and stock-yard platforms, as well as the work of loading and unloading the local freight at the depots. Much of the schedules time is consumed in this manner, especially at Cascade where one hour and ten minutes is allowed for the turn around and work in the yards. At 11:25 A. M. the train begins its “down” trip to Bellevue, where it arrives in due time at 2:40 P.M.
A ride on the downward journey is a delightful experience. At places the train travels high on the edge of a precipitous bluff where wonderful vistas greet the eye in every direction. Again the track leads through deep valleys close to a crystal clear, gurgling little stream, hemmed in on either side by rocky ledges. But most of the way the route is across open farming country, more prosaic though none the less beautiful.
For the amount and quality of service expected, the road is well equipped with motive power and rolling stock. There are in use about fifty box cars, thirty-eight stock cars, twenty-six coal and flat cars, and one caboose. The passenger equipment consists of two coaches both of the combination express and passenger variety. Four engines, numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4, constitute the motive power of the road. A rotary snow plow is used to remove the deep drifts from the numerous cuts through the hills. The engines are of regular type, one with four drivers and three with six drivers about four feet in diameter. They are all equipped with automatic couplers and air brakes. Occasionally, when in need of repairs, they are loaded on a specially constructed flat car and transported to the Milwaukee engine shops at Dubuque or Marquette where they are repaired without being removed from the car.
Compared with modern transportation units, the little engines, cars, and coaches seem Lilliputian, yet for the territory served they are adequate. The trains are operated as efficiently and perhaps more economically than their more impressive neighbors out on the main line. Freight has to be transferred at the Bellevue terminal. Two small coal cars are required to handle the standard load of thirty tons, five narrow gauge box cars of grain fill only one large box car, and two narrow gauge stock cars make up one standard gauge carload of hogs or cattle. Formerly the task of loading and unloading was all done by hand and sometimes as many as ten or twelve men were employed in this operation, but in recent years modern machinery has been installed. A clam-shell bucket loader is used for transferring coal, and belt conveyors for grain and corn.
There can be no doubt that the building of the narrow gauge saved the life of Cascade. In 1876 it was only a straggling village, “lazying along side of a sandy street”. It had once been a way station on the Western Stage Company line, “but that means of transportation had long ceased to exit, when the railroads came west of the Mississippi river.” Only the existence of a few churches seemed to hold the town together. Then along came Isaac W. Baldwin with a few cases of type and a Washington hand press. Apparently “he had bout as much excuse for running a newspaper in this village as he would have had peddling peanuts in a grave yard”, but he exerted a decisive influence on public opinion by his Pioneer editorials. Cascade got its railroad, and in consequence grew into a prosperous community of more than twelve hundred inhabitants.
From time to time there have been several attempts to induce the Milwaukee to transform the road into a standard gauge, but the company has always maintained that the business was not sufficient to warrant the unusual expense due to the topography of the country.
Thus the sole survivor of the narrow gauge railroads in Iowa continues to function, perpetuating the history of an early phase of railroading. Tourists in northeastern Iowa who come across the Bellevue-Cascade railroad for the first time find it an interesting surprise. What impresses them as an amusing curiosity is none the less a genuine railroad of vital importance to a number of substantial communities
“Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong, West Virginia, Mountain mamma, take me home, Country roads”
—John Denver
---
The New River Gorge National Park and Preserve is a unit of the United States National Park Service designed to protect and maintain the New River Gorge in southern West Virginia in the Appalachian Mountains. Established in 1978 as a national river, the NPS-protected area stretches for 53 miles (85 km) from just downstream of Hinton to Hawks Nest State Park near Ansted.
The park is rich in cultural and natural history and offers an abundance of scenic and recreational opportunities. New River Gorge is home to some of the country's best whitewater rafting, mainly from the Cunard put-in to the Fayette Station take-out.
New River Gorge is also one of the most popular climbing areas on the east coast with over 1,400 established rock climbs. The cliffs at "The New" are located just below the rim of the gorge and are made up of a very hard Nuttall sandstone. The rock is very featured, and an abundance of crack and face routes, with occasional large roofs. Almost all climbs are one pitch long and range from 30 to 120 feet (37 m) in height. The majority of the routes in the gorge are for advanced climbers in 5.10-5.12 range of the Yosemite Decimal System with about an equal number of traditional and sport climbs.
Flowing water is the creative force shaping the geologic features of the New River Gorge as the river continues to sculpt the longest and deepest river gorge in the Appalachian Mountains. On display in the gorge one can find a variety of unique geologic features and processes that exemplify the geology of the Appalachian Plateau, including the exposure of over 1,000 feet (300 m) of sandstone and shale, house-sized boulders scattered from rim to river, plant and invertebrate fossils, and steep channel drop-offs. The river has exposed four seams of coal, considered among the best bituminous coal in the world. The smokeless New River coal once fed the boilers of the nation's trains, factories, fleets and power plants, and its coke fueled the nation's iron furnaces.
Aquatic life
The waters of the New River system contain a mosaic of hydrologic features and aquatic habitats that support a unique aquatic ecosystem and nourish a riparian zone that supports rare plants, animals, and communities. The waters provide a surprising variety and density of riverine hydrologic features and processes unparalleled in the Eastern United States, including pools, backwaters, glides, runs, shoals, riffles, torrents, cascades, chutes, rapids and waterfalls.
The river is a highly productive aquatic ecosystem that includes distinct populations of native fish (many found nowhere else), mussels, crayfish, and a broad array of other aquatic life, including rare amphibians, reptiles, birds and mammals. The riparian zone is the most biologically diverse part of the park and contains globally rare communities and essential habitat for several rare species. The New River is a dynamic aquatic ecosystem that supports smallmouth bass and other game fish, mussels, crayfish, other invertebrates, and aquatic plants.
New River Gorge National Park and Preserve lies at the core of a globally significant forest containing the most diverse flora of any river gorge in central and southern Appalachia and provides essential habitat for endangered mammals and rare birds and amphibians. The park contains habitats of continuous forest, cliff and rimrock, forest seeps and wetlands, mature bottomland forests, abandoned mine portals (providing a refuge for rare species, including bats, amphibians, and the Allegheny woodrat; a species of special concern in West Virginia and in decline throughout the eastern United States). New River Gorge offers shelter to at least 63 species of mammals including the endangered Virginia big-eared and Indiana bats. The river, stream tributaries, and forest provide habitat for 48 known species of amphibians including the endangered eastern hellbender, black-bellied salamander, and cave salamander.
Diverse populations of birds such as wood warblers, vireos, and thrushes spend part of their lives in the tropics but depend upon the unfragmented forests of the New River Gorge for breeding. The region is a vital link in the north-south migratory flyway. Each year, thousands of hawks fly across the region during the fall migratory season. The National Park Service and West Virginia Department of Natural Resources have initiated a multi-year program to restore peregrine falcons to New River Gorge. These majestic birds soar and dive near the cliffs. Forty different plant communities containing at least 1,342 species and 54 rare plants have been identified in the gorge.
