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Cathedral (noun).
1. any large and important church
2. the principal Christian church building of a bishop's diocese
3. relating to or containing or issuing from a bishop's office or throne; "a cathedral church"
Last May as usually I’ve been in Europe. At this time my way began in West Germany: Essen, Dusseldorf, Cologne...
I was so delighted by Cologne Cathedral, the music imprinted in stone lace of this giant. So ...I took this image for defining of word CATHEDRAL.
Cologne Cathedral (German: Kölner Dom, officially Hohe Domkirche St. Peter und Maria) is a Roman Catholic church in Cologne, Germany. It is the seat of the Archbishop of Cologne, and is under the administration of the archdiocese of Cologne. It is renowned as a monument of Christianity, of German Catholicism in particular, of Gothic architecture and of the continuing faith and perseverance of the people of the city in which it stands. It is dedicated to Saint Peter and the Blessed Virgin Mary. The cathedral is a World Heritage Site, one of the best-known architectural monuments in Germany, and Cologne's most famous landmark, described by UNESCO as an "exceptional work of human creative genius".
Construction of Cologne Cathedral began in 1248 and took, with interruptions, until 1880 to complete. It is 144.5 meters long, 86.5 m wide and its towers are approximately 157 m tall. The cathedral is one of the world's largest churches and the largest Gothic church in Northern Europe. For four years, 1880-84, it was the tallest structure in the world, until the completion of the Washington Monument. It has the second-tallest church spires, only surpassed by the single spire of Ulm Minster, completed 10 years later in 1890. Because of its enormous twin spires, it also presents the largest facade of any church in the world. One of the Treasures of the cathedral is the High Altar which was installed in 1322. It is constructed of black marble, with a solid slab 15 feet long forming the top. The front and sides are overlaid with white marble niches into which are set figures, with the Coronation of the Virgin. There is a lot of great wooden sculptures and other art treasures inside the interior of CATHEDRAL.
Much better viewed large View On Black
Explore #367, 08/27/2010
On my last outing I found this Yellow-crowned Night Heron just wanting to sleep in the early morning. I can relate to him/her today and will be a bit slow getting to everyone’s posts. Just as his eyes were drifting shut here, my eyes will need to do the same in order for me to recover from an extremely busy day yesterday. Photo taken on Armand Bayou.
DSC02099uls
Some impressive hummingbird facts relate to their flying skills. Unlike any other species of bird, hummingbirds can fly backwards. Even more incredibly, it has recently been discovered that this is actually an efficient means of moving, and requires roughly the same energy as flying forwards. Flying backwards allows hummingbirds to cheerfully reverse from flowers after they feed, saving energy and looking seriously impressive into the bargain.
[polska wersja niżej]
This photo relates to the flood in Gdańsk, about which I have written here, but I think I will rewrite the story again and provide a better view on the story background.
It's one of trains diverted from electrified mainline into secondary diesel route: originally nigh train no. 38209 from Kraków Płaszów to Koszalin. SU46-039 on the train head yet in original paint scheme from Żagań depot. After the diesel - here "cold" originally employed to this train EP07-338. The train is passing Gdańsk Osowa station entering two-track section towards Gdynia. July 11, 2001.
Photo by Jarek / Chester
9 lipca 2001 roku w Gdańsku to był całkiem ładny dzień, przynajmniej taki się zaczął i trwał do południa. Koło niego nadciągnęły ciemne chmury, zapowiadając kolejną letnią gwałtowną burzę. Jak spadały pierwsze krople deszczu, nikt nie przeczuwał, że w ciągu popołudnia na miasto lunie dwa razy więcej wody, niż w całym typowym lipcu. Każdy metr kwadratowy przyjął prawie 130 litrów, a tylko między 15 i 17 spadło, a w zasadzie dosłownie polało się strumieniem z nieba 90 litrów na metr kwadratowy. Ulice leżące na zboczach moreny dennej falistej, bo miasto to nie tylko wybrzeże, ale i morenowe pagórki, zamieniły się w dna potoków spływających w dół. No a w dole, głównie na południu, u brzegu płaskiego terenu ujścia Wisły zaczęło tworzyć się jezioro.
Wpływająca od południa z Kaszub niewielka Radunia przerwała w paru miejscach kanał, w którym biegła i zalała południowa część miasta, dzielnice od Oruni (dolnej), przez Lipce do Świętego Wojciecha. Powódź dotknęła też nasypy linii kolejowej, uszkadzając torowisko w paru miejscach. Pod wodą były też tory samego Gdańska Głównego. Ruch kolejowy między Pruszczem Gdańskim (a w zasadzie Tczewem) i Gdańskiem na kilka dni zamarł.
Ponieważ jednak mówimy o czasach, gdy kolej była jedna, wielka i niepodzielna (choć podzielona na sektory), naprędce wypracowano rozwiązanie, które w dzisiejszych czasach byłoby nie do pomyślenia - skierowano objazdem wszystkie dalekobieżne pociągi pasażerskie na trasy objazdowe. I tak pociągi z Gdyni w kierunku Bydgoszczy jechały starą Magistralą Węglową przez Kościerzynę i Wierzchucin i dalej na Łódź, czy Katowice. Pociągi w kierunku Malborka i dalej Olsztyna czy Warszawy jechały zaś przez Kościerzynę, Bąk, Czersk i dalej "Ostbahnem" do Tczewa, gdzie powracały na normalne trasy. Oczywiście na trasach objazdowych zastosowanie miała trakcja spalinowa, a elektrowozy ciągnące pociągi nie zostawały odczepiane (oprócz paru wyjątków) i odbywały podróż "na zimno" na objazdach.
Z punktu widzenia podróżnego te objazdy to rozwiązanie tylko po części rozsądne - dzisiaj zapewne wprowadzono by komunikację autobusową od Tczewa do Gdyni, przez co nastąpiłoby wydłużenie jazdy może sumarycznie o godzinę. Wtedy, przez wprowadzone objazdy, pociągi doznawały kilkugodzinnych opóźnień, a całkiem niedawna likwidacja niektórych stacji na "węglówce" drastycznie pogorszyła przepustowość dwutorowej linii. Z drugiej strony, pasażer w kuszetce, czy sypialnym z głębi kraju na Hel, dotarł do celu podróży w tym samym łóżku, tyle, że 3-6 godzin później.
Sytuacja awaryjna trwała parę dni, po czym przywrócono ruch po głównej linii, z pewnymi ograniczeniami (ograniczenie prędkości w miejscach podmycia nasypu). Jeszcze parę dni po przywróceniu ruchu część pociągów towarowych kursowała niezelektryfikowanym objazdem z uwagi na problemy z przepustowością.
Na zdjęciu SU46-039, jeszcze w oryginalnych żagańskich szatach, z nocnym pociągiem 38209 z Krakowa Płaszowa do Koszalina, opuszcza stację w Gdańsku Osowie. Za dieslem - elektrowóz oryginalnie ciągnący nocnego "kuriera" - EP07-338. 11 lipca 2001 roku.
Fot. Jarek / Chester
“Urban art is a style of art that relates to cities and city life. In that way urban art combines street art and graffiti and is often used to summarize all visual art forms arising in urban areas, being inspired by urban architecture or thematizing urban live style.
The notion of 'Urban Art' developed from street art that is primarily concerned with graffiti culture. Urban art represents a broader cross section of artists that as well as covering traditional street artists also covers artists using more traditional media but with a subject matter that deals with contemporary urban culture and political issues.”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urban_art
“Wild Flowers are not weeds"
Street Art is the modern, urban wildflowers
What's the difference between Graffiti Tagging and Street Art?
1. Street Art is constructive, Graffiti Tagging is destructive.
2. Street Art adorns the urban landscape, Graffiti Tagging scars it and accelerates urban decay.
3. Street Art stretches your mind, Graffiti Tagging is a slap in your face.
4. Street Art is about the audience, Graffiti Tagging is about the tagger.
5. Street Art says "Have you thought about this?", Graffiti Tagging says "I tag, therefore I exist".
6. Street Art was done with a smile, Graffiti Tagging was done with a scowl.
7. Street Art takes skill, Graffiti Tagging takes balls.
8. We mourn losing Street Art and celebrate losing Graffiti Tagging.
Good Street Art is great, good Graffiti Tagging is gone!
”http://www.graffitiactionhero.org/graffiti-tag-vs-street-art.html
Additional interesting sites
www.osnatfineart.com/urban-art.jsp
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Street_art
Graffiti_27 LR
It was dark and wet as I made my way to a patch of Betony, Stachys officinalis, in the pretty Hortus Botanicus. Perhaps, I thought, it would help bewitch the weather into something more sunny... Traditionally Betony was thought to ward off evil spirits as even Desiderius Erasmus relates - who died yesterday in 1536 - a humanist not given to superstition.
Regardless the glum morning, Early Bumblebees (see inset) were out in full force foraging rather placidly on the pretty purple flowers. Then there was a spot of sunlight and it took all of three minutes for Anthidium manicatum, the European Wool Carder Bees, to disturb the peace, as it were, with their seemingly erratic collection. A bit of shadow and they were gone again; then back when the Sun came out. Back and forth, back and forth. A bit like Yours Truly who'd flee into the Greenhouse when another torrent of rain descended, and return to Betony when it lifted...
The Botanical Gardens at Asheville is located in the Southern Appalachian Mountains, one of the most diverse temperate ecosystems in the world. Our mission is the preservation and Pickerleweed promotion of the native plant species and habitats of these mountains. We hope to increase public awareness of this region’s unique botanical diversity by maintaining gardens for the enjoyment of the public and by providing educational programs and research resources for the community. The Cole Library of The Botanical Gardens at Asheville contains more than 1000 books relating to botany, horticulture, ecology, and ornithology. The grounds of BGA are open year round from sunrise to sunset for the enjoyment of the community, and no admission is charged for entrance. The Botanical Gardens is an independent nonprofit corporation financially supported by memberships, donations, endowments, proceeds from the Garden Path Gift Shop, and fees from special events and programs that are offered to the public. With the exception of the occasional competitive grant, we receive no city, state, or federal tax dollars. Although the Gardens is located on land belonging to the adjacent University of North Carolina at Asheville, we operate independently and are overseen by a Board of Directors elected from and by the general membership of the Botanical Gardens.
The Botanical Gardens at Asheville
151 W.T. Weaver Blvd.
Asheville, NC 28804-3414
Website: www.ashevillebotanicalgardens.org
I can't say how often I've driven Messenger Road, a potholed passage which never really goes where I'm going. It's a bridge between things, like so much of my life seems to be. It's a metaphor in my mind for a kind of prophecy, the sort you say and then go about trying to make come true. Things to share and the drive to share them, I've got more of that than most. I was once accused of being a "wannabe profit", and though the typo is accurate in the sense that I could use the money, the term "prophet" doesn't really fit me. There is no targeted truth in what I'm writing, no big vision or dream to relate. I'm not planning on predicting the future, only trying to do that old tribal thing. Campfire tales and cave paintings, so we can look back on our lives and back at our faces, and see something that keeping our thoughts to ourselves couldn't show.
November 20, 2022
Paradise, Nova Scotia
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The title of this relates to an article I read some time ago by Ken Rockwell, www.kenrockwell.com/index.htm, in which he explains what is "Good Bokeh", I found it interesting because I happen to be one of those people that think the word good when describing a medium such as photography is subjective and even sometimes what is generally "bad" can be "good" every now and again, if you know what I mean. He even has a chart showing what "poor", "neutral" and "good" bokeh looks like, and I am proud to say I have achieved what I think he describes as "neutral" or "poor" bokeh. Yeah for me!!! :-)))
In truth, I don't disagree with him in looking at this image there is something a little too harsh in the blobs of light here. It certainly is not the "smooth and silky" kind of bokeh. But you know after drinking a few of those glasses of what is in the foreground, nothing was in focus, and that is clearly seen in this image (as nothing in the shot is clearly in focus), so I call the shot a success!! :-))))
Here is a link to the entire story (which is a great read, seriously), www.kenrockwell.com/tech/bokeh.htm, and an excerpt is below.
"Bokeh describes the appearance, or "feel," of out-of-focus areas. Bokeh is not how far something is out-of-focus, bokeh is the character of whatever blur is there.
Unfortunately good bokeh doesn't happen automatically in lens design. Perfect lenses render out-of-focus points of light as circles with sharp edges. Ideal bokeh would render each of these points as blurs, not hard-edged circles."
So I guess I have a good lens and a "neutral" or perhaps "poor" bokeh shot to show for it! All of this is posted in good spirits, hope it reads that way! Cheers!!! :-))
HBW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Appropriate to post an image relating to the railway on rail 200 day
This image depicts Network Rail class 153 '153376' Slowing down through Newcraighall on its way into Millerhill Yard. I was expecting to see at least one other fellow railway enthusiast here as its usually popular with the spotters but this time round it was just me. Not even the passengers waiting on their train into Edinburgh took any notice of it!
This was a really well exposed image and the OHLE provided the perfect frame. and thankfully it was traveling slowly as I don't remember setting the AF to Continuous!
Uses: Anything relating to finance and money.
Free Creative Commons Finance Images... I created these images in my studio and have made them all available for personal or commercial use. Hope you like them and find them useful.
To see more of our CC by 2.0 finance images click here... see profile for attribution.
Panorama made with 9 pictures. Be smart and hit "L" to see it LARGE! :-D
"The Landscape of Rio reveals the exceptional way in which man and nature
should relate in a big city."
Botafogo district, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
Have a great rest of day / night :-D
To direct contact me / Para me contactar diretamente: lmsmartinsx@yahoo.com.br
Uses: Anything relating to finance and money.
Free Creative Commons Finance Images... I created these images in my studio and have made them all available for personal or commercial use. Hope you like them and find them useful.
To see more of our CC by 2.0 finance images click here... see profile for attribution.
2023 A New Year's Eve Soliloquy
I was asked recently by a friend if I would ever be likely to teach someone what
he/she felt were my skills at pickpocketing.
