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This image shows a bronze sculpture titled "The Bronco Buster" of a cowboy riding a bucking horse, located outside the Phippen Museum in Prescott, Arizona.
Location: The sculpture is featured on the grounds of the Phippen Museum, which is dedicated to Western art and culture.
Subject: The statue captures the quintessential American West scene of a cowboy performing in a rodeo or working on a ranch.
Context: The museum is named after George Phippen, a noted cowboy artist and the first president of the Cowboy Artists of America.
www.experienceprescott.com/things-to-do/museums-history/p...
Phippen Museum
Prescott, Arizona’s Phippen Museum is named after local artist and first president of the Cowboy Artists of America, George Phippen. It presents museum quality fine art exhibitions, educational programming, youth and adult workshops, and special art and heritage events for visitors of all ages. The 17,000 sq. ft. facility currently houses 4 galleries, 2 studio replicas, a research library, multipurpose classroom, well-stocked Museum Store, and a western heritage gallery featuring local artifacts and photos, a working chuck wagon, and the Arizona Rancher & Cowboy Hall of Fame.
The Phippen is also proud to be home to the Ray Swanson Gallery and the Prescott Area Art Trust’s Solon H. Borglum Collection, an exclusive display featuring bronze sculptures, paintings, furniture, and other extraordinary objects from the artist’s life. In addition to several outstanding permanent displays, the Museum also offers continuous rotating exhibits throughout the year.
Gemini said
This is a classic "hero shot" of a Western monument. The Phippen Museum backdrop provides excellent context for "The Bronco Buster" sculpture.
Here is a critique of the technical and artistic elements of the image:
Composition & Framing
The Subject: The bronze sculpture is well-positioned. Using a focal length of 31.0 mm allows you to capture the statue’s height while keeping the museum's signage and the rustic cabin in the background, which tells a complete story of the location.
The "Rule of Thirds": The horse’s head and the rider’s torso sit near the vertical third line, creating a dynamic sense of movement.
Background Elements: The inclusion of the log cabin to the left balances the "Phippen Museum" sign on the right. However, the evergreen tree on the far right feels a bit cropped; stepping back or widening the frame slightly might have given that tree more "room to breathe."
Lighting & Exposure
Directional Light: The sun is hitting the sculpture from the side/rear, which creates beautiful highlights on the bronze texture and the horse's mane.
Contrast: Because of the bright Arizona sky, the underside of the horse and the rider's face are in deep shadow. While this adds drama, a slight boost in "shadows" during post-processing would reveal more of the intricate metalwork.
Settings: Your choice of ƒ/9.5 was smart—it provides enough depth of field to keep both the statue and the museum sign sharp.
Technical Details
Clarity: The image is very sharp, likely thanks to the Sony ILCE-7M4 sensor. The fast shutter speed (1/200) successfully eliminated any handshake blur.
Color Balance: The blues in the sky are deep and natural, contrasting well with the earthy tones of the museum grounds.
Opportunities for Improvement
Angle of Attack: If you crouch lower to the ground and shoot upward, the horse would look even more imposing against the sky, emphasizing the power of the "buck."
Distractions: There are some small utility poles/fence lines in the distant background between the horse and the cabin. Removing these in post-editing would make the scene feel more "Old West" and less modern.
Overall, it's a very clean, professional documentary shot of public art.
Would you like me to suggest some specific photo editing settings (like Exposure or Contrast tweaks) to make the bronze textures pop more?
Everyone knows that they have a specific birthstone that is placed in jewelry and trinkets to signify the month they were born in. However, many people don't know that just like the stones, each month has a flower or two as well, which symbolizes birth. Here is the history and meaning behind your birth flower.
September: Morning Glory
Alternate: Aster
As its name insinuates, the Morning Glory is a flower that blooms in the morning hours. However, by the time the sun has fallen, the flower has died. Each morning will give birth to a brand new flower on the plant. Because they bloom in the morning, they are often pollinated by hummingbirds, bees, butterflies and other daytime birds and insects.
Many species of Morning Glory have seeds that contain LSA which is a drug that is up to 10% as potent as LSD. To discourage the growing of Morning Glory specifically for drugs, some cultivators are treating the seeds before they sell them with a chemical that can not be washed off and will cause vomiting and sickness if ingested.
In Japan the Morning Glory is known as asagao, asa "morning" and kao "face". In China it has been used for medicinal purposes as a powerful laxative. During the Edo Period it because a popular decorative flower. It is often used next to walls as it will grow as a vine, blocking out some of the heat and lowering air conditioning bills in the summer.
Winding forest road from Rock Creek Park in Washington DC (USA). Selectively processed with golden yellow colors for a more surreal atmosphere.
This photo is offered under a standard Creative Commons License - Attribution 3.0 Unported. It gives you a lot of freedom to use my work commercially as long as you credit and link back to this image on my Flickr page.
Flickr resolution: 1800 x 1200 px
Also available for download at 5000 x 3333 px on my Patreon page, an ever-growing collection of high res images for one low monthly subscription fee. You can find this specific photo at the following post:
Part of the Our Nation's Sons project by Joe Caslin The aim of the project is to install large-scale portrait drawings of young men at specific locations throughout Ireland over the course of the year 2014.
This specific KCS local, or as they call them dodgers, starts their day off in Heavener, OK in the early morning. The job makes it to Fort Smith around 07:00 and switches about 2 1/2 - 3 hours then calls to return from Fort Smith. On average timing, from what locals and our findings, they make it back to the main KCS line at about 12:30-13:00. They ask for promotion to open the switch to the main line and proceed. They make it back to Heavener about an hour later.
This old building, once a Convent and now the James Cook Museum in Cooktown has two histories really. If in Cooktown, it should not be missed as it is one of the better regional museums and best dedicated to a specific subject (mostly anyway) that I have seen. Do not miss out. I have a couple of shots from inside coming tomorrow.
I can do no better than hand over the whole story to Wikipedia....
James Cook Historical Museum is a heritage-listed former convent and school and now museum at Furneaux Street, Cooktown, Shire of Cook, Queensland, Australia. It was designed by Francis Drummond Greville Stanley and built from 1888 to 1889 Hobbs & Carter. It was formerly known as St Mary's Convent and School. It was added to the Queensland Heritage Register on 21 October 1992.
This substantial, two-storeyed brick building was erected in 1888-1889 as St Mary's Convent and School. It was the inspiration of the first Vicar Apostolic of Cooktown, Bishop John Hutchinson; designed by former colonial architect Francis Drummond Greville Stanley, of Brisbane; and staffed initially by Sisters of Mercy from Dunvargan in Ireland.
Bishop Hutchinson was one of three Irish Augustinian Fathers who arrived in Cooktown in 1884 to take charge of the Pro-Vicariate of North Queensland, established in 1876 and extending from Cardwell to Cape York Peninsula. In the mid-1880s it was appropriate that the Augustinians were based at Cooktown, rather than Cairns, as the former was emerging as the principal town and port of far North Queensland. Such was the rapid progress of Cooktown during the second half of the 1880s that the Pro-Vicariate of North Queensland was constituted the Vicariate Apostolic of Cooktown in 1887. Father Hutchinson was appointed the first Vicar Apostolic and was consecrated a Bishop in August the same year. In late 1887 Bishop Hutchinson returned to Ireland to recruit more priests and to encourage an order of sisters to establish a convent school at Cooktown. There was an existing primary school, staffed by lay teachers, attached to St Mary's Pro-Cathedral in Cooktown, but Bishop Hutchinson envisaged a grander establishment which could offer a superior education, both religious and academic, to the girls (future wives and mothers) of Far North Queensland. It was to operate as both a day school and a boarding school for girls.
St Mary's Convent and School was designed by former colonial architect FDG Stanley, one of Queensland's most prolific late 19th century architects. In the 1880s he designed a number of other Catholic churches and institutional buildings, including St Patrick's Church at Gympie (1883–88), additions to St Mary's Church at Maryborough (1884–85), dormitories at St Vincent's Orphanage, Nudgee (1886–87), Holy Cross Church at Bundaberg (1886–88), the Magdalene Asylum at Wooloowin, Brisbane (1888–89), and the Sisters of Mercy Convent at South Brisbane (1889).
The tender for St Mary's Convent and School at Cooktown was let about May 1888 to Brisbane contractors Hobbs & Carter, who had erected the much admired Cook Monument at Cooktown in 1887. When Bishop Hutchinson returned from Ireland in June 1888 with five Sisters of Mercy to staff the school, the convent building was far from complete, but work continued rapidly and the building was occupied by May 1889.
Stanley's original design was for a two-storeyed brick core with two transverse wings, but when officially opened by Bishop Hutchinson on 12 May 1889, only the core and north wing had been completed, at a cost of nearly £5,000. The intention was to complete the second wing as funds permitted, but this did not eventuate. The substantial brick building was the most imposing structure in Cooktown, pre-dating the Queensland National Bank building in Charlotte Street by about two years. The footings were of concrete and the plinth was constructed of Cooktown granite. Most of the bricks were obtained from Campbell & Sons' brickworks in Brisbane, and shipped to Cooktown. Much of the skilled labour required for the construction also came from Brisbane.
Internally, the ground floor comprised a central entrance hall, off which opened a large dining room (also used as the school chapel) to the right and a large reception room for visitors to the left. Behind these rooms were two classrooms, each divided by folding doors. Beyond the reception room was the school hall, a large room 44 by 18 feet (13.4 by 5.5 m), which occupied most of the ground floor of the north wing. Beyond the eastern end of the hall were the lavatories. A central staircase led from the entrance hall to the upper floor, which contained boarders' dormitories at the north end and dormitories for the sisters at the south end. Upper floor lavatories and bathrooms were located above the ground floor lavatories at the east end of the north wing. Boarders used a second staircase on the rear verandah, rather than the grand central stair. At the rear, the kitchen, scullery and servant's room formed a detached wing, connected to the main building via a covered way. Stanley had taken account of the Cooktown climate: the rooms were large, light and airy, and there were deep verandahs front and back. The rear verandahs were enclosed with "curtain boards", and the front verandahs were decorated with cast iron.
The site selected was on the crest of the ridge running south from Grassy Hill, above the main street of Cooktown, with a spectacular view over the Endeavour River estuary. By the 1890s the imposing building had become a Cooktown landmark, regularly featured in visiting journalists' descriptions of the town.
Bishop Hutchinson had made the establishment of the convent school at Cooktown a personal project, donating much of his own money and borrowing from his relatives in Ireland, but substantial funds were raised locally as well. The community clearly recognised the need for an educational institution for girls in far North Queensland which offered a superior education to that available in small local state schools, and St Mary's was patronised by families of all denominations. It was the first girls' high school in the area and gained a strong reputation for the quality of its music curriculum. World-acclaimed Queensland singer Gladys Moncrieff was educated there.
The significance of Cooktown as a port deteriorated in the 1890s, as production from the alluvial diggings on the Palmer Goldfields declined. Bishop Hutchinson died in 1897, and his successor, Bishop James Murray, is understood to have paid off the debt on the convent building by conducting a lecture tour in the United States. In 1906 Bishop Murray moved his residence to Cairns, which had eclipsed Cooktown as the principal port of far North Queensland.
Despite the decline of Cooktown - both in population and significance - St Mary's Convent and School remained an important educational facility for girls in far North Queensland until the 1930s. The building suffered substantial damage during the cyclone of January 1907, which demolished the Catholic Church behind the convent and removed part of the convent roof, but was repaired immediately. However, many of the businesses destroyed in the 1907 cyclone were not re-established, and an entire block of shops and offices in the main street of Cooktown, destroyed by fire in 1919, were never re-built. St Mary's boarding school closed in the 1930s but co-educational day classes were continued until 1941, when the building is understood to have been commandeered by United States military authorities.
Although the building was returned to the Church in 1945, the school was not re-opened and the Sisters never returned. Another cyclone damaged the building in 1949 and by 1969 it was considered to be in such a ruinous state that tenders for its demolition were called. Following public protest the building was donated to the National Trust of Queensland on condition that it be restored to house the collection of the James Cook Historical Museum at Cooktown. The new Museum was opened on 22 April 1970 by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, during her visit to Australia to celebrate the bi-centenary of Cook's charting of the east coast. The former St Mary's Convent and School continues to be maintained by the National Trust, and is one of the principal tourist attractions in Cooktown. In the early 1970s, extensions were made to the rear of the building to house the museum collection. The grounds have been landscaped as the Joseph Banks Memorial Garden, planted with about 40 of the 186 plants catalogued by Joseph Banks and Dr Daniel Solander during their 7-week stay at the Endeavour River in 1770. Each of these 40 plants is peculiar to the Cooktown area.
