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Seemingly, 27192 was last on the 3 judging by the paper stuck in the window. Here it is seen out of use at Lincoln bus station along with President 18048 on 23.6.20
Seemingly having new white LED dests fitted (similar to the baycar E200 251) is CE63 NZG, finishing it's route on Park Street.
Reg/Fleet No: CE63 NZG, 252
Location: Park Street, Cardiff
Date/Time: 23/10/2021, 16:15
Lichen seemingly painted onto an outcrop of dolomite.
Bedding, jointing and glacial stria are visible.
Belcher Islands, Hudson Bay, Nunavut, Canadian Shield.
Faintly marked glacial striations are running //// on the photo.
The seemingly infamous articulated Citaro of Norfolk, with Completely Coach Travel, now a thing of the past unfortunately. Since withdrawn at CCT and sold on, Norfolk’s bendybus count once again returns to nil.
A family of Otters can be easily seen in Inverness around the River Ness. They are much more used to people and will often behave normally seemingly oblivious to the hustle and bustle nearby. I called in to do some shopping yesterday and two were fishing in the centre of town. This one is of a female who raised two cubs in 2010
This view of the seemingly endless expanses of the Chilean Atacama Desert is definitely worth to be today’s Picture of the Week. The silver full Moon shines bright in the beautiful gradient evening sky. Below it, to the right, the giant dome of ESO’s Extremely Large Telescope (ELT) glows with the golden sunset light.
The ELT is perched atop Cerro Armazones, at an altitude of 3046 m. The dome might look small in the image, but the full 30-minute walk via the set of stairs from the entrance of the dome to its top, indicates its gigantic size: 80 m high and 93 m wide. Weighing about 6100 tonnes, the dome is designed to protect the telescope and its mirrors, including the 39-m wide primary mirror –– the biggest eye on the sky.
To the left of Cerro Armazones the last sunbeams of the evening cast a dark triangular shadow: Cerro Paranal, home to ESO’s Very Large Telescope (VLT), from where this picture was taken by Luca Sbordone, ESO staff astronomer. It’s no wonder that this site hosts so many professional telescopes, as it boasts the darkest skies on Earth. Chile is in fact home to all of ESO’s observatories, thanks to a long-lasting partnership that goes back more than 60 years — may it be as timeless and inspiring as this view.
Credit: L. Sbordone/ESO
Seemingly morbid scene, but it is very peaceful and beautiful up on this sandstone escarpment .....what a wonderful place to rest.
It's amazing that our biological bodies are seemingly built upon technology that has been passed to us through numerous replications of our DNA strains through each and every cell division ad infinitum. Through meosis, mitosis, and it continues again.
There is this moment of rebirth when our genetic codex is melanged through combinatronic permutation after permutated combination in this grand scheme of survival, life, and existence. It is the greatest hedging of the bets done so for purely longer-term species survival, but is this concept of an individual that we adore so much just an elaborate illusion? Instead, are we really just infinitesimal parts of a whole, the huge composite structure of machinery that completes the circle of life, the way of the tao, the nature of the au natural, the systemic mechanisms of divinity?
Are we just an experimental device, a mouthpiece for control over the dominion of evolutionary advantage such that our DNA is mixed into a combinatorial cocktail and then reborn anew time and time again for the pure fact of increasing the probability of species survival and thusly letting the natural forces at bay enhance and design our technology?
With all of this illusion and deceiving, it's hard to discern reality from dream, so it comes to light that we are a product of continuous being whereby there has been no end since the beginning. Is this so? And all this where the replication from one system to another has been so seamless that an illusion upon an illusion upon an illusion began to surface seemingly making us distinct individuals, when in fact we are but one grand individual?
There is no spoon, yet there is no divinity. I find this to be simultaneously true and false at the same time, which is blasphemy at its best. There isn't a spoon, it's all an illusion, but yet we do exist, we think, breathe, eat, and live, then where is the divinity? Is it all around us, including us, ourselves, our individualistic entities of existential being?
We are also not multiple beings, but one continuous breed of life that has been spawned, remixed, recoded, reconfigured time and time again just to maintain strength, vigor, and an edge on the competition in this jungle of an environment.
Ultimately, we are one. We are one being, one machine, one system, one divinity. We will not fully become aware of our supremeness nor immortality until we have reached our destination called destiny, but when we do reach it, we will be one, and with that oneness, we will be divine.
La machine parfaite est divinité.
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A seemingly less than confident driver at the helm of this Berresford's motor prepared to leave Cheddleton garage in the direction of the village and Leek. Leyland Leopard OWW 734K had Plaxton Panorama Elite bodywork but had been updated with a much later Supreme IV GT lower front panel arrangement. It was a modification which I always thought sat well with this type of body in a way in which it didn't particularly seem to do with similarly treated later Supreme IIIs.
OWW 734K had been new to Woods of Mirfield in West Yorkshire and was one of the last 'coaches' acquired by the Cheddleton based firm prior to Jim Berresfords death and subsequent closure. If memory serves me correctly, it came via Barnsley breaker Geoff Ripley, had a blown engine and was missing various parts and therefore requiring quite a degree of resuscitation.