Extremely flattering as the question was, I had never thought of what we do as a skill. Rather than just role play, or taking advantage of a friend’s condition ( like Pissed drunk, or compellingly overwhelmed emotionally) that makes them vulnerable.
We had a discussion over this with my brother and our group of friends, concluding that since non of us would ever try to do a lift on a stranger for keeps, the topic of this being an actual skill is pretty much mute.
That all being said, if there are professional pickpockets that are adept enough to actively lift jewelry from a victim, then either they are incredibly skilled, or just know how to spot an advantage brewing that would cook up into a victim’s concocting condition as described above.
For a clearer example of a concocting condition, let me relate my own experience this past New Year’s Eve.
As is our habit, my friends and I celebrated New Year's Eve at our local “The Poet & Peasant Pub”.
I was on the decorations committee, so I was there to observe most of the guests coming in.
I was at the top of the stairs leading to the upper rooms, placing a party hat on Erik, the skull of the medieval poet who is the pub’s namesake. The macabrely grinning thing sits high on a ledge of the stairs overlooking the pub and its guests (peasants).
So I had a great vantage point to take an early drink and watch.
A friend(and he knows of whom I speak) had sorta challenged me to make a lift this evening. So it was with a thief’s eye that I tried to look innocent as I watched the partiers coming in.
The pub proper is not large, but it has two larger first-floor rooms, one for dance, the other for dart competitions. Since we usually can expect a crowd of two hundred, all three areas come into play.
The upstairs rooms are old bedrooms used for various pub-related antics.
Now, It’s not supposed to be a dressy affair at this party, but the guests, regulars, and visitors make it one.
The gents in suits, and tuxes, the lady’s getting a second chance to show off by wearing an old gown or dress they’ve only worn once.
Rhinestones and pearls are the majority of jewels worn with splashy brilliance.
This year was no exception.
Once it was in full swing one would have thought it was an after-party at a actors' awards show.
Use that thought to picture in your mind a quick visual without me going into boring paragraphs of detail.
But for a brief idea, I’ll describe what my clique was wearing…
Which, since it was one(or more)of us girls that became a victim that evening, it appears appropriate to do so.
So, In my role-play thief's mind I observed:
First off, myself.
I had on a smart ocean blue coloured satin dress with a below-knee length skirt and a slick solid top with a mock turtleneck collar. The sleeves flared out just below my elbows. I was wearing my gold necklace set with diamond Sapphire rhinestones with matching long earrings. Also being worn was my rhinestone cuff bracelet. The same one my brother once nicked from me at the very pub we were now partying at.
I also added two of my real cocktail rings to complete the glittery effect.
As far as the type of mark I’d be for a thief? Well if being a twit came in degrees, and I was in my monthly period, I would be certified as a solid brown belt. If I was wearing real jewels, thieves would be able to have a field day lifting the bloody things, as did actually happen to me in a very similar situation as this evening. But it was not done by a real thief, just by an opportunist who took advantage of a victim who had been having herself a pisser.
But then, this is not that story.
My friend Byrne was wearing an old-fashioned black tux, black vest, black shirt, and blue bow tie, topped off by a black bowler. He had to work late at the Dyfed station that day and said he was wearing the suit he had on. So it was a pleasant surprise to see him dressed up, and I let him know it in no uncertain terms.
My brother was dapper in his tawny-colored herringbone vest suit, brown silk shirt, and gold satin necktie. A gold satin handkerchief stuck jauntily out from a vest pocket.
Ginny had again poured her lithe figure into the sleek satin Japanese-style Qipao sheath dress she had bought to wear in a play she acted in last spring. It was midnight black with a brite lime green inner lining and tight lime green Lycra pants. The only decoration on the elegant dress was a glittery silver rhinestone Dragon, with green slanted eyes and a red fiery tongue. It was embroidered crawling up one side of the dress, reaching around up towards her bosom.
Ginny was wearing a bib-style necklace of rhinestone emeralds with matching earrings.
The necklace she usually wore was still in a police evidence locker at Dyfed ( see my tea party story).
Her hair was held up on one side by a glittery clip. She wore no gloves, so her diamond rhinestone cuff bracelet lay on bare skin, as were the 3 cocktail rings she was wearing.
Ginny would be a tougher nut for thieves to crack. For she is logical to a fault and witty. She is also a black belt in Jiu-Jitsu.
But one really after her jewels, would just have to follow her around to see she is on the wee bit clumsy side. I immediately thought how useful a satin handkerchief could be if employed along the high, partially exposed neckline of her gown to acquire her necklace. And I happened to now know where to obtain one ….
Two other two close friends (members of our role-playing troupe) also eventually showed up.
Merrick was dashing in a James Bond-styled black tux. The vest he wore had a gold and black calico silk pattern.
His Heather enticingly was wearing a very shiny black satin, slightly off shoulders gown with long white lace frills hanging down from the neckline and the gown’s puffy elbow-length sleeves.
Her jewellery was a ruby rhinestone necklace with matching earrings. Like Ginny, one side of her hair was pulled back and held by one of her real diamond chip hair clips. She wore black satin gloves, and around one wrist was the wide tennis bracelet Merrick had given her last Valentine’s Day. It was a beauty, two rows of diamonds and a centre row of round rock rubies. She also wore twin ruby cocktail rings.
Heather is a timid meek little thing who blushed easily and turn her head away whenever complimented(think of Actress Alison Pill ). Also, those black satin gloves of hers would hinder feelings of lifting from her skin.
Mum and Auntie were also in attendance.
Mum was wearing a shimmering dress of silvery metallic material. She was wearing a necklace of round diamond rhinestones, with matching earrings and bracelets. They were ones I first “borrowed “, sneaking them out of mum’s day jewel case and started wearing as my twin and I began first exploring our games of thievery.
Her personality and looks matched the actress Haley Mills. Her eyes getting delightfully large as she was surprised by something. It would be worth trying for her necklace just to witness that reaction.
Father was working the Dyfed station this evening, so my bodyguard-built uncle was the escort of both ladies.
Uncle(or the man from U.N.C.L.E . As I thought of him) was a rugby player in his youth and still had the physic for it. The tight tux he wore looked like it was bursting from the seams over his muscular build. But for all his looks he was a pussycat. Though a fierce darts competitor.
Auntie was very elegant in a long white silk dress with a red and green flowery print. She was wearing her gleaming set of pearls.
Our Aunt reminded me of the actress Janine Duvitski, in looks, and the way she was insecure, like Janine’s character in the Telly series” Waiting for God.” She was a foil to far too many things in her life and would offer no challenge to a proper thief, which may be her saving grace.
Then there was our cousin Michelle(Micke)
She has come there with a group of her coworkers but divided her time with us.
Micke was enticingly wearing a very sleek, slick brown satin fully off-shoulder number that nicely outlined her petite figure as it poured along it down to her silver high heels.
Her Jewels were a sparkling collection that consisted of a wide V-shaped necklace that looked like a falling river of rhinestones, amazingly sparkling chandelier earnings, her favorite diamond-appearing bracelet, and several enticing rings.
But the real showpiece was the eye-grabbing broach she had pinned to the gown just at her waistband. It had a sparrow egg-sized diamond at its centre.
Now blonde Micke just wears her heart upon her sleeve. Just as gullible as her mum, she has fallen victim to many of our pranks. Micke was easy prey to a compliment or falling into a tight, searching hug.
And by now most of the rest of the crowd had entered.
I tapped Erick’s boney jaw open so the poor sod of a poet was grinning, then came down from my perch to begin mugging, er, mingling.
^^^^^^^^
And so the party rambled on, properly behaving like most pub-held New Year’s Eve affairs.
I highly recommend going to one if you have never been.
Plenty to drink, and eat, games to play dancing to music( ours was live this year) camaraderie, storytelling and jokes, attempts to lite the cigar someone had stuck in Erik’s mouth, etc
Oh, And did I mention games?
Especially the one I was playing on my own, pretending to be a thief on the prowl.
I did miss one early opportunity on me mum’s necklace when I stood behind her in the snack line. She had literally backed into me and was reaching down to snag a small pork pie, exposing her throat and necklaces' clasp. But uncle was in front of her and turned to look as she asked him if he had one for himself.
Victims 1 Thief 0
But then as the night went by quickly and since I’m not a real thief, I found myself having so much fun I almost forgot I was looking for a further lifting opportunity.
Almost…
End Acte 1
^^^^^^^^^^^^*
Acte 2
Almost forgot I had been dared to do a lift, that is until I had l came out of the loo around 11:00 and realized I was on my own.
For the first time that evening.
Everyone I had been with was split up into small groups now doing their own thing
I could either join in, watch, or….
And now I thought licking my freshly touched-up lips, time to do something on my own.
So like my pretend thief, I decided to have a walk around and seek an opportunity amongst my chosen potential victims.
Byrne, Merrick, Uncle, and my brother Craig were we’re still playing darts with another group of men. I had been watching before slipping away to freshen up.
Micke and one of her co-workers ( in green taffeta) were amongst a group dancing. I thought of cutting in as a possibility to make a score, for that glittering broach of hers was an enticing calling card.
I watched for a minute or so when suddenly an opening appeared that paved my way in. A man had cut in and was dancing with Micke’s girlfriend. His back to Micke. I curled my fingers while licking my lips ready to plunge in and make a lift of a glittery broach.
I got no more than two steps in when the music stopped and the dancers headed off the floor in the opposite direction, including my Cousin.
I walked away, my heart pounding.
Victims 2 Thief 0
Our Mum and Auntie were sitting at a side table of the long mahogany bar, chatting away. Mum has an almost empty glass, so I surmised she may need to be making a trip to the ladies' room. I stored away that tidbit.
But there, in an opposite corner, underneath Erik’s perch, a makeshift stage was set up. With guests coming up to tell jokes and stories.
It was at one of the tables, chairs backed against the stairway, Ginny and Heather sat listening to an Irishman telling one of his drinking stories.
Both, in my thief’s eye, were a royal treat to be observed. Two enticingly dressed and deliciously jeweled prospects, very distracted, sitting in a rather vulnerable location.
It was all far too tempting, and I felt an overwhelming urge to acquire a piece of jewellery and strted to excitedly tingle from deep within.
Ginny’s necklace was beckoning with a flashy invitation. Heather's elegantly gloved hands with the inviting jewelry she wore, also called out to my inner thief with a fiery blazing hot lure.
^^^^^
The Irishman telling the joke was holding a long cigar as he started, his accent and mannerisms adding much embellishment to the story.
(Look up on Utube Mike Dunafon. An Irish drinking joke)
“Irishman Paddy O'Brien has moved to a small city in Wales. And as men are won’t to do, looks for a new local. He walks into the first pub he finds, and tells the bartender, "Give me three pints of Guinness."
The bartender obediently brings him three pints…..
As the story started I had circled over to the empty staircase and snuck up it till I was level with Heather and Ginny’s chairs. Then I sat down.
I earlier decided that my game would be to lift a piece and make it outside to the victim’s car and write gotcha on it, for my thief to win, if I was caught or stopped by anyone, then I lost.
The Irishman took a long puff of his cigar and carried on.
Paddy proceeds to alternately sip one, then the other, then the third until they're gone. Then he rose, threw coins on the table, winked at the bar mistress, and left.
Meanwhile, I was leaning against the rails, my hands reaching out to the back of Ginny’s throat, aiming for the clasp of her emerald-laden necklace. Figuring once the punchline was given, the laughing (if it was as funny as I hoped) would provide the perfect opportunity.
The Irishman continues…
The next Saturday evening Paddy walks in, hanging his cap, taking a seat, he walks again and orders three more pints.
The bartender brings them over, and says, "Sir, you don't have to order three pints at a time. I can keep an eye on one and when you get low, I'll bring you a fresh pint."
Paddy responds, "You don't understand. I just moved to wales and I have two brothers, one in Australia and one Canada. We made a vow to each other that every Saturday night we'd still drink together. So right now, me brothers are having three Guinness Stouts and we're drinking together.
The bartender thought that it was a wonderful tradition and said as much.
Both Ginny and Heather were now leaning back in their chairs. My fingers had been slowly working on pulling Ginny’s necklace down lower on her back so it would dangle. Just then Heather put her arms behind her chair. Her bracelet danced with rippling sparks that just cried out to the thief in me to be taken.
So, as the Irishman took a sip of his drink, I moved my hands from Ginny, and moving down a stair reached for Heather’s ruby bracelet. As the next part of the joke was told, I delicately worked at removing it.
Now, every week for several years Paddy came in and ordered three pints at a time.
Then one Saturday week he came in and ordered only two pints.
He solemnly drank them, rose. Put on his cap and went over to pay his tab.
The bartender, who had worriedly been watching, said to Paddy, "I know your tradition, and I'd just like to say that I'm sorry that one of your brothers died."
Paddy responded, “oh no, both my brothers are just fine Dontchay knows now.”
The Bartender, puzzled asked, “then why only two beers now? laddie?”
But I never heard the answer, for as Paddy was still drinking his two beers, I had fiendishly slipped off Heather’s glittering ruby bracelet from around her sleekly gloved wrist and had snuck off the staircase and was heading towards the back door.
Victims 3 Thief 1
I managed to slip past the table where my Aunt sat( mum was gone).
Behind me, I hear vigorous laughter and applause at the ending of the Irishman’s joke.
I would have to ask later what it was.
Then, by the entrance to the dart room, I waited until everyone was watching a dart being thrown before walking past the room.
The dance floor was again packed. But I couldn’t spy Micke, so I took a chance and scurried past.
I made it to the door, excitedly letting out my breath as I pulled it open and slipped through into the chilly night.
A couple was walking in the parking lot, so I ducked into a shadowy side alley and skirted around a fence. Kneeling, I peeked through the pickets.
I did not know the couple, but they obviously had been having a great time, though I wondered why they were leaving so soon. The lady was dressed in a blue taffeta gown with prickling rhinestone adornments. Her jewelry also prickled fire in the moonlit evening.
