“So when that Angel of the darker Drink At last shall find you by the river-brink, And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul Forth to your Lips to to quaff - you shall not shrink” (Omar Khayyam)

Note: wine notes...see www.flickr.com/photos/wineandcheese/2181875328/, Lithe...

Gallery

No simple feat, to light a place unknown, untouched and undiscovered.

The eternal storm quaffed, quelled and quieted.

Always the dance of light and shadow, colored, conjured and coaxed.

A light touch, a fresh breath and a simple pleasure rediscovered.

Sharing a simple play of light and color to cap off the weekend.

The World is very old;

But year by year

It growth new again

When Buds appear.

The World is very old,

And sometimes sad;

But when the daisies come

The World is glad.

The World is very old;

But every Spring

It growth young again,

And Fairies sing.

~Author Unknown

∻⊰ 🌷 ⊱∻

At times I play around with my SecondLife review photos, and mostly I try to post a final of them where the designs are quite visible and not to gauzed-out or tainted with canvas-style blending. I do always make my photos a piece of art where I sit back and say to myself “Someone would buy that and hang it on the wall!”

As I was layering, playing and quaffing with this particular photo, I decided to Continued

See ORIGINAL Photo Here!

Visit Hair Fair 2016

Visit MFF6!

∻⊰ 🌷 ⊱∻

Now that C19 rules have been relaxed (for how long is anyone’s guess) it’s pleasant to be sat in a bar quaffing a cold beer or two … and in doing so, one’s mind inexorably turns to photo-ops, so here’s a couple prior to pint #2.

Dear viewer, you may wonder why we’re sat indoors on a summer’s day…well, it’s England and so the heavens have opened, it’s thrashing it down with rain…again,

peer down into L

Playa Honda, Lanzarote, Spain. And, to be fair, quaffing beer, too!

A group of young adults bask in the early evening warmth while quaffing cold beverages on the Audrey McCall Floating Dock.

Fluidr: www.fluidr.com/photos/31246066@N04

So Don Quixote was travelling one day, could be today, and came across a gigantic windmill on a walkabout through the hills. It was well known that the area where the Don was staying had no electricity and so he decided to make the windmill an offer it couldn't refuse .....

He laced up his boots, raised his lance and sunk low into the saddle of his horse ...

A few hours later he was quaffing a few cervezas with friends and toasting the wonderful invention of air conditioning in the tiny taverna.

While he sat waving his hat in the air, drinking beer and serenading his stories ... the windmill kept turning and churning out the energy that powered the refrigerator in the taverna and the windmill finally accepted who had won the duel ... Juanita smiled as she headed upstairs with a bouquet of flowers and a sealed envelope.

The countryside is beautiful and the skyline amazing on the road to Ronda. The mountains and fields have seen more legends than our pens can ever imagine. Still we try :)

My Grandfather had a bad cough, but he smoked cigars. The teacher shakes his head as this was not the answer he was looking for.

It looks like we will have two weeks for some Quaffing.... Ontario is going to be in lockdown.

Happy Teddy Bear Tuesday

“King Genius meanwhile offered Trurl a cup of ion mead, wondrously carved with curves of probability and the subtle play of quantum waves. Trurl quaffed it down, then snapped his fingers, whereupon the third machine stepped out into the center of the cave, bowed low and said, in a voice that was tonic, euphonic, and most electronic:

This is the story of how the Great Constructor Trurl, with the aid of an ordinary jug, created a local fluctuation, and what came of it”...

Stanislaw Lem THE CYBERIAD

This is a 30 second exposure at f/22 taken at about 8:30 in the evening 2 weeks ago at a favoured spot for just sittin' on the bank of the Crowe. At this time of year the water is low enough that I can build a little fire on the sandbank, cook some hotdogs and quaff some ale, all, of course while in a state of spiritual ecstasy; Blessed be the Cheese Curl (dipped in butter).

....as my new camera and me are getting to know each other!! :~)

a winter pansy found in front of my local neighbourhood pub!!!

...I was walking by; not dropping in!

..tho it is my fave tavern to quaff suds in!!!!