Other buses getting in on the shot here are :- almost off the left hand side - one of the pair of ex Birkenhead Northern Counties Atlanteans, next the ex British Airways PSU4 Leopard WUL 264N, the 'Q' Regd. Bedford YRQ / Willowbrook and the ex Trent ECW bodied Bristol RE coach PCH 418L.
Seemingly circular portion of cloud layer tore away and dropped a mild and moistue laden twister. This photo taken with iPhone on the day before a major ice and snow blizzard spread over the mid-Atlantic US states in January
Seemingly it’s work done for XC 43378 as it takes the stock ex 1V44 from Leeds to Laira . Quite a gathering to see them off considering the West Country will have the HST for a while yet .
This seemingly abandoned Roadside Amusement Park in Jordan is small but colourful! It appears to have been abandoned for only a few years.
Read more: www.obsidianurbexphotography.com/leisure/roadside-amuseme...
In 1993 Citybus had a seemingly relatively minor presence on Hong Kong, though this would change following the gaining of many of CMB's routes. In later life Olympian 134, new to Citybus in 1990 was repatriated to the UK for use with Stagecoach South on South West Trains rail replacement services (by this time carrying the UK registration H723KDY). The bus is pictured near the Star Ferry terminal in the Central district of Hong Kong island. (1st June 1993: Sl.1010)
Tradition holds that a wooden church, part of a nuns’ skete existed in the area, as seemingly attested by a 1642 document.
A princely order of 1672-1673 provided that the leather smiths – tăbăcari or tabaci – of another district be moved there;
these workers gave rise to the name of their new neighbourhood, and originally had a single church, which was later demolished.
The earliest sure mention of an older church comes from missionary Blasius Kleiner, who mentions it in a pre-1761 list of Bucharest churches.
The present church, situated on a hillock, dates to 1763-1765.
As recorded in the pisanie, now lost, the ktetor was a captain at the court of Prince Constantine Mavrocordatos.
A 1798 inventory mentions the church as being the parish of the Apostol district, home to millers and bakers.
Butchers moved in once a slaughterhouse opened, so that it was sometimes called the “cutting church” (Biserica de la Tăiere) and, from the neighboring tribunal, the “judgment church” (Biserica de la Judecată).
Significant repairs took place in 1810 and again in 1820-1830.
The church underwent restoration in 1864, fixing damage from the earthquakes of 1802 and 1838.
The flagstone floor dates to that time, while the shingle roof was replaced by lead sheeting in 1894.
The columns and arches separating the nave from the narthex were eliminated, enlarging the interior.
The masonry dome above the nave was replaced by a lighter wooden one, coated in tin.
The more recent bell tower, added along after the small portico, was first made of wood, then in 1910 changed for a metal one.
That year also saw the addition of a wooden choir area, changed to reinforced concrete in 1956-1957.
Serious damage was caused by the earthquakes of 1940 and especially 1977; repairs were undertaken in 1979, with additional exterior work in 2002-2003.
The initial frescoes were redone in oil in 1894 by Gheorghe Tattarescu and another artist.
Businessman Dumitru Mociorniță helped finance a restoration of the art in 1924, with further repairs taking place in 1983.
The exterior painting, which consisted of saints’ faces in medallions above the windows, was eliminated on three sides during the 1864 enlargement.
The icon of Paraskeva of the Balkans is original to the building, while other icons date to 1864; the iconostasis is of wood.
In 1987-1989, near the end of the Nicolae Ceaușescu regime, the church was threatened first with demolition, then with being obscured by building apartment blocks all around it.
Implementation of the proposals was frequently delayed due to petitions addressed to the authorities and the Orthodox hierarchy, as well as through efforts by engineers and builders.
The threat of new buildings obscuring the church continued until 1991-1992, after the Romanian Revolution, and construction was only halted due to the strenuous efforts of the parish priest.
The foundations of the blocks of flats were covered in 1995-1996.
The cross-shaped church measures 25 meters long by 7.8-10 meters wide;
it is around 9 meters high at the cornice and 18 meters at the tip of the domes.
The small, enclosed portico is an addition to the west end, the Pantocrator dome sits above the nave and the bell tower above the narthex.
The latter is accessed by a staircase starting from a little tower against the north facade.
The apses have three sides on the exterior and are semicircular on the interior, with quarter-sphere ceilings.
The ceiling acquired its present appearance in 1864:
it is vaulted in the space between narthex and nave, then giving way to the main dome.
Both domes are octagonal, covered in tin, with bulbous roofs.
The larger dome ends in an octagonal roof lantern that supports a metal cross.
The exterior is of painted masonry.
The simple string course lies below the midpoint of the facade.
Further down are the windows, separated by rectangular panels, while the upper part is simple, the original medallions being swallowed up by masonry during repairs.
The western facade features a triangular pediment, once painted and now almost bare.
Three icons are painted below: Saint Nicholas on the left, Saint Philotheia on the right and the patrons in the center.
The church has a spacious yard; the parish house lies on the grounds, to the north.