In my thief’s eyes, I saw them being approached and held up. The lady is forced to hand over her jewels to a masked female thief. Not me though, the thief I was picturing had bigger boobs.
Of course, that would be something only I would find to be that amusing, and let out a giggle.
They both heard it and looked around as I slinked back into the shadows.
They shrugged it off and got inside the car.
I took my eyes off them and soon spotted Merrill and Heather’s black sports car.
I rose.
Suddenly a male voice snarled sinisterly from behind me...
“Who let you out all dressed up looking like a mugger's dream?”
I let out a shriek as I jumped up and turned around.
Byrne stood there grinning.
I playfully pounded his shoulder, my heart thumping as I scolded him between breaths that gave off wisps of vapor into the cold night.
“Byrne you rotter. Scared the Jesus out of me you did, and almost peed my undies. And how would that have looked I ask you?!”
Byrne held onto my shoulders and laughed.
“Sorry, you looked so mischievous as I saw in the corner of my eye you sneaking out. I followed, then lost you until I heard the giggle. So tell me what you are up to now?”
I explained to him my game, that upon the thief’s success, I had come out to write “gotcha” on the car door.
“Then what were you gonna after that Ms. Cadence?”
“Follow Heather out when she left and give it back …?”
Byrne looked thoughtfully at Merrick’s car.
“I have got a better idea. She won’t know who did it.”
He led me over to his auto. Goes to the back and pulls a long slender bar from what I call his cop box, in the trunk.
We go over to Merrick’s black sports car and Byrne, looking around first, uses the tool to lift the latch on the passenger side.
“Now lay her bracelet out on the seat.
I did so letting it curl up on the black leather, where it lay sparkling. Then I locked and shut the door.
With a smirk, Byrne reminded me not to forget what else I was going to do
I nodded and in the dirty side of the door, I traced the word “Gotcha” as Byrne went over to put back his tool.
Arm in arm, with a co-conspirator's air, we walked onto the sidewalk, making our way to the front of the pub and went back inside. Innocent as a sparrow…
Another gent was getting up on the stage telling a story so we went and joined Ginny and Heather with an air of innocence as we began laughing along with them.
An old Irishman, Paddy, is about to go to his eternal reward. He looks at his grieving friend, Mike, and says, "Michael, I have one last request."
Ginny’s necklace was still lifted and the backside hanging down. She hadn’t noticed that fact. Nor had giggling Heather noticed her flashy bracelet was now missing.
"Anything, Paddy," Mike says. "What is it?"
"In me kitchen pantry lad, you'll find a bottle of whiskey from the year I was born. When they put me in the ground will you pour it over me grave as a final salute?"
"I will, Paddy," Mike says.
“Thank you Michael, you have been a true and thoughtful lad.”
I nudged Byrne and pointed to my wrist. He looked over and saw that Heather had her hand on the table, with her other gloves hand over it. I was tingling with excitement over how my game had played out.
Byrne nudged me back and I shook my head in agreement. He was loving the fact that we had pulled it off. So like a man to take the whole credit now that he had contributed a wee bit to my game.
We both turned back to listen to the stories finish.
"But Paddy?”
Mike asks earnestly ….
“Would you be minding if I be passing it through me kidneys first?"
The whole room erupted into laughter as the gent merrily raised his glass.
It was then announced that we were only ten minutes away from midnight and everyone should take their places.
I gasped inwardly. Blimey had not been keeping track of the time.
Byrne helped us out of our chairs, and we followed Ginny and Heather to where my brother was standing next to Merrick.
Lights soon dim as the countdown begins
10,9,8,
Everyone behind us is prancing around
7,6,5
We go around hugging. I lift my brother's satin handkerchief from his pocket as I hug him.
4,3,2
I hug Ginny
Wrapping the handkerchief around Ginny’s throat as we hug. Feeling the clasp of her necklace. Oh so tempting.
Victims 4 Thief 1
Then 1 was called out at the stroke of midnight.
“Happy new years everybody!!!”
Lights flicker horns are honked, crackers exploded, and drinks were toasted.
As Ginny turns to hug my brother, I grab and hug Heather, seeing Merrick and Byrne hugging.
I then pull Bryne from his man crush on Merrick and hug him.
Then we spilt up to wish others a Happy New Years.
^^^^^^^^^
We party for another hour before Merrick and Heather say they must leave.
We say our goodbyes and as Byrne and I watch Heather being helped on with her wrap we smirk at each other knowing what she will be finding on her car seat. Love to be a fly on the wall for that.
The music was still playing. A series of slow dances now that the party was winding down.
As we dance, Byrne, looking over at Ginny, commented:
“Damn if Ginny’s necklace isn’t a corker. If I’d been playing your game, I would have had a go for it, though I may have needed a bit of good luck to pull it off.”
I smirked and explained I had originally been attempting to lift it but had gone for the bracelet instead…and that in his case luck may have been needed, but it would not have been good.”
Then, as we both were watching Ginny, with that lovely necklace just sparking away around her throat, I purred into his ear…
“Say the word, and I’ll get for you, my love.”
He shook his head no…
“The scary part is if I said yes you would do it.”
I giggled:
“And wear it until she noticed.”
Byrne smiled:
“You will play nice here the rest of the party won’t you now?”
I nodded as a delighted thought crept into my head.
“So if Ginny had been skulking outside would you have snuck up on her luv, maybe had her hand it over?”
“And have my arse thrown over the fence. No, think I’ll stick to the easily distracted ones who meltdown in my arms.”
“Dream on mister.” I chide him happily.
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Early the next morning as the last of us were kicked out long after the party was officially over, Byrne bundled me into his car, knowing I was too wasted to drive my own self home. I sat there in a mute stupor, hornily replaying the evening's fun.
Suddenly Byrne spoke into the windshield.
“Let’s go to the playground.”
I perked up, for ideas like that usually came from me.
“Your drunk.” I teases
“Well, So are you Lass.”
“But it’s too cold. Let’s go to your flat and play at burglars…”
Byrne, sensing my hot flashy feelings, nudged me…
“I knew you would like to role-play since you were playing your games this evening.”
I poked him
“You were the one to mention muggers. Steal my jewelry and strip me naked, is that what’s in your head me lad?”
“Something like that.”
“Do you have your cuffs?”
That perked him up royally.
“Do you want me to use them?”
I giggled with a burgeoned horny appetite.
“Yes, laddie. On yourself. So you can do the thieving and stripping of my easily distracted person without using your hands.”
I do so enjoy it when one can score by making my Byrne speechless.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
So I would like to think that in real life, once upon a time, there may have been an actual pickpocket attending an actors' award show after a party, with real jewellery being worn, that may have seen what I saw, made observations as I did. and lurked, and waited to take advantage of the situation once it developed.
As I did.
Food for thought
Fini
Mike Dunafon. An Irish drinking joke
Various trees of life are recounted in folklore, culture and fiction, often relating to immortality or fertility. They had their origin in religious symbolism.
Ancient Iran
In pre-Islamic Persian mythology, the Gaokerena world tree is a large, sacred Haoma tree which bears all seeds. Ahriman (Ahreman, Angremainyu) created a frog to invade the tree and destroy it, aiming to prevent all trees from growing on the earth. As a reaction, God (Ahura Mazda) created two kar fish staring at the frog to guard the tree. The two fishes are always staring at the frog and stay ready to react to it. Because Ahriman is responsible for all evil including death, while Ahura Mazda is responsible for all good (including life) the concept of world tree in Persian Mythology is very closely related to the concept of Tree of Life.The sacred plant haoma and the drink made from it. The preparation of the drink from the plant by pounding and the drinking of it are central features of Zoroastrian ritual. Haoma is also personified as a divinity. It bestows essential vital qualities—health, fertility, husbands for maidens, even immortality. The source of the earthly haoma plant is a shining white tree that grows on a paradisiacal mountain. Sprigs of this white haoma were brought to earth by divine birds.Haoma is the Avestan form of the Sanskrit soma. The near identity of the two in ritual significance is considered by scholars to point to a salient feature of an Indo-Iranian religion antedating Zoroastrianism.
Another related issue in ancient mythology of Iran is the myth of Mashyа and Mashyane, two trees who were the ancestors of all living beings. This myth can be considered as a prototype for the creation myth where living beings are created by Gods (who have a human form).
Ancient Egypt
Worshipping Osiris, Isis, and Horus
To the Ancient Egyptians, the Tree of Life represented the hierarchical chain of events that brought every thing into existence. The spheres of the Tree of Life demonstrate the order, process, and method of creation.In Egyptian mythology, in the Ennead system of Heliopolis, the first couple, apart from Shu and Tefnut (moisture and dryness) are Geb and Nuit (earth and sky), are Isis and Osiris. They were said to have emerged from the acacia tree of Iusaaset, which the Egyptians considered the tree of life, referring to it as the "tree in which life and death are enclosed." Some acacia trees contain DMT, a psychedelic drug associated with spiritual experiences. The drug is not orally bio-available, however and there is no evidence the Egyptians had techniques for extracting or otherwise harnessing the drug. A much later myth relates how Set and 72 conspirators killed Osiris, putting him in a coffin, and throwing it into the Nile, the coffin becoming embedded in the base of a tamarisk tree.The Egyptians' Holy Sycamore also stood on the threshold of life and death, connecting the two worlds.
Assyria
Assyrian tree of life, from Nimrud panels.The Assyrian Tree of Life was represented by a series of nodes and criss-crossing lines. It was apparently an important religious symbol, often attended to in Assyrian palace reliefs by human or eagle-headed winged genies, or the King, and blessed or fertilized with bucket and cone. Assyriologists have not reached consensus as to the meaning of this symbol. The name "Tree of Life" has been attributed to it by modern scholarship; it is not used in the Assyrian sources. In fact, no textual evidence pertaining to the symbol is known to exist.
Baha'i Faith
The concept of the tree of life appears in the writings of the Baha'i Faith, where it can refer to the Manifestation of God, a great teacher who appears to humanity from age to age. An example of this can be found in the Hidden Words of Bahá'u'lláh:["Have ye forgotten that true and radiant morn, when in those hallowed and blessed surroundings ye were all gathered in My presence beneath the shade of the tree of life, which is planted in the all-glorious paradise? Awestruck ye listened as I gave utterance to these three most holy words: O friends! Prefer not your will to Mine, never desire that which I have not desired for you, and approach Me not with lifeless hearts, defiled with worldly desires and cravings. Would ye but sanctify your souls, ye would at this present hour recall that place and those surroundings, and the truth of My utterance should be made evident unto all of you."Also, in the Tablet of Ahmad [1], of Bahá'u'lláh:"Verily He is the Tree of Life, that bringeth forth the fruits of God, the Exalted, the Powerful, the Great".Bahá'u'lláh refers to his male descendents as branches (Aghsán) and calls women leaves.
A distinction has been made between the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The latter represents the physical world with its opposites, such as good and evil and light and dark. In a different context from the one above, the tree of life represents the spiritual realm, where this duality does not exist.
Buddhism
The Bo tree, also called Bodhi tree, according to Buddhist tradition, is the pipal (Ficus religiosa) under which the Buddha sat when he attained Enlightenment (Bodhi) at Bodh Gaya (near Gaya, west-central Bihar state, India). A living pipal at Anuradhapura, Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), is said to have grown from a cutting from the Bo tree sent to that city by King Ashoka in the 3rd century BCE.According to Tibetan tradition when Buddha went to the holy Lake Manasorovar along with 500 monks, he took with him the energy of Prayaga Raj. Upon his arrival, he installed the energy of Prayaga Raj near Lake Manasorovar, at a place now known as Prayang. Then he planted the seed of this eternal banyan tree next to Mt. Kailash on a mountain known as the "Palace of Medicine Buddha".
China
In Chinese mythology, a carving of a Tree of Life depicts a phoenix and a dragon; the dragon often represents immortality. A Taoist story tells of a tree that produces a peach every three thousand years. The one who eats the fruit receives immortality.An archaeological discovery in the 1990s was of a sacrificial pit at Sanxingdui in Sichuan, China. Dating from about 1200 BCE, it contained three bronze trees, one of them 4 meters high. At the base was a dragon, and fruit hanging from the lower branches. At the top is a strange bird-like (phoenix) creature with claws. Also found in Sichuan, from the late Han dynasty (c 25 – 220 CE), is another tree of life. The ceramic base is guarded by a horned beast with wings. The leaves of the tree are coins and people. At the apex is a bird with coins and the Sun.
Christianity
In Catholic Christianity, the Tree of Life represents the immaculate state of humanity free from corruption and Original Sin before the Fall. Pope Benedict XVI has said that "the Cross is the true tree of life." Saint Bonaventure taught that the medicinal fruit of the Tree of Life is Christ himself. Saint Albert the Great taught that the Eucharist, the Body and Blood of Christ, is the Fruit of the Tree of Life.[18] Augustine of Hippo said that the tree of life is Christ: "All these things stood for something other than what they were, but all the same they were themselves bodily realities. And when the narrator mentioned them he was not employing figurative language, but giving an explicit account of things which had a forward reference that was figurative. So then the tree of life also was Christ... and indeed God did not wish the man to live in Paradise without the mysteries of spiritual things being presented to him in bodily form. So then in the other trees he was provided with nourishment, in this one with a sacrament... He is rightly called whatever came before him in order to signify him."[19]
The tree first appeared in Genesis 2:9 and 3:22-24 as the source of eternal life in the Garden of Eden, from which access is revoked when man is driven from the garden. It then reappears in the last book of the Bible, the Book of Revelation, and most predominantly in the last chapter of that book (Chapter 22) as a part of the new garden of paradise. Access is then no longer forbidden, for those who "wash their robes" (or as the textual variant in the King James Version has it, "they that do his commandments") "have right to the tree of life" (v.14). A similar statement appears in Rev 2:7, where the tree of life is promised as a reward to those who overcome. Revelation 22 begins with a reference to the "pure river of water of life" which proceeds "out of the throne of God". The river seems to feed two trees of life, one "on either side of the river" which "bear twelve manner of fruits" "and the leaves of the tree were for healing of the nations" (v.1-2).[20] Or this may indicate that the tree of life is a vine that grows on both sides of the river, as John 15:1 would hint at.