..seen on Explore - Nov. 30, 07 - #398

But here I am in my room in our hotel in Jersey, in isolation! I felt a bit grog the day before we came over after my youngest Phoebe caught a virus off her boyfriend Z who had to stay in bed for a week because he was so unwell. If all goes well and I am better with a normal temperature off paracetamol tomorrow I may leave my room on Christmas Day, so fingers crossed. In the meantime drinking tea and water and quaffing paracetamol. I thought it was all going too well!

quaffing a lager in the late afternoon sun!

Green heron quaffed. Taken a couple of summers back.

Wildwood Lake, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

Thanks so much for your visit...

1/800 sec. f/5.6 250mm ISO640

If you want to capture this view it'll cost you a few blisters.

A savage 19k one way hike (mostly steep) will get you to this spectacular vista but you'll need to brave the knife edge peaks with sheer drops that overlook the twin lakes in the valley.

Luckily the wind was mild on this hot summer day at the end of July and the worst challenge was the wildfire smoke.

For big hikes we usually like to take some 'Traillube' with us and for this sketchy cliff we limited ourselves to one can of wine.

You heard me right - a CAN of wine! We quaffed a Pinot Noir by 'Underwood'. Not the smartest thing to do while standing 2 ft from a 100m drop at high altitude, but it tasted great as we toasted the setting sun.

What's your fave 'Traillube'?

Thanks for looking

Gavin Hardcastle

Stow on the Wold. The socialising done, the stirrup cups quaffed, now it's time for a romp through the countryside. All the rose-food was dutifully swept up, and off they trotted. It is quite a spectacle for a chilly morning.... Reminded me a little of Norman Thelwell's delightful drawings....

June 17, 2016

Quaff:

[kwof]

verb (used without object)

1. to drink a beverage, especially an intoxicating one, copiously and with hearty enjoyment.

verb (used with object)

2. to drink (a beverage) copiously and heartily

noun

3. an act or instance of quaffing.

4. a beverage quaffed.

------

Sunny summer Friday's call for friendship, a few brews and a BBQ.

Of course, I left a photo to the last minute so I had to halt the second round for a quick shoot. Nard set the stage while I grabbed my camera from inside. I snapped 4 photos from different angles and called it a day.

Once in a while it's good to put the camera down and just be in the moment.

Hope everyone has had a good day.

Click "L" for a larger view.

"Clap! Snap! the black crack!

Grib, grab! Pinch, nab!

And down, down to Goblin town

You go, my lad!

Clash, crash! Crush, smash!

Hammer and tongs! Knocker and gongs!

Pound, pound, down underground!

Ho, ho! my lad!

Swish, smack! Whip crack!

Batter and beat! Yammer and bleat!

Work, work! Nor dare to shirk,

While Goblins quaff, and Goblins laugh,

Round and round far underground

Below, my lad!" -The Hobbit

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield has been captured by the Goblins of the Misty Mountains, and now they are making a daring escape...

Okay everyone, here is one of my best MOCs yet! I'm really pleased with how it turned out (even though it was a little rushed).

Here is my entry for the RPG Fantasy Adventure category. This is my final entry to the CBC 2017.

I'd love to hear what everyone thinks about this, so please drop a comment! More pictures, or portraits on the way!

-Caleb

With an installation on the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and prosecco being served late afternoon, it seemed churlish not to head over there and quaff a glass of the working man's champagne.

And, with a snap or two in mind, it made sense to wait on a sunny day when the fine facades of 5th Avenue would be bathed in the afternoon sun for a view the tourists don't often get to see, even if over the tops of the trees of Central Park.

The installation and vibe was great and, not surprisingly, slots at the fence were at a premium with folks taking selfies against the backdrop - well, why not.

NYC, 5th August 2017

Great egret (Ardea alba),Wildwood Lake, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

Place: Inside Rock Cafe

Burger: Star Gazer

Points: 3.1 of 6

Reviewer: Me

Three sizes: 100g, 160g and 250g, shown is the smallest size (burger in question is the one to the right).

Menu description: Our Best Selling With Crispy Bacon.

Nano review: A very plain burger but I did find myself eating happily away and the bacon was really crispy and tasty pushing it over the important bad/good 3pt water mark!

