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The beauty of Cuartel de Ballajá was not an immediate from the streets of Viejo San Juan - we found it by chance by peering into the courtyard from off the street. It was once a barracks for the troops of the neighboring El Morro. As our luck would continue, it contained a gelato shop, which was completely fortuitous as it was midday and we were quite warm.
Making a few planes seen in 1960s WWII movies, hence my last post (any guesses for the movie here??).
The livery is quite inaccurate to WWII, but that's because I'm replicating the movie color scheme!
This sculpture replicates prehistoric archeoastronomy sites found in the southwest, and acts as a laboratory to chart the yearly migration of the sun. Archeoastronomy is the study of prehistoric cultural connections with the sun, moon and stars.
By watching the interactions of light and shadow, a viewer can tell the time of year, as well as the significant events marking solstices and equinoxes.
If you're ever near Blanding on a rainy day and you're stuck for something to do, try Edge of the Cedars State Park. We got lost in there for an entire afternoon. If you're interested in the local culture, it's a fascinating museum; very well done with stunning display. We learned a lot and would likely go back again, it's not huge but there's a lot to see.
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Summer 2015: "Up was Down"
June 5: Rain Day - Butler Wash, Edge of the Cedars.
Practicing replicating the Orton technique (mentioned in week 8) using Elements.
I used 'The Orton Effect - Digital Photography Tip of the Week' tutorial, there are loads on the web!
You can find the tutorial at the following link:
pcin.net/update/2006/11/01/the-orton-effect-digital-photo...
Stop snorting that Smartdust, with its nanosensors, nanobots, and other nanodevices! Stop snorting that Neural Dust, it’s really a brain-computer interface! You need help! You need an intervention! Do you really want Programmable Matter flowing through your veins, with its nano-grained computing elements that use light, temperature, vibration, magnetism, and chemicals to send wireless messages to computer networks outside your body? Do you want semiconductor technology, nanotechnology, and self-replicating machine technology to build nanostructures inside you? Do you want to be a nano-ecosystem run by an All-Seeing Eye Smartchip that is imbedded in your forehead? Do you want to be part of the Internet of Bodies, the transhuman computer network of zombies, which is hooked up to the Super Quantum Beast Computer Network? Do you want to be a transhuman host of the Beast parasite?
Let’s roll out 6G and turn these useless eaters into transhuman batteries, into transhuman computers and data storage systems that will be linked to the Beast Smart Grid. Indeed, they will be under the all-seeing eye of lucifer’s false christ—the Beast. Then he will be all seeing, all knowing, and all powerful—a cheap imitation of the true God…bahahahaha!!
The Book of Revelation: Prophecies about an Economic Social Credit Score System, Transhumanism, and Artificial Intelligence.
Economic Social Credit Score System: You will not be able to buy or sell without the Mark of the Beast.
Transhumanism: The Mark of the Beast.
Artificial Intelligence: Life was given to the Image of the Beast, so that the Image could speak and cause all who refused to worship the Image to be killed.
A replicator that was installed primarily for the purpose of replicating food was used in this case by the animated android named Rogg to replicate a bottle of coco. Rogg misunderstands double meanings of words from Earth. He is a co-co-host of the talk show airing on television in 14 U.S. Cities/Markets with Star Trek news and Interviews. This segment was an animated portion shot to use Rogg in the Ambassadors quarters, while the live action talk show hosts are on the bridge.
A screenshot from the live action TV talk show "A Captain's Log" in the 16th episode. Designed in Winter 2022 by Ian H. Stewart.
After a long night photowalk in Ortygia with some other Flickr contacts, I went to the "Santa Croce" Lighthouse to photograph the sunrise. Augusta (SR), Sicily.
No HDR. Only one RAW shot obtained using Black card technique with Cokin ND8 filter. No digital editing, straight from the camera.
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Oceanside, Ca
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Iandra Castle is an overwhelming expanse of living area.
Included are rooms that were specifically designed for the ladies of the house to entertain or undertake duties such as sewing.
This is one such room, it is poorly lit and on the main source of light is through this window.
It is more commonly referred to as Iandra Castle, in fact its proper title is Mount Oriel Homestead & Pastoral Estate.
The gracious homestead is located near Greenthorpe which is situated off the Grenfell road and is a mere 30 minute road trip from Cowra.
Greenthorpe is a village situated close to the homestead and was built by the then owner of the then owner George Henry Greene.
Greene established the village for tenants. The village remains today.
Based on a feudal style estate modelled on the English Manor System Iandra Castle was established from 1878-1911 and has not been replicated anywhere in Australia.
Today this magnificent Edwardian Estate is open to the public on specific days throughout the year. Coach parties are welcome but only by prior appointment.
Greenthorpe, New South Wales, Australia.
“The Eye Moment photos by Nolan H. Rhodes”
Theeyeofthemoment21@gmail.com
www.flickr.com/photos/the_eye_of_the_moment
“Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws.”
Ardnamurchan, Scotland. I set out to try and replicate one of Michael Macgregor's well known scenes on a warmish spring evening with my son. This, and a few others dotted around, is the result. Hopefully you will appreciate the natural beauty of this part of the world with the familiar peaks of Rum and the Sgur of Eigg in silhouette. When we did this it was a very enjoyable hour spent in the Scottish countryside with no midges.
macgregor.pergula.co.uk/info.asp?nm=Posters%20-Standard&a...
© All rights reserved.
This image is copyrighted to Kristinn R. Kristinsson; Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws. Please contact me at kristinnr@simnet.is for express permission to use any of my photographs.
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All images are © Fenix Blue Photography, All Rights Reserved. You may not use, replicate, manipulate, redistribute, or modify this image without my written consent.
I was trying to replicate a shot from the cover of a promotional booklet the Rockies put out in their inaugural year.
That one was more "classic." He had full pinstripes, the sun was far lower (the shadow actually stretched onto the back cover), and you could even see his footprints in the grass.
Explored August 28th, 2024
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however, on this fine summer day, we are following Lettice as she and Gerald head south-west through the London streets in Gerald’s little Morris*. Taking the Brompton Road, they drive through Belgravia and then Chelsea as Brompton Road becomes Fulham Road. They drive past the Brompton Cemetery and through the historic centre of Walham Green before going on through Fulham, finally turning south along the Fulham High Street. Passing the Hurlingham Club along the banks of the Thames they continue to go south.