In Eastern Christianity the tree of life is the love of God.The tree of life appears in the Book of Mormon in a revelation to Lehi (see 1 Nephi 8:10). It is symbolic of the love of God (see 1 Nephi 11:21-23). Its fruit is described as "most precious and most desirable above all other fruits," which "is the greatest of all the gifts of God" (see 1 Nephi 15:36). In another scriptural book, salvation is called "the greatest of all the gifts of God" (see Doctrine and Covenants 6:13). In the same book eternal life is also called the "greatest of all the gifts of God" (see Doctrine and Covenants 14:7). Because of these references, the tree of life and its fruit is sometimes understood to be symbolic of salvation and post-mortal existence in the presence of God and his love.
Europe
11th century Tree of Life sculpture at an ancient Swedish church
In Dictionnaire Mytho-Hermetique (Paris, 1737), Antoine-Joseph Pernety, a famous alchemist, identified the Tree of Life with the Elixir of Life and the Philosopher's Stone.
In Eden in the East (1998), Stephen Oppenheimer suggests that a tree-worshipping culture arose in Indonesia and was diffused by the so-called "Younger Dryas" event of c. 8000 BCE, when the sea level rose. This culture reached China (Szechuan), then India and the Middle East. Finally the Finno-Ugaritic strand of this diffusion spread through Russia to Finland where the Norse myth of Yggdrasil took root.
Georgia
The Borjgali (Georgian: ბორჯღალი) is an ancient Georgian Tree of Life symbol.
Germanic paganism and Norse mythology[
In Germanic paganism, trees played (and, in the form of reconstructive Heathenry and Germanic Neopaganism, continue to play) a prominent role, appearing in various aspects of surviving texts and possibly in the name of gods.
The tree of life appears in Norse religion as Yggdrasil, the world tree, a massive tree (sometimes considered a yew or ash tree) with extensive lore surrounding it. Perhaps related to Yggdrasil, accounts have survived of Germanic Tribes' honouring sacred trees within their societies. Examples include Thor's Oak, sacred groves, the Sacred tree at Uppsala, and the wooden Irminsul pillar. In Norse Mythology, the apples from Iðunn's ash box provide immortality for the gods.
Hinduism
The Eternal Banyan Tree (Akshaya Vata) is located on the bank of the Yamuna inside the courtyard of Allahabad Fort near the confluence of the Yamuna and Ganga Rivers in Allahabad. The eternal and divine nature of this tree has been documented at length in the scriptures.[citation needed]
During the cyclic destruction of creation when the whole earth was enveloped by waters, akshaya vata remained unaffected. It is on the leaves of this tree that Lord Krishna rested in the form of a baby when land was no longer visible. And it is here that the immortal sage, Markandeya, received the cosmic vision of the Lord. It is under this tree that Buddha meditates eternally. Legend also has it that the Bodi tree at Gaya is a manifestation of this tree.
Islam
Carpet Tree of Life
Main article: Quranic tree of life
See also: Sidrat al-Muntaha
The "Tree of Immortality" (Arabic: شجرة الخلود) is the tree of life motif as it appears in the Quran. It is also alluded to in hadiths and tafsir. Unlike the biblical account, the Quran mentions only one tree in Eden, also called the tree of immortality, which Allah specifically forbade to Adam and Eve. Satan, disguised as a serpent, repeatedly told Adam to eat from the tree, and eventually both Adam and Eve did so, thus disobeying Allah.] The hadiths also speak about other trees in heaven.
According to the Ahmadiyya movement, Quranic reference to the tree is symbolic; eating of the forbidden tree signifies that Adam disobeyed God.[
Jewish sources
Main articles: Etz Chaim and Biblical tree of life
Etz Chaim, Hebrew for "tree of life," is a common term used in Judaism. The expression, found in the Book of Proverbs, is figuratively applied to the Torah itself. Etz Chaim is also a common name for yeshivas and synagogues as well as for works of Rabbinic literature. It is also used to describe each of the wooden poles to which the parchment of a Sefer Torah is attached.The tree of life is mentioned in the Book of Genesis; it is distinct from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. After Adam and Eve disobeyed God by eating fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, they were driven out of the Garden of Eden. Remaining in the garden, however, was the tree of life. To prevent their access to this tree in the future, Cherubim with a flaming sword were placed at the east of the garden. (Genesis 3:22-24)
In the Book of Proverbs, the tree of life is associated with wisdom: "[Wisdom] is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her, and happy [is every one] that retaineth her." (Proverbs 3:13-18) In 15:4 the tree of life is associated with calmness: "A soothing tongue is a tree of life; but perverseness therein is a wound to the spirit."
The Book of Enoch, generally considered non-canonical, states that in the time of the great judgment God will give all those whose names are in the Book of Life fruit to eat from the Tree of Life.
Kathara grid
The esoteric bio-spiritual healing system of kathara which is presented on Earth by the official Speaker of the Guardian Alliance – E’Asha Ashayana,explains in detail the function of the code of the kathara grid] as the natural tree of life. Kathara reveals the anatomy of Creation, core structure, the blueprints & interconnectedness of all matter forms and in the center is the replication of the kathara grid everywhere.The kathara grid consists of 12 kathara centers and the relationships between them represent the true meaning of the phrase "As above, so below" and the correspondence between microcosmos and macrocosmos.
Kabbalah. Judaic Kabbalah Tree of Life 10 Sephirot, through which the Ein Sof unknowable Divine manifests Creation. The configuration relates to manJewish mysticism depicts the Tree of Life in the form of ten interconnected nodes, as the central symbol of the Kabbalah. It comprises the ten Sephirot powers in the Divine realm. The panentheistic and anthropomorphic emphasis of this emanationist theology interpreted the Torah, Jewish observance, and the purpose of Creation as the symbolic esoteric drama of unification in the Sephirot, restoring harmony to Creation. From the time of the Renaissance onwards, Jewish Kabbalah became incorporated as an important tradition in non-Jewish Western culture, first through its adoption by Christian Cabala, and continuing in Western esotericism occult Hermetic Qabalah. These adapted the Judaic Kabbalah Tree of Life syncretically by associating it with other religious traditions, esoteric theologies, and magical practices.
Mesoamerican
The concept of world trees is a prevalent motif in pre-Columbian Mesoamerican cosmologies and iconography. World trees embodied the four cardinal directions, which represented also the fourfold nature of a central world tree, a symbolic axis mundi connecting the planes of the Underworld and the sky with that of the terrestrial world.Depictions of world trees, both in their directional and central aspects, are found in the art and mythological traditions of cultures such as the Maya, Aztec, Izapan, Mixtec, Olmec, and others, dating to at least the Mid/Late Formative periods of Mesoamerican chronology. Among the Maya, the central world tree was conceived as or represented by a ceiba tree, and is known variously as a wacah chan or yax imix che, depending on the Mayan language.[32] The trunk of the tree could also be represented by an upright caiman, whose skin evokes the tree's spiny trunk.Directional world trees are also associated with the four Yearbearers in Mesoamerican calendars, and the directional colors and deities. Mesoamerican codices which have this association outlined include the Dresden, Borgia and Fejérváry-Mayer codices.[31] It is supposed that Mesoamerican sites and ceremonial centers frequently had actual trees planted at each of the four cardinal directions, representing the quadripartite concept.World trees are frequently depicted with birds in their branches, and their roots extending into earth or water (sometimes atop a "water-monster," symbolic of the underworld). The central world tree has also been interpreted as a representation of the band of the Milky Way.
Middle East
The Epic of Gilgamesh is a similar quest for immortality. In Mesopotamian mythology, Etana searches for a 'plant of birth' to provide him with a son. This has a solid provenance of antiquity, being found in cylinder seals from Akkad (2390–2249 BCE).The Book of One Thousand and One Nights has a story, 'The Tale of Buluqiya', in which the hero searches for immortality and finds a paradise with jewel-encrusted trees. Nearby is a Fountain of Youth guarded by Al-Khidr. Unable to defeat the guard, Buluqiya has to return empty-handed.
North American
In a myth passed down among the Iroquois, The World on the Turtle's Back, explains the origin of the land in which a tree of life is described. According to the myth, it is found in the heavens, where the first humans lived, until a pregnant woman fell and landed in an endless sea. Saved by a giant turtle from drowning, she formed the world on its back by planting bark taken from the tree.The tree of life motif is present in the traditional Ojibway cosmology and traditions. It is sometimes described as Grandmother Cedar, or Nookomis Giizhig in Anishinaabemowin.In the book Black Elk Speaks, Black Elk, an Oglala Lakota (Sioux) wičháša wakȟáŋ (medicine man and holy man), describes his vision in which after dancing around a dying tree that has never bloomed he is transported to the other world (spirit world) where he meets wise elders, 12 men and 12 women. The elders tell Black Elk that they will bring him to meet "Our Father, the two-legged chief" and bring him to the center of a hoop where he sees the tree in full leaf and bloom and the "chief" standing against the tree. Coming out of his trance he hopes to see that the earthly tree has bloomed, but it is dead
Serer religion
In Serer religion, the tree of life as a religious concept forms the basis of Serer cosmogony. Trees were the first things created on Earth by the supreme being Roog (or Koox among the Cangin). In the competing versions of the Serer creation myth, the Somb (Prosopis africana) and the Saas tree (acacia albida) are both viewed as trees of life. However, the prevailing view is that, the Somb was the first tree on Earth and the progenitor of plant life. The Somb was also used in the Serer tumuli and burial chambers, many of which had survived for more than a thousand years.Thus, Somb is not only the Tree of Life in Serer society, but the symbol of immortality
Urartian Tree of Life
In ancient Urartu, the Tree of Life was a religious symbol and was drawn on walls of fortresses and carved on the armor of warriors. The branches of the tree were equally divided on the right and left sides of the stem, with each branch having one leaf, and one leaf on the apex of the tree. Servants stood on each side of the tree with one of their hands up as if they are taking care of the tree.
Turkic .The Tree of Life, as seen as in flag of Chuvashia, a Turkic state in the Russian FederationThe Tree of Life design on 0,05 Turkish lira (5 kuruş).
The World Tree or Tree of Life is a central symbol in Turkic mythology.[citation needed] It is a common motif in carpets.
It is also used as the main design of a common Turkish lira sub-unit 5 kuruş since 2009.
“Urban art is a style of art that relates to cities and city life. In that way urban art combines street art and graffiti and is often used to summarize all visual art forms arising in urban areas, being inspired by urban architecture or thematizing urban live style.
The notion of 'Urban Art' developed from street art that is primarily concerned with graffiti culture. Urban art represents a broader cross section of artists that as well as covering traditional street artists also covers artists using more traditional media but with a subject matter that deals with contemporary urban culture and political issues.”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urban_art
“Wild Flowers are not weeds"
Street Art is the modern, urban wildflowers
What's the difference between Graffiti Tagging and Street Art?
1. Street Art is constructive, Graffiti Tagging is destructive.
2. Street Art adorns the urban landscape, Graffiti Tagging scars it and accelerates urban decay.
3. Street Art stretches your mind, Graffiti Tagging is a slap in your face.
4. Street Art is about the audience, Graffiti Tagging is about the tagger.
5. Street Art says "Have you thought about this?", Graffiti Tagging says "I tag, therefore I exist".
6. Street Art was done with a smile, Graffiti Tagging was done with a scowl.
7. Street Art takes skill, Graffiti Tagging takes balls.
8. We mourn losing Street Art and celebrate losing Graffiti Tagging.
Good Street Art is great, good Graffiti Tagging is gone!
”http://www.graffitiactionhero.org/graffiti-tag-vs-street-art.html
Additional interesting sites
www.osnatfineart.com/urban-art.jsp
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Street_art
DSC_0247 final.jpg
I can relate to Frankenstein's monster..there are times when I feel like I've been piecemealed together, my body is a mess. My feet are a size and half different from one another, My left arm is contorted from injury, my spine does not properly align... it goes on and on. But the villagers haven't gathered yet so I'm doing pretty good! LOL
On a pleasant day in August I took mum out for a visit to Erddig Hall, a National Trust owned stately home just over the border into Wales. After much walking about the Hall, stables and gardens (lots of stairs and steps), and even though mum has bionic hips and a knee joint, she needed to rest, and so took a relaxing break inside one of two arbours that sit facing each other across the ornate gardens in front of the Hall. It was late afternoon so the crowds had gone, leaving the two of us in peace and quiet with only bird song and flower scents to distract our senses. I hadn't realised that she was quietly watching me faffing about with my camera as I prowled around the flower beds and statuary looking for targets, so when I turned around and saw her steady, thoughtful gaze I quickly took a shot before she became too self-conscious and fidgety as she is wont do when faced with a camera pointed directly at her.
Without wishing to sound maudlin, I think this image – unintentionally on my part – encapsulates the dominant issue that someone with Alzheimer's faces, namely the sense of isolation and detachment from a world they are increasingly failing to comprehend or relate to. At present, mum's symptoms are very poor short-term memory and an inability to correctly use technology like TV remotes, mobile phones, etc or deal with anything that involves numbers such as, money, time and calendar dates. Having said all that, she does still have a full grip on who she is, and is fully cognisant of, and able to interact with, everyone around her – her family, friends, etc – and the world she moves in. What touches me profoundly, though, is that she is also fully aware of her condition but has an equanimity towards it that borders on that of a Zen monk. Her ability to deal with her distressing illness and still be able to smile and enjoy life to the full, even on her physically off-days when her joints play up, is something I find very humbling and puts my own issues and problems into perspective. I've said it before, but I'll never fail to stop learning how to be a better human being from this amazing woman with an ever youthful soul. She is my Buddha in sensible shoes. :-)
Best in L.