Others: Same as for first visit.

Serving time: Good!! As Guinness glasses clearly shows faster then last time!

Website: www.insiderock.no/

Binary, would I consider having it again?: Yes, I can imagine there are days when a plain but ok burger is what will hit the spot, and the bacon was perfect.

I had not planned that next installment should also be at Inside, but I had not been eating for a day when the 'Mad Scientist' and me passed the placed and he dragged me there in so I could get food in order to manage some serious Akvavit tasting soon to take place (the stuff friends are for).

Twitter : tehaha Portfolio: www.ahaphotography.net

Yesterday we went to stay at the lovely Coombe Abbey Hotel (just outside Coventry), as part of my delayed office Christmas outing. In the evening we had to get dressed up for the Baron's Banquet.

Much wine and mead was quaffed, much song was sung, and many camp 1980's classics were danced to well into the night. :-)

Thanks to Jon and Jo for letting us all pile into their luxury suite for this shot ;-)

Note to self, 17mm on a 1.6x crop isn't wide enough for this kind of situation... must add that 10-20 to the shopping list again :)

A super-hoppy (101 IBUs!), high gravity, yet highly quaffable ale. Green Flash Imperial IPA is created in this new tradition, with intense hop flavors and aromas from a unique blend of Summit and Nugget hops

From Greenflash Brewing Co. , San Diego , California

Never fear dear viewer...one only watched these headaches in a glass being made...one was quaffing Red Stripe...a far safer alternative!

On a fine February Morning, a lone quaffer takes the airs.

Anyone spot it?

Waterloo Street, Birmingham UK - www.robertcjones.co.uk

My cookie and Lizzie's cookie working together for a photo op.

I never liked poetry, but then, in my dreamy mind as I walked across the sands,

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

EDGAR ALLAN POE, 1845

I saw the Raven, briefly, in the sands on my beloved Fascadale beach. I had returned with a new second hand lens I have bought just for shooting at my feet. But whether a storm or especially high tide, the beach I was used to at low tide, I see with shock, has almost disappeared under mountains of rounded rock and granite pebbles. I'm not sure it will ever return to its amazing previous state.

This half mile long double deck promenade, was built in the early 30's, by "concrete King" Sidney Little....no, not Large's sidekick! Sidney was known to be a pioneering recycler, so it's no surprise that the rear walls are faced with broken glass. Hence the name Bottle Alley, just incase you were thinking that it was named after the sneaky quaffing that might possibly take place down there! In the old days there was provision to slide glazed shutters into the bays, but all that remain now are the tracks. A ten minute light show happens every evening at 7.30 pm and 9.30 pm and there is a special extended show on Fridays for thirty minutes at both those times. I'm ashamed to say that despite living here, I haven't got round to seeing this show, as I guess I haven't been in the right place at the right time....no excuse I no. I will make it my mission to check it out.

yes, i know lots of Q words now ~grin~

for the February's Alphabet Fun: 2017 Edition group pool

ODC-- confusing (well, the title is confusing)

On hazy days when photography falls to the back of my mind I like to roam the hills with my other half.

The beauty of days such as this, is that I can have a grand day out, get down early, get fed and quaff a bottle of red!

Today was one of those days :)

First, yes this is real. This is a shot just as a storm was breaking at sunset at the Mukilteo Lighthouse in Mukilteo, Washington. A ferry, I believe the Cathlamet, is also visible just to the right of the lighthouse, docked at the ferry terminal.

The story: So there I was at a local diner, like usual. A summer storm had moved in and it was pouring down rain outside. I was absent-mindedly stabbing the cherry in my Shirley Temple, contemplating whether or not to go down to the beach for some sunset pics. The maraschino juice from the impaled fruit flowed into the tonic in little red clouds. I glanced up at my kids, and in their eyes I saw relief. Relief that it was raining and they wouldn't have to endure watching me take pictures of the same lighthouse in Mukilteo yet one more time.

I glanced outside, towards the west, and saw an ever-so-slight break in the clouds. There were forty-five minutes until sunset. I could make it. My kids' glance moved from me, to the sky, to me. Their expressions changed. They knew. I wasn't going to miss it.