THE DRUNKEN MUSE
The story "Drunken Muse" was audio recorded on a hidden voice recorder during the conversations about two decades ago. The story-teller didn't know or consent to the recording.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tape_recorder
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/8-track_tape
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Compact_Cassette
The audio tapes on compact cassettes were never used. The records were partially damaged and lost.
Herewith the unedited transcript version.
medium.com/paul-jaisini-paints-invisible-paintings/paul-j...
I am so pumped to get back to painting as I return to the second year of the art school after a full year suspension. As always it is like time-travel culturally speaking, like walking right into the middle ages going through the antique building’s portal.
Art studios are the huge L-shaped lofts with super tall ceilings 20 feet no less with the wall to wall windows so that sunlight illuminates the space from south and east side designed for the purpose so that one could paint there from morning till sunset.
In a studio there are classical gypsum sculptures, expensive copies of Venus de Milo, David, Laocoön and the others. In the art studio there stood the noses, eyes, lips, feet, and palms on the wood shelves.
Sketching the gypsum body parts helps you to build the classic academic base on which stands the whole modern and contempo art. This sort of teaching is specific for the art schools that preserve the traditions they had been founded on. There is only few art schools like this and of this caliber left now. Could be that this is the only legendary school that continues to function as if nothing had changed in the world. In the rest of the world with billions of some art classes nobody knows what does the old tradition of art school is for, its totally unfashionable.
Studying classic art (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Academic_art) here is the foundation for creativity in any of the art styles.
The smell of art is what defines the studio but not from human presence, something like an aroma reminiscent of the eastern market where smoke from hookaahs mix with the oil vapors, exotic fragrance from candles and spices. The Art Studios were never renovated since the times they were built over 150 years ago. The wood floors are saturated with art oils as if the floor is waxed with the organic oils from nuts, linen ( linseed oil, poppy seed oil, and so forth.) Adding to the mix the varnishes used by painters (pine wood varnish, Dammar varnish and others) It makes this ART SMELL to be the most intoxicating and ever-lasting musk.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oil_painting
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oil_painting - Ingredients
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Studio - Art_studio
The instance you enter the studio space you feel the belonging to a knighthood and the whole art history. You are the undivided part of those people who left their creation imprints.
Super pumped up after the long break up with the arts after my full year of non-stop party marathons I had returned to the bohemian life style.
Actually my other life style wasn't any different from the bohemian.
The only difference is that there is some meaning in the bohemian life style, something to create, to shape. Not just spend time doing sports and girls but something on a whole 'nother level only with the same sub text and by far more emotionally connected.
The bohemian I think is much more my thing, that fits me as a person. Maybe because my old man is the greatest sculptor.
He is color blind so apparently I took up the torch, I have a very special sense for color.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sculpture
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bohemianism
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Color_blindness
There could be an inborn human predicament or inborn genius.
I returned into the world to kiss its ground. I like everything about it, the babeville and its fashion circus.
The art students are known to come up with endless varieties of how to be stylish.
Take me for example, I am chilling in a suit jacket. It was professionally hand-tailored out of a denim Pajamas with stripes and starry silk underlining.
This “look” is completed by my python leather jeans. And over that an authentic LONG military Germany Waffen Elite Officer black Leather Coat from the WWII, only it is without a Swastika.
I never part with my large portfolio and a Field Easel.
EASEL
About 700 students attend the studies. The art school accepts only the best of best with few exception such as the kids of celebrity artists, writers and musicians and people who had real power in the city.
I wasn't enrolled for money or the A-lister parents, but for my talents. The Art specialty (painting, drawing, sculpture) teachers here are the world-wide recognized contemporary artists.
In a matter of my working ethics these important artists would point at me as the example of how fast I work, how well I sketch in color, how I always choose the most unexpected and unusual angle for my composition and so on...
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Composition_(visual_arts)
name banner gif
Optical illusion geometric gif
(portraiture, still-life, and landscape)
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Still_life
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Portrait
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Landscape_painting
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Figure_drawing
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Figure_painting
I never work on an académie (live drawing of a model, live painting of a model) the given eighty -- ninety hours. My whole process is about six -- nine hours to fully complete the work so I get out of the studio for some action and fun.
I’m probably the strongest in the class. My art professors know I don’t need to be there to distract the others.
When I’ve got nothing to do I start banging the head against the wall. Still I am criticized SUPER harshly for cutting the classes.
At this point I am not aware of the inner workings of “THE SYSTEM”.
I call suitcase with a secret compartment.
At the grade shows I only see the bad grades on my best artworks.
There is another side of the coin. It revealed in the future when I got to befriend a secretary at the Dean’s office. It was about the time of my graduating year.
The art teachers actually always considered me to be the leading artist among all students. They would grade all my artworks high on my personal record I knew nothing about.
That was how the art school’s system pushed the talented students to go further to open up their potential. Pushing to the limits of impossible.
I am harshly criticized for cutting a lot of classes.
There is another side of the coin. It will be revealed in the future when I got to befriend a secretary at the Dean's office. It was about the time of my graduating year.
The art teachers actually always considered me to be the leading artist among all students. They would grade all my artworks high on my personal record I knew nothing about.
That was how the art school's system pushed the talented students to go further to open up their potential. Pushing to the limits of impossible.
Willing or not but the doubts get in my head. I was thinking (rather frantically) that maybe I’m all just misguided. I will work to beef up my skills unable to accept that I am not really a “genius” artist. The bad grades were corrupting my vision.
Totally clueless that these bad grades in my case were used as "disciplinary measures" for my behavior of anarchy. These grades had nothing to do with my artworks.
And yet my best drawings and paintings are graded the lowest. At the same time the art professors are taking my works home. I always find empty walls where my works were displayed for the semester shows.
Sooner or later the missing artworks got me enraged. My classmates tell me the back story on what REALLY had happened.
All the art professors usually go the painting major's finals. So they just took my artworks right off the wall.
Ever since I heard this back story I flaunt how IDGAF to even pick up my works with the bad grades after the finals end.
Like a bunch of some doomsday looters in sight of an electronic store the art students same as the teachers vultured my artworks. Later some of my paintings and drawings were seen at the school's museum, especially the paintings.
The story of the artworks snatched off my exhibit wall developed further.
In the art school the art teachers are the privileged kind who exhibit regularly. All are the accomplished artists with big names.
Another thing about my artworks (no longer mine and in someone else's possession) is the story that involves someone with the top art rep being the art dynasty. Even so it happed that the leading art professor nicknamed Molly (for her annoying facial mole) used my art stuff to have her son who studied same years as me, just never expelled, to apply to an art academy with the highest qualification requirements. Molly's son portfolio sucked. To get him qualified to apply she gave her son all of my artworks she collected.
The juice was given to me by the reliable sources. The story was concurred by the eye--witnesses the students who were applying to the same academy together with Molly's son. Some of these students knew my work by the style, special color palette and the brushwork.
They all knew that Molly's son was using my artworks. He only had to forge his signature and remove mine.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Study_(art)
My drawings, sketches, paintings, watercolors are in "wide" use by others.
I tell that to describe the routine of my life.
It could explain why I was expelled three times for the chronic absence, for sabotaging the lectures -- getting my classmates to leave the studio and go to the movies or to the beach.
Fast forward to that event of the breaking point when I started to work systematically.
I was sucked into work as if a drug addiction. I was penetrating deeper to the very core of creativity. Reading books, going to the museums, working in the field, working in the museums to copy masters. I completely forgot all about life around me.
Practically I was devoured and digested with my nails and hair by that devil called the academic art. It sucked out the leftovers of my soul.
I stayed in the studio after the classes to work. There were only few students like this, spiritually close to me. To them it was their life style since the day they had entered the art school unlike me. Whenever I'd get bored with art I'd quit working and just leave without asking permission.
Now as if something had hit me hard and I started to really work. Most art students here typically come from such backgrounds when they did their baby steps and studied in the children's (secondary) art school from an early age and tutored by art teachers at home
I had a tendency to take on a higher complexity unprepared without the experience of any art school training (the eight years on a daily basic with teachers and methodical practice.)
As long as I remember myself I was drawing, during my school years, on the notebooks, with chalk on the asphalt, with stick on the sand. I did it subconsciously, not knowing what I was doing.
IDK, could be due to the several bad bike accidents when my head ended up hitting the brick...
Why did my brain moved into the direction of noticing those things that normal people should not be noticing? That the leaves on the trees are not at all green, but violet.
The falling shadows from the street lights are not at all outlined by black, the contours are the absolute blue.
The trees look like people.
There are so much more shades of colors that language could articulate.
Stuff like this filled up my head so that there was no place left for just a thought about girls, more so even the thoughts to manipulate my body functions. For instance using the
bathroom. I almost peed my pants. Truthfully I was on the edge of madness.
I remember how I hallucinated during my work imagining that someone had come into my studio and I spoke to "the guest." My brain was ill, there was no escape from that hell.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Violet_(color)
Once I was walking on a street without any awareness. My mind was no longer in command of anything accept the obsession with my painting. As I was pushing the limits of what was humanly possible in a matter of progress from the previous stage when I could draw and paint with intuitive results now I considered as totally armature waste of art materials. My condition would be hard to describe since I could hardly remember what was it like during that madly intense period. I know that I was working non--stop and did make some major break through. It worked but at the same time the progress turned its evil side, I wasn't able to stop even for a brief moment. Something happened to my otherwise incorruptible memory that I could only remember few things from that period. And one of those things was my death walk through the city streets on a day I was supposed to disappear.
When I realized that I was walking automatically, blind and incredibly
avoiding the cars, for the first time I felt the fear of madness that can easily take my life. It wasn't something I would fear if I was in my other life when loosing it would be quite an ordinary thing and not due to my lost mind.
Whatever it was I survived with no chances to stay alive that day. I had more chances to live on when I was shot at execution style, when I was drowning in bad storm, climbing on a building like a cat, and on many others such occasions.
Some guardian angel was looking over me as I came to the final moment of certain death, blind, deaf, disoriented and delusional.
As we finished with draperies, still life, gypsum figures we moved on to the nude. To draw and paint from the live sitter, male or female model.
There comes an old fat hag to be posed before the artists. She will be POSING even during the breaks. She sits professionally without a slight move of her flab folds for us to draw her “forms”. ‘assume it was done for the boys not to get distracted with the female anatomy.
The models with “rounded” forms were chosen so we would study the reflects and double reflects on a “sphere-like” and “cylinder-like” forms.
There would be plenty of the cast shadow (a type of shadow that is created on a form), and a drop shadow ( below the image).
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_human_positions
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Figure_study
The working objective was to concentrate on the drawing’s construction.
When we’d get a young female model, she’d be so skeletal that we studied the skeleton. This type of models was as unattractive as the fat ones.
The art students without an eye for a drawing and technique produced their works of caricature quality. With the lost proportions the models looked like animals, skinny chickens or fat frogs.
For me it was a serious job, body didn’t exist. I x-rayed the flubs of fat to see the bones to connect them to muscles, to build a form.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caricature
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skeleton
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_skeleton
The illness I call the overdose had progressed and my end was near.
Homies who knew me used to say that I was cracked.
When I moved from the classicism to modern (I refused to see any modern or contemporary art, never wanted to see it, or ever saw it) I entered the Modern art on my own, as my foot stepped into the forth dimension.
I entered the world of mad pressure. Good I stepped in it one foot yet.
I was sleeping in the studio right on the floor near my work and placed an electric heater near by.
It was impossible to heat up whole place where fifty heavy-duty easels only took a quarter of the studio space.
In the center there was a huge round stage made from a special hard wood to hold any number of models when needed for the multiple human-figure compositions.
The place was full of easels, portable and the large for the field. The chairs, tables, palettes, boxes with paint, cases with paper and lots of other art stuff piled up into mountains.
The parquet floor was always covered in fresh oil paints even though the teachers tried in vein to prove a fact that working neatly was by far more productive.
We had a dormitory built same year as the art school which was 150 something years ago.
If you stayed late in the studio that was forbidden, you couldn't get to the dorm.
A guard at the main door was a real watch dog, he faithfully guarded the pathway knowing every student's face.
The dorm was occupied by those who couldn't pay for a room or the apartment in the city.