Within the gorge is a wealth of historically significant abandoned places, some in ruins and some stabilized and rehabilitated, where people worked and lived during the late 18th and 19th centuries, supplying the coal and lumber that helped fuel American industry. Remnants of the park's past, hidden in the forest, tell the stories of earlier life in the Appalachian Mountains. On display are the tangible remains of historic coal mining structures and coke ovens of unmatched integrity — such as at Nuttallburg Coal Mining Complex and Town Historic District and Kay Moor — and the historic structures and ruins associated with more than 50 company-owned towns.
The New River Gorge region was opened up to the outside world in 1873 with the coming of the railroad. In the park, there are old railroad depots, rail yards, rail grades, steel and timber trestle bridges, railroad equipment, archeological sites and associated towns, like Thurmond, that were developed to support the railroad. The history and archeology associated with the lumbering industry can be seen in the ruins of old towns like Hamlet. Also contributing to the area's rich cultural history are surviving examples of subsistence farms, former community sites, homesteads, and other places in the park where the ancestors of families long associated with the New River lived and worked.
The Lower Gorge of the New River is a premier whitewater rafting location. The rapids, ranging in difficulty from Class III to Class V, are imposing and forceful, many of them obstructed by large boulders which necessitate maneuvering in very powerful currents, crosscurrents, and hydraulics. Commercial outfitters conduct trips down the river from April through October. The upper part of the river offers somewhat less challenging class I to III rapids for whitewater canoeing. The National Park Service website lists all the licensed outfitters on their Commercial Whitewater Information page.
New River Gorge National Park and Preserve has become one of the most popular rock climbing areas in the country. Within the park are over 1,400 established rock climbs. The cliffs at New River Gorge are made up of hard sandstone and range from 30 to 120 feet (37 m) in height.
Fishing is one of the most popular activities on the New River. The diversity of fish in its waters makes the New River an excellent warm water fishery.
There are over 50 miles (80 km) of hiking trails in the park ranging from easy walks to more challenging hikes. Several trails following old railroad grades are open to bikes. There are four primitive camping areas within the park, all located along the river.
There are two year-round visitor centers located at Sandstone and Canyon Rim (Wikipedia).
Tatshenshini-Alsek Park or Tatshenshini-Alsek Provincial Wilderness Park is a provincial park in British Columbia, Canada 9,580 km2 (3,700 sq mi). It was established in 1993 after an intensive campaign by Canadian and American conservation organizations to halt mining exploration and development in the area, and protect the area for its strong natural heritage and biodiversity values.
The park is situated in the very northwestern corner of British Columbia, bordering the American state of Alaska and the Canadian Yukon Territory. Nestled between the Yukon's Kluane National Park and Reserve in the Yukon and Glacier Bay & Alaska's Wrangell–St. Elias National Parks and Preserves, the park includes all land in British Columbia west of the Haines Highway. It is part of the Kluane-Wrangell-St. Elias-Glacier Bay-Tatshenshini-Alsek park system, and in 1994 was designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Over the centuries, numerous indigenous peoples lived in this area, including the historic Tlingit and Southern Tutchone, who built fishing villages along the rivers. The eastern edge of the park follows an ancient trade route used by the Chilkat (a Tlingit people) to barter with the Tutchone.
In the mid-19th century, the sudden breakup of a natural dam on the Alsek River caused a severe flood. The dam had been formed by the advance of a glacier across the entire Alsek River channel; the obstructed river formed a large temporary lake upstream of the blockage. A wall of water 7 m (23 ft) high and 15 m (49 ft) wide swept an entire Tutchone village into the sea at Dry Bay, killing all the inhabitants.
Tatshenshini-Alsek was one of the last areas of British Columbia to be mapped and explored. In the 1960s the first geological exploration for minerals took place in the area. Significant copper deposits were found in the vicinity of Windy Craggy Mountain, in the middle of the Tatshenshini region. In the mid-1970s two companies began rafting the Tatshenshini (aka "the Tat", a term also used to refer to the region) and Alsek rivers for the first time. In the mid-1980s a proposal surfaced to develop Windy Craggy peak into a huge open-pit mine.
In 1991 Tatshenshini International was established, linking together the top 50 conservation organisations in North America. An extremely intensive campaign followed in Canada and in the United States, particularly the U.S. Congress and eventually the White House, when the active involvement of then Vice-President Al Gore was enlisted. Eventually, BC Premier Mike Harcourt responded by undertaking a review of the issues surrounding Tatshenshini-Alsek by the Commission on Resources and the Environment (CORE). BC government under Premier Harcourt decided in June 1993 to protect Tatshenshini-Alsek as a Class A park. The owners of the Windy-Craggy mineral claims were given a $103.8 million settlement.
In combination with the adjoining national parks, this completed protection of the world's largest international park complex. The International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) proposed the area for protection as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The Kluane-Wrangell-St. Elias-Glacier Bay-Tatshenshini-Alsek transfrontalier park system comprising Kluane, Wrangell-St Elias, Glacier Bay and Tatshenshini-Alsek parks, was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1994 for the spectacular glacier and icefield landscapes, in addition to the importance of its habitat for grizzly bears, caribou and Dall sheep.
In 1999, a party of sheep hunters found artifacts and remains of a young male at the foot of a glacier in the park; he was later called Kwäday Dän Ts’ìnchi, or "Long Ago Man Found". The well-preserved frozen body turned out to be between 300 and 550 years old. Representatives of Champagne and Aishihik First Nations were consulted for this find on their historic territory, and they named the young man. In addition, they agreed to scientific and DNA testing of the remains. Researchers recruited volunteers to see if people could be found who were genetically related to the "iceman". Some 241 volunteers were tested from the area Champagne and Aishihik First Nations, and related peoples in Yukon, British Columbia and Alaska. Seventeen living relatives, including two sisters, were found in the Champagne and Aishihik First Nations who are related through a mitochondrial DNA match of the direct female line. Fifteen of these 17 identify as Wolf clan, suggesting the young man also belonged to that clan. In the matrilineal kinship system, children are considered born into their mother's clan, and descent is figured through the mother's line.
The Alsek and Tatshenshini rivers flow through the park in glacier-carved U-shaped valleys. These valleys through the coastal mountains allow cool, moist ocean air into the cold interior. The quick change from ocean to interior environment, frequent floods, landslides and avalanches, a varied geology and great elevation changes have together created an exceptionally diverse range of habitat conditions.
Tatshenshini-Alsek Park supports a large grizzly bear population. A green area that cuts through a barrier of mountain and ice connects coastal and interior grizzly bear populations and provides a perfect habitat. The park is the only Canadian home of the glacier bear. This extremely rare blue-grey colour phase of the black bear is found only within the park and just over the border into the United States.
As well as bears, Tatshenshini-Alsek Park also supports Dall's sheep, and exceptional numbers of mountain goats, Kenai moose, grey wolves, eagles (bald and golden), falcons (peregrine and gyr), and trumpeter swans.
Along the coastline, sea lions and humpback whales can be seen.
Alsek Ranges are situated there and Mount Fairweather, at 4,671 metres (15,325 ft) is the province's highest peak. The Tatshenshini-Alsek area lies in a region of high earthquake activity. Slippages along the Fairweather and Hubbard/Border Faults to the west and the Denali Fault to the north cause regular quakes (Wikipedia).