I paid the bill, quaffed my Shirley Temple in one gulp, and bolted for the door. I threw my kids in the back, gingerly and delicately set my camera gear in the passenger seat, and raced for Mukilteo. After thirty minutes, during which time I expanded my kids' vocabulary at several stop lights, we arrived just in time to catch a truly magnificent sunset right behind the lighthouse. My kids' response to this glorious spectacle? "Oh yeah, that's great Dad..."

Another view of Checkpoint Charlie...

The "big bike" contraption in the foreground is some kind of tourist device, which allows half a dozen people to pedal on separate pedals, and somehow propel the contraption forward. I think there is also beer that can be quaffed in large quantities while this is going on ...

The blue pipe that you see on the right side of the photo is typical of a scene we saw all over Berlin: brightly painted plumbing fixtures that carried water from one underground location (the water table is apparently very high in Berlin, so any excavation tends to hit water pretty quickly) to a nearby river or drainage canal.

I have no idea who the American solider is supposed to be in the center part of the photo ... maybe it's the mythical "Charlie"

**********************************

For the final few days of our vacation, we traveled by air from Amsterdam to Berlin — and spent about four days in the “Mitte” section of the city, quite close to what was once the dividing line between East and West Berlin; indeed, our hotel was technically in East Berlin.

We spent the first afternoon wandering around the local area, partly to see the infamous “Checkpoint Charlie” (just a few blocks from our hotel), and partly to get a sense of the buildings, the people, and the overall “look and feel” of the city. Since I spend much of my time focusing on “street photography” in New York, I did the same thing here … and aside from the German language that you’ll see on a few of the signposts, the people look much the same as they do in any other big city.

I did get a few photos of the Brandenburg Gate and the Holocaust Exhibition, and some video clips from inside the TierGarten (which I’ll upload in the next few days). I also took quite a few photos of some “street art” that was created on one of the few remaining sections of the old Berlin Wall; these two will be uploaded in the next few days.

We took a driving tour around the city one morning, including a quick circle around the old 1936 Olympic Stadium; we also had lunch in a fancy restaurant atop the old Reichstag Building, which is now (as I understand it) the home of the German legislature. But I certainly don’t feel that I saw very much of the entire city; it would be like making a whirlwind tour around a few parts of Manhattan, and then trying to claim that you’ve seen all of New York City.

As a child of the Cold War (and having been born exactly one year before the day that Hitler committed suicide), I have always been intrigued by Berlin — and would love to go back several more times to see more of the neighborhoods, the culture, and the people. I don’t think I would ever claim to “know” Berlin in any complete sense; indeed, I don’t even feel that way about New York, after living here for 45+ years. But I could certainly learn a lot more, and I found it sufficiently interesting that I would like to learn more…

**********************************

During the first two weeks of September 2015, we took a river cruise down the Rhine River, and wrapped up the trip with a few days in Berlin. This Flickr album contains various photos from that trip …

We spent the first couple days recovering from jet-lag in Interlaken, Switzerland. This is the site of the Jungfrau and various other spectacular peaks in the Alps range — but it was so foggy that we could hardly see anything. I’ve included a couple of videos of a tram ride down the mountain, as well as some paraglider who floated down into the town park.

We then traveled to Bern, where we got on-board a Viking Cruise ship that headed north for the next several days — eventually arriving in Amsterdam, after making stops nearly every day to see ancient castles and fortresses, as well as various villages and small towns that have survived various wars, tyrants, and regimes for well over a thousand years.

From our final cruise destination in Amsterdam, we flew to Berlin — where we spent a few days at a very nice hotel that turned out to be in what was once East Berlin. Indeed, the separation between East and West Berlin, once so obvious and important, is now almost impossible for a visitor to spot. Except for some rubble, and a few small mementoes (like Checkpoint Charlie, a few blocks from our hotel), there is no obvious difference between East and West from pre-1989 days.

The Raven

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

There once was a white lion

named Prue

who knew what it felt like

to stew.

She said, "You just get off your feet,

find a deafening beat,

And quaff down anything tasting

like brew."

after a busy day around the house it was time for a cold beer at one of the local craft brewers; Wayfarers, where Pat had a blond and I quaffed a red....