As Gerald drives his Morris over the Thames on Putney Bridge, Lettice glances around her. “I thought you were taking me to buy a new hat, Gerald.”
“I am Lettice darling.” he replies good naturedly.
“But this isn’t Bond Street. Far from it, in fact.” she counters as they reach the south side of the bridge, and she takes in a semi-circle of tall two and three storey Victorian and Edwardian brick buildings to their right and the crenelled tower of a stone church on their left. “Where are you taking me?”
“For a woman who has lived in London for nearly two years, you haven’t strayed far from Mayfair, have you Lettuce Leaf?” Gerald observes with a smirk.
“Don’t call me that Gerald! You know how I hate it! If you weren’t driving this car, “ scowls Lettice. “I’d hit you with my handbag.”
“Think of this like your own personal tour of Putney.”
“Putney?” Lettice’s eyes grow wide. “You’re taking me to a hatters in Putney?”
“Don’t be such an elitist Lettuce Leaf.”
Sulking in her seat, clutching her handbag with her arms folded across her chest she mutters, “That’s rich coming from you, the man who bemoans middle-class money paying for the acquisition of his frocks.”
“Just sit back, relax and enjoy the view, darling.” Gerald replies breezily as he turns off the Putney High Street and into a tree lined avenue which Lettice reads as being Hazlewell Road.
The pair drive in silence for a little while, Gerald concentrating on where they are going and Lettice looking at the view as Gerald suggested from her vantage point in the passenger seat alongside him.
“The houses seem awfully samey here, don’t you think?” she asks as they pass double storey Edwardian villa after double storey Edwardian villa made of red brick with bay windows, set in neat gardens behind privet hedges or low brick fences.
“No more than Pimlico,” Gerald observes. “Just newer is all.”
Gerald’s Morris finally pulls up in front of one such Edwardian villa. Lettice looks out of her door at it. The villa looks exactly the same as all the others on that side of the street: red brick with crenelled bay windows upstairs and down to either side of a porticoed door. In fact, the portico is one of the few differences that distinguish it from its neighbours either side. It has an arched portico which matches the arch in the lunette above the white painted front door, whereas its neighbours have square porticos with crenelling that matches that along the tops of the bay windows. Two banks of chimneypots at either side of the villa rise from the steeply hipped roof of shingles and a central attic balconette with French doors is flanked by oriel windows.
“Now, I want you to be good, Lettuce Leaf!” Gerald cautions his friend with a wagging finger encapsulated by his Dents driving glove**. “This is the home of Harriet Milford. Her father was a family solicitor. He died last year, leaving her an orphan. The house he left to her, but with no other real inheritance. With no income, so to speak, she has taken in lodgers.”
Lettice screws up her face in horror. “Lodgers! You’ve brought me to a lodging ho…”
“I said behave, Lettuce Leaf!” Gerald scolds her, arching his eyebrows. “I haven’t finished talking yet. Mr. Milford believed in education, but sadly only for boys. He wasn’t expecting to pass away before his daughter married, so without any employable skills, she’s turned her hand to what she can do.”
“And how did you come to meet this, Harriet Milford?” Lettice asks, her mouth a thin red lipsticked line of disapproval with turned down ends.
“She and I frequent the same haberdashers. After running into one another several times, I finally asked her what she did to buy so much ribbon and so many artificial flowers. And that was when she told me that having no real skill other than sewing, after her father died, as well as take in lodgers, she has turned her hand to millinery to make end meet.”
“I hope, my dear Gerald, that you aren’t expecting me to buy a hat from her out of pity.”
“Not at all, my dear. I’ve been here a number of times now, to take tea with Harriet, and I can assure you that her hat making skills rival that of Madame Gwendolyn. Already she has gained quite a reputation amongst the local ladies.”
Lettice snorts dismissively at the thought of the middle-class matrons of Putney and their choices of millinery.
Undeterred, Gerald continues, “Since Sadie has forbidden you to wear a hat from Selfridges to Leslie’s wedding, and I can’t say I disagree…”
“My hats from Sel…”
“I still haven’t finished!” Gerald interrupts his friend. “Since Sadie won’t let you wear a Selfridges hat to the wedding, and I won’t sit next to you at the wedding breakfast if you do, and you won’t go back to Madame Gwendolyn, I thought Harriet’s hat making skills would be the perfect solution. Now, come.” He puts his hand on the handle of his door and pushes it down, opening it slightly. He pauses just before getting out and turns back to his friend. “And remember to behave.”
“I always behave, Gerald!” Lettice defends herself as she opens her own door and steps out onto the sunny footpath.
Gerald walks around the front of the car and joins Lettice on the footpath. “Shall we?” he proffers his arm to his friend, which she accepts.
They step up to the black painted wrought iron gate flanked by two capped red brick pillars. Gerald opens the gate and together they walk in and up the garden path snaking across a well clipped lawn. Standing beneath the arched portico, Lettice can hear the notes of an oboe being played through one of the oriel windows open above. “That will be Cyril.” Gerald remarks as he depresses the doorbell next to the front door. The hollow ring that resounds through the hallway within is answered by a pair of scuttling footsteps as the front door is flung open exuberantly.
“Gerry darling!” gasps a young woman around Lettice’s age who throws her arms enthusiastically and perhaps a little overly familiarly around Gerald’s neck.
Lettice feels a momentary pang of jealousy in her stomach as she sees Gerald return Harriet’s enthusiastic embrace in a way that she thought only she and Gerald shared. With a quick flutter of her eyelashes, she dismisses the thought, but the pang in her stomach does not go away.
“Hullo Hattie darling!” He holds her at arm’s length. “My you do look well.”
“I sold another two hats yesterday, so I’m tickled pink, Gerry darling!” she gushes with a girlish giggle and a proud smile.
Lettice tries to force a cough. At the sound of Lettice gently clearing her throat, the spell between Gerald and Harriet is broken and Gerald quickly returns his attentions to Lettice. “Harriet, may I present my childhood chum, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd. Lettice, Miss Harriet Milford.”
Lettice takes in Harriet’s appearance from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. Looking more closely at her Lettice decides that she is actually possibly a year or two younger than she and Gerald are, with mousy brown hair cut into a soft bob. Her floral cotton frock with its drop waist and side flounces must surely be home made, yet it is obviously made well as it sits on her slender figure every bit as smartly as Lettice’s outfit, which has been expertly cut for her by Gerald. Her shoes show the wear of a few years and her stockings have been carefully mended. She looks across at Lettice with a pretty face, free of makeup. Her brown eyes are like deep pools, clear and bright, and they are framed by naturally long lashes.