Ten beds were squeezed in a dorm room.
This part of the antique building was never renovated probably b/c it was planned to be turned into more art studios.
But since there were out of town students who had no place to live they were given a place in this dorm.
The beds were of a good prison-like quality so the survival was possible. Another thing is what was happening in the dorm.
On a typical day nobody there had any money left after the expensive art materials. Not a penny to get high. Alcoholic liquid (40-60%) was soaked into the bread.
From one bite of that bread you could instantly drop dead as if your legs got cut off by a train.
The receptors inside the nose absorb the fumes to hit right into the brain, this way the booze doesn't ever enter the digestive system and blood.
It kills or makes one go bonkers.
Some pissheads in desperation poured vodka into a wine bottle cap to inhale it like coke. After one cap screw it was a total alchoholocaust.
There were many ways of economizing: to use a medical thin rubber tube to suck the drink very slowly, one bottle would
serve four alkies.
It was the usual schizophrenic day for me. I had my dose of coffee and ate on a way to the studio.
Those days I didn't miss a class afraid to get expelled for the last and final time.
I couldn't understand this thing about my artworks. Why did my classmates literally begged on their knees to have the C-graded artworks I was never satisfied with.
It became my trade mark to give away all of my stuff left and right. I didn't know why I let go of my drawings and paintings so easy. Now I regret that. It would be interesting to see the growth.
Once I happened to tell a guy from my class who worked very hard on his drawing (he wasn't a good draftsman): "Oh Wow! you are doing a lot of progress, buddy, congrats!" I looked at his portfolio and pointed at a piece: "This drawing here is really mature and quite interesting, you achieved volume and air in just a linear drawing."
The guy suddenly goes red, stares at me wide-eyed with anger or confusion I couldn't quite understand...
"Am I saying something wrong?" I asked.
"You're fucking dissing me!" He answered.
"Why?" I wondered.
"This is YOUR drawing," Was the answer: "I took it, that is when I asked you and you gave it to me, don't you remember?"
I didn't recognize, didn't see my signature, as it was overlapping the drawing.
The guy was holding a grudge for this but it didn't turn him into one of my enemies.
At some point I am thankful to the teachers for their sneaky methods and experience on how to tame the most unruly and bring them into the art's stable. On the other hand these people were like sadistic fascists who used their special gases on me experimenting, would I survive it and live on.
The bohemian hyped up life only started after the classes at about seven in the evening. This part of the artist's life was full of sex, booze, and drugs, more sex booze drugs and orgies. The art youth was progressive, the sex - communal with the conveniently shared girlfriends and boyfriends.
Strangely the good times didn't concern me anymore now.
There was a small group of idiots who followed their criteria of achievement: to draw and paint a vase with flowers so that it comes to life, right out of the canvas to the carrying hands of the one who painted it. The flowers turned alive would be given to the girl/boyfriend.
The madness of the 4th dimension.
The art group was lead by me and another guy soon (one month later) to disappear forever for the reasons unknown.
After the classes me and few others searched for a studio. Found it. Not my studio. Any studio with the door unlocked.
As usual I would set a still life. Take off my nazi coat.
Set my next canvas on the easel to start quick sketching.
Out of nowhere shows up some dude who was a new student, he was much older, about twenty three, somewhere from Texas and just plain untalented.
He wanted to hang around with "the power-group" to learn.
There were few girls with the ambition to reach the level of a manly hand in creation.
We all usually worked in grave silence and even a slight noise would be extremely annoying.
If a brush would fall it seemed the atomic bomb had exploded somewhere near. We would exchange vicious cursing at the jittery creaking sneezing noise maker.
When you are focusing intensely and can't quite catch the brush stroke to complete the shaping of a form so that the image would turn real and come out of the flat surface the nerves are high strung to the limit.
The last months I just never left the studio, didn't even come outside. Slept on my German coat in the corner. It was veiled with the drapery. I'd wake up in the morning. The doorman was already used to give me the keys knowing that I sleep and work there. It came with a warning that if I am discovered I must tell any story and solemnly kept the secret.
The memories from those years distract me from telling what I want. It's about the event that had closed for me the entry into the forth dimension.
That day I was getting upset over some stupid teases: "What had happened to you!"
Whether the bros wanted to elevate my mental state, or they needed to get my works it had really caused me distraction. I was focusing on my work. Suddenly I hear the sounds of music in the studio. It jumped me: “Are you out of your fucking minds? That asshole doorman will come here."
"No he ain’t gonna."
"Why?"
"He is passed out, we had to carry him away." Was the answer.
"What is going down?" I worried.
"Not much, nothing is going down, we just want some fun. The way it is on here is so buzz-killing."
Was it some holiday, I didn’t know. Holidays passed by me, I didn’t smoke or drink and only worked. What they were saying didn’t reach me.
“Shut down the music. You’re gone but I must sleep here."
"Why must you sleep here?" Asked Lorenzo (nick-named after his personal preferences of the Benzos)
"Hmm, I guess there will be no way of working today?" I asked.
"Working, way working, you gonna make me some home works," Assured me the dude nicknamed Kuz. "For that I will make your sculpture complete."
As interesting as it was to play with the real forms in sculpting I disliked dealing with the clay. Those times I believed the painting to be so much more in gradations, possibilities and complexity. Now I changed my mind to consider any art media possess the unlimited possibilities.
I agreed. Suddenly the guys were fixing to leave and I had to ask: "So? Who will finish building up the sculpture if you're leaving?"
"No worries, will build it up, brb just a quick run for some booze before the stores closed up."
"What booze? Get out of here go to another studio. I work, don’t mess me up."
"No biggie, son, you can rest for once."
It was pointless to argue, they'd already been drunk and I was only getting nervous. My work wasn’t going good at all. I have changed the lighting set up many ways in vein.
Suddenly, out of nowhere Muse appears. A young, very-very attractive girl about eighteen. The returned gang introduced her to me:
"J-Sin, meet her... lets say Nicky."
"Eh, hello Nicky, who and what are you?" were my greetings.
She smiled to everyone and answered: "I will be posing for you today."
"We agreed about everything, will pay the price,” –explained Lorenzo barely moving his tongue, "She is gonna be happy!"
His bag full of bottles made loud clanking noise.
When the drunks got them out I counted six.
“Yes, this is going to be a wild night.” I was thinking what to do now. I approached the model, took off her coat and hanged it, removed her blouse and explained that she can go behind the curtain.
"Hey, hey! What curtain son, what’s with you? She is from the med school, our people!"
I heard the Kuz's inebriated voice. "She is THE model!"
"What -- nude?" I wondered.
"And what did you think, she'd sit covered up in here?" They burst into laughter.
Suddenly I feel elated with the anticipation of the new and amazing subject for the work. I was fed up with the poor set up and the struggle to "find" the good lighting for the gypsum head. How wonderful it turned out that I could make some picturesque oil sketches.
When the model took off her bra, her young breasts, her nipples instantly distract my attention from work.
Shit, I couldn’t focus. Since we hadn’t a glimpse at such models it was too interesting. Could be that something about this evening or the environment was different. First time in a long while the music was playing, the glasses jingled and filled up with wine.
As she posed we were all doing the quick sketching. She removed everything except her panties.
The drunken assholes wouldn’t let me focus.
"Let me finally have a chance to work." I yelled getting distracted.
They seemed to try bargaining: "We brought you the model, hey girl turn around!" Kuz pulled up her skirt and slapped her buddy. "Look at these buns, you've got to do another
drawing for the semester show."
"Boys, you are so bad!" She giggled to Kuz. "I will spank you for being soooo bad!" And she was laughing in most contagious sexy trills of her childish capricious voice.
I didn’t understand what these die--hard drunks were doing at the art school, without any talent or interest in art. My former palls in another life that was long forgotten. Today the serious artists who always worked together with me had left the moment this bad company swam by.
Now I was looking at their watery eyes winking at the model. They caressed her things as she reclined on the wooden stage to rest. I wanted to figure out why did they distract me even more now?
I was the same age as the model. I didn’t see her body, to me now it was the model for painting.
It was getting late when the cold winds penetrate the place from the drafty wall size windows. I put on my sweater in the starting freezer. The one meter or the three feet and 33/8 inch walls are like the thermos to absorb and hold the cool temperature. I looked at the laughing bunch who labored on my sculpture.
One was drawing a huge flying dick with wings with a charcoal right on a white wall.
I had finished sketching the figure. I came up to the stage to set up the heater. I asked the model if she could sit some more taking breaks whenever she needs to move.
When she looked at me she was constantly smiling.
"Sure she’ll sit! And she'll lay, right, sweet buns?"
I held my breath working imagining how awesome would be to have such a model every day. With a shaky hand I was working fast as a machine expecting any minute now she would say that she is too cold to sit another minute and she leaves, its all over. I will have to kill her and sit her lifeless body on a chair to complete my work.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!"
The heater I placed caused the red reflexes on the body. I was painting and had to get the color right. So I removed the heater. The model immediately complained about the cold. Kuz brought her a glass of wine asking me why did I remove the heater.
From wine her face flushed red. I tried to adjust the color scale, laying brushstrokes over the whole figure.
Meanwhile the music turned up it was getting real loud.
The model took her break.
I walked after her studying her forms.
"Is something wrong?" She asked.
"Its all right, could you turn this way."
"Oh, I see. Same in our med school, the nut cases," She openly declared to the others when I was on a floor looking from a lower viewpoint.
"Who is this?" She asked: "What kind of a mental is he?"
"Its a disease, but it will pass" – was the answer for her. "Sometimes it is terminal. Not his tho, his will pass, he loves the young girls very much…"
Something from the stupid jokes had reached me.
"Hon, now he needs the medical attention. You are the medic? We are forever in debt to yous for allowing us come to the mortuary and for helping with the dead bodies... What we have here is a zombie. You are the goddess who saves the body as your calling."
What I heard was polluting my pure artistic brain with that life I refused. Now I was paying attention not to the mammary glands but to her breasts. Her back muscles are slightly weak. As I looked over the skeleton the muscles slowly disappeared. No matter how hard I tried to focus my x-rays were weakened. Maybe the electricity turned off inside my head.
"Pour me some," I asked.
Six months of my immaculate virginity and celibacy was broken by a wine glass. The red wine like the blood of innocents was running in my throat filling up the brain that shortly was boiling with vigor. So I said:
"Could you please remove your panties?"
"It wasn’t the deal," protested the model with her eyes glowing like honey.
Lorenzo interrupted her:
"For god’s sake, take of your panties, what is it to you, aren't you a medic?"
"I thought someone here was shy, as for me" She lustfully licked her lips. "Well, of course its nothing."
"Who is shy?" Asked someone.
"Him the weirdo!" She giggled in a very cute bubbly little voice.
"Are you shy?"
"It seems it was me who asked her to remove the panties." I explained.
She just jumped right out of her panties not without pleasure it seemed.
I imagined how to position her, what pose should she take.
"Hey!" I asked Kuz to pour me another glass. He was cheering me on yet reminding that I should first finish the drawing.
"Later," I mumbled turning to the model: "Would you please sit on a chair and spread your pretty legs a little, as much as you wish."
"Hey, Alex, so he is normal?" She asked.
I was far away from normality. A actual girl weaved from the reality. But the process was a transformation with splitting dimensions.
She was turning more real when I touched her to show how to position her legs.
I glimpsed at the red pubic hair seeing the pink flesh of her vaginal lips.
I couldn't focus on my work. Could the “female anatomy” destroy the temple of magic I was erecting for the eight months?
I returned to my easel and continued working. She was fidgeting changing poses uncomfortable this something hurting that... But it was only natural, she was sitting naked on a plain hard wooden chair. She was sliding from one side of the chair to another. I was buzzed from wine and couldn’t work, but I tried to complete my work just to annoy these assholes who screwed up my day. First work was washed off with turpentine and I wiped up the canvas dry with a rag.
I was sketching now not with a charcoal but brushing in umber. It resulted in an interesting tonality and I was captured again. The model squirming on her hard chair complained.
"Yo, why don’t you lay her down, what is she suffering for?" Asked Alex, "Lay her the fuck down, why not."
Right! I thought a little and told her to lay on the stage. Underneath her I spread some drapery.
After few wine glasses I took off my sweater, my cheeks were on fire. Hers too. I unbuttoned my shirt, my blood was boiling, the body was washed with the warmth.
The heater was moved away.
