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Bull Thistle Gall Fly (Urophora stylata)
Sharing the Daisy pollen with a Carpet Beetle.
Have a Happy FriYay and a fabulous weekend everyone!
Happy Fly Day Friday!
Peppers and Cleo are finishing off a branch of maple that I had found today. We're learning more about goat nutrition at the farm, and diversifying their diet a bit. They now start the day with a bowl of kelp and flaxseed, as well as their usual foraging around the farm in the afternoon.
We saw him on our way to Alta Lake Whistler crossing the road a few times... may be checking which side of the grass is greener!!!
Many thanks to all those who view, fav or comment my pictures. I very much appreciate it.
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Dalmatian Pelican, Lake Kerkini, Greece by Caron Steele
In 1996 SD40-2-3316 was selected by Union Pacific and renumbered SD40-2-1896 to commemorate the first Summer Olympic Games held in Athens, Greece in 1896.
SD40-2-B3339 was also selected by UP and renumbered to-1996 to commemorate the twenty-sixth Summer Olympic Games held in Atlanta, Georgia, whose slogan was "Share the Spirit".
The two locomotives received special livery for the Atlanta Summer Olympics and pulled the Olympic Flame Special Train to Atlanta.
After the Olympics, UP assigned the 2 SD40-2s to general service for a few months before repainting them into traditional UP colors.
In June 1996, I stumbled across the pair waiting to be assigned to a train. Later that day I chased them across Iowa on a grain empty.
A candid street photo of a beautiful young redhead lady in stylish blue dress who shares a bread roll with a blue rock pigeon birds in the city street on a warm summer day. May the happiness be with her. Be kind. In our crazy world.
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European Greenfinches by Mateusz Piesiak
Love to see all the birds coming to my feeder at the first sign of spring. Happy spring my friends, enjoy =)
Pipevine swallowtail butterfly (Battus philenor) sharing this tall thistle (Cirsium altissimum) head with a soldier beetle (Chauliognathus spp.) The thistles along the Nature Center's open field were covered with swallowtails, moths, and beetles.
Low light in the sky nearing days end walking back to the vehicle a bobcat popped up onto the trail ahead of us. It was aware of our presence yet continued to stop along the way to scan something to hunt. When things like this happen I call it a gift.
This might be a slightly silly idea, but I had a lot of fun sharing a small glimpse of what was going on in my head while creating and editing this image and this character. Writing it down felt right in the moment.
For me, it’s never just about the looks.
Editing is the part where my brain goes off on its own little adventure and the character starts to take shape beyond pixels and poses.
Please keep in mind that I’m just a roleplayer whose biggest passion is emoting — not a professional storyteller. And yes… this was also translated from my native language into English, so please be gentle with me. 😅
Still, I hope some of you enjoy getting a peek into Arawn’s backstory. And if not — hey, at least I had fun doing it.
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Arawn was born where the water never forgets.
In the drowned groves beneath the world—where roots strangled the light and rivers murmured names no living throat should shape—he learned early that mercy decays faster than bone. The spirits there did not raise him. They claimed him. Fed him lies sweet as honey. Wrapped living vines around his wrists and called it protection.
He was beautiful even then.
That was his first curse.
They crowned him with antlers grown from living wood, not as a blessing but as a tether—proof that he belonged to the wild dark, to a bargain he had never agreed to. Power gathered in him like still water: patient, cold, inevitable. He learned to take what he needed. He learned that love, when offered, always carried a hook.
And in the water’s memory—long before Rowan was born—
their name already waited.
The spirits whispered it not as prophecy, but as warning. A flaw in the pattern. A future threaded into root and river alike that would not bow. Something the forest could not own.
They knew Arawn could be claimed.
He was dangerous, yes—but predictable. He could be bound with antlers. Tethered with ritual. Fed devotion until he mistook it for choice.
Rowan was not.
The spirits felt Rowan first as an absence—a hollow where roots refused to grow straight and rivers forgot which way they were meant to flow. Where futures forked and refused to settle. Rowan was not born of the forest, nor sworn to it.
They were not meant to kneel.
The spirits tried to erase them. Names misplaced. Paths misaligned. Chances quietly drowned before they could surface. But Rowan kept surviving—kept walking forward—kept becoming unavoidable.
By the time the upper world learned Arawn’s name, he was already a villain in their mouths.
The Forest King.
The Whisper in the Mire.
The one who traded salvation for obedience.
He conquered not with armies, but with want. Cities fell because people knelt willingly. He never corrected them.
But sometimes—rarely—Arawn would hear it again.
A name carried on running water. A presence just beyond the treeline. Not a command. Not a prayer.
A pull.
(You can find the rest on my FB Page)
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Countryside Silhouette, Gujarat, India by Jayendra Bhalodiya
© Leanne Boulton, All Rights Reserved
Street photography from Glasgow, Scotland.
Previously unpublished archive shot from this day, May 7th, in 2017.
Make the most of every moment shared. You never know when there will be no more of those shared moments.
Copyright © Meljoe San Diego All rights reserved.
Don't use this image on websites, blogs, facebook or other media without my explicit permission.
PLEASE , do not comment with GROUP INVITATIONS, GLITTER IMAGES/AWARDS or SELF PROMOTION!
☼My works are often BEST VIEWED LARGE ☼
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What better way to get to know someone than sharing their umbrella.
Taken in Albert Square, Manchester, UK.
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Double Crested Cormorant, Los Islotes, Mexico by Joanna Lentini
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Common Red Soldier Beetle, Saint-Maurice-de-Gourdans, France by Marc Bidoul