“How do you do, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet says in a polite and well bred voice.
“How do you do, Miss Milford.” she replies, returning Harriet’s open smile with a polite one of her own.
“Tut, tut, Hattie!” Gerald says, reaching across and plucking a piece of red cotton off Harriet’s shoulder, which Lettice finds an uncomfortably intimate gesture. Holding it out in front of Harriet he continues, “You mustn’t be answering the door wearing loose threads.” He smiles cheekily.
“Oh I’m busy making a new hat to replenish my stocks.” Harriet replies, blushing as she lowers her lids, and holds out her hands to accept the trailing thread of red. “Please, come this way Miss Chetwynd,” she adds, ushering Lettice and Gerald into the house. “You know the way Gerry darling.”
“Gerry darling?” Lettice queries quietly with a cocked eyebrow and a mirthful smile as she slips past the blushing Gerald and follows her hostess across the threshold into the black and white tiled hallway stuffed with Edwardian vestibule furniture.
“Please make yourself comfortable in here, Miss Chetwynd,” Harriet says, flinging open the first door on the left side of the hallway and indicating with an extended arm for Lettice to enter. “I’ll be like Polly and pop the kettle on. Back in a jiffy*** my dears!” And with scuttling footsteps she disappears into the gloom of the house further down the hallway.
Walking into the room as she has been told, Lettice gazes around it. Noting the flouncy Edwardian settee an matching armchair by the fire she remarks, “This is obviously the parlour.” Noticing a sewing machine sitting in the bay window where it can get the best light she adds, “Or was.”
It is then, as Gerald indicates with an open gesture to what must once have been a tea table, that Lettice sees several beautifully fashioned hats propped on wooden hatstands basking in the diffused light coming through the lace scrim curtains of the bay window. She gasps at the sight of them and immediately walks up to scrutinise them more closely. Two are made of straw and one of felt. The felt hat is dyed a dramatic turquoise colour and is trimmed with fine braid, garlands of ribbons and feathers dyed to match the shade of the felt. One of the straw hats is dyed a romantic shade of soft mauve, whilst the other remains its natural colour. The mauve hat’s romance is added to by a mixture of artificial flowers and clusters of ribbons woven expertly around the brim. The other hat is plainer with less decoration, yet its restrained treatment makes it every bit as elegant as the mauve hat. None of them would look out of place at Ascot or a tea party at Buckingham Palace.
Lettice thumbs the may green ribbon of the plain straw hat thoughtfully. “These are exquisite, Gerald.”
“I knew you’d like Hattie’s work.” Gerald sighs with satisfaction.
*Morris Motors Limited was a privately owned British motor vehicle manufacturing company established in 1919. With a reputation for producing high-quality cars and a policy of cutting prices, Morris's business continued to grow and increase its share of the British market. By 1926 its production represented forty-two per cent of British car manufacturing. Amongst their more popular range was the Morris Cowley which included a four-seat tourer which was first released in 1920.
**Dents is a British company that crafts luxury leather gloves, handbags, small leather goods. Dents is known for its hand cutting, sewing, and stitching techniques, which are still practised today on some limited top end products, most merchandise being purchased from third-party factories. Dents was established in Worcester in 1777 as a manufacturer of fine leather gloves by John Dent (1751–1811). It is possibly Britain's oldest existing fashion manufacturer. Dent's sons, John and William, helped the company expand throughout the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. In 1845, mechanical sewing was introduced to the company to assist craftspeople. The company has a modern factory in Warminster, Wiltshire, having been present in the town since 1937.
***The expression in a jiffy was in use as early as 1780. It is a colloquial English expression for “in a short amount of time.” The origins of jiffy are unknown, though there are theories. One suggestion is that it comes from British thieves’ slang for “lightning,” hence very fast. An early instance appears in 1780 edition of Town and Country Magazine: “Most of the limbs of the law do every thing in a jiffy”.
Contrary to popular belief, fashion at the beginning of the Roaring 20s did not feature the iconic cloche hat as a commonly worn head covering. Although invented by French milliner Caroline Reboux in 1908, the cloche hat did not start to gain popularity until 1922, so even though this story is set in that year, picture hats, a hangover from the pre-war years, were still de rigueur in fashionable society and whilst Lettice is fashionable, she and many other fashionable women still wore the more romantic picture hat. Although nowhere near as wide, heavy, voluminous or as ornate as the hats worn by women between the turn of the Twentieth Century and the Great War, the picture hats of the 1920s were still wide brimmed, although they were generally made of straw or some lightweight fabric and were decorated with a more restrained touch.
This rather cluttered and chaotic scene of a drawing room cum workroom may look real to you, but believe it or not, it is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces from my childhood.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism such as these are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. The natural yellow straw hat with green trim and the mauve dyed straw hat with mauve and green trim were both made by the same unknown artisan in America. The aqua hat behind the two straw hats was made by an unknown British artisan. All three hats were acquired through auctions on E-Bay. The hat stands the hats rest on are all part of a larger collection I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel. The multi coloured feathers in the earthenware vase on the table behind the hats also belonged to Marilyn Bickel.
The copies of Weldon’s Dressmaker and the Lady’s World Fancy Work Book are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. In this case, the magazines are non-opening, however what might amaze you is that all Ken Blythe’s books and magazines are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
The spools of ribbon, the tape measure, the silver sewing scissors in the shape of a stork and the box of embroidery threads I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House in the United Kingdom.
The table on which all these items stand is a Queen Anne lamp table which I was given for my seventh birthday. It is one of the very first miniature pieces of furniture I was ever given as a child.
The sewing machine to the left of the photo, I bought from Melody Jane’s Doll House Suppliers in the United Kingdom. It is made with extreme attention to detail, complete with a painted black metal body, authentic sewing mechanisms and a worksurface “inlaid” with mother-of-pearl.
The round white metal sewing tin on the sewing machine’s surface is another artisan piece I have had since I was a young teenager. If you look closely you will see it contains a black velvet pin cushion, a pair of sewing scissors, needles, threads and two thimbles. Considering this is a 1:12 artisan miniature, imagine how minute the thimbles are! This I bought from a high street shop that specialised in dolls and doll house furnishings. It does have a lid which features artificial flowers and is trimmed with braid, but I wanted to show off the contents of the tin in this image, so it does not feature.