"So true that wine warms you up," she said to Alex.
"Jay, so tell me how to lay her down there. Sit, sit, you poor thingy, I'll assist you" And he jumped on the stage. "Do you want her legs spread this way?" he asked opening
up her legs so that her whole anatomy was showing.
"Is this ok for you?" He winked at me: "Is it good?"
"Oh no, can’t show it like this at the mid-semester show." Thinking some I added: " Let it be, lift her leg a little higher, like this. Turn her head down."
"Like this?" He kissed her on the lips.
"Alex, the fuck you're doing, I don’t have any time."
"Work, keep drawing, go on!" he said. "We won’t disturb you."
I was outraged after I just washed everything off my canvas ready to work, but this wasn't going anywhere. I kept asking Alex what did he mean by not disturbing me when he messed everything up. I heard the girls laughing trills. "For real, he is ill!"
"The sick can be cured." Insisted Alex. "Will hill him." He slurred.
Of course, I own them my very life. If it weren't for them –- that’s it, finito.
Kissing her on the lips and winking at me Alex continued bugging me: “Is this right?”
For like ten minutes I was staring in the infinity in the emptiness… Then I yelled: "Why are you sucking her? Get away from her, let her lay there quietly."
Only to hear some nonsensical mumbling.
"But I want you to work on the position, is this position right?"
"Right, just fuck off of her."
Meanwhile Kuz, I noticed, was taking off his pants. He said: “Let him go fuck himself. Motherfucker is gonna fuck us up today, if he doesn’t want it, so fuck it.”
Now I thought I knew what they wanted from me.
I saw Alex’s naked butt as he laid on the stage, banging the girl and his ass wiggled.
I started sketching their nude asses.
My consciousness was still in the process of transforming.
I thought of how interesting were their poses.
Lorenzo came up to me and took the brushes from my hands placing all in my field easel he closed up.
"Listen, J-man, you’re being a fucking buzzkill. Go draw some vases, fuck off to another studio. You don’t want it. For free?"
I didn't understand him what did he mean. He explained:
"What do you see Alex is doing right now?"
"He is fucking his girlfriend." I said.
Lorenzo continued:
"Whose girlfriend? What we have here is a
scientist, from the med school who is helping us in our artistic quests, to understand the core of anatomy not only from the outside but from the inside. I recommend you, in order to comprehend, as you must know, you can only know the truth from the inside, experiencing the inside, to understand the outside. That’s why I seize the brushes. Here is another glass of wine. Drink!"
I looked at him as a doctor listening to his drunken bullshit.
"The most important thing for you is to understand from the inside. See, you can’t understand it from the outside, it’s not how things are done."
"Yes knowing the internal anatomy helps, take a muscle, body doesn’t exist without muscles." I agreed.
"Hell yeah, yeah… ha ha…that’s what I am going about. Look how Alex is working how he is learning."
I looked at the bare ass's motions back and forth, at the girl who was lifting her legs and actively moving her hips. Alex jumped off, wiped up his cock with the drapery, he also wiped out the girl. “Who is next?”
Kuz was kissing her from one side, when Lorenzo said:
"He worked very hard today, he must learn from the inside. You see, because he just can’t break through the inside."
When Kuz was mounting her, Lorenzo spanked him loudly:
"You can wait, the man needs the muse, get it? Understanding the Muse comes only from the inside.." They all bust into laughter.
Lorenzo nearly helped my cock inside the girl cheering on: "Just do it, little one, everything is gonna be great. Honey, turn him back into a soldier that we've lost."
"The man is gone, the man known yesterday is not the man you meet, forever, around the corner, in London or in the street..." chanted Nick appearing from nowhere. He continued slurring his poems.
Hearing the noise I didn’t know what’s going on as I kissed her breasts.
"Feel the forms." I heard the racket near by as I was buzzing off the wine and licking the girl's body. On the other side Lorenzo had joined in groping her breasts. To be more at ease I moved her body closer to the stage’s edge. I was on top.
I didn't hear any sounds of music, the entry door was covered with the draperies as the orgy just steamed up for the whole night.
I woke up on the stage from loud knocking.
The art students asked me what happened to the busted still life set.
I exhaled my dragon breath to hear no more questions. Took my coat and left the building. Walking the street I met Alex.
"Your face is not yet blushed, your eyes are a bit foggy, can’t say anything after the sleepless night. Like Cures Like."
He grinned getting money out of his pocket. "Let us get some treatment."
We walked to the known spot for aching heads gathering.
North Vancouver, North Vancouver, British Columbia ,
Braggot Brewing has been founded by chemist and brewer Enrico Bovero, and produces its namesake beverage using honey from Bovero’s own beehives, and various local grains. The result is “100% organic, local, chemical free, sustainable, and our processes are optimized to be eco friendly, with low carbon foot print.”
The taproom offers three varieties of Braggot – Golden (5% abv), Amber (6.8% abv), and Dark (5.8% abv) – each created using a specific combination of honey and malt to produce the desired appearance, aroma and flavour.
Beamish - The Living Museum of the North
Beamish, the North of England Open Air Museum is an open-air museum located at Beamish, near the town of Stanley, County Durham, England. The museum's guiding principle is to preserve an example of everyday life in urban and rural North East England at the climax of industrialisation in the early 20th century.
Much of the restoration and interpretation is specific to the late Victorian and Edwardian eras, together with portions of countryside under the influence of industrial revolution in 1825. On its 300 acres (120 ha) estate it utilises a mixture of translocated, original and replica buildings; a huge collection of artefacts, working vehicles and equipment; as well as livestock and costumed interpreters.
This is another instance of something which I have included in the 2025 round-up – in fact it’s this specific vehicle – LJ16 NMX seemingly being one of the better examples that I’d see around fairly often. In this view on 5.12.24 it is speeding up a damp Clifton Boulevard with the Medilink 1 journey that runs through from Queens Drive.
Back in the summer I did a summary of the BYDs which I tried to keep concise and readable, however now it’s time for the full-blown waffling version...
In 2016 the situation for battery electric buses looked nothing like it does today, as they were a considerably more niche product. Nottingham City Council were not desperately cash strapped like they currently are, and (quite rightly) liked to throw considerable sums of money at public transport projects. As a result, a large fleet of Optare Solo and Versa EVs ran on the Council’s extensive network of ‘Linkbus’ routes; Medilink; Locallink; Centrelink; Worklink etc.
That year saw a couple of major changes to the network. Centrelink was merged with the Citylink 1 Park & Ride route to create Centrelink P&R, and Citylink 2 was replaced by Ecolink P&R... not to be confused with the previous Ecolink branding from Nottingham City Transport route 30 and its ethanol powered buses. Larger battery electric single deckers were needed for the P&R routes and so the City Council purchased a batch of 13 BYD K9UR single deckers. IIRC they seated about 35.
This was a year or two before BYD partnered with Alexander Dennis to build electric Enviro 200s, so the Nottingham 13 were unusual examples of earlier BYD integrals. At that time they were a relatively unknown manufacturer in the UK and had little else than a few trial single deckers in London. The new electrics were launched at Showbus 2016 with an unregistered and unbranded example in base blue livery.
When the buses received their branding, there were three styles; Centrelink P&R, Ecolink P&R, and a few which simply said P&R Link for use on either route. All were the same two-tone blue as the Medilink, and for some unfathomable reason the branding for Ecolink and P&R Link contained the Medilink’s heart-monitor pulse line graphics, despite neither serving any hospitals. Unlike the striking red of old Centrelink, turquoise of Citylink 1 and yellow of Citylink 2, the livery introduced with the BYDs made a poor distinction between the new routes.
The buses were operated on the council’s behalf by CT4N – who were still called Nottingham Community transport at that time. For 2017’s Showbus, the P&R BYDs ran the event shuttle service to East Midlands Parkway and were still being touted as the exciting new investment in Nottingham’s sustainable transport. However the whole setup was to be remarkably short lived, with the Centrelink/Ecolink P&R routes ceasing at the end of August 2019 and replaced by new Nottingham City Transport routes 49, 50 and an amended 44.
In late 2019 two buses, 986 and 987, were repainted red and black for use on a shuttle at East Midlands Gateway, while the rest of the fleet were stored with occasional use and the branding removed. Six months later the Covid pandemic hit and the country ground to a halt for a while. When things started to pick back up in late 2020, the K9URs reappeared as replacements for the slightly smaller and older Solo EVs and Versa EVs on the Medilink, allowing more space for (anti)social distancing.
Perhaps it was the City Council’s intention to move the BYDs onto the Medilink anyway, pandemic notwithstanding? Of course the obvious course of action would be to take the BYDs, already in base Medilink blue, and apply branding identical to that of the Versa EVs. But ohh, that just makes TOO MUCH sense, so they did something completely different and utterly pathetic. I don’t know if it was the City Council or CT4N that was responsible for the idea, but a completely new livery was invented for the Medilink with lime/white/blue applied diagonally.
The livery itself wasn’t so bad, except for the fact it was a total waste of time because A) they never even got round to repainting all the buses and B) they didn’t bother with ANY BRANDING AT ALL. After a year or so, half hearted Medilink logos were slapped onto the otherwise bare livery. So from late 2020 onwards the Medilink was a mixture of K9URs in plain P&R Link blue, plain dishwasher tablet packet colour, dishwasher tablet with a Medilink logo, or whatever Optare diesel CT4N were fielding to plug a shortfall. Meanwhile the ex-Medilink Versa EVs were going around on Locallink routes in fully branded Medilink livery.
This is where things started to go downhill for the K9URs in terms of availability. They were built when ‘heavy duty’ battery powered electric buses were still in their infancy and had reached five years of age. Having been developed with early 2010s EV battery technology, they were effectively on the way out, and allegedly couldn’t last a full day on the Medilink on a single charge. Unfortunately the City Council never bothered to install live vehicle tracking which makes the Medilink’s previous PVR unknown, but even with an excess number of electric vehicles available there would always be at least one or two CT4N Commercial diesels covering.
Time went on and the ‘one or two’ diesels covering became three or four... or more. After getting rid of the Optare Tempos, CT4N bought five Versas from Go North East and used the pair of longer, 62 plate examples almost exclusively on the Medilink (and sometimes their Nottingham High School routes). Throw in one or two of their ex-Blackpool Solos and one of the smaller Versas, which was the typical diesel allocation on the ML around 2023/4, and there was an average of around 5-6 buses filling in for unavailable BYDs on a daily basis.
By 2025 the Scania Omnidekkas, which were nominally school buses, were making regular appearances on the Medilink 2. At some stage I don’t remember the ML was split into the ML1 between City Hospital and QMC, and the ML2 between QMC and Queens Drive, because of unreliable running times on the whole joined up route. The ML1/ML2 reverted back to the conventional Medilink again in summer 2025 in readiness for Skills taking it over from the 1st of September.
Meanwhile, one of the Gateway Shuttle BYDs had returned and been painted into dishwasher tablet Medilink livery, but did little to help the numbers of serviceable EVs. Another randomly got sold off to Blackburn Private Hire, and I think at least one more just got dumped in one of the City Council’s compounds and was left to rot. On the 31st of August 2025 – exactly 6 years after the Centrelink/Ecolink had been withdrawn – the whole K9UR fleet was quietly stood down.
Since then the City Council listed them for sale on some obscure commercial fleet sales website... I’ll have to try and find it again. Most of them were for spares or repair and suggested the majority were not in working order. At least one more was bought by Blackburn Private Hire, but as far as I know nothing has happened to the rest and they’re stored in a yard up Ilkeston way somewhere. And that is, as far as I know, the story of Nottingham’s BYD K9UR battery electric buses.
I told you this was going to be a long one!
Review of the very specific Laowa 25 mm f/2.8 2.5-5X Ultra Macro on my Sony a7iii on www.matthieu-berroneau.fr.
💕 MeHoney 💕
💕 Zaira
The set is presented in 13 colors.
* The Fat Pack for the skirt includes the skirt and a HUD with buttons to change:
- 13 colors of the skirt base;
- 13 colors of buttons.
The regular set only includes a skirt of a specific color and a HUD with buttons to change:
- 13 colors of buttons.
The skirt has an unbuttoning function, you just need to touch the front of the skirt.
* The Fat Pack for the top includes the top and HUD with buttons to change:
- 13 colors of the base of the top;
- 13 stripe colors;
- 13 colors of the buttons.
The regular set includes only the top of a specific color and the HUD with buttons to change:
- 13 stripe colors;
- 13 colors of the buttons.