On the Tennessee River to the south of Lake Guntersville, these lovely falls are just 35 feet high but a stunning 300 feet across. They are not always in full flow, but when they are, they make a great photograph. The pedestrian bridge above the falls is a good vantage point and is just a short walk from the parking lot. You can wade in the crystal-clear water in the creek above the falls when it’s not too deep, but it is important to take care. The surrounding rocks can be slippery so don’t go too close to the top of the falls.
969 County Road 144
Grove Oak, AL 35975
----
Eagles figure prominently in the mythology of nearly every Native American tribe. In most Native cultures, eagles are considered medicine birds with impressive magical powers, and play a major role in the religious ceremonies of many tribes.
Among the Pueblo tribes, eagles are considered one of the six directional guardians, associated with the upward direction, spirituality, and balance. The Zunis carve stone eagle fetishes for protection, ascribing to them both healing and hunting powers, and the Eagle Dance is one of the most important traditional dances held by the Hopi and other Pueblo tribes. In the mythology of some tribes, Eagle plays a leadership role (either as king of the birds, or as a chief who humans interact with.) In other legends, Eagle serves as a messenger between humans and the Creator. The golden eagle, also known as the "war eagle," is particularly associated with warriors and courage in battle, and it is golden eagle feathers that were earned by Plains Indian men as war honors and worn in their feather headdresses. (In some tribes, this practice continues to this day, and eagle feathers are still given to soldiers returning from war or people who have achieved a great accomplishment.) In some Northwest Coast tribes, the floor used to be dusted with eagle down at potlatches and other ceremonies as a symbol of peace and hospitality.
Because eagles are considered such a powerful medicine animal, the hunting or killing of eagles was restricted by many taboos. Eating eagle meat was forbidden in many tribes; in some legends, a person who eats eagle meat is transformed into a monster. In some Plains Indian tribes, feathers were required to be plucked from a live eagle so as to avoid killing them (to accomplish this, eagles were trapped in a net and released.) In Southeastern tribes, only men with special eagle medicine, known as Eagle-Killers were permitted to kill eagles. In the Cherokee tribe, even Eagle-Killers were only permitted to kill eagles during wintertime.
Eagles are also one of the most widespread clan animals used by Native American cultures. Tribes with Eagle Clans include the Chippewa (whose Bald Eagle Clan and its totem are called Migizi, while the Golden Eagle Clan is called Giniw), the Hopi (whose Eagle Clan is called Kwaangyam or Qua-wungwa), the Zuni (whose Eagle Clan name is K'yak'yali-kwe) and other Pueblo tribes of New Mexico, Plains tribes like the Caddo and Osage, and Northwest Coast tribes like the Haida, Kwakiutl, Tsimshian, and Tlingit. Eagle was an important clan crest on the Northwest Coast, and eagle designs can often be found carved on totem poles, ceremonial staffs, and other traditional Northwestern art. And many eastern tribes, such as the Cherokee, have an Eagle Dance among their tribal dance traditions.
The McDonald Observatory is an astronomical observatory located near the unincorporated community of Fort Davis in Jeff Davis County, Texas, United States. The facility is located on Mount Locke in the Davis Mountains of West Texas, with additional facilities on Mount Fowlkes, approximately 1.3 kilometers (0.81 mi) to the northeast. The observatory is part of the University of Texas at Austin. It is an organized research unit of the College of Natural Sciences.
The observatory produces StarDate, a daily syndicated radio program consisting of short segments related to astronomy that airs on both National Public Radio and commercial radio stations — about 400 affiliates in all.
The McDonald Observatory was originally endowed by the Texas banker William Johnson McDonald (1844–1926), who left about $1 million - the bulk of his fortune - to the University of Texas to endow an astronomical observatory. The provision of the will was challenged by McDonald's relatives, but after a long legal fight, the University received about $800,000 from the estate and construction began at Mt. Locke. The then-unnamed Otto Struve Telescope was dedicated on May 5, 1939, and at that time was the second largest telescope in the world. McDonald Observatory was operated under contract by the University of Chicago until the 1960s, when control was transferred to the University of Texas at Austin under the direction of Harlan J. Smith.
Research today at the McDonald Observatory encompasses a wide variety of topics and projects, including planetary systems, stars and stellar spectroscopy, the interstellar medium, extragalactic astronomy, and theoretical astronomy (Wikipedia)
Welcome to the Other Side of Nowhere!
Big Bend Ranch State Park offers outdoor recreation for the truly adventurous. This remote park features rugged mountains, steep canyons, amazing views, unparalleled night skies, and solitude in a high desert setting. The park stretches along the Rio Grande in far west Texas, on the U.S.-Mexico border.
Mill Creek Falls (York Co.) Trail
Beautiful Pennsylvania: Mill Creek Falls a cool respite in southern York County
Updated Jan 05, 2019; Posted Jul 23, 2017
Beautiful Pennsylvania: Mill Creek Falls, York County
By Marcus Schneck | mschneck@pennlive.com
The cool ozone flows thick through the small, dark chasm at the base of Mill Creek Falls near Holtwood Dam in southern York County. The falls maybe just 30 feet from top to bottom, making twists and turns over three drops, but it roars through the moss-covered ledges and sluices carved over centuries.
Most guides suggest hiking five minutes or so along the adjacent Mason-Dixon Trail to the head of the falls.
However, the base of the falls, right from the River Road bridge over Mill Creek offers its own unique encounter worth a visit.
The falls are accessed from River Road, which runs north from Rt. 372 immediately west of the Norman Wood Bridge over the Susquehanna River.
www.pennlive.com/wildaboutpa/2017/07/beautiful_pennsylvan...
take a look at this, my boy.
what is it, herr doktor?
you need to first know what it is not!
huh?
obviously, it appears to be a fabricated industrial foundry mold, inexplicably wedded to an ordinary piece of automotive equipment.
it does?
which is exactly what it is not! the unknown designer cleverly concealed a sophisticated machine of enormous importance! a veritable palimpsest!
what?
my rigorous testing has revealed that this mysterious object holds the key to controlling the speed of light! and specifically, how to stop light in its tracks! ha ha!
gee.
these numbers contain the crucial code: "66861-0"
uh, doktor, I think the numbers are actually 66851-0.
what's that? mein gott! you're right!
is that important?
important? good thing I didn't pay for this worthless piece of junk.
you mean, no palimpsest?
no. but how about a vodka martini instead.
should I make it. . .
a double. very good, my boy.
Catoosa Wildlife Management Area is a large game-management area on the Upper Cumberland Plateau in Morgan, Cumberland and Fentress counties in Tennessee in the United States. It comprises 96,000 acres (332 km2) of wild land administered by the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency (TWRA). The Management Area is funded by hunters and fishermen, and is popular with all outdoors enthusiasts, including backpackers, and whitewater rafters. It has many trails for hiking, of which the most notable is the Cumberland Trail. It also has gravel roads and dirt track four-wheel drive roads for motorized exploration. Catoosa ranges from gentle rolling hills to some of the most rugged and extreme terrain in the country. Many rivers and streams have cut deep canyons into the Cumberland Plateau and Cumberland Mountains of the Management area allowing for beautiful vistas.
Catoosa and several other WMAs are closed to entry between sunset and sunrise in order to reduce the effect of the activities that are considered incompatible to established wildlife management practices. Because WMAs were purchased with funds generated by hunters, the TWRA regards hunting as the main priority on these areas. Off-road vehicles and horses are permitted, but only on certain roads and trails. Overnight camping is allowed on designated areas by permission of the area manager.