The spools of red, yellow, orange and blue cottons come from various online shops who sell dollhouse miniatures.
The salon chair drawn up to the sewing machine is part of a Marie Antionette suite with pretty floral upholstery which has been made by the high-end miniatures manufacturer, Creal.
Harriet’s family photos seen cluttering the mantlepiece and the bookshelf in the background are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frames are almost all from Melody Jane’s Dollhouse Suppliers in the United Kingdom and are made of metal with glass in each.
The porcelain clock on the mantlepiece is made by M.W. Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures.
The Edwardian mantlepiece is made of moulded plaster and was acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House in the United Kingdom.
The bookshelf in the background comes from Babette’s Miniatures, who have been making miniature dolls’ furnishings since the late eighteenth century.
The paintings and prints on the walls all come from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House in the United Kingdom.
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All images are © Fenix Blue Photography, All Rights Reserved. You may not use, replicate, manipulate, redistribute, or modify this image without my written consent.
A replication of the original building - they often love to stick a glass crown on top of them: Philip Jamieson, Clothier & Outfitter - on the northwest corner of Yonge Street and Queen Street West, Toronto.
Azure Magazine / March 2025 / In Downtown Toronto, a Heritage Icon Quietly Reclaims the Spotlight
Jamie Bradburn's Tales of Toronto / July 2017 / Off the Grid (Ghost City): 2 Queen West
News headlines: Aliens have invaded our planet! They have abducted hundreds of millions of people around the world. They all disappeared at once, in a split second, causing chaos and confusion. The Air Force shot down several UFOs (hobbyist balloons). They even shot down a Chinese spy balloon. Don’t worry: these Chinese spy balloons were also flying over America during Trump’s presidency, but the NWO Deep State never informed him. Quick, rollout Project Blue Beam 2.0 (false flag alien invasion psyops)! We must cover up these strange disappearances. “Welcome to the age of the polycrisis.” “Never waste a good crisis.”
The Jerusalem Post: “Former Israeli space security chief says aliens exist, humanity not ready”.
“’If I had come up with what I’m saying today five years ago, I would have been hospitalized,’ he explained to Yediot.”
www.jpost.com/omg/former-israeli-space-security-chief-say...
“’It’s Logical That Aliens Are Using Black Holes As Computers,’ Scientists Say”.
Harvard: PHYSICAL CONSTRAINTS ON UNIDENTIFIED AERIAL PHENOMENA (Draft under review)
“Nevertheless, the coincidences between some orbital parameters of ‘Oumuamua and IM2 inspires us to consider the possibility that an artificial interstellar object could potentially be a parent craft that releases many small probes during its close passage to Earth, an operational construct not too dissimilar from NASA missions. These “dandelion seeds” could be separated from the parent craft by the tidal gravitational force of the Sun or by a maneuvering capability. A small ejection speed far away could lead to a large deviation from the trajectory of the parent craft near the Sun. The changes would manifest both in arrival time and distance of closest approach to Earth. With proper design, these tiny probes would reach the Earth or other Solar system planets for exploration, as the parent craft passes by within a fraction of the Earth-Sun separation - just like ‘Oumuamua did.”
“Equipped with a large surface-to-mass ratio of a parachute, technological “dandelion seeds” could slow down in the Earth’s atmosphere to avoid burnup and then pursue their objectives wherever they land.”
“Within a close range to a star, extraterrestrial technological probes could use starlight to charge their batteries and liquid water as their fuel.”
“What would be the overarching purpose of the journey? In analogy with actual dandelion seeds, the probes could propagate the blueprint of their senders. As with biological seeds, the raw materials on the planet’s surface could also be used by them as nutrients for self-replication or simply scientific exploration. It is important to note, that given the time scales associated with the propulsion scheme discussed here, it is unreasonable to assert that the intention of any such probe launched in the far distant past, has anything to do with the human species. More likely, and similar to NASA’s missions – the goal would be scientific and exploratory in nature.”
“Are there any functioning extraterrestrial probes near Earth? We do not know.”
“Consequently, the mothership/probe scenario is more energetically viable.”
“In principle, a multitude of tiny devices can be released from a mothership that passes near Earth.”
“The considerations in this paper imply a useful limit on observations of UAP which bound the hypothetical explanations and can support limitations on interpretations of data.”
lweb.cfa.harvard.edu/~loeb/LK1.pdf
Rapture:
“Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.”
“First, the dead who believed in Christ will come back to life. Then, together with them, we who are still alive will be taken in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. In this way we will always be with the Lord.”
Over the past ten days or so, the Mrs and I were privileged to take part in something of an epic recreation.
The plan, by the adventurous owner of ex Crosville Bristol RELH AFM 105B was to reinact a journey which it undertook brand new in 1965 . . . just about 60 years ago.
Back then it took a party of forty something Crosville employees on an overland journey to the Italian seaside town of Alassio, over a thousand miles distant from its home base of Caernarfon.
We joined the small party on Thursday 9th May and set out to emulate the above as closely as possible in Steve Graham's superbly preserved coach. The only difference in the coach's specification nowadays to back then is that it now has a Gardner 6HLXB rather than a 6HLX which gave it a good deal more grunt.
In this photo the coach is seen posed part way up the climb to the St. Bernard tunnel in Switzerland en route to the Italian border.
An old image but still probably one of my favorite . An 8 image stitch of Coogee bay .
My webiste is nearing completion as well so I have start a fan page which I will post specials deals and information on my photography www.facebook.com/pages/Kirk-Hille-Photography/275729253433
Blog: www.kirkhille.wordpress.com
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Various images of mine are for sale on various finishes and sizes from Gloss and lustre, Metallic and Fuji Flex prints. Laminating and Mounting are available and framing service are available for local customers. Any enquires please contact me by email at kirkhille (@) westnet . com . au . For more information on my photographs you can visit my blog at kirkhille.wordpress.com/
All images are © Kirk Hille, All Rights Reserved. You may not use, replicate, manipulate, redistribute, or modify this image without my express consent
Replicating the days of the 1950's when Princess Coronation Class locomotives ruled the West Coast Main Line from London (Euston) to Glasgow (Central). Seen today is 46233 "Duchess of Sutherland" racing north with The Mid Day Scot only this time it is heading for Edinburgh (Waverley). Pictured on the run down from Beattock Summit. Strong spring sunshine created a lot of problems with shadows but after 5 months without any sun, I'm not complaining.