The other major change relating to the Central Connect withdrawals is that the 93 is more-or-less replaced by the LC9. It’s similar but not identical and funded by Leicestershire County Council between Nottingham and Bottesford (despite the vast majority of the route falling within Nottinghamshire).
Since the drivers and vehicles for this route are based out of Grantham, some journeys extend to there, to allow travel on what would otherwise be dead mileage for changeovers. However the Grantham to Bottesford section has even more going on which I’ll delve into at a later time.
Journeys on the LC9 are covered by two individual duties which interwork onto different routes, so it starts off with vehicle ‘A’, then swaps to vehicle ‘B’, and then later on back to ‘A’ again. The route regulars are these YY64 E200s, plus a pair of 75 plate E200 MMCs that originated at Chaserider. The 64 plates are 6cyl and have some poke to them.
Here YY64 GWF turns down Friar Lane, Nottingham, on 2.2.26
Press "L" if you have the time : )
Whoa....what a song! www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gijYFA1SS8&feature=related
FOOD FOR THOUGHT..........Can you relate? I sure can!
"Six-year-old Brandon decided on Easter Sunday morning to fix his parents pancakes. He found a big bowl and spoon, pulled a chair to the counter, opened the cupboard and pulled out the heavy flour canister, spilling it on the floor. He scooped some of the flour into the bowl with his hands, mixed in most of a cup of milk and added some sugar, leaving a floury trail on the floor which by now had a few tracks left by his kitten. Brandon was covered with flour and getting frustrated. He wanted this to be something very good for Mom and Dad, but it was getting very bad. He didn't know what to do next, whether to put it all into the oven or on the stove and he didn't know how the stove worked! Suddenly he saw his kitten licking from the bowl of mix and reached to push her away, knocking the egg carton to the floor. Frantically he tried to clean up this monumental mess but slipped on the eggs, getting his pajamas white and sticky. And just then he saw Dad standing at the door. Big crocodile tears welled up in Brandon's eyes. All he'd wanted to do was something good, but he'd made a terrible mess. He was sure a scolding was coming, maybe even a spanking. But his Father just watched him. Then, walking through the mess, he picked up his crying son, hugged him and loved him, getting his own pajamas white and sticky in the process! (The Power of the Cross) That's how God deals with us. At times we try to do something good in life, but it turns into a mess. Our marriage gets all sticky or we insult a friend, or we can't stand our job, or our health goes sour. Sometimes we just stand there in tears because we can't think of anything else to do. That's the time to go "SAILING RIGHT INTO HIS ARMS". That's when God picks us up and loves us and forgives us, even though some of our mess gets all over Him. (His Resurrection Love). Like it says in Luke 19:40..."If they don't talk about this "the rocks" will cry out." I have to stop and ask myself as the song says "What WONDROUS LOVE is this oh my soul."!
Suppose one morning you were called home to be with God; do all your friends know you love them? I was thinking ... and I wondered if I had any friendships that need rekindling or those "three words" needing to be said. Oh so often, "I love you" can heal & bless! Even if you think they don't love back, YOU WOULD BE AMAZED at what those three little words, a smile, and a reminder like this can do."
Just in case I haven't told you lately... “I LOVE You! and God loves you even more!
A Blessed Easter to you all!
John 11:25-26 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?”
He is Risen! ........He is Real!........... He is Relational!
Click on the photo to enjoy it large size.
Kinetic Photograph made with one single long exposure shot, printed straight out of camera.
If you’d like to read more details about how the shot is made see below. And for more of my kinetic photographs here’s my set, "Drawing with Light"
www.flickr.com/photos/motorpsiclist/albums/72157652166665058
Copyright © by John Russell – All Rights Reserved
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Kinetic: Relating to, caused by, or producing motion.
These are called “Kinetic” photographs because there is motion, energy, and movement involved, specifically my and the camera’s movements.
I choose a light source and/or subject, set my camera for a long exposure (typically around 4 seconds), focus on my subject and push the shutter button. When the shutter opens I move the camera around with my hands...large, sweeping, dramatic movements. And then I will literally throw the camera several feet up into the air, most times imparting a spinning or whirling motion to it as I hurl it upward. I may throw the camera several times and also utilize hand-held motion several times in one photo. None of these are Photoshopped, layered, or a composite photo...what you see occurs in one shot, one take.
Aren’t I afraid that I will drop and break my camera? For regular followers of my photostream and this series you will know that I have already done so. This little camera has been dropped many times, and broken once when dropped on concrete outside. It still functions...not so well for regular photographs, but superbly for more kinetic work.
Mezhyhirya Residence Museum, Kiev, Ukraine.
The Mezhyhirya residence was built in the Soviet period on the site of a monastery that had stood there since the 14th century before being destroyed by the Bolsheviks. The Soviet regime, under which Ukraine lived for 70 years, tried to provide for all its leaders’ needs. Top communists were rewarded with a package that included a house in the country – a so-called ‘dacha’. Mezhyhirya, which was at the disposal of the leader of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic, fell into this category.
After Ukrainian independence the building was used to accommodate foreign delegations, but when in 2002 Viktor Yanukovych was appointed Prime Minister and moved to Kiev from industrial Donetsk he decided he would like to live at Mezhyhiriya. Initially he rented it, but the Orange Revolution brought a fall in his living standards – a terrible thing for Post-Soviet Man. The new government, headed by president Yushchenko and PM Tymoshenko, evicted him from his home.
But a year later, after the fall of the Orange dream team, Yanukovych returned to the post of Prime Minister and secured the right to Move back into Mezhyhiriya, which was still government property. And another year later, in 2007, when he left his post, he took the house with him.
In Yanukovych’s final weeks as Prime Minister, his government illegally privatised Mezhyhiriya. No money was paid to the state for its sale; instead, a couple of semi- derelict buildings in Kiev were handed over in return (they have continued to fall down ever since).
Mezhyhiriya, meanwhile, was acquired, without any competitive tendering process, by a Donetsk company called ‘MedInvestTraid’, which immediately resold it and a few years later filed for bankruptcy. Was someone covering their tracks?
In 2009, after an unsuccessful bid to create a political alliance with Viktor Yanukovych, Yulia Tymoshenko tried to return Mezhyhiriya to state ownership, but nothing came of it. MPs from Yanukovych’s party removed all the documents relating to the sale from the government departments involved. Yanukovych lived in it from 2002 to 21 February 2014, when he abandoned the estate during the 2014 Ukrainian Revolution.
For video, please visit youtu.be/mr-rWbtde3I
Whilst looking at things relating to Plaxton of Scarborough, its probably worth sharing this picture too. I think it was taken on the occasion of a coach operators association visit.
To the fore we have a very nice Supreme bodied Leyland Leopard for Martindales of Ferryhill, PPT 400P . . . which helps date the pictures to '75/6.
The next two Supremes in line are, I suspect, two Bedford YMTs for Harry Shaw of Coventry, NVC 3 & 10P. Further down is the only sevice bus in view which would probably be a Ford 'Derwent' for East Kent.
I was walking the streets of Taipei when I heard all hell breaking loose. I could hear the screams and knew they were linked to a haircut gone bad. I could totally relate. When I was a young tyke I had a major phobia to haircuts. So bad, that I didn't get my first haircut until I was almost five years old, and I didn't even have to contend with the mad barber of Taipei like this youngster. Truth is, all the barbers in our neighborhood cringed when they saw my parents drag me through their door, trying yet again to successfully get my hair wacked. It's not good for business when people see a youngster run screaming from your shop with the apron still dangling from his neck. Actually, I still loathe haircuts. Ask my wife, she's always pestering me to trim my locks.
Taipei, Taiwan
When I cry, I secretly hope that you will run all the way to mah doorstep in the rain, wipe mah tear, kiss me on the forehead and stay w/ me through the night...
P.s: It's Romantic rite ;)) keke
Overview
Great Minds is a dynamic monument that praises the birth of ideas and relates to all creative people. Light work appears in the form of two monumental brains in dialogue, performing active, luminous brainstorming – the unavoidable phase of each creative process – and figuratively using light to emphasize births of unique ideas and sparkling activities of all great minds. Great Minds was first presented in 2021 at Nobel Week Lights in Stockholm, Sweden with the support of GVA, Control Dept and Rebel Light. About Aleksandra Stratimirovic
Aleksandra Stratimirovic graduated in Applied Arts and Design at the University of Arts in Belgrade. She completed her studies in specialized lighting design at the University of Arts, Crafts and Design, Konstfack and the Royal Institute of Technology in Stockholm. Stratimirovic has broad knowledge and understanding of light and lighting technologies, and she is also the author of temporary and permanent light-art installations for numerous public places in Sweden and abroad. Her works include “Transmission” for the World Heritage Grimeton Radio Station, Sweden, “You Are The Dream” in Gothenburg, “Northern Lights” Jardin du Palais Royal, Paris and participation in the Amsterdam Light Festival. She has received numerous awards and recognitions. Her light works are exhibited worldwide, most recently at the NOOR Riyadh Festival, the National Museum in Stockholm and the Skopje Light Art District.
Partnership Festival: Nobel Week Lights
Nobel Week Lights is initiated and produced by Annika Levin, Alexandra Manson and Lara Szabo Greisman from Troika. The initiative collaborates with the Nobel Prize Museum with support from the City of Stockholm, the Stockholm Chamber of Commerce and the Swedish Space Agency, and many other partners and lighting companies. Inspired by Nobel Prize-awarded discoveries and laureates, stunning artworks light up the darkness of the streets of Stockholm each year during the Nobel Week.
About Fjord Studio
Fjord Studio is a creative studio dedicated to bringing the magic of light art into people’s lives. Fjord Studio curates and produces light art projects for cultural events, urban spaces, architecture and stage. Based in Oslo, the studio works globally and produces the best in light art. The studio collaborates with renowned Norwegian and international light artists and new talents, experienced technical teams and international partners. With projections on buildings, intimate installations, site-specific light sculptures and immersive video art, the studio’s work is a broad exploration of light art. Together with their artists and customers, the studio works towards a shared vision to create meaningful, inspiring and memorable experiences of light and art. Fjord Studio has been developed by artist and curator Anastasia Isachsen and producer Frank Isachsen, the team behind the light art festival Fjord Oslo. Since 2020, their work has expanded to conceptualize, produce and communicate various types of temporary and permanent projects at the intersection of art and technology – in Norway and internationally. Ongoing projects include the annual light art festival Fjord Oslo, the new light art initiative Fjord Geiranger in Geiranger and Nordic Lights – a collaborative project with Harbourfront Centre and light art festivals in Denmark, Sweden and Finland, in addition to several smaller projects. Source: harbourfrontcentre.com/event/great-minds/
This relates to the previous photo I posted. The following night I dressed up in a velvet body shirt and black leather mini skirt and went out to a large Disco! I did have fun even though I was nervous with the big crowd.
Eidetic: relating to or denoting mental images having unusual vividness and detail, as if actually visible
The glorious Zebra in the bushveld at Kwandwe
A wide variety of hypotheses have been proposed to account for the evolution of the striking stripes of zebras. The more traditional of these (1 and 2, below) relate to camouflage.
The vertical striping may help the zebra hide in the grass by disrupting its outline. In addition, even at moderate distances, the striking striping merges to an apparent grey. However, the camouflage has been contested with arguments that most of a zebra's predators (such as lions and hyenas) cannot see well at a distance, and are more likely to have smelled or heard a zebra before seeing it from a distance, especially at night.
The stripes may help to confuse predators by motion dazzle—a group of zebras standing or moving close together may appear as one large mass of flickering stripes, making it more difficult for the lion to pick out a target. It has been suggested that when moving, the stripes may confuse observers, such as mammalian predators and biting insects, by two visual illusions: the wagon-wheel effect, where the perceived motion is inverted, and the barberpole illusion, where the perceived motion is in a wrong direction.
The stripes may serve as visual cues and identification. Although the striping pattern is unique to each individual, it is not known whether zebras can recognize one another by their stripes.
Experiments by different researchers indicate that the stripes are effective in attracting fewer flies, including blood-sucking tsetse flies and tabanid horseflies.A 2012 experiment in Hungary showed that zebra-striped models were nearly minimally attractive to tabanid horseflies. These flies are attracted to linearly polarized light, and the study showed that black and white stripes disrupt the attractive pattern. Further, attractiveness increases with stripe width, so the relatively narrow stripes of the three living species of zebras should be unattractive to horseflies.
Stripes may be used to cool the zebra.Air may move more quickly over black light-absorbing stripes while moving more slowly over white stripes.This would create convection currents around the zebra that would cool it.One study analyzes that zebras have more stripes in hotter habitats.
PS: Not been on much at all so apologies. Will try my best to catch up as soon as possible but work after coming back from holiday has been manic & non stop!
Adapting a popular song from the 1970s I often find myself singing 'sometimes I want to be a woman' I do also sing the actual line 'sometimes it's hard to be a woman' too as I can relate to both sentiments. I frequently segue into the chorus line of 'stand by your man' unconsciously then a sudden awareness of what I just sang brings me to a halt! Realisation I'm not a woman crashes in and I feel a mix of regret, sadness and fear yet at the same time I feel contentment, delight and real joy.
My relationship with my transvestism is something that fascinates me greatly and is something I really enjoy analysing and on rare occasions get to discuss, I am completely fascinated by my transgender feelings. I do often question my motives as being a transvestite brings with it a lot of emotions and satisfaction, indeed a sense of fulfilment yet it also carries for me doubt and guilt and confusion.
One of the things that causes me fear is the sheer joy I experience when I dress up as a woman, I absolutely love it and find part of me willing to assume the persona of a female with great eagerness. I really want it and to completely cross the gender line and no longer be a man. That part of me is something I feel I fight and suppress as I have fears of what it may set free. The big fear is it may well destroy my actual life with my wife, family, colleagues and work.
For me to appear, or more accurately attempt to appear as a woman is a heady powerful emotional desire that I will openly admit I am drawn to. I simply adore dressing up as a woman and trying to pass myself off as a female. Surely this is not what a man should be doing? Well, that's what society may tell us yet I live as a man and love to be a woman.