The Catoosa WMA lies within the Emory River drainage, which is divided by a number of major stream drainages, including the Obed River, Daddy's Creek, Clear Creek, and Otter Creek. The Emory River meets the Obed River in the southeast corner of the area. The terrain is moderately rolling, ranging in elevation from 1,100 feet (340 m) to 2,300 feet (700 m), with deep canyons cut by the streams.
Over 98 percent of the WMA is forested and the wildlife populations have been restored. The healthy deer herd regularly produces trophy bucks for hunters, and wild turkey numbers are growing fast. Other game animals include European wild boar, fox squirrels, gray squirrels, ruffed grouse, raccoons, quail, rabbits, and mourning doves. Game fish include smallmouth bass, rock bass, bluegill, and muskellunge.
History
The first use of the plateau was as hunting grounds. Artifacts found in caves and rock shelters suggest Mississippian and later Cherokee hunters camped here but never established permanent dwellings. The hunting grounds were visited seasonally by the Cherokees, Choctaws, Chickasaws, and Shawnees, and were the subject of repeated conflicts. In the eighteenth century, longhunters came to hunt game, and English, Scots-Irish and German settlers settled in small hamlets mostly in the valleys.
In 1797, Francis Bailey wrote, "...about five o'clock we arrived at Crab Orchard. Here we found a large plain or natural meadow, containing many hundred acres covered throughout its whole extent with a tall, rich grass." Two years later, in 1799, Martin Steiner wrote, "...then we crossed barren hills where only bushes grew. Now and then one saw a little tree." There were many other such accounts indicating the open nature of the terrain and the presence of great herds of elk, deer, and bison.
Ecologists believe the grasslands arose from lightning-caused wildfire and grazing by megafauna. This natural community was maintained by periodic burning by the Native Americans. The plateau reforested when early European settlers began practicing fire suppression. The white settlers visited the high country occasionally to mine coal and harvest timber before major industry came to the area with the first lumber mill in the 1870s. By 1911, two coal and lumber companies had formed a syndicate that exploited the region until the main bridges on their rail lines were destroyed by a flood in 1929. As the companies cleared the woodland they leased these lands to small farms for arable and animal farming.
The Great Depression prevented the industrial companies from reinvesting in the repair of their railroads and businesses began to fail. In 1940 the Crossville Exchange Club appointed a committee to encourage the state to purchase some of the abandoned land for a wildlife management area. The Conservation Commission bought 63,000 acres (250 km2) from the Tennessee Mineral and Lumber Company in 1942 using Pittman–Robertson federal aid funds. In 1949 the Tennessee Game and Fish Commission, now the Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency (TWRA), established a tentative purchase boundary encompassing some 90,000 acres (360 km2) within which they began to eliminate interior holdings through a land acquisition program. As of 1999 this program was still in train. (Wikipedia).
From al Azhar park...Mosque, Skyscraper, apartment building or modern Roman insula, the Pyramids and Ra!
Hamilton, acrylic, pastel, postcards on palimpsest on linen, 60.325 cm x 121.91 cm,2006
front
I am also working on the back side of this canvas...
To the Memory of the Household It Describes
This Poem is Dedicated by the Author:
"As the Spirits of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so Good Spirits,which be Angels of Light, are augmented not only by the Divine lightof the Sun, but also by our common Wood Fire: and as the CelestialFire drives away dark spirits, so also this our Fire of Wood doth thesame." -- Cor. Agrippa, Occult Philosophy,
Book I.ch. v.
"Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of Storm." EMERSON, The Snow Storm.
The sun that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.
Slow tracing down the thickening sky
Its mute and ominous prophecy,
A portent seeming less than threat,
It sank from sight before it set.
A chill no coat, however stout,
Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,
A hard, dull bitterness of cold,
That checked, mid-vein, the circling race
Of life-blood in the sharpened face,
The coming of the snow-storm told.
The wind blew east; we heard the roar
Of Ocean on his wintry shore,
And felt the strong pulse throbbing there
Beat with low rhythm our inland air.
Meanwhile we did our nightly chores, --
Brought in the wood from out of doors,
Littered the stalls, and from the mows
Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows;
Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
And, sharply clashing horn on horn,
Impatient down the stanchion rows
The cattle shake their walnut bows;
While, peering from his early perch
Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,
The cock his crested helmet bent
And down his querulous challenge sent.
Unwarmed by any sunset light
The gray day darkened into night,
A night made hoary with the swarm
And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,
As zigzag, wavering to and fro,
Crossed and recrossed the wingëd snow:
And ere the early bedtime came
The white drift piled the window-frame,
And through the glass the clothes-line posts
Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.
So all night long the storm roared on:
The morning broke without a sun;
In tiny spherule traced with lines
Of Nature's geometric signs,
In starry flake, and pellicle,
All day the hoary meteor fell;
And, when the second morning shone,
We looked upon a world unknown,
On nothing we could call our own.
Around the glistening wonder bent
The blue walls of the firmament,
No cloud above, no earth below, --
A universe of sky and snow!
The old familiar sights of ours
Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers
Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood,
Or garden-wall, or belt of wood;
A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed,
A fenceless drift what once was road;
The bridle-post an old man sat
With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat;
The well-curb had a Chinese roof;
And even the long sweep, high aloof,
In its slant spendor, seemed to tell
Of Pisa's leaning miracle.
A prompt, decisive man, no breath
Our father wasted: "Boys, a path!"
Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy
Count such a summons less than joy?)
Our buskins on our feet we drew;
With mittened hands, and caps drawn low,
To guard our necks and ears from snow,
We cut the solid whiteness through.
And, where the drift was deepest, made
A tunnel walled and overlaid
With dazzling crystal: we had read
Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave,
And to our own his name we gave,
With many a wish the luck were ours
To test his lamp's supernal powers.
We reached the barn with merry din,
And roused the prisoned brutes within.
The old horse thrust his long head out,
And grave with wonder gazed about;
The cock his lusty greeting said,
And forth his speckled harem led;
The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked,
And mild reproach of hunger looked;
The hornëd patriarch of the sheep,
Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep,
Shook his sage head with gesture mute,
And emphasized with stamp of foot.
All day the gusty north-wind bore
The loosening drift its breath before;
Low circling round its southern zone,
The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone.
No church-bell lent its Christian tone
To the savage air, no social smoke
Curled over woods of snow-hung oak.
A solitude made more intense
By dreary-voicëd elements,
The shrieking of the mindless wind,
The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind,
And on the glass the unmeaning beat
Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet.
Beyond the circle of our hearth
No welcome sound of toil or mirth
Unbound the spell, and testified
Of human life and thought outside.
We minded that the sharpest ear
The buried brooklet could not hear,
The music of whose liquid lip
Had been to us companionship,
And, in our lonely life, had grown
To have an almost human tone.
As night drew on, and, from the crest
Of wooded knolls that ridged the west,
The sun, a snow-blown traveller, sank
From sight beneath the smothering bank,
We piled, with care, our nightly stack
Of wood against the chimney-back, --
The oaken log, green, huge, and thick,
And on its top the stout back-stick;
The knotty forestick laid apart,
And filled between with curious art
The ragged brush; then, hovering near,
We watched the first red blaze appear,
Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam
On whitewashed wall and sagging beam,
Until the old, rude-furnished room
Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom;
While radiant with a mimic flame
Outside the sparkling drift became,
And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree
Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free.