Size :
• Maitreya X
• Legacy
• Legacy Perky
• Legacy Pinup Bombshell
• E. Reborn
• Waifu
• NHUMANA
• KUPRA
::: KINKY EVENT :::
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/KinkyEvent/70/124/32
Mainstore: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Floating%20Paradise/161/68/22
Body:
-Advance‑Design GMC (’47–’55)
-GMC‑specific horizontal grille bars
-Single‑piece windshield
-Short‑bed (most desirable configuration)
-Heavy‑duty trim vs. Chevrolet equivalent
-Patina finish common on unrestored survivors
Engine & Drivetrain (Factory):
-GMC‑built inline‑six: 228 / 236 / 248 cu. in.
-Known for stronger internals than Chevy’s 216
-3‑speed manual transmission
-Rear‑wheel drive
Chassis:
-Ladder‑frame construction
-Leaf springs front and rear
-Drum brakes
-6‑volt electrical system (original)
Interior:
-Steel dash with simple gauge cluster
-Bench seat
-Minimalist work‑truck layout
The 1951 GMC ½‑Ton Short Pickup carries a different kind of presence than its Chevrolet cousin — heavier, more purposeful, and built for real work. GMC trucks of this era were the “premium” side of GM’s lineup, equipped with their own stronger inline‑six engines and heavier‑duty components. Even in weathered patina, the truck you photographed stands with quiet authority: sun‑burned paint, surface rust, and decades of honest use written across every panel.
The horizontal grille bars and bold GMC badging give it a tougher, more industrial face. The short‑bed proportions add a touch of sportiness, making these trucks especially sought after today. On the show field, this ’51 doesn’t rely on shine — its appeal comes from authenticity. It’s a survivor, a working‑class relic that earned every mark it carries. And that’s exactly what makes it so compelling.
Thank you kindly for visiting—faves and comments are always deeply appreciated! ~Sonja
Trichocentrum longicalcaratum in situ, sans taches dans les pétales et les sépales. L'imagination de la nature n'a pas de limite pour s'adapter á des centaines d'habitats particuliers avec des microclimats spécífiques, créant des especes d'orchidées les plus surprenantes les unes que les autres de par leurs formes, couleurs et parfums. Colombie.
Trichocentrum longicalcaratum in situ, without dots on the petals and sepals. Imagination of nature has no limit to adapt to hundreds of particular habitats with specific microclimate, creating more astounding orchid species one than the other by their shapes, colors and fragrances. Colombia.
Trichocentrum longicalcaratum in situ, sin manchas en los pétalos y sépalos. La imaginación de la naturaleza no tiene límite para adaptarse a cientos de hábitats particulares con microclimas específicos, creando especies de orquídeas más asombrosas una que la otra por sus formas, colores y fragancias. Colombia.
Breede River
Bontebok National Park is a species-specific national park in South Africa. It was established in 1931 to ensure the preservation of the Bontebok. It is the smallest of South Africa's 20 National Parks, covering an area of 27.86 km2. The park is part of the Cape Floristic Region, which is a World Heritage Site.
The park is located 6 km south of Swellendam, in the foothills of the Langeberg Mountains. It is bordered to the south by the Breede River.
Bonteboks are rare, unusually marked antelopes. They are listed as vulnerable in Appendix II of the International Trade in Endangered Species Red List. They are endemic to the Cape Floral area, and once roamed the region in large numbers. European settlement and hunting brought the animal to near extinction by the early 19th century. A relict population was protected on private farmland. In 1931, seventeen members of this population were translocated to the first Bontebok National Park. In the 1960s, half of the population died from worm infestations, copper deficiency and related syndromes. In 1961, 61 members of the surviving population were translocated to the current Bontebok National Park. The worldwide bontebok population of 2,500-3,000 individuals are all derived from this population.
However, there are only about 200 bontebok in the park, as this is the maximum number a park of its size can support without inflicting serious damage to plant life. Over the years the park's surplus stock has been translocated to other nature reserves and private owners with suitable habitats.
Conservation in the park include the protection of the endangered fynbos veld type and the coastal renosterveld, one of the largest remaining "renosterveld islands", which contains several plant species that are found nowhere else in the world. In total, the park has nearly 500 grasses and other plant species.
Other indigenous species in the park include the African clawless otter, Stanley's bustard, Secretary bird and the Blue crane, South Africa's national bird. Grey Rhebok, Cape Grysbok, Duiker, Red Hartebeest and Cape Mountain Zebra can also be found here. There are over 200 species of birds.
(Wikipedia)
The Breede River (Afrikaans: Breederivier), also known as Breë River, is a river in the Western Cape Province of South Africa. Travelling inland north from the city of Cape Town, the river runs in a west to east direction. The surrounding western mountains formed the first continental divide experienced by European settlers in the 18th century. The Titus River and Dwars River become the Breë River.
Sources
The first catchment area of the river is in the Skurweberg mountain range close to Ceres. The head waters then runs through the modern day Mitchells Pass before plaining out on its middle course in the Worcester area. The river mouth is in an estuary at Port Beaufort on the Indian Ocean.
Tributaries
On its course through the Breede River Valley, it is joined by the Holsloot and Smalblaar Rivers, from their catchment areas, the Du Toitskloof and Stettyn mountain ranges. The Hex River with its catchment area in the Hex River Mountains also joins the Breede River from the north-east. Further downstream the Slang River and Buffeljags River drain the southern slopes of the Langeberg mountains before depositing their water in the Breede River. Near Swellendam the river is joined by the Riviersonderend, with its catchment area in the mountains surrounding the Theewaterskloof Dam near Villiersdorp.
Dams on the river
The Greater Brandvlei Dam, completed in 1936 and fully extended by 1987, provides water to various irrigation schemes throughout the agricultural sector of the region. (also known as the Brandvlei Dam and the Kwaggaskloof Dam. In the catchment area are a few more dams:
Stettynskloof Dam on the Holsloot River tributary of the Breede River.
Zwiegelaars Dam
Theewaterskloof Dam both on the Riviersonderend River
Elandskloof Dam on the Elands River a tributary of the Riviersonderend River.
Moordkuil Dam on the Hooks River a tributary of the Breede River.
Keerom Dam on the Nuy River a tributary of the Breede River.
Klipberg Dam on the Konings River itself a tributary of the Keisers River, a tributary of the Breede River.
Pietersfontein Dam on the Pietersfontein River a tributary of the Kogmanskloof River, again a tributary of the Breede River.
Poortjieskloof Dam on the Groot River also flowing into the Kogmanskloof River
Buffeljags Dam on the Buffeljags River a tributary of the Breede River.
(Wikipedia)
Der Bontebok-Nationalpark (englisch Bontebok National Park) liegt nahe der Stadt Swellendam im Distrikt Overberg, Provinz Westkap in Südafrika. Die Entfernung nach Kapstadt und George beträgt jeweils 240 Kilometer.
Der 1931 ursprünglich zum Schutz der letzten 30 frei lebenden Buntbock-Antilopen (Damaliscus pygargus) gegründete Nationalpark umfasst lediglich ein Gebiet von rund 20 km² und ist damit der kleinste der südafrikanischen Nationalparks. Die Zahl der Buntböcke wird heute bei 200 gehalten, da eine größere Anzahl ökologisch hier nicht zu vertreten ist. Der Nationalpark kann mit dem eigenen Pkw durchfahren werden und beherbergt heute ferner eine Reihe von weiteren Antilopenarten. Vor einigen Jahren wurde auch das seltene Kap-Bergzebra im Park eingeführt; zurzeit leben dort 22 Zebras.
Das Klima ist mild; die jährliche Niederschlagsmenge beträgt etwa 500 mm.
Im Zentrum des Parks, nahe dem Breede River, liegt das „Restcamp“ Lang Elsies´s Kraal (benannt nach einer Khoi-Khoi-Häuptlingsfrau, welche hier zwischen 1734 und 1800 lebte). Vom Park aus hat man einen guten Blick auf die nördlich gelegenen Langeberg Mountains.
Neben den Buntböcken und Bergzebras leben eine Vielzahl weiterer Säugetierarten im Park, darunter Erdwölfe, Ginsterkatzen, Goldmulle, Graumulle, Honigdachse, Ichneumon, Kapfüchse, Kap-Greisböcke, Kapotter, Karakale, Klippschliefer, Kronenducker, Kuhantilopen, Löffelhunde, Mangusten, Rehantilopen, Stachelschweine, Steinböckchen und Zorillas.
Im Park wurden bereits über 200 Vogelarten gesichtet, etwa Stanleytrappe (Neotis denami), Paradieskranich, Sporngans, Sekretär (Sagittarius serpentarius), Gackeltrappe, Nektarvögel und der Würgerschnäpper. Es gibt dort außerdem drei Schildkrötenarten, die Pantherschildkröte (Geochelone pardalis), die Afrikanische Schnabelbrustschildkröte (Chersina angulata) und die Flachschildkröte (Homopus arealatus)
Der Park bietet auch Lebensraum für elf Froscharten, von denen Bufo rangeri die häufigste ist.
(Wikipedia)
Der Breede River (afrikaans: Breederivier, deutsch: breiter Fluss) ist ein 337 km langer Fluss in der südafrikanischen Provinz Westkap.
Geografie
Sein Wassereinzugsgebiet beträgt 12.384 km². In der Sprache der Khoikhoi heißt er Synna, was vermutlich als „umkämpfter Fluss“ übersetzt werden kann. Er bildet die Südgrenze des Bontebok-Nationalparks.
Größere Städte (von der Quelle zur Mündung) am Breede sind Worcester, Robertson, Montagu und Swellendam, er mündet westlich von Mossel Bay bei Witsand nahe dem Cap Infanta in den Indischen Ozean. Wichtige Nebenflüsse sind Buffeljags River, Elands River, Groot River, Hex River, Hooks River, Holsloot River, Nuy River, Konings River, Pietersfontein River und Sonderend River.
Hydrologie
Die Abflussmenge des Berg River wurde am Pegel Swellen Dam, bei dem größten Teil des Einzugsgebietes, über die Jahre 1966 bis 2021 in m³/s gemessen.
(Wikipedia)
Photographing in natural light is full of unpredictability, which many photographers find both challenging and thrilling. Through my journey in nature photography, I’ve gained the experience to create specific atmospheres and translate my ideas into images. Autumn days in England are often a mix of fleeting sunlight breaking through clouds, and this morning was no exception. A quick glance at the weather report promised sunny conditions until midday.
As I arrived at Bradgate Park, I was warmly greeted by my fellow photographer Deepak, who mentioned that the red deer, after grazing in herds, were preparing to cross the Lin River—the shortest river in Leicestershire. With the soft sunlight streaming directly towards us, I caught a glimpse of the large silhouettes of the majestic red stag.
Deepak and I hadn’t seen each other for a while, and we soon found ourselves engrossed in a conversation about mirrorless cameras. About an hour later, groups of red deer began approaching the Lin River, preparing to cross. The scene was breathtaking. During the 3.5-hour tour, I didn’t walk much, but I must admit I was thoroughly engaged. A solitary Stonechat caught my attention and had me chasing it for quite some time!
I’ve uploaded 12 of my photos to my Flickr account and hope you enjoy and evaluate them. The standout images include a large red stag, gracefully leading its harem across the water while sipping from the river, framed by the glowing autumn hues in the background. These moments once again reminded me of the privilege of photographing in natural light and how it transforms a scene into something magical.
Wishing you all a good evening.
Jackdaws - scientifically known as Corvus monedula, are small, intelligent birds belonging to the corvid family, which also includes crows, ravens, and magpies. These birds are native to Europe, western Asia, and parts of North Africa. They are easily recognizable by their striking black plumage, pale gray nape, and distinctive gray eyes.
Jackdaws are highly adaptable birds, commonly found in a variety of habitats including woodlands, farmlands, urban areas, and coastal cliffs. They are opportunistic feeders, consuming a diverse diet that includes insects, small mammals, seeds, fruits, and scraps of human food.
Known for their sociable nature, Jackdaws often form tight-knit groups or pairs, displaying complex social behaviors and vocalizations. They are also renowned for their intelligence, with studies showing their ability to solve problems and use tools in captivity.
During the breeding season, Jackdaws build nests in cavities of trees, cliffs, or man-made structures such as chimneys and buildings. They line their nests with soft materials such as grass, feathers, and moss. Jackdaws typically lay clutches of 4-6 eggs, which are incubated by both parents for around 17-18 days.