There are for me undoubted thrills that accompany the initial cross-dressing such as I may on occasion become sexually aroused by the act of transforming myself into the opposite gender. There is of course the thrill of performance and creating an illusion, in fact the act of attempting female impersonation (albeit not on stage or for theatrical entertainment) gives me a real buzz despite the fact it I only ever cross-dress in private.
I am keen to pass as a woman and to act the role convincingly. As I love female impersonation and acting I constantly challenge myself to try and become the woman I am appearing as and not let any of the man be evident. As a consequence I try to think myself into believing I am female. To try and feel and act more realistically female I create back stories for my female alter-ego and really try to become her as I find the challenge something that is incredibly adventurous.
Sometimes I almost pass out with fear when I act like I find men attractive or talk about my (imaginary) ex husband and boyfriends. The man in me is repelled by this yet the woman I am attempting to portray feels at home. I do try to get over my male fears as I do dream of one day passing convincingly in every way as a woman. I kind of believe if I want to appear realistically to be female then I need to become female in my thinking and interaction.
I have found, despite my male fears, I do feel more like a female by thinking of the camera as my boyfriend and trying to act a bit flirty. Somehow it adds an extra element of femininity to the vibe and hopefully to the photos.
I rationalise this by telling myself I am supposed to be a woman when I have gone to all of the effort to become Helene so I need to switch over into being her. My body is shaved, my genitals are tucked, I have false breasts, my face is painted in make-up, I'm wearing a wig with a female hair style and I'm wearing knickers and bra and a dress and high heels with painted nails...I am trying to look like a woman so I really should try and make the whole ensemble come together and try and fulfil those efforts in a way that makes the illusion feel convincing and real to those who see her. I want my alter-ego to pass as a woman in every way, it's an ambition I harbour as a transvestite.
My vanity, indeed I'm sure more my ego, would love to one day experience being taken out for dinner as Helene by a man. As a transvestite trying to pass as a woman that surely has to be rewarding? To be wined and dined and treated as a lady and spend the evening as a woman being admired by men is the ultimate in passing. It has nothing to do with sex, it is all to do with an inner dream of being able to pass convincingly as a female.
I feel more at ease talking abut such scenarios now as I know my own sexuality and I know I would have enjoyed working as a female impersonator and acting as a convincing looking transvestite in films when I was younger. I enjoy those films when a woman is revealed to be a man and every body is surprised as they never saw it coming. The same with female impersonation, I am in awe of men who look, sound and can behave like women yet the audience know that she is in fact a man performing as a woman. I have been ridiculed, indeed at times humiliated in the past for expressing these personal views and ambitions but as I get older I now think why not be honest about my own motivations and issues related to why I engage in transvestism.
In this photo from early June I was totally getting into being a woman and would happily have posed with a man on my arm to sell the illusion I was female. I enjoyed wearing this outfit and if I am honest felt very much at home appearing like this. The intensity of the moment was quite something to cope with, I wanted nothing more than to remain female forever. However, about four hours after this photo was taken I returned to being a man and was quite happy to do so. I think the knowledge I desire to dress up and look female and act as if I am female is something I get a buzz from. The fact I rarely get to cross-dress is probably what I find attractive about being a transvestite. If I was a woman full time I would not likely get the rewards I have emotionally and physically that I get from the occasional cross-dressing experiences. Yet, I feel there is a part of me that wishes I was female.
To be a cross-dresser is quite a mixed bag of emotions and motivations, nothing is that clear cut and I confess I rather like this often confusing exciting and worrying mix that goes on within me. I am addicted to it, I really am.
Tradition relates that a castle was first constructed on this site by Rhodri the Great, but there are no remains from this period. Dinefwr later became the chief seat of Rhodri's grandson Hywel Dda, first ruler of Deheubarth and later king of most of Wales. Rhys ap Gruffydd, ruler of Deheubarth from 1155 to 1197, is thought to have rebuilt the castle. Giraldus Cambrensis tells a story about a plan by King Henry II of England to assault the castle during a campaign against Rhys. One of Henry's most trusted followers was sent on reconnaissance, guided by a local Welsh cleric, who was asked to lead him to the castle by the easiest route, but instead took the most difficult route he could find, ending the performance by stopping to eat grass with the explanation that this was the diet of the local people in times of hardship. The planned attack was duly abandoned.
Rhys ap Gruffydd also built the spectacular castle at Carreg Cennen, about four miles away to the south. It is not visible from Dynefwr, but Dryslwyn Castle can just be seen on a hill blocking the Tywi valley to the south-west. Rhys also founded two religious houses during this period. Talley Abbey was the first Premonstratensian abbey in Wales, while Llanllyr was a Cistercian nunnery, only the second nunnery to be founded in Wales and the first to prosper.
On Rhys ap Gruffydd's death the castle passed to his son Rhys Gryg, and the earliest parts of the present castle are thought to derive from this period. Llywelyn the Great of Gwynedd was now extending his influence to this area, and Rhys, finding himself unable to resist, dismantled the castle. Llywelyn however had it restored and held it until his death in 1240. In 1255 Llywelyn the Last gave Dinefwr to Rhys Fychan, then later gave it to Maredudd ap Rhys before later returning it to Rhys Fychan. Maredydd now allied himself to King Edward I of England, and helped Edward capture Dinefwr in 1277. Maredudd had apparently been promised Dinefwr in return for his help, but Edward did not keep his promise and had Maredudd executed in 1291.
To welcome in the new work week for many of you out there, thought that I would share an appropriate image. :-) I'm sure that many can relate to feeling like this on this Monday ... OK, on pretty much any Monday morning. I know that I used to. I remember having weekends that were so filled with activities and photography that I was literally this exhausted come Monday morning. However, isn't the weekend supposed to be for relaxation and unwinding? LOL
As many of you know, I recently had the opportunity to travel to the arctic to photograph the polar bears. Each day was so different with regards to the weather, the lighting, the bears activities, etc. What a thrill!
On this particular morning, the bears were a bit sluggish. At least this one was. We found it resting along the shoreline of the spit ... just chillin'. We stayed on it for some time and all that it would do was lift its head and survey the "goings on" around it every so often. I remember thinking ... don't they just have the life. This period of time spent on the landscape waiting for the ice to freeze, was truly the polar bears holiday. :-)
These bears are so incredibly beautiful and quite honestly, seemed both peaceful and playful. Not for one moment did I fear being near them and at times, I felt the urge to snuggle up with them. Urge, I said, never would I really do anything like that of course. Like other bears, they simply seemed to accept us in their world with not much reaction out of the adults, but a sense of curiosity out of the cubs.
Hope that this lifted your Monday morning blues a bit. Funny because sure enough (for I just checked), guess what day it was that this image was captured? Yep, you guessed it Monday! Guess we're not the only ones that suffer from that affliction. LOL
Thanks for stopping by to view and especially for sharing your thoughts and comments.
© 2015 Debbie Tubridy / TNWA Photography
A new blog post will be published tonight featuring the burrowing owls of south Florida. Check it out after 6:30 pm EST tonight.
Happy 3eeD For aLL
^^ Say ,, mashallah PLZ :)
Sorry, comments that doesn't relate to the photo & copy paste will be deleted.
For a Better Flickr ،،
don't using my photo without permission ^^
I often relate odd shots I take to memories of my younger days. One of the first trips my wife and I did overseas was to the USA where we visited Disneyland and LA before heading north to San Francisco where some of my Mum's family lived and still live.
I remember being on one of those iconic Disney rides that always seemed to be more well known than they are today, perhaps Small World or the Pirates of the Caribbean. These rides were and still are world class and for innocents like us, they were just fantastic. Anyway, we had this family in the car behind us on whatever ride we were on, staring in awe while one of the young sons in that family just kept on with his mantra "It's fake Daddy!". Grrr, I mean! I wonder what he would say today in the brave new electronic and digital world. Forty years on, he would have his own kids by now, perhaps adults themselves.
Every time I look at this, now damaged concrete sculpture in Humpybong Creek at Redcliffe in SE Queensland, I can't help recalling that kid's words. I just wonder if the two Cormorants drying their feathers were thinking that also in the warm sun?
Season of Touit - picture 10
Week 37, Saturday
As far as I can tell photographers are pretty obsessed with the sharpness, but I can surely relate to this feeling myself as well. Looking at the picture and seeing all the small details captured in a moment of split second is just fascinating. This sort of obsession with sharpness is profound with high resolution cameras, because one can zoom in and see even more details. No wonder why 'is it sharp?' or 'how sharp it is?' is number one topic in many photography forums. Like many other Sony Alpha users (especially those coming from the Nex legacy), my first experience regarding sharpness happened with the Sony E-mount kit lens (SEL1855). For those who dismiss kit lenses in general, I can say that even the kit lens can deliver pretty good contrast&colors, and stopped down it can deliver acceptable sharpness as well. But the truth is that when I was using the kit lens I always had to worry about the sharpness. After shooting with it I always felt certain anxiety and needed to check my pictures later on from computer screen to see if they were ok, particularly regarding the sharpness.
My experience with Zeiss is different. The Touit 2.8/12 is very sharp right from the wide open at f/2.8 and doesn't really increase after that even if stopped down a bit – although the focus area increases and makes the image feel sharper in total. What I like about the Touit 2.8/12 is that the sharpness extends to edges as well, particularly if the subject is close focused.
When focusing into far objects, like landscape for example, the sharpness doesn't strike as superb, but might also be because things get rather small in the image field due to small focal length. Nevertheless the results are very good like in this picture of stars where edge sharpness is very important.
Then the Touit 2.8/50M. It is, perhaps unsurprisingly, also pretty sharp even wide open. Stopping down at f/4 or F5.6 things get very sharp and is joy to use in everyday photography. However, the Touit 2.8/50M starts to shows its real capabilities only at the macro range. When focused very near the lens is very very sharp, though this perception might be emphasized by the experience of seeing microscopic details which would otherwise be unreachable for the naked eye. The diffraction doesn't really start to decrease the sharpness until at f/16, which is very impressive and convenient considering that macro photography usually works with small apertures to increase the depth of field.
Are the Zeiss lenses sharper than the x product from the competitors? To tell you the truth, I have no idea. I find them to be more than enough – which in my case means I don't have to make compromises between the aperture value and sharpness (like I had with the Sony E-mount kit lens 18-55). Everything looks very good and after certain level of 'clear single hairs and dust particles' I find it difficult to see the benefit of increased sharpness. I understand that people love to compare things, but for those who are seeking maximum sharpness, I would like to remind that while it feels rational to maximize performance it might not be psychologically the best approach. There is always something better waiting behind the corner and going for maximum performance means that one is more likely to be unsatisfied again when the newness-factor disappears. For me, the best thing regarding the sharpness of these lenses is the fact that I stopped worrying about it altogether and have enjoyed my images ever then.
Year of the Alpha – 52 Weeks of Sony Alpha Photography: www.yearofthealpha.com
I don't know who to credit this to, but it is a piece I found on www.cwmorthin.com/ I'm so glad that someone takes the trouble to record the history of these slate communities and the people who lived and worked there
The Joneses of Cwmorthin Uchaf
By far the most well-known family of the cwm and the oldest family recorded as living there, the Shon Joneses were for their time something of a legend.
Oral history, as the following article outlines, has them living there for eight centuries and their longevity is well noted. With only the odd journey out of the cwm to market or for provisions perhaps it was their isolation in a time when life expectancy was around the 40 mark that protected them. Their water would be fresh off the mountain, naturally filtered; in a very rural area such as the parish of Ffestiniog with a population of less than 1000 before 1820 transmission of disease would be limited.
The reference to the length of Jones tenancy in Cwmorthin may have originated in an early Welsh gazeteer of sorts published in 1875 called “Cymru” where the author Owen Jones relates a conversation that Sion Jones had heard his father say that his father said that the family had lived there for 800 years.
Shon Jonsiaid Cwmorthin / The Shon Jones' of Cwmorthin by Emrys Evans – translated by Catrin Roberts
published in edition No51 of the publication Llafar Gwlad in 1996
The opening of four quarries in Cwmorthin led to new houses and two chapels being built there for the quarrymen, but long before the period of the quarries there stood two farmhouses here...Cwmorthin Isa (Lower Cwmorthin) and Cwmorthin Ucha (Higher Cwmorthin).
Cwmorthin Isa and its small patches of land has long since disappeared under the slate waste tips, fortunately Cwmorthin Uchaf escaped this fate.
It lies to the right of the valley, at the foot of Allt y Ceffylau ( the steep track of the horses) built here, more likely than not, in order to make the most of the sunshine available.
It is believed that the lineage of the Shon Jones' family living at Cwmorthin goes as far back as 800 years, with the last of the Shon Jones passing away in 1863 at the grand old age of a 100. The family were renowned for members of the family living to be a hundred, the other being that the eldest son of every generation was named Shon Jones, and hence the family was always referred to as the 'Shon Jones' of Cwmorthin'.
The last of the 'Shon Jonsiaid' was a tall bony man, who bore a rural appearance as well as a rural way of life. His appearance didn't concern him in the least. He was a completely illiterate man and his whole world was his farm, the fairs he attended and how to buy and sell his sheep and cattle.
The 'Shon Jonsiaid' reared prime sheep and would drive them to Ruthin to be sold. This meant walking them all the way from Ffestiniog, and Ruthin became known by the locals as "Shon Jones' England".
With regards to raising their sheep a reflection of their good reputation may be seen when one learns of how a member of the Tan y Bwlch family, who upon insisting that nothing but the very best young animal (llwdn) would suffice for their wedding feast, purchased his animal from the Cwmorthin Ucha farm, for three shillings and a groat.
Before the slate industry came into being, those who lived in the area survived solely on what they grew or raised on the land. Very little would have been obtained for these animals.
The last Shon Jones to live in the valley said that his father, who had some very good 'Speckled Hens'(Frech) about a year and half old, tried to charge the young summer shepherd boy, half a guinea for one of them. The young lad discussed this offer with his own father, who then went up to see Shon Jones and turned down the offer, it being much too expensive.