The caption on these images are purely what John Wiltshire wrote on the 35mm slide mounts and my own research into the locations. I therefore welcome any additional comments providing interesting information about the locomotives or the history of the location, line closure dates etc. Also please make caption links to other FLICKR images of the same location so we can all see how the locations have changed over time.
Due to recent unauthorised publication of my John Wiltshire images in a magazine. newspaper and two published books without payment I have to now make this statement.
This image is the copyright of © Peter Brabham; Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws. I will retrospectively claim £50 per print image if prior written authorisation for publication has not been sought. Please contact me at pete.brabham@ntlworld.com for permission to use any of my John Wiltshire photographs in hard copy publication. I will usually give permission free of charge to Heritage Railways and steam loco restoration project advertising, but profit making magazines and book authors must pay a reproduction fee. Authors should know the provenance of high quality digital images that they use.
The Empress Nūr Jahān built I'timād-Ud-Daulah's Tomb, sometimes called the "Baby Tāj", for her father, Mirzā Ghiyās Beg, the Chief Minister of the Emperor Jahāngīr. Located on the left bank of the Yamuna river, the mausoleum is set in a large cruciform garden, criss-crossed by water courses and walkways. The are of the mausoleum itself is about 23 m2 (250 sq ft), and is built on a base that is about 50 m2 (540 sq ft) and about one meter high. On each corner are hexagonal towers, about thirteen meters tall. Small in comparison to many other Mughal-era tombs, it is sometimes described as a jewel box. Its garden layout and use of white marble, pietra dura, inlay designs and latticework presage many elements of the Tāj Mahal.
The walls are white marble from Rajasthan encrusted with semi-precious stone decorations – cornelian, jasper, lapis lazuli, onyx, and topaz in images of cypress trees and wine bottles, or more elaborate decorations like cut fruit or vases containing bouquets. Light penetrates to the interior through delicate jālī screens of intricately carved white marble.
Many of Nūr Jahān's relatives are interred in the mausoleum. The only asymmetrical element of the entire complex are the tombs of her father and mother, which have been set side-by-side, a formation replicated in the Taj Mahal.
Really charming hilltop town, rather steep slopes though.
Put my Nikon gear to good use, in particular my Nikon lenses 24-70mm f2.8 G and 70-200mm f4.0 G which I did not bother to replicate on my Sony system due to weight and bulk.
“The Eye Moment photos by Nolan H. Rhodes”
Theeyeofthemoment21@gmail.com
www.flickr.com/photos/the_eye_of_the_moment
“Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws.” www.flickr.com/photos/the_eye_of_the_moment
“Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws as well as contract laws.”
“The Eye Moment photos by Nolan H. Rhodes”
nrhodesphotos@yahoo.com
This image is the copyright of © Neil Holman. Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws. Please contact me for permission to use any of my photographs
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie. Perhaps against her better judgement after recent altercations with her mother, Lettice has returned to her old family home for Bonfire Night*, one of her father’s favourite celebrations throughout the year. Lettice’s old childhood chum and family neighbour, Gerald Bruton, has brought her down from London in his Morris Cowley four-seat tourer**, as he, his older brother and parents are coming to the Bonfire Night celebrations on the well clipped lawns of Glynes later in the evening.
As Lettice steps out of the Morris, she sighs with trepidation as she looks up at the classical columned façade of her beloved childhood home basking in the autumnal sunshine. “At least it appears like we will have good weather for Bonfire Night.” Lettice says to Gerald with a tone of false joviality.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to come in for a little bit, Lettice Leaf?” Gerald asks his friend in concern. For once Lettice does not scold him for the use of her abhorred nickname, which shows how distracted she is. “I can help calm the waters with Sadie.” He reaches out and grasps her arm comfortingly as she steps in front of his open driver’s side window.
“No, no, Gerald.” Lettice replies, turning back and giving him a brave smile. “I’m sure you’ll want to get home.”
“To Bruton Hall and all its draughty, ill heated rooms and its leaky roof,” Gerald scoffs. “I think not! Cook’s rock cakes get more like real rocks with every visit! No, I’d find no greater pleasure than in the warm hospitality of your parents’ home and some hot buttered crumpets after our drive down.”
The double doors to her family home open and Bramley, the Chetwynd’s butler, walks out onto the front steps, followed by Marsen, the liveried first footman who walks across the gravel driveway and takes Lettice’s overnight valise and hatbox from the back of Gerald’s Morris.
“I don’t know how warm the reception will be today, darling, after Mater’s and my fierce arguments when I was here the other week. Anyway,” she pats his arm. “I’m sure that Aunt Gwyneth will have tea and cook’s delicious, if inedible, rock cakes waiting for you at Bruton Hall.”
“Mother might be welcoming, but I suspect nothing but cold comfort from Roland,” Gerald shivers. “Not to mention Father.”
She pats his arm again. “Best get it over with then, as should I.” She leans into the car and gives her friend a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you tonight at seven for the festivities. Don’t be late.” She wags an admonishing finger at him.
Lettice’s figure looks lonely as dwarfed by the grand sandstone façade of her home, she walks away alone from Gerald in his car and up the sweeping steps to where Bramley stands, awaiting her.
“Welcome home, My Lady,” Bramley greets her with an open smile as he always does, assuaging the anxious feeling roiling in her stomach. “What a pleasure it is to see you. Did you have a pleasant drive down with Mr. Bruton?”
“Thank you, Bramley. Yes, I did.” she replies, returning his smile, albeit in a half hearted fashion.
“Is Mr. Bruton not joining us, My Lady?”
Lettice turns back and waves to Gerald, who waves in return before revving up the idling engine of his car and driving off down the carriageway with a cheerful toot from his horn. “No Bramley. Sir and Lady Bruton are expecting him at Bruton Hall.”
She sweeps past the butler and into the lofty hall of Glynes where Marsden stands ready to accept her gloves, her fox fur stole and her grey travelling coat as she shirks them from her shoulders, revealing a smart navy blue frock with a sailor collar in white with a red embroidered trim.
“Emmery will take care of you this evening, My Lady,” Bramley acknowledges as he comes to join Lettice after closing the front doors. “I hope that will be suitable.”
“Oh quite Bramley, although I don’t really need a ladies maid. I’m quite independent in London you know. It is almost 1922 after all.”