Overall, Jackdaws are fascinating and adaptable birds, playing important roles in ecosystems and capturing the interest of birdwatchers and researchers alike.
I've captured some unforgettable moments with my camera, and I hope you feel the same joy viewing these images as I did while shooting them.
Thank you so much for visiting my gallery, whether you leave a comment, add it to your favorites, or simply take a moment to look around. Your support means a lot to me, and I wish you good luck and beautiful light in all your endeavors.
© All rights belong to R.Ertuğ. Please refrain from using these images without my express written permission. If you are interested in purchasing or using them, feel free to contact me via Flickr mail.
Lens - With Nikon TC 14E II - hand held or Monopod and definitely SPORT VR on. Aperture is f8 and full length. All my images have been converted from RAW to JPEG.
I started using Nikon Cross-Body Strap or Monopod on long walks. Here is my Carbon Monopod details : Gitzo GM2542 Series 2 4S Carbon Monopod - Really Right Stuff MH-01 Monopod Head with Standard Lever - Really Right Stuff LCF-11 Replacement Foot for Nikon AF-S 500mm /5.6E PF Lense -
Your comments and criticism are very valuable.
Thanks for taking the time to stop by and explore :)
Most lionesses reproduce by the time they are four years of age. Lions do not mate at a specific time of year and the females are polyestrous. Like those of other cats, the male lion's penis has spines that point backward. During withdrawal of the penis, the spines rake the walls of the female's vagina, which may cause ovulation. A lioness may mate with more than one male when she is in heat. Generation length of the lion is about seven years. The average gestation period is around 110 days; the female gives birth to a litter of between one and four cubs in a secluded den, which may be a thicket, a reed-bed, a cave, or some other sheltered area, usually away from the pride. She will often hunt alone while the cubs are still helpless, staying relatively close to the den. Lion cubs are born blind; their eyes open around seven days after birth. They weigh 1.2–2.1 kg (2.6–4.6 lb) at birth and are almost helpless, beginning to crawl a day or two after birth and walking around three weeks of age. To avoid a buildup of scent attracting the attention of predators, the lioness moves her cubs to a new den site several times a month, carrying them one-by-one by the nape of the neck.
Usually, the mother does not integrate herself and her cubs back into the pride until the cubs are six to eight weeks old. Sometimes the introduction to pride life occurs earlier, particularly if other lionesses have given birth at about the same time. When first introduced to the rest of the pride, lion cubs lack confidence when confronted with adults other than their mother. They soon begin to immerse themselves in the pride life, however, playing among themselves or attempting to initiate play with the adults. Lionesses with cubs of their own are more likely to be tolerant of another lioness's cubs than lionesses without cubs. Male tolerance of the cubs varies—one male could patiently let the cubs play with his tail or his mane, while another may snarl and bat the cubs away.
File:Lion Cubs Phinda 2011.ogv
Video of a lioness and her cubs in Phinda Reserve
Pride lionesses often synchronise their reproductive cycles and communal rearing and suckling of the young, which suckle indiscriminately from any or all of the nursing females in the pride. The synchronisation of births is advantageous because the cubs grow to being roughly the same size and have an equal chance of survival, and sucklings are not dominated by older cubs.Weaning occurs after six or seven months. Male lions reach maturity at about three years of age and at four to five years are capable of challenging and displacing adult males associated with another pride. They begin to age and weaken at between 10 and 15 years of age at the latest.
When one or more new males oust the previous males associated with a pride, the victors often kill any existing young cubs, perhaps because females do not become fertile and receptive until their cubs mature or die. Females often fiercely defend their cubs from a usurping male but are rarely successful unless a group of three or four mothers within a pride join forces against the male. Cubs also die from starvation and abandonment, and predation by leopards, hyenas and wild dogs.Up to 80% of lion cubs will die before the age of two. Both male and female lions may be ousted from prides to become nomads, although most females usually remain with their birth pride. When a pride becomes too large, however, the youngest generation of female cubs may be forced to leave to find their own territory. When a new male lion takes over a pride, adolescents both male and female may be evicted. Lions of both sexes may be involved in group homosexual and courtship activities; males will also head-rub and roll around with each other before simulating sex together.
I've spent years trying to catch a "classic" shot of a cedar waxwing eating a red berry. In this case, this waxwing is eating a currant berry. I've been shooting at this specific spot for 15-years and this is only the second time that I've seen cedar waxwings there and, thankfully, this guy posed perfectly for me.
Decibelle is one of many creations from a group of various engineers. Their goal is to create androids that are catered to a specific task. She was created as a radio technician and was programmer to be a social communications tower. She is the older sister to Circuit, who was created by the same group.
After a sudden power down, she awoke to a new world where she was sheltered from the world. Due to her being unable to travel and move, she used her skill to gather others who would travel to her location and get her information from there. She grew bored with her time, wanted to interact more with the world around her. She had heard of people who would perform on the Internet for fun and money.
She outfitted herself with the appropriate equipment for gaming, the most popular genre of online entertainment. She gave herself an alternate face to her original ‘cyclops’ face that is meant for function, with a cleaner looking face that she assumed viewers would like more. She marketed herself as playing games she had never played before, and while streaming online, she had her webcam pointed from the waist up to hide her tower-like lower body.
She was recognized quickly, and was later contracted by news outlets and broadcast studios to cover events and add commentary. She developed small drones to be her outside eyes, and experience traveling in the world she resides without being able to leave.
Check out my YouTube for more MOCs like this!
goo.gl/1axFRH
Made a specific visit here to photograph the colorful foliage reflecting into the pond.
Miki H. (An Inspiration Station) and I photographed the foliage here last year; think I'm going to make it a yearly tradition.
Along Main Road
Sweet Valley, Pennsylvania
Sunday, October 11th, 2015
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Tinkelberg training ground near Saarburg. From an album dedicated to A7Vs and German tanks. This completes the pair, the quality of this postcard makes it unmistakably the same set as the blocked A7V 507. Photo taken between late August and early September.
I saw this photo identified as the 506 Mephisto tank but that's impossible because it was captured a long time ago. Also seen identified 503 and I don't have too much argument to decide except that I saw a photo of the 543 identified with the same specific camo (cross + "banana" stain on the right). Difficult to say without more info.
I will scan as soon as possible.
REF: 175-200-9
We have all seen the recent TV coverage of Morocco post the earthquake. Seeing sites that I have visited, in particular specific buildings really brings home the terrible nature of this event. I must admit that the people of Morocco whether in Marrakech or in the Atlas Mountains came across as being happy, friendly and helpful. Let’s hope our world remembers these attributes as Morocco starts their recovery from this natural disaster. This view is the exact same one that the BBC used this morning and shows part of the Jemma El-Fna and the Koutoubia. Both received some degree of damage. This picture goes back to a mountain climbing trip I had in 2006 and shows a scene that everyone will want to get back to.
Aspens in Transition. © Copyright 2018 G Dan Mitchell - all rights reserved.
A large Eastern Sierra Nevada aspen grove partway though the fall color transition
This photograph comes from one of the few specific locations for Eastern Sierra aspen color that I'll typically name and locate without reservations. It is impossible to miss, as it is right next to US 395 between the towns of Bridgeport and Lee Vining, at the high point of this section of the roadway where it crosses Conway Summit. You can pull over to the side of the road — and if you pass by on the best days you won't be able to resist — and take in a panoramic view up toward the Sierra crest that includes many beautiful aspen groves. (I'm reticent about sending too many people to less-known, fragile, and quiet locations... especially since there are so many great places where you can find aspen color on your own.)
On this afternoon I passed by this spot as I traveled between a couple of other places where I looked for and photographed autumn color. I, too, was unable to resist (another) stop here. You may notice the soft light in this scene. It was overcast and there was light rain falling closer to the crest. On the scene such light can seem drab and dull, but the softer light also fills in the shadows and can provide you with an exposure that allows you to reveal a lot of detail and color in the post-processing phase. Notice also that the color is far from uniform in this large grove, ranging from peak color (and beyond, in a few cases) to very green trees in the distance. It is rare to find an entire large grove producing uniform brilliant color, since the aspens here tend to change color in phases. I've come to like and even prefer this less uniform color change pattern, and sometimes I think that the presence of green trees enhances to intensity of the more colorful trees.
See top of this page for Articles, Sales and Licensing, my Sierra Nevada Fall Color book, Contact Information and more.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, "California's Fall Color: A Photographer's Guide to Autumn in the Sierra" is available from Heyday Books and Amazon.
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150516_Ibirapuera_0008
This picture was taken in a specific Ibirapuera Park's area called "cachorródromo" (something as dogtrack in english), once dogs are seen everywhere running and playing together and with their proud owners. In this picture, considered one of the smartest dogs in the world, a male black and white border collie takes his silver soccer ball back to a boy that is already preparing to throw it away once more.
Pitbull, bull terrier and rottweiler are the only breeds not allowed to run freely without leash/collar or, at least a nose-piece.
PLEASE BE CONSIDERATE AND COMMENT IF YOU FAVORITE
(2PJL) Coast City -
My name is Kyle Rayner...and I'm afraid that I might kill a man tonight. Dr. Arthur Light, to be specific. Just hours ago, he kidnapped my girlfriend Alex, and is now using her as bait to lure me to him. He claims that he will kill her if I don't give him the 'light' which I still am not sure what he means by that.
My ring located Dr. Light in an abandoned warehouse near the docks, which is only 50 meters away. Before landing, I scan the warehouse for both Dr. Light and Alex. My ring detects them both in the middle of the building. I'm actually a bit surprised that Alex is indeed here, like he promised.
I make myself an opening in the building's wall via a rocket launcher from my ring. As I enter the warehouse, I outstretch the hand that my ring is placed on and use it as if it were a flash light. I wander aimlessly through the dark building until I finally see Alex.
Once noticing me, she beings to struggle in her restraints as a way to single me to cut her loose. I nearly begin to assure her that it's alright, and even almost say her name, but then I remember that she doesn't know that it is me. To her, I'm just the man that they call Green Lantern on T.V.
Suddenly, out of the shadows, comes Dr. Light. I brace myself as his hands and eyes begin to glow, almost as if he is planning to attack.
"Kyle Rayner?" asks Dr. Light.
I realize now that my identity will be revealed to Alex if I assure him that I am indeed who he believes. I take a moment to ponder my options, yet decide that my only choice is to reveal my secret.
"Yes...I am Kyle Rayner." I respond.
Alex muffles something through the tape over her mouth and begins to struggle even more.
"Good...good! Now...give me the light! Give it to me!" orders Dr. Light.
"I don't know what you're talking about, what is the 'light'?" I reply.
"Don't play games with me boy...give me it...give me the power!"
"Hey, you've gotta understand, I don't know what you're talking about! Please, just let her go, leave her out of this. I'm here now, you don't need her anymore."
"No...no...no, no that won't work at all! You won't give me the light! Give it to me...give me the light...or she dies...I'll kill her!"
Alex begins to sob. I begin to understand that Dr. Light won't take no for an answer. The only way to get Alex out now is a with a fight. I'm sure that I can buy her enough time to escape, I just don't know if I can make it out as well.
"I'm not going to let that happen...you are not going to touch Alex." I demand.
I send a blast from my ring in his direction yet he deflects it by constructing a shield made of pure light. Next I fashion a large baseball bat, while he assembles a sword like light structure. As I engage in a duel with Dr. Light, I construct a pair of scissors and have them begin cutting through the tape around Alex.
I get about halfway done, before my focus is stopped due to a blow to my stomach from Dr. Light. Luckily, it was enough to free Alex's arms, which allows her to continue removing the tape. Knowing this, I focus my attention on defeating Dr. Light.
I assumed a giant mech-suit and charge at Dr. Light. I grab him using my suit's claw and begin to fly up towards the ceiling. I slam my other claw through the roof and continue to rise higher up and out of the warhouse. I planned on taking the fight away from the city, to avoid any unnecessary losses, yet I was rendered unable to do so as Dr. Light caused some sort of light explosion, causing me to loose my grip around him.
He flies back into the city, I assume to use it's large buildings as cover. I dismantle the mech-suit as a means to increase my speed, although Dr. Light is too fast. I hit him with a blast from my ring, causing him to drop down into the middle of Coast City Park. The civilians there quickly run as they see us enter the park grounds. Good, less things to worry about.