Even as the last of the Shon Jones' got too old to care for his sheep, he would still visit the sheep pen when the time came for shearing. Saying "Cheap for the good, cheap for the good" on the way towards the pens, and "May God be with them, may God be with them" as he left.
Locally it is believed that the first clock in North Wales was the one that arrived at Cwmorthin Ucha farm.
Whether or not this is true, it did cause much excitement.
People came from all over the local area to see this wonder. It is hard for us to imagine nowadays what this would have meant to them, we have grown so used to clocks and watches etc wherever we go.
Shon Jones felt that the children had been honoured to be a part of this experience.
On the day after the clock was installed in the kitchen he was asked by his son if he liked it. The reply was "Indeed I do not. This is the most noisy creature I've ever heard. It has been noisy all night long, not stopping for a single minute"!
A week later the man who had installed the clock called at the farm to check that it was keeping the correct time and to wind up the mechanism. Whilst he was attending to the clock, Shon Jones asked his wife what the man was up to.
"Well making it go" she replied,
"Where to?" asked Shon,
"Well Shon dear, don't you understand?" the elderly lady said "It’s going to keep the time", "Oh! oh!" said Shon.
A while later the clockmaker had finished with the clock and said
"There you go Shon Jones, it's fine now, but don't be surprised when it warns you".
The elderly Shon got a bit perplexed
"Warn indeed" he said "Warn who indeed. No one in this family has ever been warned in this place before! What will something like this be warning us here of I wonder?" The clockmaker reassured Shon Jones that he and his family were in no danger if the clock warned them - it was just that the clock would 'warn' them before striking the hour.
Over a period of time, Shon Jones and the clock came to an understanding, although one must admit that Shon Jones never fully understood the clocks movements in its entirety but the conversation, whoever he met, would always be turned to the clock.
Once he was asked what the time was, he entered his house to have a look, and the reply that came was "It isn't ", "How is that?" asked his companion.... "Well" he said "they told me that on the clock there is nothing more than twelve o'clock and nothing less than one o'clock, and both hands are between twelve and one, hence we have no time at all."
Once, when Shon Jones and his brother walked over to the Llanrwst fair, there being no other means of transport in those days, Shon Jones asked a neighbour how many miles it was over to Llanrwst. "14 miles" came the reply.
"Come on then Harri" said Shon Jones "Just seven miles each!".
Shon Jones had another brother called Dici, who was not as sensible as most of us. When they went to the Llan Ffestiniog fair, Dici , almost without exception, would start arguing and inevitably fighting with someone, and Shon Jones would be pulled into the incident. Often they would be followed out of the village by their opponents as far as Pen y Cefn, about two miles away from their home, where those who followed them would turn back home and the trouble would have come to its end until the following year.
Once when the two were walking back from the fair, past Tanygrisiau farm , their aunt : Catrin Cadwaladr, saw them and asked Dici if he had had a lot to drink, and if he'd been fighting.
"Well yes" he replied " I drank as much as the largest bowl in your house, but with regards to the fight I got into, there's no danger of the law getting involved, I hit him ...but not with a closed fist"
Later on in his life Dici took to gathering knives of all kinds and sizes, and had a chest full of them when he died. He married late on in his life, but the marriage didn't last very long. His wife took up with another man and they moved away to England to live.
Dici picked one of his knives and went after them in the hope of bringing his wife back and killing the man. Unfortunately for Dici he soon ran out of money and had to take on some work corn thrashing for a short while before making his way home. Upon his return home Cadwaladr Owen of Glan'r'Afon Ddu asked him how things went for him on his journey to England.
"I'm embarrassed to say" came the reply " I worked with the two wooden halfs and I shan't go thrashing with it again no matter what this old world will bring me, it would come over from this side and the other and hit me on the head each time!".
It's no wonder, even though it was a popular mean of threshing at this time, that Dici didn't know how to use the ffust [flails](or the two wooden halfs as he called them), as their means of threshing at Cwmorthin Ucha farm was to thresh what little oats they grew on the old potato strips next to the lake, using washing boards against their barn door.
Seeing how the last of the Shon Jones' lived to be a hundred, and his father before him the same bar five years, he had up to about two hundred years of memory all told.
His way when reminiscing was to say "I remember my Father saying, having heard my Grandfather say...." and then carrying on relating the memory. Some of these memories gave an insight into their lives back then. He once said "I remember my Father saying, having heard my Grandfather say, that a gentleman lived at Tan y Bwlch (now Plas Tan y Bwlch, Maentwrog), and that one Sabbath day morning he'd asked his servant to go to the Llan church to see if he could spot the Rhiwbryfdir man, and tell him to bring him some money the following week. Upon the servants return the he was asked what the reply was. The servant said 'He said that he had no money and that you must come over to fetch some of the animals that he has there if you want something for your land.'
'That won't do 'said the gentleman, 'Go there again and tell him that he must try and get some money together for me. I want 17 shillings to go to London next week'. "
Another time there were a couple of men making their way through Cwmorthin heading towards Croesor and Nanmor to the west, one of them had a letter to give to someone in Beddgelert.
Shon Jones saw them and then saw one of them turning back. His companion went over to talk to Shon Jones whilst he waited for him. Shon Jones enquired as to the reason why the man, known as Huw, had turned around and gone back the other way.
His response to this was "Heavens above! There is such a fuss with things like this! I remember a time when there only three people who could even do a letter in our parish - Hwmffra Bwmffra, from Glan y Pwll , someone over at Plas Meini, and William Dafis, John Dafis' son, from Cae'r Blaidd."
The Shon Jonsiaid' of Cwmorthin came to the end of their lineage when the last Shon Jones died in 1863. The valley lost its King, and this was how Shon Jones saw himself. Quarry men lived here for a while before they all moved away and Cwmorthin Ucha was left to become a ruin along with the quarry buildings.
Descendants of Shon Jones have been traced to Australia. I wonder what Shon would say!
Italien / Toskana - San Gimignano
Piazza Duomo
San Gimignano (Italian pronunciation: [san dʒimiɲˈɲaːno]) is a small walled medieval hill town in the province of Siena, Tuscany, north-central Italy. Known as the Town of Fine Towers, San Gimignano is famous for its medieval architecture, unique in the preservation of about a dozen of its tower houses, which, with its hilltop setting and encircling walls, form "an unforgettable skyline". Within the walls, the well-preserved buildings include notable examples of both Romanesque and Gothic architecture, with outstanding examples of secular buildings as well as churches. The Palazzo Comunale, the Collegiate Church and Church of Sant' Agostino contain frescos, including cycles dating from the 14th and 15th centuries. The "Historic Centre of San Gimignano" is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The town also is known for saffron, the Golden Ham, pecorino cheese and its white wine, Vernaccia di San Gimignano, produced from the ancient variety of Vernaccia grape which is grown on the sandstone hillsides of the area.
Territory
The municipality of San Gimignano extends for 138 km² and is located on a hill in Val d'Elsa. The altitude difference is between a minimum of 64 meters a.s.l. in the plain of the river Elsa near Certaldo at a maximum of 631 meters in the area of Cornocchio.
History
In the 3rd century BC a small Etruscan village stood on the site of San Gimignano. Chroniclers Lupi, Coppi and Pecori relate that during the Catiline conspiracy against the Roman Republic in the 1st century, two patrician brothers, Muzio and Silvio, fled Rome for Valdelsa and built two castles, Mucchio and Silvia (now San Gimignano). The name of Silvia was changed to San Gimignano in 450 AD after Bishop Geminianus, the Saint of Modena, intervened to spare the castle from destruction by the followers of Attila the Hun. As a result, a church was dedicated to the saint, and in the 6th and 7th centuries a walled village grew up around it, subsequently called the "Castle of San Gimignano" or Castle of the Forest because of the extensive woodland surrounding it. From 929 the town was ruled by the bishops of Volterra.
In the Middle Ages and the Renaissance era, it was a stopping point for Catholic pilgrims on their way to Rome and the Vatican, as it sits on the medieval Via Francigena. The city's development was also improved by the trade of agricultural products from the fertile neighbouring hills, in particular saffron, used in both cooking and dyeing cloth and Vernaccia wine, said to inspire popes and poets.
In 1199, the city made itself independent of the bishops of Volterra and established a podestà, and set about enriching the commune with churches and public buildings. However, the peace of the town was disturbed for the next two centuries by conflict between the Guelphs and the Ghibellines, and family rivalries within San Gimignano. This resulted in competing families building tower houses of increasingly greater heights. Towards the end of the Medieval period, there were 72 tower houses in number, up to 70 metres (230 feet) tall. The rivalry was finally restrained when the local council ordained that no tower was to be taller than that adjacent to the Palazzo Comunale.
While the official patron is Saint Geminianus, the town also honours Saint Fina, known also as Seraphina and Serafina, who was born in San Gimignano 1238 and whose feast day is 12 March. The Chapel of Santa Fina in the Collegiate Church houses her shrine and frescos by Ghirlandaio. The house said to be her home still stands in the town.
On 8 May 1300, San Gimignano hosted Dante Alighieri in his role as ambassador of the Guelph League in Tuscany.
The city flourished until 1348, when it was struck by the Black Death that affected all of Europe, and about half the townsfolk died. The town submitted to the rule of Florence. Initially, some Gothic palazzi were built in the Florentine style, and many of the towers were reduced to the height of the houses. There was little subsequent development, and San Gimignano remained preserved in its medieval state until the 19th century, when its status as a touristic and artistic resort began to be recognised.
Description
The city is on the ridge of a hill with its main axis being north/south. It is encircled by three walls and has at its highest point, to the west, the ruins of a fortress dismantled in the 16th century. There are eight entrances into the city, set into the second wall, which dates from the 12th and 13th centuries. The main gates are Porta San Giovanni on the ridge extending south, Porta San Matteo to the north west and Porta S. Jacopo to the north east. The main streets are Via San Matteo and Via San Giovanni, which cross the city from north to south. At the heart of the town are four squares: the Piazza Duomo, on which stands the Collegiate Church; the Piazza della Cisterna, the Piazza Pecori and the Piazza delle Erbe. To the north of the town is another significant square, Piazza Agostino, on which stands the Church of Sant' Agostino. The locations of the Collegiate Church and Sant' Agostino's and their piazzas effectively divide the town into two regions.
Main sights
The town of San Gimignano has many examples of Romanesque and Gothic architecture. As well as churches and medieval fortifications, there are examples of Romanesque secular and domestic architecture which may be distinguished from each other by their round and pointed arches, respectively. A particular feature which is typical of the region of Siena is that the arches of openings are depressed, with doorways often having a second low arch set beneath a semi-circular or pointed arch. Both Romanesque and Gothic windows sometimes have a bifurcate form, with two openings divided by a stone mullion under a single arch.
Culture
San Gimignano is the birthplace of the poet Folgore da San Gimignano (1270–1332).
A fictionalised version of San Gimignano is featured in E. M. Forster's 1905 novel, Where Angels Fear to Tread as Monteriano.
M. C. Escher's 1923 woodcut San Gimignano depicts the celebrated towers.
Franco Zeffirelli used San Gimignano as a stand-in for the town of Assisi in his 1972 Saint Francis of Assisi biopic Brother Sun, Sister Moon. Most of the "Assisi" scenes were filmed here
Tea with Mussolini, a 1999 drama about the plight of English and American expatriate women in Italy during World War II, was filmed in part in San Gimignano. The frescoes that the women save from being destroyed during the German Army's withdrawal are inside the Duomo, the town's main church. The account of this episode is, to a large extent, fictional, because, although there are reports of intended retribution against the town, there is no evidence of a plan to destroy the churches. However, the reference to risk of cultural destruction is historic, as the Allies bombed the area for ten days.
In the 2005 novel The Broker by John Grisham, Joel Backman takes his second of three wives on vacation in Italy to keep her from divorcing him. They rent a 14th-century monastery near San Gimignano for a month.
A 15th-century version of the town is featured in the 2009 video game Assassin's Creed II.
(Wikpedia)
Piazza della Cisterna is a piazza in San Gimignano, Italy. It has a triangular shape with a slight natural slope and is connected to the nearby Piazza del Duomo by an open passage. The pavement is brick and the piazza is surrounded by houses and medieval towers. There are presently 5 towers onto the square or very near it and the bases of other five are visible on the facade of the various palaces, plus one, the Ridolfi tower, which is no longer in existence having collapsed in 1646 onto the family palace, thus making this relatively small area a concentrate of medieval architecture. In the south-west corner, the piazza meets the Arc of Becci, (l'arco dei Becci), an ancient city gate. The arc is flanked by the massive rectangular towers of Becci (torri dei Becci) on the left and Cugnanesi (torri dei Cugnanesi) on the right.
Past the access to via di Castello, which led down to the original Bishop’s castle, the northern side is characterized by the renaissance Cortesi Palace, which includes la torre del Diavolo, and extends along the north side of the square including the old houses of the Cattani family. There remains of two pre-existing towers are clearly visible onto the facade of the Cortesi Palace.
The west side is adorned with various towers, like the twin towers of Ardinghelli and the tower of palazzo Pellari visible over the roofs.
History
The piazza is located at the intersection of two main streets of the village of San Gimignano: la via Francigena that run north to south and la via Pisa - [[Siena]that runs east to west]. The piazza was used as a market and a stage for festivals and tournaments. Originally the area was divided in two squares by the palace and tall tower of the Ridolfi family, the Piazza dell’ Olmo in the inferior and western part and the Piazza delle Taverne in the eastern side and with the cisterna in the middle. In 1646 the tall Ridolfi tower suddenly collapsed, destroying the palace and thus the two squares were merged into one, the Piazza della Cisterna.
The piazza is named after the underground cistern (Cisterna) built in 1287. The cistern is capped by a travertine octagonal pedestal, which was built in 1346 under the mayor Guccio Malavolti whose coat of arms with the ladder is carved onto the stones, and is close to the center of the square.