The crane and pendent trammels showed,
The Turks' heads on the andirons glowed;
While childish fancy, prompt to tell
The meaning of the miracle,
Whispered the old rhyme: "Under the tree,
When fire outdoors burns merrily,
There the witches are making tea."
The moon above the eastern wood
Shone at its full; the hill-range stood
Transfigured in the silver flood,
Its blown snows flashing cold and keen,
Dead white, save where some sharp ravine
Took shadow, or the sombre green
Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black
Against the whiteness at their back.
For such a world and such a night
Most fitting that unwarming light,
Which only seemed where'er it fell
To make the coldness visible.
Shut in from all the world without,
We sat the clean-winged hearth about,
Content to let the north-wind roar
In baffled rage at pane and door,
While the red logs before us beat
The frost-line back with tropic heat;
And ever, when a louder blast
Shook beam and rafter as it passed,
The merrier up its roaring draught
The great throat of the chimney laughed;
The house-dog on his paws outspread
Laid to the fire his drowsy head,
The cat's dark silhouette on the wall
A couchant tiger's seemed to fall;
And, for the winter fireside meet,
Between the andirons' straddling feet,
The mug of cider simmered slow,
The apples sputtered in a row,
And, close at hand, the basket stood
With nuts from brown October's wood.
What matter how the night behaved?
What matter how the north-wind raved?
Blow high, blow low, not all its snow
Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow.
O Time and Change! -- with hair as gray
As was my sire's that winter day,
How strange it seems, with so much gone
Of life and love, to still live on!
Ah, brother! only I and thou
Are left of all that circle now, --
The dear home faces whereupon
That fitful firelight paled and shone.
Henceforward, listen as we will,
The voices of that hearth are still;
Look where we may, the wide earth o'er,
Those lighted faces smile no more.
We tread the paths their feet have worn,
We sit beneath their orchard trees,
We hear, like them, the hum of bees
And rustle of the bladed corn;
We turn the pages that they read,
Their written words we linger o'er,
But in the sun they cast no shade,
No voice is heard, no sign is made,
No step is on the conscious floor!
Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust,
(Since He who knows our need is just,)
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Alas for him who never sees
The stars shine through his cypress-trees!
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away,
Nor looks to see the breaking day
Across the mournful marbles play!
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith,
The truth to flesh and sense unknown,
That Life is ever lord of Death,
And Love can never lose its own!
We sped the time with stories old,
Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told,
Or stammered from our school-book lore
"The Chief of Gambia's golden shore."
How often since, when all the land
Was clay in Slavery's shaping hand,
As if a far-blown trumpet stirred
The languorous sin-sick air, I heard:
"Does not the voice of reason cry,
Claim the first right which Nature gave,
From the red scourge of bondage to fly,
Nor deign to live a burdened slave!"
Our father rode again his ride
On Memphremagog's wooded side;
Sat down again to moose and samp
In trapper's hut and Indian camp;
Lived o'er the old idyllic ease
Beneath St. François' hemlock-trees;
Again for him the moonlight shone
On Norman cap and bodiced zone;
Again he heard the violin play
Which led the village dance away.
And mingled in its merry whirl
The grandam and the laughing girl.
Or, nearer home, our steps he led
Where Salisbury's level marshes spread
Mile-wide as flies the laden bee;
Where merry mowers, hale and strong,
Swept, scythe on scythe, their swaths along
The low green prairies of the sea.
We shared the fishing off Boar's Head,
And round the rocky Isles of Shoals
The hake-broil on the drift-wood coals;
The chowder on the sand-beach made,
Dipped by the hungry, steaming hot,
With spoons of clam-shell from the pot.
We heard the tales of witchcraft old,
And dream and sign and marvel told
To sleepy listeners as they lay
Stretched idly on the salted hay,
Adrift along the winding shores,
When favoring breezes deigned to blow
The square sail of the gundelow
And idle lay the useless oars.
Our mother, while she turned her wheel
Or run the new-knit stocking-heel,
Told how the Indian hordes came down
At midnight on Concheco town,
And how her own great-uncle bore
His cruel scalp-mark to fourscore.
Recalling, in her fitting phrase,
So rich and picturesque and free
(The common unrhymed poetry
Of simple life and country ways,)
The story of her early days, --
She made us welcome to her home;
Old hearths grew wide to give us room;
We stole with her a frightened look
At the gray wizard's conjuring-book,
The fame whereof went far and wide
Through all the simple country side;
We heard the hawks at twilight play,
The boat-horn on Piscataqua,
The loon's weird laughter far away;
We fished her little trout-brook, knew
What flowers in wood and meadow grew,
What sunny hillsides autumn-brown
She climbed to shake the ripe nuts down,
Saw where in sheltered cove and bay,
The ducks' black squadron anchored lay,
And heard the wild-geese calling loud
Beneath the gray November cloud.
Then, haply, with a look more grave,
And soberer tone, some tale she gave
From painful Sewel's ancient tome,
Beloved in every Quaker home,
Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom,
Or Chalkley's Journal, old and quaint, --
Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint! --
Who, when the dreary calms prevailed,
And water-butt and bread-cask failed,
And cruel, hungry eyes pursued
His portly presence mad for food,
With dark hints muttered under breath
Of casting lots for life or death,
Offered, if Heaven withheld supplies,
To be himself the sacrifice.
Then, suddenly, as if to save
The good man from his living grave,
A ripple on the water grew,
A school of porpoise flashed in view.
"Take, eat," he said, "and be content;
These fishes in my stead are sent
By Him who gave the tangled ram
To spare the child of Abraham."
Our uncle, innocent of books,
Was rich in lore of fields and brooks,
The ancient teachers never dumb
Of Nature's unhoused lyceum.
In moons and tides and weather wise,
He read the clouds as prophecies,
And foul or fair could well divine,
By many an occult hint and sign,
Holding the cunning-warded keys
To all the woodcraft mysteries;
Himself to Nature's heart so near
That all her voices in his ear
Of beast or bird had meanings clear,
Like Apollonius of old,
Who knew the tales the sparrows told,
Or Hermes, who interpreted
What the sage cranes of Nilus said;
A simple, guileless, childlike man,
Content to live where life began;
Strong only on his native grounds,
The little world of sights and sounds
Whose girdle was the parish bounds,
Whereof his fondly partial pride
The common features magnified,
As Surrey hills to mountains grew
In White of Selborne's loving view, --
He told how teal and loon he shot,
And how the eagle's eggs he got,
The feats on pond and river done,
The prodigies of rod and gun;
Till, warming with the tales he told,
Forgotten was the outside cold,
The bitter wind unheeded blew,
From ripening corn the pigeons flew,
The partridge drummed i' the wood, the mink
Went fishing down the river-brink.
In fields with bean or clover gray,
The woodchuck, like a hermit gray,
Peered from the doorway of his cell;
The muskrat plied the mason's trade,
And tier by tier his mud-walls laid;
And from the shagbark overhead
The grizzled squirrel dropped his shell.