I have a fascination following the tiny events in life that lead up to a major event. The seemingly minor thing that is life changing. My favorite band lost their drummer in a van accident in 1969. The band originally had another drummer. He was dragged to their show by a friend and he thought while listening to the show that he would be a better drummer. He stood at the foot of the stage and made up his mind that he would become their drummer and he did. And then coming back from a gig with them he died. I always think about the night and him making that decision little knowing that he was making his way to his death. A great meditation teacher says everything happens for the best. Others say that to look for that little detail in an event leads to madness.
In 2009 my daughter sent me a Christmas card. The photo on the card of a blythe doll changed my life A photo of a plastic doll changed my life. My sorry lonely life. I had already had breast cancer at that point. My children were wonderful but I only one friend still living nearby and she set my teeth on edge. I started feeling apart from life. I was in a relationship, but I also wanted and needed friends. The Christmas card opened a door. That was the tiny event. I loved how the doll looked, and after a few months I decided that I would like to get involved with this hobby and share it with my daughter. I got my first blythe doll. Things have never been the same since. Since then I have met the most wonderful people. Smart, talented, caring, funny, generous and even lonely and overworked people. It became a hobby filled with friendship and joy.
Sometime in 2011 some cells from my thyroid for some strange reason decided to take up residence in my left ovary. Maybe they were kicked out because they were cancerous. The ovary not knowing what they were decided to keep them and began growing a covering over them. Slowly nutrition from my body was drained and vitamins and minerals stolen to help the ovary to keep it growing. My surgeon said that unchecked it would have kept growing. But because our ovaries are part of the reproductive system they are very very good at making a contained environment and that prevented the cells from wandering around. The tiny event that made them settle in the ovary became the major event that saved my life.
The outpouring of love and kindness that I received from the blythe community was staggering and humbling. People I did not know sent me best wishes and all my flickr friends gave me the strength and love to deal with my situation. I have made the very best of friends. Suddenly there were angels everywhere. If you are reading this you are one of the people I am talking about.
In 2011 through the kindness and sweetness of Sandra (minkidynamite) I was managing The Traveling Blythe Program. This program was her vision and it was an honor to be chosen by her. After a few months a tiny event occurred. A woman in Spain began posting photos of her dolls in the group. They were very beautiful. She must have thought that this was the site where you put photos of dolls you wanted to have “travel”. I fm’d her but she did not understand right away so I just ignored deleting the photos because there were so lovely. Then some complaints were received and I had to take action. I wrote her a long fm and made her a contact. I told her how much I loved her talent as a photographer. I told some of my contacts to look at her photos. From that point on Kass (Kassandra’s Box) and I became great friends. She is an incredibly talented woman. Her paintings are gorgeous, her dolls are beautiful and her kindness is titanic. We are true friends and I love her. We are going to meet face to face at blythecon in October.
Yesterday afternoon after spending hours in the car going to the hospital to have my staples taken out and then hours driving back and getting prescriptions etc. I came home to find a box. It was from Kass and her family. Inside of the box was a great deal of beauty. Inside the box was a great deal of love. Inside the box was Joy.
seljalandsfoss with seemingly miniature tourists walking behind it.
it was our first day out and for the first and last time I wore my little felt flat-bottom boots. I did not dare venture any further out onto the slippery wet rocks and down towards the mud. it was probably amazing but I'm sure it will be there next time. I thought this would be on the far side of the road that washed out, so I didn't even expect to see it or Skógafoss at all. We did not get up close with Skógafoss.
Although seemingly oblivious of the Guy Double Decker the police pointsman will be well aware as 935 and its counterparts were well known for the noise they made as they prowled and growled around Edinburgh's bus routes. The Guy Arab Mk IV, with 63 seat Alexander bodywork was one of a fleet of 70 brought in to help in the conversion of Edinburgh's 28 tram routes to motor-bus operation, this example new at Central garage in 1955.
Its seen in excellent form exiting Hanover Street and crossing Princes Street where it will take a left turn and ascend The Mound, on route 23. It had left the northern suburb of Trinity fifteen minutes earlier on its way to the equally 'genteel' suburb of Morningside. The 23's origins went back to tramway days when trams operated between Granton Road Station (just short of Trinity) and Morningside, it was a busy and well known route which required for most of the day 10 buses from Tollcross - the nearest garage to the route.
After seemingly our whole month of January being without snow, we have had a moderate amount of new snowfall starting at the end of the day on January 28. I photographed this cozy home in my hometown of Manchester, Michigan on the evening of February 1, 2017.
View my collections on flickr here: Collections
Press "L" for a larger image on black.
Seemingly riding along the dry stone wall, 156491 heads south of Foxfield between the three closely aligned user worked crossings at Angerton on 1st February 2024 with 2C52 1210 Carlisle to Barrow.
A VDL Futura2 seemingly hedging its bets between Leon's Coaches (LC68) and Happy Days Coaches (HDC), both of Stafford, and in common ownership.
22 - 219
09/2018 - new as LC68 HDC to Happy Days; Stafford, 236 (ST).
07/2023 - passed to Price (M & J Travel); Newcastle (SH)
Copyright © Nick Mannion, all rights reserved. It is an offence in law if you use or post this image anywhere else without my permission.
Seemingly quite an early one. Despite its battered condition it still has plates so there's a chance it could return to the road some day. It has a few bad dents but hardly any rust.
Seemingly, it's an original Romanian-delivered Avantime, one of 2 in the country. Pretty cool, right?