“Well her Ladyship…”
“Yes, I know, Bramley.” Lettice holds up her now bare hands to stop the butler from continuing. “Mamma expects every woman in the house to require a maid, even if we are no longer in the pre-war years of needing them. I’ll be happy to accept Emmery if she’ll have me, if only to placate Mamma if it will give me some peace from her harping. I’m sure I can create some superfluous errands for her to run. She’s a capable girl.”
“She is, My Lady.”
“Now, thinking of Mamma, where is she?”
“Out, My Lady,” Bramley smiles conspiratorially at Lettice. “Visiting Lady Edgars at Broxmore House*** in an effort to avoid his Lordship’s Bonfire Night preparations.”
“Splendid!” Lettice enthuses as she feels the knot in her stomach ease at the thought of her mother being gone for most of the day. “And my Father?”
“I believe he is in the library, My Lady. Shall I serve tea there?”
“Thank you Bramley,” she flashes him a beaming smile of thanks. “You are a brick!”
“Very good, My Lady.” Bramley departs, slipping through a discreet doorway off the main hall that is one of many leading to the servants’ quarters of the Georgian mansion.
Lettice turns and walks up to the library’s beautiful walnut double doors and knocks loudly.
“Come!” comes a muffled male voice from inside.
“Pappa, it’s only me!” Lettice calls cheerfully as she pokes her head around the door of her favourite room in the whole of Glynes, the light filled library, with its comforting smell of woodsmoke and old books.
“Ah! Dear girl!” Viscount Wrexham looks up from his Chippendale desk which is cluttered with fireworks destined for the annual Glynes Bonfire Night pyrotechnics display. “So that was young Gerald out on the drive then.” He frowns. “I wasn’t entirely sure you would be coming after that awful ruckus with your mother last visit.”
“Even one of Mamma’s rages wouldn’t stop me from coming for your Bonfire Night display, Pappa.” Lettice walks the length of the room, through the pools of sunlight pouring through the windows, disturbing the dust motes which fly about wildly in her wake. She falls into the welcoming embrace of her father and kisses him lovingly on first his right and then his left cheek. “All the same, I am glad that she’s gone to pay a call on Lady Edgar. It will give me a chance to prepare myself to face her when she finally does come home.”
“You have a few hours to stave off your execution.” The Viscount chuckles as he releases his daughter. “I shouldn’t laugh really.” He looks at his pretty, lithe daughter. “You didn’t really behave like the lady you should be when you were last here. I did ask you to try with her, and…”
“I did try with her Pappa!” Lettice defends. “Really I did.” She steels her jaw. “However, I read a simpering letter she was writing to Lady Hastings…”
“As I said, you weren’t exactly ladylike, Lettice. You ought not to read other people’s correspondence and well you know it.” He shakes an admonishing finger at his youngest daughter.
“Yes, but then she started going on about all the so-called eligible bachelors she has invited to the Hunt Ball and I just…”
“Lost your temper?”
“Well yes.” Lettice admits sheepishly with a downcast gaze.
“You take too much after me in that respect.” the Viscount admits. “It’s distinguished and commanding in an old man like me, but unattractive in a young lady.”
In an effort to further defend her actions she continues, “She dismissed my interior business, Pappa. She said that the only reason why Margot and Dickie wanted me to decorate their home is because we are friends.”
“Well, you are friends, Lettice.”
“You know what I mean, and what Mamma was implying, Pappa.”
“Yes, I know, and even though both she and I hate to admit it, you are applying your mother’s good taste to some evident success if your mother’s magazines are anything to go by.”
Lettice smiles, a blush flushing up her cheeks as she silently delights in her father’s veiled compliment towards her interior design business.
“Anyway, you should find your mother in better spirits today. Jonty Hastings, Sir John Nettleford-Hughes, Selwyn Spencely and Nicholas Ayres have all accepted invitations to the Hunt Ball, not that Ayres is in the running of course. He’s a lost cause. We all know what he’s about.” He cocks his eyebrow at Lettice. “Well, most of us do, your mother excluded. Rather like we do about Bruton’s youngest, your Gerald the frock maker.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Also, at the Channon wedding last week, your mother ended up chatting with Lady Faversham.”
“Yes, so I noticed.” Lettice replies flatly.
“She apparently has an unmarried nephew around your age who stands to inherit a Baronetcy in Scotland, so he’s coming too. Benedict? Bartholomew? Something like that.” The Viscount starts fiddling with a firework wrapped in brightly printed paper declaring it to be a Raduim Dazzler. “Anyway, I’m sure your mother will tell you all about it when she comes home.” He engages his daughter in a stern gaze. “Which will give you another chance to make an effort. Eh?”
“I’ll make an effort for your sake, Pappa, not hers. I don’t think she and I have ever seen eye-to-eye on much.”
“No, I don’t suppose you have.” the Viscount muses. “Still, you’re young yet. There is plenty of time yet for you to come around to your mother’s and my way of thinking.”
“Oh, enough about Mamma and the Hunt Ball!” Lettice huffs as she quickly changes the subject. “Gerald and I saw Crane and his new undergardener setting out Chinese lanterns as we came up the drive. Tell me more about the reason I’m here.”
“The Glynes Bonfire Night pyrotechnics extravaganza?” Her father’s eyes light up with excitement. “Well, as you can see, I’ve ordered a Pains five shilling box of outdoor fireworks.”
“Only one?”
“Well no. Harris took receipt of another fourteen boxes from London down in the village last Tuesday.”
“So what are you going to dazzle us with this year, Pappa?”
“A row of twenty Roman Candles and thirty Catherine Wheels down along the ha-ha****, and Harris and I will set off these Radium Dazzlers and,” He chortles with unbridled childish delight. “A few Mines of Fiery Serpents and some Devil’s Fire.”
“Sounds positively ripping, Pappa! I’m so looking forward to it. I always have enjoyed the thrill of Bonfire Night at Glynes.”
“You’re still such a child, my dear girl.” he says with an indulgent smile.
“Me?” Lettice counters with a surprised burst of laughter. “It seems to me that you are the bigger child of the two of us when it comes to pyrotechnics. I enjoy the spectacle, but for you this is a pastime as you plan the spectacle from year to year.”
“Steady on my girl!” Viscount Wrexham blusters. “More of a hobby, really.”
“Same thing.” Lettice retorts. “What time do the gates open?”
Just as she asks, as soft knock at the library door interrupts them.
“Come!” Viscount Wrexham calls commandingly.
Bramley enters carrying a silver tray laden with tea things and some petit fours on a plate. “Tea, My Lord.”