Next, the dear aunt, whose smile of cheer
And voice in dreams I see and hear, --
The sweetest woman ever Fate
Perverse denied a household mate,
Who, lonely, homeless, not the less
Found peace in love's unselfishness,
And welcome wheresoe'er she went,
A calm and gracious element,
Whose presence seemed the sweet income
And womanly atmosphere of home, --
Called up her girlhood memories,
The huskings and the apple-bees,
The sleigh-rides and the summer sails,
Weaving through all the poor details
And homespun warp of circumstance
A golden woof-thread of romance.
For well she kept her genial mood
And simple faith of maidenhood;
Before her still a cloud-land lay,
The mirage loomed across her way;
The morning dew, that dries so soon
With others, glistened at her noon;
Through years of toil and soil and care,
From glossy tress to thin gray hair,
All unprofaned she held apart
The virgin fancies of the heart.
Be shame to him of woman born
Who hath for such but thought of scorn.
There, too, our elder sister plied
Her evening task the stand beside;
A full, rich nature, free to trust,
Truthful and almost sternly just,
Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act,
And make her generous thought a fact,
Keeping with many a light disguise
The secret of self-sacrifice.
O heart sore-tried! thou hast the best
That Heaven itself could give thee, -- rest,
Rest from all bitter thoughts and things!
How many a poor one's blessing went
With thee beneath the low green tent
Whose curtain never outward swings!
As one who held herself a part
Of all she saw, and let her heart
Against the household bosom lean,
Upon the motley-braided mat
Our youngest and our dearest sat,
Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes,
Now bathed in the unfading green
And holy peace of Paradise.
Oh, looking from some heavenly hill,
Or from the shade of saintly palms,
Or silver reach of river calms,
Do those large eyes behold me still?
With me one little year ago: --
The chill weight of the winter snow
For months upon her grave has lain;
And now, when summer south-winds blow
And brier and harebell bloom again,
I tread the pleasant paths we trod,
I see the violet-sprinkled sod
Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak
The hillside flowers she loved to seek,
Yet following me where'er I went
With dark eyes full of love's content.
The birds are glad; the brier-rose fills
The air with sweetness; all the hills
Stretch green to June's unclouded sky;
But still I wait with ear and eye
For something gone which should be nigh,
A loss in all familiar things,
In flower that blooms, and bird that sings.
And yet, dear heart! remembering thee,
Am I not richer than of old?
Safe in thy immortality,
What change can reach the wealth I hold?
What chance can mar the pearl and gold
Thy love hath left in trust with me?
And while in life's late afternoon,
Where cool and long the shadows grow,
I walk to meet the night that soon
Shall shape and shadow overflow,
I cannot feel that thou art far,
Since near at need the angels are;
And when the sunset gates unbar,
Shall I not see thee waiting stand,
And, white against the evening star,
The welcome of thy beckoning hand?
Brisk wielder of the birch and rule,
The master of the district school
Held at the fire his favored place,
Its warm glow lit a laughing face
Fresh-hued and fair, where scarce appeared
The uncertain prophecy of beard.
He teased the mitten-blinded cat,
Played cross-pins on my uncle's hat,
Sang songs, and told us what befalls
In classic Dartmouth's college halls.
Born the wild Northern hills among,
From whence his yeoman father wrung
By patient toil subsistence scant,
Not competence and yet not want,
He early gained the power to pay
His cheerful, self-reliant way;
Could doff at ease his scholar's gown
To peddle wares from town to town;
Or through the long vacation's reach
In lonely lowland districts teach,
Where all the droll experience found
At stranger hearths in boarding round,
The moonlit skater's keen delight,
The sleigh-drive through the frosty night,
The rustic party, with its rough
Accompaniment of blind-man's-buff,
And whirling-plate, and forfeits paid,
His winter task a pastime made.
Happy the snow-locked homes wherein
He tuned his merry violin,
Or played the athlete in the barn,
Or held the good dame's winding-yarn,
Or mirth-provoking versions told
Of classic legends rare and old,
Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome
Had all the commonplace of home,
And little seemed at best the odds
'Twixt Yankee pedlers and old gods;
Where Pindus-born Arachthus took
The guise of any grist-mill brook,
And dread Olympus at his will
Became a huckleberry hill.
A careless boy that night he seemed;
But at his desk he had the look
And air of one who wisely schemed,
And hostage from the future took
In trainëd thought and lore of book.
Large-brained, clear-eyed, of such as he
Shall Freedom's young apostles be,
Who, following in War's bloody trail,
Shall every lingering wrong assail;
All chains from limb and spirit strike,
Uplift the black and white alike;
Scatter before their swift advance
The darkness and the ignorance,
The pride, the lust, the squalid sloth,
Which nurtured Treason's monstrous growth,
Made murder pastime, and the hell
Of prison-torture possible;
The cruel lie of caste refute,
Old forms remould, and substitute
For Slavery's lash the freeman's will,
For blind routine, wise-handed skill;
A school-house plant on every hill,
Stretching in radiate nerve-lines thence
The quick wires of intelligence;
Till North and South together brought
Shall own the same electric thought,
In peace a common flag salute,
And, side by side in labor's free
And unresentful rivalry,
Harvest the fields wherein they fought.
Another guest that winter night
Flashed back from lustrous eyes the light.
Unmarked by time, and yet not young,
The honeyed music of her tongue
And words of meekness scarcely told
A nature passionate and bold,
Strong, self-concentred, spurning guide,
Its milder features dwarfed beside
Her unbent will's majestic pride.
She sat among us, at the best,
A not unfeared, half-welcome guest,
Rebuking with her cultured phrase
Our homeliness of words and ways.
A certain pard-like, treacherous grace
Swayed the lithe limbs and drooped the lash,
Lent the white teeth their dazzling flash;
And under low brows, black with night,
Rayed out at times a dangerous light;
The sharp heat-lightnings of her face
Presaging ill to him whom Fate
Condemned to share her love or hate.
A woman tropical, intense
In thought and act, in soul and sense,
She blended in a like degree
The vixen and the devotee,
Revealing with each freak or feint
The temper of Petruchio's Kate,
The raptures of Siena's saint.
Her tapering hand and rounded wrist
Had facile power to form a fist;
The warm, dark languish of her eyes
Was never safe from wrath's surprise.
Brows saintly calm and lips devout
Knew every change of scowl and pout;
And the sweet voice had notes more high
And shrill for social battle-cry.
Since then what old cathedral town
Has missed her pilgrim staff and gown,
What convent-gate has held its lock
Against the challenge of her knock!
Through Smyrna's plague-hushed thoroughfares,
Up sea-set Malta's rocky stairs,
Gray olive slopes of hills that hem
Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem,
Or startling on her desert throne
The crazy Queen of Lebanon
With claims fantastic as her own,
Her tireless feet have held their way;
And still, unrestful, bowed, and gray,
She watches under Eastern skies,
With hope each day renewed and fresh,
The Lord's quick coming in the flesh,
Whereof she dreams and prophesies!
Where'er her troubled path may be,
The Lord's sweet pity with her go!
The outward wayward life we see,
The hidden springs we may not know.