Seemingly not affected by the battery issue afflicting the GB Kites are Metrobus's StreetDecks which were only off the road for a day. This is 6802 (LV74 CDF) on its way to Epsom back in September. Very nice buses, these.
inspecting a seemingly sick pigeon,
or
affection for one of his many friends
in
Washington Square park
Manhattan
vPhotography’s new conscience
The seemingly never ending changes continue with the masts now erected for the extension to Edinburgh’s Trams. Behind is the recently opened, but not yet completed, St James Quarter and W Hotel complex.
I timed this seemingly inexhaustible pair of wrens for an hour. During that hour, on average, each parent delivered a bug approximately every 45 seconds.
If they stayed at that rate over a twelve-hour period, they will have fed their brood 1,920 bugs.
There are five chicks in the nest box. Assuming the parents don't play favorites, and every chick gets an equal number of bugs, these gluttons eat 384 bugs EACH in a twelve-hour day!
I seemingly interrupted his snack! Took a few pictures in natural lighting and left him alone to finish off the mouse.
Tommy Thompson Park, Toronto
Seemingly abandoned in the Shropshire countryside is a sizeable collection of more than 70 lorries, all of which appear to have been sitting in the same position for many years. The nature of the way the collection is arranged, for example cabs stacked upon flatbeds, suggest that it's an exporter's yard and the vehicles within were once awaiting shipment abroad. However, the reason they 'survived' exportation and were instead left to rot in this wooded area is unclear. A minute further down the road is another section of land used for the storage of lorries awaiting export, which is clearly still active, unlike the area where this Leyland T45 is parked. The vehicle was not displaying any licence plates and is possibly not even registered with the DVLA as it was also missing a tax disc; a feature that virtually every other lorry in the yard had.
© Copyright Alex Hill
Some photographs seemingly take themselves.
This is the spectacular view from the top of Chateau Hill in Nice, France. In the distance can be seen the Baie des Anges, the length of the Promenade des Anglais, and to the right, the red-ocher roofs of the Vielle Ville.
The interesting thing is later on in the day my wife and I went to a flea market and I purchased a postcard from 1960 of the same scene, and, apart from the cars, the two are identical.
...seemingly free and floating in the wind. But the real observer knows there are strings attached... // ogenschijnlijk vrij, en zwevend in de wind. Maar de echte kijker weet wel beter...
Young teenage girl seemingly deep in thought whilst standing on a rock in the middle of the Old Port Willunga Jetty Pylons. Pt WIllunga, Fleurieu Peninsula, South Australia.
After viewing my capture, I wanted to snap her again at a slower shutter speed to get some more light in the shot. But when I looked up & saw that she was in the same position & seemingly so deep in thought & remained this way for almost five minutes. I no longer felt comfortable taking her shot.
Eventually when she was disturbed by other beach goers she ran and embraced her mother for what seemed an eternity.
All this time I wanted to ask her if everything was okay, but I it was none of my business.
Have you ever had a great idea, then, planned, and planned, waited, and waited, getting ready to finish it? About 5 or 6 years ago, I had this idea to create a tribute for a subway musician that my wife and I ran across in the Montréal subway. We were staying at a small, classic hotel called the St. Denis, on the edge of the Old City. We parked our car for the week, and tooled around the city by subway. Montréal has designated areas for street musicians in the subway stations. Some of the performers are amazing. Our nearest station was the UQAM station, and it was in that station, I think, that we heard sweet, classical music played on a violin, by, someone who seemed to be dealing with personal issues. He was there everyday, playing, and seemingly oblivious to the people passing by him, just as they seemed to not notice him.
Something, not sure what it was, something made me listen intently, even as I hurried past. I tend to overthink things, as some of you can attest. lol So, of course, I developed a whole scenario as to how this particular musician landed there in that subway. lol None of it was true, mind you, and I do tend to the romantic when it comes to explaining life.
A few years passed, and I was somehow reminded of that violinist in Montréal, and inspired to start writing a series of poems to be later accompanied by photos. The poems kind of wrote themselves over the course of a couple years, but, I made very little effort to put together the necessary items to photograph. Then, recently, I finally found the last prop- a beat up, well played, violin, violin case, and two bows.
That leads me to two weeks ago, in the middle of my 3 week bronchitis, sinusitis binge. I had the brainstorm of an idea to see if I could Dogpile the subway musician to see if I could flesh out his story before posting on Flickr. Low and behold, there was a very well done video on TouYube, and needless to say, the narrative did not match my Fiddler Pentalogy. At that point, I pretty much decided that I would just chuck it all. After writing a long, pathetic rant, feeling sorry for myself, lol, I came to the conclusion that it was just the bronchitis/sinusitis talking, and I decided to go ahead with my original plan. Today, I took a few preliminary shots at Port Bruce, with a whole buncha mishaps to boot. lol It was so windy that a handcrafted urn I had bought just for this project blew off the table I had for it, and the urn broke. I had forgotten to bring along stick-tac. I had also forgotten my prop window at home. The violin also fell over and blew over about 10times. The light was wrong (wrong time of day). My table fell apart. I got wet feet in Lake Erie. I tripped over a large snow/ice ball on the beach as I was backing away from the waves. Landed in a cold, wet, dirty schmuck, but, at least I didn’t get my feet wet again. I have also developed an ominous issue with my 24-120mm, go to lens. When I try to focus, the lens jumps around like a Mexican jumping bean. I’ve had the same issue with a couple other lenses, and it didn’t end well. I’ll have to see if Nikon will honour their guarantee. Probably be weeks without it.