“I made the presumption of ordering tea,” Lettice looks at her father.
“Capital idea, my girl!” the Viscount beams. “Put it on the table by the fire, would you Bramley.”
“My Lord.” The butler does as requested and for a moment the room falls silent, save for the gentle tick of the clock on the mantle, the crackle of the logs in the fireplace and the chink of porcelain, silver and cutlery as he sets out the tea for two.
“Thank you, Bramley.” Lettice acknowledges the butler.
“Bramley, what time do we expect the villagers up for tonight’s Bonfire Night celebrations?” Viscount Wrexham asks his butler.
“The villagers may start coming up to the house from six, My Lord. Mrs. Casterton and the maids are setting up tables in the back courtyard around the bonfire even as we speak.”
“Excellent, well I told Gerald to bring his family over at seven.” Lettice says.
“It will be the best Bonfire Night yet, my girl!” the Viscount remarks with enthusiasm. “You mark my words. The best yet!”
“Bonfire Night, Glynes style is always the best, Pappa.” Lettice replies.
*Guy Fawkes Day, also called Bonfire Night, British observance, celebrated on November the fifth, commemorating the failure of the Gunpowder Plot of 1605. Guy Fawkes and his group members acted in protest to the continued persecution of the English Catholics. Today Guy Fawkes Day is celebrated in the United Kingdom, and in a number of countries that were formerly part of the British Empire, with parades, fireworks, bonfires, and food. Straw effigies of Fawkes are tossed on the bonfire, as are—in more recent years in some places—those of contemporary political figures. Traditionally, children carried these effigies, called “Guys,” through the streets in the days leading up to Guy Fawkes Day and asked passersby for “a penny for the guy,” often reciting rhymes associated with the occasion, the best known of which dates from the Eighteenth Century.
**Morris Motors Limited was a privately owned British motor vehicle manufacturing company established in 1919. With a reputation for producing high-quality cars and a policy of cutting prices, Morris's business continued to grow and increase its share of the British market. By 1926 its production represented forty-two per cent of British car manufacturing. Amongst their more popular range was the Morris Cowley which included a four-seat tourer which was first released in 1920.
***Broxmore House was a grand classical Georgian county house with Victorian editions built in Whiteparish, Wiltshire. It was demolished in 1949.
****A ha-ha is a type of sunken fence that was commonly used in landscaped gardens and parks in the eighteenth century. It involved digging a deep, dry ditch, the inner side of which would be built up to the level of the surrounding turf with either a dry-stone or brick wall. Meanwhile, the outer side was designed to slope steeply upwards, before leveling out again into turf. The point of the ha-ha was to give the viewer of the garden the illusion of an unbroken, continuous rolling lawn, whilst providing boundaries for grazing livestock.
Cluttered with books and art, Viscount Wrexham’s library with its Georgian furnishings is different from what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The majority of the books that you see lining the shelves of the Viscount’s library are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Ken Blythe was famous in miniature collectors’ circles mostly for the miniature books that he made: all being authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection. However, he did not make books exclusively. He also made other small pieces like this box of Pain’s Fireworks you see on the desk. What might amaze you, looking at these fireworks is that they are all miniature replicas of real fireworks manufactured by Pain’s Fireworks. Each has a correct label, and they are even correct size in comparison to one another when compared to their real life counterparts. Examples of fireworks here are: Mine of Fiery Serpents, Harbour Light, Radium Dazzler, City Flicker, Firestorm and coloured Roman Candles. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make these miniature artisan pieces. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago and through his estate courtesy of the generosity of his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
James Pain and Sons Ltd. fireworks business which was established in Brixton in 1850. The company was a leading manufacturer of fireworks in the United Kingdom. After great success the business expanded to Wiltshire. 1965, James Pain and Sons Ltd merged with the Wessex Aircraft Engineering Company Ltd (known as WAECO) to form Pains Wessex. Pains Wessex is known to be the oldest marine distress signal brand with origins back as far as 1620. In 1873, the company applied for the first patent of a marine distress flare. Today, the quality, technological superiority and innovative design of the Pains Wessex range, combined with worldwide approvals and manufacturing.
Also on the desk to the left stands a stuffed white owl on a branch beneath a glass cloche. A vintage miniature piece, the foliage are real dried flowers and grasses, whilst the owl is cut from white soapstone. The base is stained wood and the cloche is real glass. This I acquired along with two others featuring shells (one of which can be seen in the background) from Kathleen Knight’s Dollhouse Shop in the United Kingdom.
On the desk are some 1:12 artisan miniature ink bottles and a blotter on a silver salver all made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures. The ink bottles are made from tiny faceted crystal beads and have sterling silver bottoms and lids. The ink blotter is sterling silver too and has a blotter made of real black felt, cut meticulously to size to fit snugly inside the frame.
The Chippendale desk itself is made by Bespaq, and it has a mahogany stain, and the design is taken from a real Chippendale desk. Its surface is covered in red dioxide red dioxide leather with a gilt trim. Bespaq is a high-end miniature furniture maker with high attention to detail and quality.
The beautiful rotating globe in the background features a British Imperial view of the world, with all of Britain’s colonies in pink (as can be seen from Canada), as it would have been in 1921. The globe sits on metal casters in a mahogany stained frame, and it can be rolled effortlessly. It comes from Mick and Marie’s Miniature Collectables in Lancashire. The silver double frame on the desk also comes from Mick and Marie’s Miniature Collectables.
In the background you can see the book lined shelves of Viscount Wrexham’s as well as a Victorian painting of cattle in a gold frame from Amber’s Miniatures in America, and a hand painted ginger jar from Thailand which stands on a Bespaq plant stand.
The library steps which can be seen just to the left of the desk are authentic replicas of Georgian examples. It also comes from Kathleen Knight’s Dollhouse Shop in the United Kingdom.
The gold flocked Edwardian wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
“The Eye Moment photos by Nolan H. Rhodes”
“Theeyeofthemoment21@gmail.com”
“www.flickr.com/photos/the_eye_of_the_moment”
“Any users, found to replicate, reproduce, circulate, distribute, download, manipulate or otherwise use my images without my written consent will be in breach of copyright laws.”
New growth of this tree was fairly low to the ground hence being able to get these shots in the woodland of Hodsock Priory, Nottinghamshire.
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No Group Banners, thanks.
I wanted to try and replicate a shot from a few days back. I tried and failed last Saturday so thought I'd have another go tonight.