"Clap! Snap! the black crack!

Grib, grab! Pinch, nab!

And down, down to Goblin town

You go, my lad!

Clash, crash! Crush, smash!

Hammer and tongs! Knocker and gongs!

Pound, pound, down underground!

Ho, ho! my lad!

Swish, smack! Whip crack!

Batter and beat! Yammer and bleat!

Work, work! Nor dare to shirk,

While Goblins quaff, and Goblins laugh,

Round and round far underground

Below, my lad!" -The Hobbit

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield has been captured by the Goblins of the Misty Mountains, and now they are making a daring escape...

Okay everyone, here is one of my best MOCs yet! I'm really pleased with how it turned out (even though it was a little rushed).

Here is my entry for the RPG Fantasy Adventure category. This is my final entry to the CBC 2017.

I'd love to hear what everyone thinks about this, so please drop a comment! More pictures, or portraits on the way!

-Caleb

The Star Tavern, a favourite of the rich and famous for many years, won infamy during the fifties and sixties as the hangout for London’s inner circle of master criminals, who quaffed Dom Perignon here alongside stars of the era such as Diana Dors, Peter O’Toole, Albert Finney and Alexander Korda the famous film director. This is where most of the planning took place for what was then the century’s biggest heist – the Great Train Robbery, netting the 18 man gang £2.6 million – about £40 million in today’s money. It is also the meeting place for Leica Forum members!

I was at the neighbourhood liquor store the other day. I wanted a dozen Peroni but there was none on the shelf. Next to its usual shelf was this, Carlsberg, a Danish beer (a Pilsner) I remembered from my youth as being quaffable. So I bought a dozen.

At home, quaffing, I couldn't understand why it tasted so, so, so American! It had none of the European beer qualities I remembered.

Finally I read the label. It was made in central Canada, in Kitchener.

Oh well. Cross this one off the list.

Easily the most boisterous of all the Knightly Orders of the Empire, the Order of the Black Bear, also known as the Bears of Averland, maintain a fortress on the borders of Averland as well as a Chapterhouse in Averheim itself.

Close as they are to the haunted land of Sylvania and the Orc-infested Worlds Edge Mountains, the Bears of Averland do not lack for opportunities to prove their martial valour. Even so, the Knights have often found themselves without a foe and have thus fashioned a series of martial tournaments to provide an outlet for their energies (they had previously engaged in the practice of Halfling coursing - outlawed in 2402). These tourneys test all facets of what the Black Bear perceive to be Knightly skills and include such feats as swordplay, horsemanship, and of course, quaffing.

Where the name of the Order originates is a source of much debate. The official story, as put forward by the Bears themselves, speaks of a noble, yet impoverished Knight having to wrestle a great bear to save a lady of noble birth who had become lost in the wilderness. Recognising the nobility of his deed and being possessed of great wealth, she presented her saviour with a gift of money, which he used to found a chapterhouse in Averheim.

In memory of this event, each of the Order's tournaments opens with the Grand Master wrestling a bear - a practice that has lead to the demise of great many lords. Other, violently suppressed rumours indicate that there was no such incident and that the Order takes its name from a tavern of the same name in Averheim.

The enthusiastic and brazen nature of the Order means they pay no heed to the numbers that they face. But, this can also work against them on occasion, as they often tend to argue among each other instead of fighting the foe.

Source: Wikipedia

Congress first protected the hot springs in 1832, and it intended for the water to be used. Drinking the hot springs water is perfectly normal, even encouraged. Go ahead. "Quaff the elixir," as they used to say in the heyday of the spa (1880-1950 was the Golden Age of Bathing). 114

“The sun just touched the morning;

The morning, happy thing,

Supposed that he had come to dwell,

And life would be all spring.”

- Emily Dickinson

"Every sunny morning is a great fountain; we quaff 'sweet hope' from it."

- Mehmet Murat ildan.

Thanks a lot for visits and comments, my friends. Have a sweet day...!

Best seen on black - press L or click on image above.

An American pint, so a little less to quaff!

SIGMA 105mm F2.8 EX DG OS HSM Macro