I’m trying to decide how to present the actual Fiddler Pentalogy. All at once, in order? One at a time, starting at the end, or the beginning? Once a day for five days? Once a week for five weeks? I know it’s not all that great, so I don’t wanna oversell it. lol I’ll have an introduction to the collection when the time comes. Think of this as the introduction to the introduction. Or the Introintro.
After seemingly endless days of baking sunshine with temperatures in the high 30's, celsius, today's gusty southerly change hit Sydney much to my fellow citizens relief. Thunder, lightening and an all too brief rain storm brought a most welcome 15C degree drop to see off the day.
The keep and a tower that is surprisingly intact are perched on rocks in the middle of this craggy and seemingly impenetrable gorge; one can only wonder what supposed enemies were expected to be able to approach it.
Definitely one of Turkey's remotest castles, Şeytan Kalesi (Devil's Castle) makes a stunning sight although only the most nimble will try to get into it, because it needs some climbing and falling down from the rocks deep into the Başköy Gorge is not exactly pleasant:-)
The castle seems inaccessible from here, but the rocky path finally brings you to the back side of the castle where you can climb in.
I met the only other visitors of the day there, four Turkish guys, and we managed to climb into the castle and we all survived.
Eastern Turkey
Turin, Museo Egizio, September 2017
Ramesses II's statues are ubiquitous, often colossal and seldom of the highest artistic quality. But this famous statue, described by the father of Egyptology, Jean-François Champollion, as the "Apollo Belvedere of Egyptian art" is definitely one of the exceptions.
Unlike most other monumental royal statues, which show the king barefoot and wearing the taditional, millenia-old shendyt-kilt and nemes-headcloth and/or the red, white, or double crown, the king is depicted here in a finely pleated linen tunic of the sort worn by contemporary persons of high rank, wearing sandals and the so-called blue crown. We may assume this was very much how Ramesses appeared in daily life.
The subtle moulding of the face and body, the carefully balanced volumes of the crown and parts of the tunic, the dynamic effect created by the pleats of the linen, and the posture of the king, who, despite the stasis characteristic of Egyptian art, seemingly can nod his head or open his mouth any moment, make this one of the absolute masterpieces of Egyptian art, and it is easy to understand why Campollion said he had fallen in love with it.
C 1380. New Kingdom, 19th Dynasty, reign of Ramesses II (1279 – 1213 BCE). From the temple of Amun at Karnak. Granodiorite. H. 196 cm.
Seemingly little work being done to NS 7299. It is seen sitting "under the lights" at the wreck shop.
These seemingly modern abstract structures are in fact astronomical devices in an early 18th century stone-built observatory in Jaipur's Pink City. Quite amazing, and currently under renovation (as most things in India appear to be).
Despite the shadows this just seemed perfect visual metaphor for this day with the shears looming above the loco seemingly ready to crush the life out of it!
After 41 1/2 years one of New England's own little independent railroads has finally lowered its flag. To be honest this is not at all surprising, and it is kind of amazing they lasted as long as they did. The good news is the track is not being abandoned and will continued to be served by Mass Coastal as detailed here:
www.federalregister.gov/documents/2023/12/01/2023-26453/m...
Chartered in 1977 and beginning operations on June 12, 1982 the Bay Colony Railroad was once a promising and progressive little shortline that was born in those halcyon post Staggers days when branchlines were being shed nationwide and startups were formed all over to step in where class 1s were stepping out.
For decades the BCLR ran a disconnected group of branches and spurs around the Eastern Bay State, some of which were a contract/concession on state owned properties and some on lines where they owned the perpetual freight rights. Over time traffic dried up on some routes and other routes were abandoned. Finally on Jan 1, 2008 this railroad's 25 year operating contract with the Commonwealth expired and they lost the bid to continue operating the Cape Main and all properties east of Middleboro, the vast majority of their trackage.
However the rights on the Millis Branch and the Watuppa Branch near New Bedford belonged to the BCLR outright (having been acquired from CR and CSXT in 1989 and 2004 respectively) so they continued to serve those two tiny branches. Sadly, the Millis line lost its major customer in 2009 when the GAF shingle plant shut down leaving that line moribund, and this little 7.5 mile stretch as the final mileage of what was once a railroad of over 100 miles. To learn a little history check out this document: nears.org/presentations/NEARS_Spring_2017_Presentations/0...
For the last decade or so they have had just two regular active customers on their line which extended west from the wye at Nash Road in New Bedford as far as Mid City Scrap in Westport. However, in years past the route (which dates from 1875 and was once part of the Old Colony system) was much busier and continued on to Fall River to serve the Watuppa mills in the upper part of the city. Those outer 4 miles saw their last train operated by Conrail in 1980, but the rails remained in place rusting for nearly three decades before finally being lifted and turned into a rail trail.