Dr. Light gets up and tries to regain flight, though I manage to construct a pair of strong ankle cuffs around him before he can do so. He blasts the cuffs off of his legs and stands up. I assemble a shield and slam into him sending him through the large, metal statue of the other Green Lantern located in the middle of the park.
I rush towards him though I'm knocked onto the floor as he fires a blast at my feet. He continues to fire more projectiles at me, though luckily I manage to assemble a brick wall between us to counter the attacks. Eventually, he stops shooting, noticing that he cannot break through the construct, and takes flight. He moves over the wall and then drops right above me, hoping to crush me when he lands.
Still on the ground, I roll backwards, just as he slams into the ground creating a large crater. I leap at Dr. Light and tackle him. We struggle to our feet, each grabbing the others knuckles, trying gain the advantage.
"The light! Give me the light!" Dr. Light pleads.
"I can't do that, I don't even know how to do that! And I won't let you hurt Alex!" I reply.
"I just need the light! Give me the light, Kyle Rayner! Give it to me!"
"You have to understand! I don't know what you mean!"
"Lies! AHHHH!"
Dr. Light fires a blast from his hands straight into mine. I drop down into the grass, my hands burning and covered in flames. Dr. Light stands over me with his arms outstretched in front of him, ready to deliver the final blow.
"Give it to me...please!" Dr. Light begs.
Surprisingly, he falls to his knees and his eyes fill with tears. It was at this moment that I notice that Dr. Light wasn't the bad man that I thought he was. Something else was going on here, and I'm going to find out...
Next - Love
Really sorry for the long read, I just didn't want to rush through this issue, as it is a quite important point in the volume. I hope that you all enjoyed it anyway. Thanks for reading! -Michael
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanderling
The sanderling (Calidris alba) is a small wading bird. The name derives from Old English sand-yrðling, "sand-ploughman".[2] The genus name is from Ancient Greek kalidris or skalidris, a term used by Aristotle for some grey-coloured waterside birds. The specific alba is Latin for "white".[3]
It is a circumpolar Arctic breeder, and is a long-distance migrant, wintering south to South America, South Europe, Africa, and Australia. It is highly gregarious in winter, sometimes forming large flocks on coastal mudflats or sandy beaches.
It is somewhat unlike other sandpipers in appearance, which has led to the suggestion that it should be placed into a monotypic genus Crocethia. A more recent review (Thomas et al., 2004) indicates, however, that the sanderling is a fairly typical "stint" or small sandpiper and should be separated from the large knots with its closest relatives in a distinct genus.
This bird is similar in size to a dunlin, but stouter, with a thick bill. It shows a strong white wingbar in flight, and runs along the sandy beaches it prefers with a characteristic "bicycling" action of its legs, stopping frequently to pick small food items. It eats small crabs and other small invertebrates. In spring, birds migrating north from South America consume large numbers of horseshoe crab eggs in the Delaware Bay area.
In spring, the birds arrive on the High Arctic breeding grounds (see map), where they lay 3–4 eggs in a ground scrape. On the nesting grounds, these birds mainly eat insects and some plant material.
The sanderling is one of the species to which the Agreement on the Conservation of African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbirds (AEWA) applies.
Description
The sanderling is a small plump sandpiper, 18–20 cm (7.1–7.9 in) in length. Its weight ranges from 40–100 g (1.4–3.5 oz). The winter bird is very pale, almost white apart from a dark shoulder patch. This is the source of the specific name, alba, which is the Latin for "white". Later in the summer, the face and throat become brick-red. The juvenile bird is spangled black and white, and shows much more contrast than the adult.
Standard Measurements[4][5]
length180–220 mm (7.1–8.7 in)
weight60 g (2.1 oz)
wingspan430 mm (17 in)
wing114.5–121.6 mm (4.51–4.79 in)
tail47.3–53 mm (1.86–2.09 in)
culmen22.5–26.6 mm (0.89–1.05 in)
tarsus23.5–25.8 mm (0.93–1.02 in)
If its size is misjudged, a sanderling in breeding plumage can be mistaken for some varieties of stint, or a sanderling in winter plumage can be mistaken for a dunlin or red knot. It can be told from other small wading birds, given good views, by its lack of a hind toe. Its behavior is also distinctive.
Distribution, habitat and migration
The sanderling breeds in the High Arctic areas of North America, Europe and Asia. In North America, it breeds in the Canadian Arctic Archipelago, Nunavut, Greenland (and to a lesser extent Alaska). In Eurasia, it breeds in Spitsbergen and areas of northern Russia from the Taymyr Peninsula to the New Siberian Islands. In the northern winter, it has a nearly cosmopolitan distribution across the world's marine coasts. It is a complete migrant, travelling between 3,000 to 10,000 km (1,900 to 6,200 mi) from its breeding grounds to its wintering sites. Birds that travel further also arrive later and leave sooner. Most adults leave the breeding grounds in July and early August, whereas juvenile birds leave in late August and early September. The northward migration begins in March at the southern end of their winter distribution.[6]
The breeding habitat of the sanderling is coastal tundra north of 5 °C (41 °F) July isotherm. The species typically chooses nesting sites on dry stony areas near wet areas, from 60 m (200 ft) above sea level to 800 m (2,600 ft). During the winter and its migration, it is most commonly found on coastal sandy beaches, but also occurs on tidal sand flats, mud flats and the shores of lakes and rivers. More infrequently, it may occur on rocky shores.[6]
Subspecies
The sanderling consists of two subspecies:
C. a. alba, (Pallas, 1764), breeds on Ellesmere Island, north & east Greenland, Svalbard, Franz Josef Land and the Taymyr Peninsula
C. a. rubida, (Gmelin, 1789), breeds in northeast Siberia, Alaska and northern Canada
Behaviour
Feeding behaviour
Sanderlings feed on invertebrate prey buried in the sand in the upper intertidal zone. In North America, this diet largely consists of the isopods Excirolana linguifrons, Excirolana kincaidii, and the mole crab, Emerita analoga. When the tide is out, these crustaceans live in burrows some way beneath the surface. When the tide comes in, they move into the upper layers of sand and feed on the plankton and detritus that washes over them with each wave. They then burrow rapidly down again as the water retreats. They leave no marks on the surface, so the sanderlings hunt for them by plunging their beaks into the sand at random, consuming whatever they find. Their bills can penetrate only 2 or 3 cm (0.79 or 1.18 in) and as the water swirls around and retreats, the sand is softer; this makes it easier for the birds' beaks to penetrate further. In the spring, when much breeding activity is taking place in the benthic community, there may be as many as 4000 invertebrates per square metre, but their average size is smaller than later in the year. The birds appear to rush madly around at the edge of the surf, but in reality they are maximising their chances of catching as many prey animals as possible when they are at their most vulnerable near the surface.[7]
Breeding behaviour
At breeding time sanderlings are territorial, with the male aggressively defending its territory. They may either form monogamous pairs or polyandrous (one female and two male) pairings.
In Bluebirds, the blue colour is produced by the structure of the feather - there is no blue pigment. "Tiny air pockets in the barbs of feathers can scatter incoming light, resulting in a specific, non-iridescent color. Blue colors in feathers are almost always produced in this manner. Examples include the blue feathers of Bluebirds, Indigo Buntings, Blue Jay's and Steller's Jays."
www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Mountain_Bluebird/id
www.jstor.org/discover/pgs/index?id=10.2307/4077277&i...
Two days ago, on 27 July 2021, I found out that I was going to have to spend 1-3 days at home, waiting for a gift basket to be delivered. So, I decided that I would go for a short drive. There were three barns/sheds that I thought I could find, and I also wanted to find some Police Car Moths, which I love. I always forget how small they are.
First, though, I called in at a pond and, though the bird I would have like to see wasn't to be seen, I spent some time watching what I think were three families of possibly Lesser Scaup females with all their babies. The mothers were so patient with their ducklings, swimming all over the pond, keeping a close watch over their precious babies. The youngsters tended to get a bit mixed up with which group they were supposed to belong to, but I'm sure they all got sorted out in the end.
There were quite a few Police Car Moths where I had seen them several other years. There was also a tiny orange Fritillary species of butterfly flitting about.
As for the old barns, I was unable to find any of them. The last one I looked for was a big mistake, as I ended up on a road where a new surface was being laid. No tar, just wet, pale coloured 'mud'. Traffic crawled along so slowly but, despite being as careful as possible, I ended up with a car that was, I think, dirtier than it had ever been before, partly due to three back road day trips in the last 10 days. As a result, I had to spend part of the afternoon at the carwash, getting it sparkling clean (at least, on the outside). The rewarding feeling lasts only for so long, till I go on my next drive, ha.
A Mountain Bluebird gave me such a surprise at the end of my drive, just before I turned on to the highway to come home from my trip. I actually drove past it, as it barely looked blue, but on reversing, I found such a beautiful sight. This male was so gorgeous and looked beautiful in contrast with the bright yellow sign on which it was perched. I have seen so few Bluebirds this spring/summer, so this one, with its beak full of insects for its babies, was a very welcome sight
By the way, the gift basket arrived today and its contents were delightful! Several bottles of different Olive Oils and Balsamic Vinegars that all sound so good, along with a beautifully produced book of Greek recipes to go with them. How lucky I am!
This is a ship that was built in Norway and is based on what is known about Viking ships; it is not a copy of a specific historic Viking vessel. It is currently sailing the East Coast and this was its first stop in Boothbay Harbor, Maine. It had been in Mystic, Connecticut for some time undergoing some extensive maintenance. It was impossible to get a clean photo of this majestic ship and this is one of the least cluttered. Unfortunately, it did not sail in with its single large red silk sail deployed. A few details below are from the ship website.
The curator of the project, Sigurd Aase, wanted this extraordinary ship to follow in the wake of one of the most challenging viking explorations – the Viking discovery of the New World.
Named after Harald Hårfagre, the king who unified Norway into one kingdom, the great dragon ship came together in the town of Haugesund in Western Norway.
The Vikings left almost no record of how they built their ships, or how they sailed them. Draken Harald Hårfagre is a recreation of what the Vikings would call a “Great Ship”, built with archaeological knowledge of found ships, using old boatbuilding traditions and the legends of Viking ships from the Norse sagas.
Draken Harald Hårfagre is a clinker-built Viking longship. She is not a replica of a known ship, she is a reconstruction of what the Norse Sagas refer to as a “Great ship”. Knowledge of history, and especially the Norse sagas, archeological findings and Norwegian boatbuilding traditions combined created the world’s largest Viking ship sailing in modern times.
Draken Harald Hårfagre is a square sailed, open wooden ship, 35 meters long (115 ft) with a beam of 8 meters (26 ft) and a mast height of 24 meters (79 ft). Top speed under sail is 14 knots. She can be rowed by one hundred oarsmen. The ship is equipped with 25 pairs of oars – each oar powered by two men. During Expedition America 2016, Draken Harald Hårfagre was crewed by 32 sailors.
Sources of information from the most preserved Viking ship found – the Gokstad ship, the Nordlandsbåt and the Norse sagas. Traditional ornamentations, a Dragon’s head and tail, woodcarvings and ornamentations from archeological found ships, especially the Gokstad ship.
Measurements:
35 m (115 ft) long
8 m (26ft 2in) wide
24 m (78ft 8in) high
2,5 m (8 ft 2 in) draught
260 square meters sail
Flag: Norwegian
Home port: Haugesund, Norway
Materials:
Hull: Oak
Mast: Douglas fir
Sail: Silk
Rigg: Hemp
Top speed: 14 knots
DISCLAIMER: THIS ISSUE CONTAINS GRAPHICALLY DEPICTED VIOLENCE. PROCEED WITH CAUTION
Klarion the Witch Boy had teleported himself to the headquarters of the illegal smuggling organization “The Otherkind”, in hopes of purchasing an item he’d had his eyes on for quite a while. “The Helm of Flame”. An ancient weapon, myths say that the mask can transform your body into that of a demon, if you read a specific ancient script. There is no known proof of this, however. On opposite sides of the room stood several members of the group, working in different ways, like stocking shelves or chopping up wood to make more shelves. Waiting to purchase this item, Klarion had stood silent in the dark, cold, damp cement building, unnoticed.
Klarion: …Ahem?
A bearded man was sitting on the floor, who now looked up from his can of tomato soup to look into Klarion’s demonic eyes.
Bearded man: Eh? Oh, uh… Is this the guy?