Nor is it given us to discern
What threads the fatal sisters spun,
Through what ancestral years has run
The sorrow with the woman born,
What forged her cruel chain of moods,
What set her feet in solitudes,
And held the love within her mute,
What mingled madness in the blood,
A life-long discord and annoy,
Water of tears with oil of joy,
And hid within the folded bud
Perversities of flower and fruit.
It is not ours to separate
The tangled skein of will and fate,
To show what metes and bounds should stand
Upon the soul's debatable land,
And between choice and Providence
Divide the circle of events;
But He who knows our frame is just,
Merciful and compassionate,
And full of sweet assurances
And hope for all the language is,
That He remembereth we are dust!
At last the great logs, crumbling low,
Sent out a dull and duller glow,
The bull's-eye watch that hung in view,
Ticking its weary circuit through,
Pointed with mutely warning sign
Its black hand to the hour of nine.
That sign the pleasant circle broke:
My uncle ceased his pipe to smoke,
Knocked from its bowl the refuse gray,
And laid it tenderly away;
Then roused himself to safely cover
The dull red brands with ashes over.
And while, with care, our mother laid
The work aside, her steps she stayed
One moment, seeking to express
Her grateful sense of happiness
For food and shelter, warmth and health,
And love's contentment more than wealth,
With simple wishes (not the weak,
Vain prayers which no fulfilment seek,
But such as warm the generous heart,
O'er-prompt to do with Heaven its part)
That none might lack, that bitter night,
For bread and clothing, warmth and light.
Within our beds awhile we heard
The wind that round the gables roared,
With now and then a ruder shock,
Which made our very bedsteads rock.
We heard the loosened clapboards tost,
The board-nails snapping in the frost;
And on us, through the unplastered wall,
Felt the light sifted snow-flakes fall.
But sleep stole on, as sleep will do
When hearts are light and life is new;
Faint and more faint the murmurs grew,
Till in the summer-land of dreams
They softened to the sound of streams,
Low stir of leaves, and dip of oars,
And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
Next morn we wakened with the shout
Of merry voices high and clear;
And saw the teamsters drawing near
To break the drifted highways out.
Down the long hillside treading slow
We saw the half-buried oxen go,
Shaking the snow from heads uptost,
Their straining nostrils white with frost.
Before our door the straggling train
Drew up, an added team to gain.
The elders threshed their hands a-cold,
Passed, with the cider-mug, their jokes
From lip to lip; the younger folks
Down the loose snow-banks, wrestling, rolled,
Then toiled again the cavalcade
O'er windy hill, through clogged ravine,
And woodland paths that wound between
Low drooping pine-boughs winter-weighed.
From every barn a team afoot,
At every house a new recruit,
Where, drawn by Nature's subtlest law,
Haply the watchful young men saw
Sweet doorway pictures of the curls
And curious eyes of merry girls,
Lifting their hands in mock defence
Against the snow-ball's compliments,
And reading in each missive tost
The charm with Eden never lost.
We heard once more the sleigh-bells' sound;
And, following where the teamsters led,
The wise old Doctor went his round,
Just pausing at our door to say,
In the brief autocratic way
Of one who, prompt at Duty's call,
Was free to urge her claim on all,
That some poor neighbor sick abed
At night our mother's aid would need.
For, one in generous thought and deed,
What mattered in the sufferer's sight
The Quaker matron's inward light,
The Doctor's mail of Calvin's creed?
All hearts confess the saints elect
Who, twain in faith, in love agree,
And melt not in an acid sect
The Christian pearl of charity!
So days went on: a week had passed
Since the great world was heard from last.
The Almanac we studied o'er,
Read and reread our little store
Of books and pamphlets, scarce a score;
One harmless novel, mostly hid
From younger eyes, a book forbid,
And poetry, (or good or bad,
A single book was all we had,)
Where Ellwood's meek, drab-skirted Muse,
A stranger to the heathen Nine,
Sang, with a somewhat nasal whine,
The wars of David and the Jews.
At last the floundering carrier bore
The village paper to our door.
Lo! broadening outward as we read,
To warmer zones the horizon spread
In panoramic length unrolled
We saw the marvels that it told.
Before us passed the painted Creeks,
And daft McGregor on his raids
In Costa Rica's everglades.
And up Taygetos winding slow
Rode Ypsilanti's Mainote Greeks,
A Turk's head at each saddle-bow!
Welcome to us its week-old news,
Its corner for the rustic Muse,
Its monthly gauge of snow and rain,
Its record, mingling in a breath
The wedding bell and dirge of death:
Jest, anecdote, and love-lorn tale,
The latest culprit sent to jail;
Its hue and cry of stolen and lost,
Its vendue sales and goods at cost,
And traffic calling loud for gain.
We felt the stir of hall and street,
The pulse of life that round us beat;
The chill embargo of the snow
Was melted in the genial glow;
Wide swung again our ice-locked door,
And all the world was ours once more!
Clasp, Angel of the backword look
And folded wings of ashen gray
And voice of echoes far away,
The brazen covers of thy book;
The weird palimpsest old and vast,
Wherein thou hid'st the spectral past;
Where, closely mingling, pale and glow
The characters of joy and woe;
The monographs of outlived years,
Or smile-illumed or dim with tears,
Green hills of life that slope to death,
And haunts of home, whose vistaed trees
Shade off to mournful cypresses
With the white amaranths underneath.
Even while I look, I can but heed
The restless sands' incessant fall,
Importunate hours that hours succeed,
Each clamorous with its own sharp need,
And duty keeping pace with all.
Shut down and clasp with heavy lids;
I hear again the voice that bids
The dreamer leave his dream midway
For larger hopes and graver fears:
Life greatens in these later years,
The century's aloe flowers to-day!
Yet, haply, in some lull of life,
Some Truce of God which breaks its strife,
The worldling's eyes shall gather dew,
Dreaming in throngful city ways
Of winter joys his boyhood knew;
And dear and early friends -- the few
Who yet remain -- shall pause to view
These Flemish pictures of old days;
Sit with me by the homestead hearth,
And stretch the hands of memory forth
To warm them at the wood-fire's blaze!
And thanks untraced to lips unknown
Shall greet me like the odors blown
From unseen meadows newly mown,
Or lilies floating in some pond,
Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond;
The traveller owns the grateful sense
Of sweetness near, he knows not whence,
And, pausing, takes with forehead bare
The benediction of the air.
(Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl
John Greenleaf Whittier)
Someone peeled off the adhesive BVG emblem which is positioned next to the doors of the Berlin U-Bahn trains, revealing an older version with blocky letters and a colored coat of arms underneath.
The Millersburg Ferry, also known as the Crow's Ferry, is the last operating ferry on the Susquehanna River. It crosses the river between Millersburg in Dauphin County and Buffalo Township in Perry County, Pennsylvania in the United States. The ferry was established in the early 19th century. The Millersburg Ferry crossing was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2006. Its ferry boat is believed to be the last "wooden double stern-wheel paddle boat" to be operating in the United States. It is owned by the Millersburg Chamber of Commerce and operated by the Millersburg Ferryboat Association from May until October when water levels permit.
Ferries have been crossing the Susquehanna River at Millersburg since at least the early 19th century. The one mile (1.6 km) crossing was first served by a pole ferry that was much like a bateau. The ferry predates the establishment of Millersburg in 1807. The borough's founder Daniel Miller reserved the ferry and shad fishery rights along the Susquehanna for himself.