The BCLR has generally run as needed but usually at least once or twice a week to interchange cars with Mass Coastal which came down from their base of operations in Taunton. Here is the final train crossing Davis Road at MP 7.7 after working Mid City Scrap headed east across the length of the line to the interchange with four loaded scrap gons.
Chop nosed GP9 1705 was originally built in Apr. 1956 as Great Northern 704 and then passed to BN before being sold the the Great Western. GWRR parent Omnitrax sold it to BCLR around 2001 where it has been ever since. Interestingly she recently acquired an attractive BCLR logo on her nose which wasn't there last time I photographed her three months ago. Trailing GP9 1706 dressed in full Bay Colony paint was blt. Nov. 1954 as Florida East Coast 658. Both units (plus 1701 in Millis) were allegedly included in the sale to MC it is uncertain what their future will hold...perhaps the claw does indeed await them.
Here's one other fascinating tidbit for you. This trackage is technically already Mass Coastal. You see, the outer mile and a half of the Watuppa Branch is state owned and was part of the concession that BCLR lost to MC in 2008. But the middle portion was owned outright and hence BCLR retained it meaning they connected with MC at both ends. Rather than stationing a locomotive here at what would have been their sole customer MC contracted with BCLR to switch Mid City on their behalf for the last 15 years. So really it is only logical that finally the two ends of the branch will once again be connected under common control though it is always sad to lose a bit of variety in this day and age.
Dartmouth, Massachusetts
Friday December 15, 2023
A seemingly forgotten, frozen-in-time, abandoned Super Stop & Shop along Beverage Hill Road in Pawtucket, and a stone's throw from the Rumford town line. This store closed up around 2010 and sits vacantly today in a half-dead Narragansett Park Plaza.
Not without effort, the town still has a bombastic plan to redevelop into a multi-mixed use site.
I posted the windmill/river art over at Roger's Grove where they held the fireworks and the Rhythm on the River celebration so I thought that I better post this kiddies windmill in front of the Sandstone Cliffs beside the Morse Coffin home at Sandstone Ranch east of Longmont. Sort of "Windmill on the River." It was pint sized and not spinning but it could chop heads of folks who got close. I didn't check to see if it had a cell phone charger hooked up to it. I walked past the quarry in the background cliff before and shot nothing. I'd should check that hike again; I need the exercise. This shot is near the quarry hidden by the trees. The way the rock seems pretty crumbly. That sandstone must be exceedingly soft. I wonder if a hand saw could cut the blocks from the large slabs separated from these cliffs east of town. This quarry at Coffin, Sandstone cliffs is about 5 miles east of what were the RR tracks on the east side so the Hauck place must have been another couple of miles, figuring where the edge of Longmont might have been at the time measured. It is located next to a Nobel Oil tract; now there's an oxyMORON for you. They seem to be operating in the water table... Nebraska. Nebraska? You are downstream from us. The soft sandstone seems as vulnerable as the log construction.
Red sandstone was considerably harder than the yellow and probably was transported by wagon from the Lyons area while this yellow stone is considerable softer and far less compressible but quarried much closer to the original site. This soft sandstone from not very good and the quarry was seemingly abandoned. Could the pioneers instinctively have understood the use of the various locally found materials? Strangely, the light colored rock looks as soft as volcanic tufa, but I doubt that is possible. It is probably the most recently deposited sandstone. Apparently so!
Today the Hereios of the We're Here! group are depicting Stick Figures who have the situation under control. Rupert thinks he's got everything under control, but has he?
Vaudeville Games
A villainous study in 2 actes.
Acte 1
When I first saw the two of them, I knew that they were up to something no good.
It had been a pleasant afternoon spent amusing myself by mixing in during a black-tied occasion haunted by a group of the ultra-rich.
The place was an elegantly large, leased Ballroom, where a wedding reception with what seemed like a thousand gaily attired attendees had been in progress most of the afternoon. I had been amazed, dazzled may be a better word, when I had first walked in as the guests had already begun to gather. I had never seen a such a beautifully sparkling display of lovely jewels being worn by the ladies and lassies in attendance to a mere wedding reception before. I thought I was at some sort of convention for a Tiffanies or DeBeers, with models in long flowing gowns of satin, silk, and taffeta, all loaded to the gills with enticing jewels.
Later I learned, to my benefit, that a good number of them would be attending a local catholic charities ball held at the Cathedral’s large main hall later that evenin. Which explains the total overkillin with the fancy dress, and baubles.
Now, with the females in attendance wearing ample jewels expensive enough that any piece would have been profitable, there would be a temptation even the most unskilled of thieves could not resist. This is precisely one of the reasons why I was there. And I was determined to make the most out of the situation in all ways possible!
I soon found meself shadowing an unsuspecting, rather dipsy, female partier, whose steady drinking habit had first piqued my interest. She was wearing too many jewels than was good for her ( in my opinion), totally taking away notice from the rather fetching long taffeta gown she was poshly wearing over her delightfully young figure. I caught up to her just as she was making yet another quick swirling turn , letting her brush up against me. Almost on que ( and with the help of a foot on her dress’s hem) she lost her balance and I held her gloved arm to help steady her up. In the process I snagged one of her vulgarly large diamond bracelets from her satin clad wrist, secreting it to my vest pocket in the commotion.