(Wikipedia)
San Gimignano ist eine italienische Kleinstadt in der Toskana mit einem mittelalterlichen Stadtkern. San Gimignano wird auch „Mittelalterliches Manhattan“ oder die „Stadt der Türme“ genannt. Die Stadt liegt in der Provinz Siena und hat 7717 Einwohner (Stand 31. Dezember 2019). Sie gehört neben Florenz, Siena und Pisa zu den von Touristen meistbesuchten Zielen in der Toskana.
Allgemeines
Der historische Stadtkern ist seit dem Jahr 1990 Teil des Weltkulturerbes der UNESCO. San Gimignano besitzt noch einige der mittelalterlichen Geschlechtertürme, die in anderen Städten nur als Stümpfe erhalten blieben. Im Mittelalter versuchten die Patrizierfamilien, sich in der Höhe ihres Geschlechterturmes zu übertreffen, obwohl ein luxuriöses Leben darin nicht möglich war. Von den einst 72 Geschlechtertürmen existieren in San Gimignano heute noch 15. Die beiden höchsten, der Torre Grossa aus dem Jahr 1311 und der Torre della Rognosa, weisen eine Höhe von 54 bzw. 51 Metern auf. Die Zisterne auf der Piazza della Cisterna entstand 1287 und wurde 1346 durch den Podestà Guccio Malavolti erweitert.
Geografie
Die Stadt liegt ca. 40 km südwestlich der Regionalhauptstadt Florenz und ca. 28 km nordwestlich der Provinzhauptstadt Siena an der Via Francigena und im Elsatal. San Gimignano liegt in der klimatischen Einordnung italienischer Gemeinden in der Zone D, 2 085 GR/G.
Zu den Ortsteilen gehören Badia a Elmi (94 m, gehört teilweise zu Certaldo), Castel San Gimignano (377 m, gehört teilweise zu Colle di Val d’Elsa), Pancole (272 m), Santa Lucia (268 m) und Ulignano. Weitere wichtige Orte im Gemeindegebiet sind Montauto (277 m), Monteoliveto (275 m) Ranza und San Donato (357 m). Größter Ortsteil ist Ulignano mit ca. 690 Einwohnern.
Die wichtigsten Flüsse im Gemeindegebiet sind der Elsa (4 von 81 km im Gemeindegebiet) sowie die Torrenti Foci (4 von 15 km im Gemeindegebiet) und Riguardi (7 von 7 km im Gemeindegebiet).
Die Nachbargemeinden sind Barberino Tavarnelle (FI), Certaldo (FI), Colle di Val d’Elsa, Gambassi Terme (FI), Poggibonsi und Volterra (PI).
Geschichte
San Gimignano soll bereits um 300 bis 200 v. Chr. von den Etruskern besiedelt worden sein. Erstmals dokumentiert wurde der Ort 929. Den Namen erhielt die Stadt von dem heiligen Bischof von Modena, San Gimignano. Es heißt, er habe das Dorf vor den barbarischen Horden des Totila geschützt.
Diese Stadt verdankt ihre Existenz der Via Francigena (Frankenstraße). Auf diesem Hauptverkehrsweg des mittelalterlichen Italiens zogen Händler und Pilger vom Norden nach Rom. Der Ort bildete sich als Marktstätte zwischen dem frühmittelalterlichen Castello und der Pieve, dem Vorgängerbau der Collegiata. Ein erster Stadtmauerring wurde im 10. Jahrhundert angelegt. Dessen Verlauf markieren zwei noch erhaltene Stadttore, im Norden der Arco della Cancelleria und im Süden der Arco dei Becci.
Vom 11. Jahrhundert an dehnte sich das Stadtgebiet entlang der Frankenstraße in nördlicher und südlicher Richtung aus. An die Existenz des früheren Castello erinnern die Via di Castello, eine der ältesten Straßen, und die Kirche von San Lorenzo, die bei der Zugbrücke lag. Mindestens seit dem Jahr 929 gehörte das Kastell den Bischöfen von Volterra. Diese Bischöfe waren es auch, die die Herrschaft über die sich ausdehnende Stadt ausübten. Erst 1199 gelang es den von den Bürgern gewählten Konsuln, Verträge ohne die Zustimmung des Bischofs zu unterzeichnen. San Gimignano war nie Bischofssitz, sondern gehörte zum kirchlichen Verwaltungsbezirk (Diözese) Volterra und erlangte somit auch keine Stadtrechte. Trotzdem verlief die politische Entwicklung der Landkommune in ähnlichen Schritten wie die der großen Städte. Die Regierung der Konsuln wurde durch den Podestà (einem gewählten Administrator) abgelöst. Diesem standen ein kleiner und ein großer Rat zur Seite. Dem großen Rat gehörte eine bemerkenswert hohe Zahl von 1200 Mitgliedern an, obwohl San Gimignano nur 6000 Einwohner hatte.
Die freie Kommune stritt bis ins 14. Jahrhundert mit den Bischöfen von Volterra in langjährigen Kriegen um Besitzrechte. Sie musste gegen die Nachbarorte Castelfiorentino, gegen Colle und Poggibonsi zu Felde ziehen und nahm auf der Seite des guelfischen Florenz an den großen Machtkämpfen des 13. Jahrhunderts teil. Auch innerhalb der Stadtmauern setzten sich die Kämpfe zwischen Guelfen (Welfen) und Ghibellinen (Waiblinger) fort. Es kam zu blutigen Familienfehden zwischen den Familien der Salvucci (Ghibellinen) und der Ardinghelli (Guelfen).
Ab Mai 1300 hielt sich Dante Alighieri in diplomatischer Mission in San Gimignano auf. Vom 15. Juni bis 15. August 1300 amtierte er als eines von sechs Mitgliedern des Priorats, des höchsten Gremiums der Stadt. Im Jahre 1319 versuchte er in seiner Funktion als führender Florentiner Politiker vergeblich, die verfeindeten Parteien zu versöhnen. Eine Kommune wie San Gimignano konnte sich im 14. Jahrhundert nicht mehr neben den Großmächten behaupten. Im Jahre 1348 wurde die Stadt neben Kriegsverlusten und Familienfehden durch die Pest stark geschwächt. Vier Jahre später, im Jahre 1352, begab sich die Stadt unter den Schutz von Florenz.
Die Blütezeit der Stadt dauerte 160 Jahre an, ihr Wohlstand beruhte auf Handel und dem Anbau von Safran, mit dem man Seidenstoffe färbte. Die Frankenstraße verlor im Spätmittelalter allmählich an Bedeutung, weil der Handel die bequemeren Wege durch die weitgehend trockengelegten Sümpfe der Ebenen vorzog. Die Stadt, die einst Gesetze gegen übertriebenen Luxus erlassen hatte, verarmte.
Hochrenaissance (ca. 1500 bis 1530) und Barock (1575 bis 1770) hinterließen in San Gimignano so gut wie keine Spuren. Die Stadt war niemals ein eigenständiges Kunstzentrum. Künstler aus Siena und Florenz malten die Fresken und Altartafeln. Die Paläste und Kirchen zeigen pisanische, sienesische, lucchesische und florentinische Stilmerkmale. In San Gimignano ist die Zeit scheinbar im Jahr 1563 stehengeblieben. Der erste der toskanischen Großherzöge, Cosimo I. de’ Medici, entschied, es dürfen „auch keine geringen Summen“ mehr in diese Stadt investiert werden. Das musste akzeptiert werden, und so ist San Gimignano geblieben, wie es damals war.
(Wikipedia)
Monday, January 23rd, 2017
This week's theme for the Flickr Macro Monday group is "It's A-Peeling to Me." From this week's instructions:
"Peel" is a verb and a noun. As a verb, it is defined as removing the outer covering or skin of a fruit, vegetable or shrimp. It may also refer to removing wallpaper, paper (as in a label) or paint from the surface it is adhered to in strips or pieces. As a noun "peel" is the outer covering (skin or rind) of a fruit or vegetable. Of course there are other sorts of things relating to "peel" or "peeling" you may choose to illustrate.
Shedding My Shell
I decided to play with hard-boiled eggs for this challenge because eggs are wonderful photography subjects in which to practice using dramatic lighting skills, and an egg shell is a wonderful metaphor for my personal growth. I see my shell through negative and critical eyes. I'm actively working on breaking down my shell that keeps me "safe" but really just keeps me lonely. In order to grow, I need to break.
I have a 90 year old neighbor who has hiked the 890 km length of the Bruce Trail three or four times. In the heyday of his 70's and even 80's, walking 30 or even 50 km was just a walk in the park for him. In the last year, his hips started giving out it's been one of the most difficult things he's had to leave behind. He still goes out for a walk around the block every day, just one step at a time, with a crutch under one arm and a cane in the other. Seeing him hobble down the street, I can completely relate to his determination as our own time feels the most grounded somewhere on a hiking trail. I'm also very blessed having someone to share that passion with and we're both looking forward to the day when the trails reopen after the current pandemic.
127 comments under the Facebook posting, to a province-wide group, of a photo that a photographer took of three people, one of them myself - angry, rude, critical, judgemental comments, by people who don't even know me or my ethics, including when they relate to photography! Last night, I found the posting again and took a long time going through all 127 comments. Made me feel sick to the stomach. This can't be right, though I know this kind of thing does happen on Facebook. I want the photo removed or for the photographer, whom I don't know, to at the very least completely blur me out of the shot. Though his comment, when he first posted his photo, was about people staying safe when taking photos, he has allowed the posting to develop into an endless bashing.
I wasn't going to post this again, but I have changed my mind after reading all those comments. I sent the man a link to one of my owl photos that has this long description with it, asking him to read, when he has time, what I have written. The link was sent only two or three days ago, so he may not have seen it yet.
"I think the very first Long-eared Owl that I ever saw was seen on 13 October 2006. SInce then, I have been very fortunate to have seen several other individuals - including the day before yesterday. These owls are very secretive and many birders go years between sightings. It is so important not to give the location of this species. Be careful that there is nothing in your photos that gives away the location.
Various people had been posting photos of a Long-eared Owl recently, but I had no idea where they were seeing it. Someone had posted a photo and labelled it "Calgary" (totally untrue!), so I had thought it must have been seen in one of our local city parks. Two days ago, I decided to go for a short drive and get a bit of sunshine and fresh air. Our deep freeze has lasted for more than four weeks, and I have been home for most of that time. It was a milder day, so I decided to make the most of it, especially with more snow forecast for today.
Imagine my surprise when a stranger told me just where it was, and my absolute horror when I came upon a huge crowd of photographers with their lenses raised! So how did they all know about this owl?? Apparently, Facebook has such a bad reputation for people trolling everyone's photostream there, finding out locations for all sorts of things (old barns included!). Then, of course, some people phone others, to ask or to tell. Others follow ebird religiously, dashing out to see every more 'special' bird that is reported and location given. I don't post many photos on Facebook and I certainly don't post the same photo to three groups. It gets so very boring to see the same photos everywhere. These people flood their own Facebook pages and the groups! The only reason I can see is to get as many Likes as possible. Anyway, most people were down in the ditch at the fenceline, so no doubt they were able to get stunning close shots, especially those with enormous lenses. My photos were taken from the road, which was twice as far away, with a point-and-shoot. I'm not out to try and get better photos than anyone else : ) As always, there is so much competition among photographers. I was also not out there all day, like various people always are, and often day after day after day.
So, after saying those things, perhaps you can imagine how extremely upset (devastated, actually) I am to have been told (when I arrived at the owl) by a couple of friends (both of whom are superb photographers) that my photograph had been taken, along with two other people in it, standing at the edge of a road earlier in February. These friends thought it was hilarious and I sure was teased a lot. As they said, my "goody two-shoes" image was gone. They both know I have very high ethics, including when it comes to photography. This photo was posted on Facebook on a provincial birding page, pointing out how dangerous it is for people to stand by the road. This thread turned into a string of comments about people harassing the owls, etc., etc., etc. Actually, the other two people in the photo are both seen taking photos (when I was told they already had taken thousands). There's me, camera not raised, looking disgusted that an owl had been flushed so that they could take flight images. The reason I was out of my vehicle was that these two people were out of theirs and racing down the road at top speed to get yet more shots. When I was sitting in my car, these photographers blocked my view of the owl, so out I got and caught up with them. To prove that I was not planning on getting out of my car this trip, I was wearing just my thin summer jacket (over fleece) in a windchill in the minus 20C's. Two minutes later, I was back in my car!
Sorry to rant, but it just upsets me so much that this photo was taken and posted on Facebook. Have barely slept the last two nights! The very last thing I would ever want is to be connected with bad ethics!! Of course, I must be such a bad person to actually stand by the road - ha, you should see all the dozens of people who do exactly the same (without being photgraphed)!
That day, I took maybe 30 photos of the Long-eared Owl, and maybe a couple of dozen of a Short-eared Owl, almost every single one of the latter needing to be deleted, because they were all totally blurry, thanks to taking the photos from inside my car. You can be sure that most of the others went home with yet another memory card containing thousands of photos.
I am hoping that now I won't be stressing out over it quite as much, every second of the day! Ain't life fun? To the man who took my photo (as far as I know, I have never met him), how about taking a few photos of the crowds of people, especially those who were as close as they could get to the LEO. Or those who stress out the owls day after day after day, often from morning till evening!
PS: I rarely allow people (i.e. friends) to photograph me. Not sure what right this man thinks he has, to take my photo and especially to then post it on a very popular Facebook group page. I want it removed from Facebook, or at the very least, to have myself totally blurred out of the image. When this sort of thing happens, it can totally destroy a person's joy of photography!
Actually, on a more serious note, something that I'm sure most people don't think of. You really need to be careful about taking a photo of someone and then posting it (without signing a consent form). For various security reasons, doing this could actually put someone in danger. For example, a woman (or vice versa) might not want their photo being advertised in this way, not wanting an abusive spouse/partner to know where they go sometimes or what they do. Just something to keep in mind."