Records from 1817 and 1820 show that the ferry was operated by George Carson or Michael Crow. Crow was to have built a road from the ferry landing on the west shore in Perry County to the "Great Road", modern U.S. Routes 11 and 15, and Carson would operate the ferry. It is not known if Carson ever took over operation of the ferry, but Crow did petition to have the road built in 1819. The 1820 tax records show that Crow was assessed for a farm, sawmill and ferry. This west shore landing became known as "Crow's Landing". An 1826 sheriff's sale showed that the proprietary rights for the eastern landing were transferred from Daniel Miller to David Kramer for $60.00 (equal to $1,355.82 today).
Ownership and rights to the ferry were hotly contested between the 1820s and 1866. These conflicts were not settled until 1866 when the Millersburg Ferry was licensed by the Pennsylvania State Legislature. Joseph Kramer, son of David Kramer, was granted by the Act of March 21, 1866 P.L. 358, the right to operate the ferry at his own expense. Part of the act stipulated that Kramer build and maintain landings on both shores of the river.
Steam powered ferry boats replaced the old pole boats in 1873. These boats were much heavier and required deeper water to cross the Susquehanna River. This was accomplished by building a ferry wall or dam from shore to shore. These walls are still used today and are an important part of the ferry's designation as a Registered Historic Place.
The Millersburg Ferry grew in importance over the years and ownership was transferred from David Kramer to his sons George and Joseph. The ferry was sold at least ten times between the 1870s and 1907. Joseph Matthias Johnson owned, and operated in his own individual right, Kramer's Ferry from 1873 until 1877. Thomas Radel and his family and Warren "Pop" Hunter and his family operated the ferry from 1907 until 1968 when it was sold to Robert and Bud Wallis and Jim Zeiders. Robert Wallis became the sole owner in 1972. Wallis sold the ferry operation to Community Banks, N.A. of Millersburg in 1990. The bank then donated the historic ferry boat operation to the Millersburg Chamber of Commerce in 1990, which formed the Millersburg Ferryboat Association.
The construction of bridges over the Susquehanna River led to the closing of all the ferries on the river. The Millersburg Ferry remains for its historic significance and for practical reasons as well. It is the only crossing of the river for forty miles between Duncannon and Sunbury.
The Millersburg Ferry was a crucial part of transportation in the central Susquehanna River Valley from 1866 until 1956. The construction of the railroad through Millersburg and establishment of a station there increased the importance of the ferry. Citizens from the western shore used the ferry on a regular basis to transport their goods from Perry and Juniata Counties to the commercial centers of Harrisburg, Lancaster and Philadelphia. People on the eastern shore used the ferry to reach recreational destinations on the western shore.
The Millersburg Ferry used as many as four boats to shuttle produce, livestock, building supplies and people and their horses, wagons, and eventually motor vehicles. This boom period for the ferry lasted from 1905 until 1936. The Great Depression resulted in the ferry service being cut to three boats. The ferry company now has a fleet of two boats.
The Millersburg Ferry consists of two boats. The Roaring Bull V is a red paddle wheeler that was built in 1998. The "flat" of the ferry is 83 feet (25 m) long and the power unit is 50 feet (15 m). It is powered by a 57 horsepower (43 kW) Deutz diesel engine with a hydraulic drive system. The Falcon III was built in 1974. It is gray and is 8.3 feet (2.5 m) longer than the Roaring Bull V. It also has a Deutz diesel air-cooled engine and a hydraulic drive system.
According to Captain Donald Lebo, the trip is 4,785 feet (1,458 m) shore to shore, about nine-tenths of a mile, and takes about 20 minutes. Passenger traffic in 2009 was above normal because the water level was high and operations did not have to shut for low water. About 20,000 passengers, who were mostly tourists, were served, paying either by the person or by the car. As of the 2013 season, the rates are $3 for a one-way walk on passenger, $5 for a round trip walk on passenger, $7 for a motorcycle and rider, $8 for a car and driver, and $9 for an extended length vehicle and driver. All other passengers in a vehicle are charged the $3 fare. There are also fares for specialty vehicles such as horse and buggy and golf carts. The Millersburg Ferry is reached from Pennsylvania Route 147 on the eastern shore in Millersburg and from U.S. Route 11/15 on the western shore just south of Liverpool. It is open on weekends only beginning May 1 from 9:00 a.m. until dusk. The ferry operates daily June through Labor Day 11:00 a.m. until 5:00 p.m. and it returns to the weekend schedule through the end of September. The Millersburg Ferry does not operate during the months of October through April (Wikipedia).
First Hypostyle Hall: Next to the "helicopter" a nother palimpsest!
Anyone well versed in egyptological inscriptions would tell you lots of recarving of inscriptions went on in ancient Egypt as ruling kings sought to acquire the work of previous pharaohs, or to discredit them. But, to check about this, you must not leave Abydos, nor the temple of Sety himself, just go a few meters and look at the next architrave: OK, no helicopter, submarine or other advanced technology, but simply another palimpsest, look at my photo here on flickr fom the armchair of your home.
Doesn't still convince?
Come youself to Egypt, Abydos await you with a smile.
Scan.
Tweedsmuir Park is located east of the Kitimat Ranges in the western interior of British Columbia. The park covers almost 1 million hectares and spans four regional districts: Bulkley-Nechako, Cariboo, Central Coast, and Mount Waddington.
The southern portion of the park is along Highway 20, approximately 400 kilometres west of Williams Lake. Access is also possible along the Discovery Coast Passage ferry and Inside Passage from Port Hardy on Vancouver Island on BC Ferries or by float plane from Nimpo Lake, Anahim Lake or Bella Coola.
Tweedsmuir Park protects the entirety of the Rainbow Range, a collection of volcanic peaks where heavy mineralization has given the soil an array of colours. The park also protects Hunlen Falls, a 260 metre tall waterfall with one of highest unbroken drops in Canada.
The park was also home to Lonesome Lake, famed for homesteader and conservationist Ralph Edwards, who worked to preserve migration habitat there for the trumpeter swan.
The Alexander MacKenzie Heritage Trail is a heritage trail that follows the routing of a historic footpath used by local First Nations for trade and travel between the coast and the interior. This trail would later be used by British explorer Alexander Mackenzie to become the first European to transit the continent by land and see the Pacific Ocean. A portion of the trail transits the park via Heckman Pass and Burnt Bridge Creek (Wikipedia).
Directions: North of I-40 between Crossville and Harriman and in Cumberland and Morgan counties. TN 298, also called Genesis Road, runs north from Crossville and then goes easterly through the WMA.
Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency, 218 Genesis Road, Crossville, TN 38555. Phone (931) 484-9571.
Coachwork by Pininfarina
Palimpsest.
Designers on both sides of the Atlantic were attracted by the glass bubble that retained the pure shape of an open car and comfort for two passengers, but rarely with such elegance On the base of one of the 8 racing 3000 CMs, Pininfarina designed four concept cars of which this is the ultimate iteration making it all the more precious.
2.300 cc
6 in-line
Post-War Alfa-Romeo with Special Bodywork
Chantilly Arts & Elegance Richard Mille
Château de Chantilly
Chantilly
France - Frankrijk
September 2017