I walked away, realizing yet once again, that the thrill I used to receive when lifting a piece of jewelry from a lady had noticeably been diminishing over the course of the last couple of years. Like any profession that has been worked at for a while, it had almost become too routinely easy anymore; my almost ghostlike hovering over receptions, ballroom dances and the ilk. Admiring the rich gowns and dresses, and savoring their sparkling jewels were becoming almost mundane. Even the snagging of a flashy bauble or two along the way was losing its appeal. Even though it was my primary source for putting the bread on the table , I felt sometimes that I needed a break. Sure, I held a second, loosely related, profession to seem respectable to the outside world, but it did not pay nearly as much. I sighed deeply to myself, wallowing in my rather dubious self-pity as I made my way through the thickly congregated crowd of guests at the reception. I also was finding meself pining for my place of birth, Merry old England( or wales to be specific) and a sweet ginger haired lass who I had once known, and still kept in touch with for the 7 long years since I had left my homeland.
With those thoughts whirling about in me head, I made my way to the bar, deciding to now settled back to have a few free drinks and try to enjoy the show. Soon I found myself cheered up, even lazily toying with the idea of making a second score later that evening. And then, well now, given what valuables were being displayed, it was not surprising that soon I spotted a second source of amusement. For it was at that point that I saw the two of them making their way in.
There appeared to be only two of them, together; An older woman, grandmotherly in appearance, with long silver hair, and a foxy expression. Along with the “Grandmother” was what appeared to be her 16 year old granddaughter. “Granddaughter” was a slender sprite with a long sheet of freely hanging long silky blonde hair and deep enchantingly blue eyes, and a rather charming smile, with was noticeably pasted upon her impish face as she took it in all the splendor.
The grandmother wore a blue silk skirt and white silky top, ¾ sleeved. The granddaughter was wearing a tea length black satin skirt and a gold satin long sleeved blouse with ruffles and frills, which was uncharacteristic when compared to the dresses and long gowns of the other girls around her age in attendance. The “Grandmother” was adorned with silver chains, and earrings. The “Granddaughter” wore ruby earrings and matching necklace, like the kind of imitation jewelry one receives as a promotion when buying overpriced perfume. Both newcomers out of place with some of the fancier costumes and gems on display, worn by the older rich ladies as well as quite a number of their younger female issue’s as well.
The granddaughter also wore gold plated rings and bracelets, so pick pocketing was probably not her game; she was probably the “ferret” or the lure. But the grandmother on the other hand, had clean fingers, nimble and long and with nothing around her bare wrists, and decidedly was dressed for quick movements; she was probably the dip, or lift. They also did not appear to be known personally by any of the other guests in attendance, but in a gathering that large, with so many snobs ignoring everything that was going on outside their immediate area, this was not surprising. After all, I was there not really knowing anyone either, except for the ones who had hired me.
The pair split off on their own separate courses. The granddaughter soon began mingling with girls in her own age bracket, whom, as was typical of the very rich, were totally unsupervised by any adult. I noticed she was mingling with only those who displayed the most expensive clothing, then zeroing in upon those wearing the largest quantity of expensive jewelry. The Grandmother soon fell into step with a group of older ladies, whose blazing jewels had attracted her notice.
The playing field was getting too crowded I thought, and so I made myself content by watching the (pair) work the room. I wasn’t shocked: Hunting grounds this fertile were bound to attract multiple predators. The appetite of my curiosity was wetted and I drifted to a corner table with my refilled drink ( an old fashion) , where I could watch over them without notice.
The grandmother was ever watchful, as she chatted up her new, satin gowned, acquaintances, but did not appear to be posed to strike. Her eyes were relentlessly on the move, I figured she was on the look for something special, and was ready to pounce when the situation arose.
Meanwhile the granddaughter seemed to have hooked one. A shy fifteen-year-old clad in a eye-catching sky blue long satin sheath gown, with a matching cape that hung from her shoulders to her elbows. The cut of her gown, and her heavy makeup, made the 15 year old look far too much like an adult. Her dangling earrings were at least a full caret, a long thin gold chain dangling from her gowns neckline held diamond studded heart with a sapphire center that swished expensively against her soft gown. A matching ring and bracelet to the pendent rounded out her jewels. But her cape also had a sapphire pin that swayed, shooting out flames of fiery brilliance, whenever the lights caught it.
I looked for the grandmother, she was now chatting to a young be speckled twenty something, diamonds glittered from the thin necklace that hung shimmering down the front of her satin turtleneck like blouse, an ideal setup. A long, midnight black, tiered skirt fell flowing to her feet, with a diamond brooch centered on the satin sash that encircled her waist. Rings glittered from the fingers that nervously twirled a locket of long , hanging hair as she talked to the “Grandmother”, who had her hand (seemingly nonchalantly) upon the girl’s silken covered shoulder as she made conversation.
I turned my attention back to the “Granddaughter” locating her by the stage, whispering conspiratorially into her newly made friends ear, the girl’s dangling earring shining ever so richly. I watched as the pair left and started to wander towards the dance floor, where they started to watch the dancing couples assembling for the bands next piece. As they stood there the “grandmother” walked up to the pair, and the “granddaughter” introduced her to her new found friend in the shiny blue sheath gown.
