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Plenty fish up in the sea
But they don’t swim like me you know it
Keep on rowin’ if you miss it
Hugs and kisses, x and o’s for you
✩ Head LeLutka – Gaia Head
✩ Shape Genetic Lab – #Cheryl
✩ Hair NAFI – Mila
✩ Top Amataria – Davina
✩ Jeans Skirt Amataria – Karma
✩ Boots Semller – Triceratop High Boots Sticker Edt.
"Wind Force 9" / "Windkracht 9" is the name of this building at Zeeburgereiland, Amsterdam, The Netherlands.
The weather vane (there are several around the complex) shows this is clearly untrue.
Design (2015): INBO and Bureau Rowin Petersma.
Slightly modified by me using GIMP.
Den ersten Abend verbrachten wir in Rovinj bei einem Abendessen mit wunderschönem Ausblick auf die Altstadt.
“Schau Bärbel, siehst Du die Kirche von Robin ?”
“Ja Luis, aber das heißt doch nicht Robin , der Name ist Rowin !”
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We spent the first evening in Rovinj having dinner with a beautiful view of the old town.
"Look Bärbel, do you see the church of Robin?"
"Yes Luis, but it's not called Robin, the name is Rowin!"
"You wandered down the lane and far away
Leaving me a song that will not die
Love is now a stardust of yesterday
The music of the years gone by"
Rod Stewart
Leica MP
Leica Summicron 35mm f/2 IV "King of Bokeh"
Adox CHS 100 II
Zero Imaging 510-Pyro (1+100)
8 min 20°C
Scan from negative film
Viewed up the Abhainn a' Gharbh Choire in the the Gairloch Estate.
Located about five miles (8 km) up a track from the head of Upper Loch Torridon and has its highest point at 855m (2805 feet). Not particularly high but after plodding up the five miles and, with the prospect of the five miles back again, we didn't fancy climbing it that day. The sound of the burn was great and reminded me of a poem by Walter Wingate. Here's a wee excerpt…
Here's a bonnie burnie
Singin' a' its lane,
Singin' frae a happy heart,
Like a sinless wean!
What a worl' to sing to!
Grey auld hills around;
Rowin' mists about their heads
Ilk ane sleepin' sound'!
'Mang the heather rovin',
Sheep and Hielan' kye;
Hillward airt their heads, the while
The burn gaes singin' by.
In days of old the Kingdom of Draconia fell into chaos when a military coupe was lead against King Tartalos Ryker. The leader was General Galtrus Tanimus who claimed to follow the the true tenants of Ryke. He had his own armor and that of his guards made in red and black rather than the traditional green and gold of Draconia. He had visions of Draconia made new in the image of the Red Dragon and refused to fly the Draconian flag.
His coupe was successful and he pushed Tartalos and his supporters to the edge of Draconia where, under the ancient watchtower of RykeCalter (Ryke's perch), the last battle was joined. Tartalos stood on an out cropping on rock and blew the famous Horn of Harrindre.
It was then that the battle was joined and the few who had stayed true won a great victory. It has been say in later days that the spirits of their ancestors rose from the grave and bolstered their courage. granting them the strength necessary to win the day. Regardless the false king was slain by the true king and his men threw down their weapons and begged forgiveness or else fled the field in shame.
The only man present that day who's sword was not bloodied was the bard Rowin Rocrows. He climbed the tower of RykeCalter and raise the Draconian flag on an oar. He later wrote of the battle in such gory detail that his original work was only copied in part.
I'm back! Definitely check out the video: www.flickr.com/photos/74496431@N03/10981333504/ since the song inspired the build I only tied it to Brickdom after it was built. I hope to be more active from now on but who knows. I will pick up Brant's story next and then hopefully Monahangray will follow!
Galerie Hommes, Rotterdam: Rowin & Erland (Roland Sohier & Erwin Keustermans): Der Mensch und seine Umgebung
Cruising off the Lotus Isle Point, I'm working on my callouses--on my palms (from a little bit of rowing) and on my fingertips (from a wee bit of strummin'). The Gurls love it--(that being the dogpack, Coco, Bo, and Chloe).
It's said performing for an audience can make you a better musician. This is how I do it--corral them into the boat (so they can't get away), and cast off. We never know where we'll end up. If the breezes are favorable, I pop open a golf umbrella and we sail to wherever. I've got a fishpole with a lure I'm towing, and a "water-stick" (for shooting bilge water at any riff-raff that might disturb our musical reverie). And the mutts seem to like my playing, particularly "Old McDonald had a Farm" (perhaps knowing that there are McDonalds in my family tree, too--or perhaps the onomatopoeia of the " 'woof woof' here, and a 'woof woof' there..."
Anyway...my personal code holds that any time spent on the water is not deducted from your lifespan (North Seas not included). And these little strummin'/fishin'/rowin' ventures are good practice for my music--once I get good, I intend to move up and start playing for a real audience, like the kitties.
Of course, Chloe is watching from across the Rainbow Bridge these days, and it just points up, how hard a dog she would be to replace--smart, fast, fun, good sea legs, AND she appreciates my music. Perhaps my buddy Kirk can tell me where he went to find Esmerelda!
"I think I shall have to become a Christian," says Merton, meaning, if I read him correctly, "I think I shall have to understand that a proper theology of the death of Christ tells me I'm not serious." God is serious; my condition is serious; sin is serious; the Cross is serious. But, somehow, out of all this comes the miracle, the "unbearable lightness of being," as you might say; the recognition that my reality rests "like a feather on the breath of God." It is because God speaks, because God loves, and it is for no other reason. And if we want to know what it is that I am, the only answer is , "I am because of the love of God." And when I seek to justify, defend, or systematize what I am, I become 'serious." I cease to be a feather on the breath of God and gravity draws me down into darkness.
-A Silent Action: Engagements with Thomas Merton, by Rowin Williams, pg 75