Same set up as last time but with added black fibers from www.lightpaintingbrushes.com bottom left and top right.
Camera rotation and panning during a single lens capped long exposure.
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All images are © Fenix Blue Photography, All Rights Reserved. You may not use, replicate, manipulate, redistribute, or modify this image without my written consent.
Trying out Roaglaan's new winter uniform decals on olive torsos to replicate anoraks. Feedback welcomed.
Here is a part of Thor´s ship where O´Neill meets the Replicators. (5x22 Revelations)
I copied the Replicators from legomocs because I think it´s the best possible solution on a minifigure-scale www.flickr.com/photos/legomocs2/6371277299/in/dateposted/
Italy, pizza, “Portobello”, thin pizza with a golden brown crusty border, outside crunchy, inside soft, topped with pizza sauce, buffalo mozzarella & grated Appenzeller cheese, Portobello mushrooms, rosemary.
Italian Pizza should be baked at temperatures between 360°C - 575°F & 426°C - 800°F, best in a pizza wood-fired brick oven by placing them on the very hot oven stone floor. If the oven dome has the above mentioned baking temperature, the oven floor will typically be cooler than that temperature.
📌...This very tasty variant of the brown mushroom came from America via the Netherlands to Europe, also known as a “Grill-Mushroom”.
The Portobello becomes a giant mushroom thanks to a special cultivation method. The mushroom has a large cap measuring 6 to 12 cm in size with a small stalk. The fins on the underside of the hat are brown in colour & clearly visible. The flesh is brown & very firm good for grilling, without the stalk also for stuffing & baked in the oven, also great as a tempura etc. etc.
📌…. a little slice of Italian pizza history..............
Etymologically, the term “Picea or Piza” first appeared in the Neapolitan dialect around the year 1000 & meant something like "push, jolt" & thus probably referred to the hand movement when lifting the pizza with a pizza turning peel out of the oven.
Tomatoes were first introduced to Italy from South America in 1522. At first the tomato was believed by the poorer peasants to be poisonous, fortunately they farmers overcame their doubts about tomatoes in the 17th century & started adding it to the bread dough,…focaccia was created & became the "gran, gran, gran mother" of today's pizzas.
Mozzarella had become available in Italy after water buffalos were imported from India in the 7th century, but its popularity grew very slowly until the last half of the 18th century. Like the growing acceptance of tomatoes, mozzarella cheese was slowly gaining ground too. But the cheese & tomatoes did not meet on a pizza until 1889 when Don Raffaele Esposito, an Italian tavern owner developed a pizza featuring tomatoes, mozzarella cheese & basil, components bearing the colours of the Italian flag. He named it "Pizza Margherita", after the Queen of Italy, Margherita Teresa Giovanni.
Italy unified in 1861, King Umberto I & Queen Margherita visited Naples in 1889, legend has it that the traveling pair became bored with their steady diet of French haute cuisine & asked for an assortment of pizzas from the city’s Pizzeria Brandi.
In the late half of the 19th century, Italians migrated to North-America & with them their pizza bread recipe from Naples, replicating their trusty, crusty pizzas in New York & other American cities, relatively quickly, the flavours & aromas of pizza began to intrigue also non-Italians.
Beginning of the 20th century, Italian immigrants begun to open their own bakeries & were selling besides groceries as well pizza. The first documented United States pizzeria was Gennaro Lombardi’s, licensed to sell pizza in 1905 on Spring Street in Manhattan, a part known as “Little Italy” Lombardi’s, is still in operation today, however, no longer at its 1905 site, but has the same oven as it did originally. Pizza as we know & the world likes took the United States by storm before it became popular in its native Italy
Especially in the 50th, pizza’s popularity in the United States boomed & no longer seen as an Italian folkloric treat, it was increasingly identified as fast & fun food. Regional, decidedly non-Neapolitan variations emerged, eventually including California-gourmet pizzas topped with anything from barbecued chicken to smoked salmon.
Post-war pizza finally reached Italy & beyond their borders also influenced by the starting tourism. Like blue jeans, rock & roll, fast food etc. the Italians & the rest of the world picked up on pizza just because it was "Americano"…easy to eat, fast & tasty.
📍 …So actually pizza the way we like it is an "Italo-American" creation.
I personally like the pizza thin with a nice crunchy crust, fresh & hot with the particular flavour only a pizza right out of a pizza wood-fired brick oven has, sprinkled with a little oregano & a drizzle of Calabrian native olive oil, …but there is a pizza for each & everyone's age, taste & favours.
👉…One World one Dream,
🙏...Danke, Xièxie 谢谢, Thanks, Gracias, Merci, Grazie, Obrigado, Arigatô, Dhanyavad, Chokrane to you & over
17 million visits in my photostream with countless motivating comments
Russians in Asia? Nah, they're probabaly just taking out the trash.
I'm stuck. I can't find the perfect concept art to replicate. It seems so easy, but nothing seems to click with me. I just need something I can do in my ability range, something attractive, and something that could fit into a Russian or Asian setting. Could you help me, please?
bringing water from below to above. One, self replicating.
The other ceases to duplicate the moment thoughts about it disappear.
What are we to make of the difference between things that manifest without thought, and those that manifest only with thought?
One could answer: "Thought itself is a thoughtless manifestation, i.e., thought grows into existence through no effort of its own."
To put it more clearly, a mind that thinks, grows into existence before it can think.
Would this be right?
I've been in love with this pose, of late. Face pointed to the sun, as if soaking in the light.
I'm bothered when I notice myself copying a shot I've done previously, but not in this case. There is an attractiveness to this pose, to this idea of my subject so taken with the feeling of the sun on their skin they forget about me completely.
It's a lie, of course. The deep dark secret is it's all a reconstruction of what I see in my head (which most likely is something I've already seen in the world and am seeking to replicate), it's all me trying to convey not necessarily what is, but rather what once was.
I can only assume the first time I saw somebody doing this I was so taken with the image in front of me I seek to capture it again and again, Ahab after his white whale.
Sometimes you come across an image that you really want to take, even replicate. And so it was with this one. My good mate Innes, www.flickr.com/photos/pentlandpirate/ had taken it several times and I'd always admired his takes on the scene. On holiday in the area and knowing we'd spend time together, I also knew I'd get the opportunity. Oddly enough, my very first morning after arriving, just some five minutes drive away, I blundered into the very scene. It was as good as I'd imagined. In fact I spent most mornings in the area.