As they did so, I looked around for the be speckled 20 something the “grandmother” had been chatting up, she couldn’t have gotten far. I soon spotted her on the dance floor, in the arms of a young man in a monkey suite. I quickly noticed that her necklace was noticeably no longer adorning the neckline of her pretty blouse. I had a good idea where it was, but how had it been accomplished, removed from around her neck without notice, ahh, that was the rub. I was sorry I had missed the performance of the disappearing necklace trick!
My analysis of the pairs game had been spot on, and it was obvious that they were not armatures by any means. It appeared that the “Grandmother was the expert, The younger looking “Granddaughter “ probably her protégé. I quickly looked back at the small group of three hovering on the edge of the dance floor not wanting to miss a trick.
The three were chatted on, the “grandmother” admiring the young ladies gown flowing liquidly down over her perky figure. As she then admired blue gowns glimmering necklace, the “granddaughter” had moved and positioned herself behind the unwary young lady. As the necklace was raised I saw her look about and reach up, pulling up and back the chain, efficiently unhooking it. The grandmother held onto the pendant with one hand as she lifted the unsuspecting girls satin gloved hand with her other , all the while chatting her up. Then ever so slowly the “Grandmother” pulled the necklace down freeing it from around the unsuspecting lass’s neck, letting it drop to the carpeted floor at her feet. The “granddaughter” scrunched down behind their cute victim, ( totally unaware that she was being robbed), and reaching around, scarfed the necklace up, stood and moved off. The “grandmother gave the unwilling girl a hug, and when they broke off I noticed the sapphire pin had been lifted, adding unwary insult to undiscovered injury. I saw the girl in the blue sheath look around for her new friend, but the “Granddaughter” had disappeared, moving off to greener pastures.
I soon spotted the “granddaughter” as she resurfaced, obviously she was on the move again, which was surprising, I would have not risked any further attempts so soon if I had been in her dainty heels. I watched, trying to spot her next victim. She headed over towards a table that she had passed earlier, on one of the chairs was a mink jacket, and another was a feathery boa that I had seen her admiring, fingering on the then deserted table.
But the chair that the mink was hanging from now had an occupant. A girl of about 15, wearing a soft velvet dress with long sleeves, had picked up the boa and was sitting on the chair wearing it. She was happily playing with the long feather boa, not a concern in the world. I looked her over, on one side of her dress was a diamond sunburst pin, and on her chubby fingers, were two diamond rings, small but real, and from her ears dangled a pair of long pear shaped diamonds suspended from diamond solitaries clasped to her earlobes.... I was amazed that she would have been trusted to wear such valuable trinkets, but I was not surprised that she was in all probability about to lose them!
The “granddaughter” came upon the girl and asked if she could try on the boa. The unsuspecting girl helped her happily on with it , then the “granddaughter picked up one end, tickling the richly clad lass with the fluffy feathers, then allowed the girl to do the same, eyeing her victims shimmering rings in the process.
The grandmother soon approached to join in the fun. She put on the boa next and tickled both girls with its ends, getting them to giggle uncontrollably. The two devious ladies’s routine had been well honed, as their chosen victim became caught up in the middle of the pair’s rapid fire bantering, and teasing. But it was not all play for two of the three! The 15 year olds diamond starburst pin was the first item to disappear! As the giggling girl, her eyes closed, was doubled over trying to catch a breath, the “Grandmother” took rude advantage of the situation by smoothly reaching under and unsnapping the shimmering pin from the bent over girl’s shiny dress as it had fallen loosely away from her chest for a few seconds. Soon the purloined pin was followed by her sparkling rings, slipped off her fingers when it was her turn to have her hands held behind her by the “Grandmother” and be tickled with the boa by the “Granddaughter” during the course of their horsing around. I thought the pair were finished at that point, but no, they were going for the full Tribeca!
The “Grandmother” held the young ladies attention by kneeling in front of the 15 year old, and helping her on with the boa, wrapping it around the girls neck. As this was being done, the “granddaughter busied herself with coolly slipping off each of the girls old fashioned dangling clasp earrings ! I watched in wonder as the laughing girls expensive earrings were each effortlessly plucked away. The giggling 15 year old clad in the velvet dress had been stripped (tickled) of all her jewels with surgical precision, as the boa was being wily used to its full feathery advantage, and she had never noticed a thing!
The “Grandmother” then stood and moved off to one side, as the girls continued to giggle and play. Unnoticed, she gingerly lifting the mink from the chair behind the now less shimmering 15-year-old, as said child was still being entertained by the “granddaughter”, who I saw had now her hand inside a purse laying on the table behind their cheerful victim. The “grandmother”, carrying the expensive mink over her arm, slipped around and out of sight down the hidden entrance to a side corridor that I knew led down to the building’s work area. The show was probably ending. The pair had acted swiftly, and I knew they would be fished out soon. But I waited; the “granddaughter” was still there, apparently in no hurry to follow the “Grandmother” and disappear down the corridor with her. So probably there may possibly be another act to their scoundrel like play I surmised, although it was risking it in my professional opinion.
End Acte 1
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