The bearded man spoke with a raspy Russian accent, before looking up to The Rip, who was the organization’s leader. The Rip’s appearance was an odd one. A silhouette, entirely blacked out, standing at roughly 6’7”.
The Rip: Indeed it is. Klarion. It is an honour to meet you.
The Rip spoke in a very smooth but deep voice. It wasn’t loud, but when he spoke, it felt as if it was the only thing you could hear. It grabbed your attention instantly.
Klarion: Why, thank you. You know what I came for, yes?
The Rip: I do remember, yes. The Helm of Flame.
Klarion: Mhm! Now shall your servant fetch it for me, along with the script?
The Rip: I’d prefer if you weren’t to degrade my coworkers, but yes, Alec shall grant it to you. Alec?
He turned to the bearded man… Or at least Klarion assumed he did. With a man who appears physically as a mass of darkness it’s hard to tell.
Alec: Alrighty… Just a second…
He took one last spoonful from the tin can, a small portion of it spilling on his bright blue overcoat before he stood up. He set the can and spoon on the filthy stone floor before he waddled to the Helm of Flame on the shelf, before handing it to Klarion.
Alec: Here ya’ go.
Klarion: …There’s chowder on the script. It’s filthy, and that’s unacceptable..! Fetch me another.
Alec: Uh… Y’know there’s only one of ‘em, right?
The Rip walked over to Klarion, and tapped his fingers against the corner of the script.
The Rip: Ghålli-shï.
Suddenly, the script was cleaned.
Klarion: Thank you, that is much more adequate… Now, how much for each?
Klarion rummaged through a leather wallet, while holding the helm and script under his arm.
The Rip: 1.5 million in total-
Klarion: 5 million, you say? Alrighty…
Klarion handed The Rip the 5 million dollars.
The Rip: Ötałlo-kå.
With a poof of purple smoke, the money vanished.
Klarion: Pleasure doing business with you.
The Rip: The pleasure is mine, Klarion.
Klarion: Shalån-Greėm.
Klarion vanished. A moment after, a worker in an orange sweater walked from the shadows. He hadn’t been doing anything to help the organization, unlike the others.
Man in orange: What a brat.
Both Alec and The Rip turned to the man in orange…
The Rip: …What did you just say, Walter?
Alec: Sh#t, dude…
The two other members of The Otherkind stopped working and turned to “Walter”. One was a man in a black coat and orange scarf, the other a young woman in a purple sweater.
Man in scarf: Oh, dear lord…
The woman in purple simply put her hands over her mouth in shock.
Walter: I’m just sayin’. What? You all thought it, be real.
The Rip: You understand in the 2 months of being here you’ve done nothing but stand around, correct? Watching your coworkers work painfully hard while all you have to do is stock shelves, and yet you can’t even do that right? The others have been doing their jobs correctly for years, and after being here for 2 months, you can’t even manage to be kind to my client.
Walter: I really don’t see what the big deal is.
Alec: Shut up! Dude, seriously!
The Rip: I hadn’t had to speak to you about your laziness, as much as it had frustrated me. But this? Mocking a client? You think you have the right to do that?This is where I draw the line.
The Rip walked slowly and ominously towards Walter while speaking…
Walter: He was just a kid, who cares?
The Rip: You’re not listening to me, are you? You never listen to me. You don’t deserve to be part of this organization. You have such little respect that probably didn’t even attempt to remember my name.
Walter: “Rip”, right?
The Rip stood in place…
The Rip: Yes. Surprisingly, you got that right… But do you know why that is?
Walter: Uh… No.
The Rip: Well… Let me show you.
The Rip’s chest and stomach spread open like a vertical mouth, pointed with jagged fang-like spikes. From the gaping void in his torso appeared long, reddish tendrils. The first latched around Walter’s right arm. Then the left. And then his legs. This was the first time The Rip had seen Walter express genuine fear.
Walter: Agh, Christ..! I-… I can’t move!
The rest of The Otherkind were silent, watching what was happening. The tentacles seemed to grow even longer, pulling Walter high into the air as his eyes opened wider, his forehead shining with sweat. More tendrils appeared, rubbing their pointed tips against Walter’s freakishly warm skin. The man in the scarf ran to help Walter, only to be knocked back by one of the tentacles, causing him to be bashed against a stone wall.
Man in scarf: *uff*!
The Rip: Stay back, Malcolm. This is necessary.
Suddenly, one of the tentacles tore the left leg straight off of Walter, it dropped to the floor, blood spilling out from the gaping wound and onto the limb in puddles. Walter tried to scream, but his mouth was being filled by the tentacles. Tears ran down both his and most of the other members’ faces.
Alec: What the hell!?
Malcolm: Jesus…
The woman in purple was silent, her pupils microscopic, her whole body was shaking. This horrific sight had seemed to effect her the most out of the members. Through the gaps between the hands covering her eyes she noticed the tentacles tugging even harder on each of the limbs, the sound of cracking bones echoed through the room. Eventually all three remaining limbs split apart, leaving a pile of broken pieces on the floor. Walter was nothing but broken bones, torn skin, muscle, and large masses of blood. Walter’s head was still fully intact when it hit the floor, however, his eyes were still wide open and his jaw fully extended, staring into the souls of the remaining members.
Woman in purple: No… No no no…
She fell to her knees, her hands dropping to the floor, her tears breaking through like a waterfall. Malcolm stood beside her, putting his hand on her shoulder to comfort them. Meanwhile all the tentacles sucked themselves quickly back into The Rip, before he reached his hand down to Walter’s mutilated corpse.
The Rip: Ötałlo-kå.
What was rest of Walter disappeared. The Rip turned to the other members.
The Rip: I am deeply sorry if you found the visuals of Walter’s deserved punishment a tad graphic.
Malcolm: “A tad”? You slaughtered the poor guy. Look at Cindy here, look what you did.
“Cindy” looked up at The Rip, a hint of rage behind her tears.
Cindy: You monster!!!
She got up and lunged at The Rip, only for him to put his hand forward in a shielding position.
The Rip: Hīdoth-pöl.
She teleported back where she was before.
The Rip: Your anger is justified, though please, take this experience as a lesson. I love you all deeply, you’re like family to me. I’d rather not be forced to punish one of you like I did today. So stay in line. Thank you. Now, back to work.
~Madam Web
c/n 6161.
The UH-1E was a specific variant for the US Marines and was based on the Army UH-1B/C.
192 were produced, of which this example was built in 1967 and given the Bureau No 154777.
It is now privately owned and Norwegian registered, but maintained in US Marines markings.
Seen after displaying at the 2017 Sola Airshow,
Stavanger Airport, Sola, Norway.
10th June 2017
REAR VIEW of Indian Cuckoo (Cuculus micropterus)
The generic name derives from the onomatopoeic name for a cuckoo, based on the bird's call, in Old English = coccou or cukkow, in French = coucou and in Greek = kokkux or kokkyx. The specific name results from a combination of two Greek words: micro = little or very small and ptero = wing. Together, the name literally means "small winged cuckoo" which is reflected in an early common name.
Other common names: Short-winged Cuckoo, Indian Hawk-Cuckoo.
Taxonomy: Cuculus micropterus Gould 1837, Himalayas.
Sub-species & Distribution: Two races are recognised, both of which are found in this region:
micropterus Gould 1837, Himalayas. Ranges from India, Nepal, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Myanmar and Thailand, east to E China, Mongolia, Korea and E Russia. It winters south to the Andamans and Nicobars, West Malaysia, Singapore, Sumatra, Java, Borneo and the Philippines.
concretus S. Müller 1845, Borneo. This smaller resident form is found in Borneo, Sumatra and Java. It is also found from Phattalung, in S Thailand, south to Johore (Medway & Wells 1976).
Similar species: It is very similar to two other Cuculus species. The Common Cuckoo C. canorus does not occur in this region. The Oriental Cuckoo C. saturatus is a rare winter visitor and passage migrant. Both these birds do not have a broad black sub-terminal band, tipped with white, on the tail.
Size: 12½ to 13" (31 to 33 cm). Sexes differ slightly.
Description: Male: Head and neck dark ashy-grey tinged with brown, paler on the lores, chin, throat and upper breast. Remaining upperparts, scapulars and wing coverts dark ashy-brown, the primaries and secondaries similar but barred with white along the inner webs. Tail dark ashy-brown with a broad black sub-terminal band and tipped with white. Basally, the tail feathers have a series of alternating white and black bands, more on the outer feathers than the inner ones, often with white or rufous notches along both edges. Lower breast and abdomen creamy-white, boldly barred with dark blackish-brown bars, the vent, axillaries, undertail and underwing coverts more narrowly barred with blackish-brown.
Female: Very like the male, with the throat and breast tinged with rufous.
Immature birds: Juvenile birds appear largely white to rufous-white with dark brown bars on the head, nape, upper back, chin, throat, sides of neck and breast, the face and ear coverts less heavily marked. Remaining upperparts, including wing coverts more rufous, the feathers broadly edged with rufous-buff and tipped with white. Lower breast, belly and vent pale buffy-white, broadly barred with blackish-brown, more so on the flanks. The tail appears largely to be barred with rufous and black, with more numerous bars than adult have. They, too, like the adults, have a broad black sub-terminal tail band.
Gradually, the white and rufous edges on the upperparts disappear, the throat and upper breast turn ashy, and the bars on the underparts become more defined. Within five months of leaving the nest, the young are almost in adult plumage, the rufous band across the upper breast being ultimately lost except in females. However, they often have rufous or whitish tips to the flight feathers and upperwing coverts (Oates & Blanford 1895).
Soft parts: Iris dark yellowish-brown, orbital ring orange-yellow. Upper mandible black, lower mandible greenish-horn tipped with black, gape orange-yellow. Legs and feet orange-yellow, claws black.
Status, Habitat & Behaviour: A common winter visitor and passage migrant, is found throughout Singapore, the earliest date being 14th September, the latest date 19th May (Wang & Hails 2007). Between these two dates, this bird has not been recorded in Singapore, which suggests that C. m. concretus, the resident form found south to Johore in west Malaysia, does not occur in Singapore.
The nominate form is a vagrant to Borneo where C. m. concretus, a smaller and darker form, is also the resident race (Smythies & Davison 1999), up to 1100 m (3300 feet) in the Kelabit Highlands of Sarawak. In Sabah, it is found in primary, peatswamp and logged forests (Sheldon et. al. 2001).
In Singapore, it is more usually found in forests, along forest edges, in mangroves, secondary scrub and, occasionally, in gardens and parks (Wang & Hails 2007). In West Malaysia, both resident and migrant forms are found to 760 m (2500 feet), in the canopy of lowland and hill forests, as well as on offshore islands (Medway & Wells 1976). In India and Nepal, where it is very common in summer, it can be found in fairly wooded country to 2300 m, even up to 3700 m (Baker 1927).
A solitary and shy bird, it is generally found singly and easily overlooked, keeping to the treetops or flying hawk-like over the forest canopy. During the breeding season, however, it becomes very vocal, calling incessantly during the early hours of dawn and again at dusk, far into the night, especially on moonlit nights, even calling on the wing during courtship chases (Ali & Ripley 1969).
Food: It mainly eats caterpillars, ants, locustids, fruit, butterflies and grasshoppers (Smythies 1968), sometimes coming down to the ground, hopping about awkwardly to pick up insects from within the leaf litter (Ali & Ripley 1969). In Singapore, it was found feeding at a termite hatch (Subaraj 2008).
Voice and Calls: In India, its most common four-note call is a fine melodious pleasing whistle from which evolved some of its popular local names, Bo-kota-ko in Bengali (Jerdon 1862), Kyphulpakka (Oates & Blanford 1895), and the "Broken Pekoe" bird in English (Baker & Inglis 1930). The call has also been variously annotated by several other authors: as "crossword puzzle" (Ali & Ripley 1969), a far-carrying wa-wa-wa-wu (Medway & Wells 1976), a flute-like ko-ko-ta-ko (King, Woodcock & Dickinson 1975), as reminiscent of the beginning of Beethoven's 5th symphony (Sheldon et. al. 2001). There are several other interpretations of its call (Tsang 2010).
In the Kelabit Highlands of Sarawak, its call was continuously heard in late February over sub-montane forest at 900 m (3000 feet). The loud four-note call was fairly musical, koh-koh-koh-kok, the first three syllables on the same pitch, the third sometimes higher, the last note always lower. It was persistently uttered for several minutes at a time, each burst of four-note lasting slightly over one second with about two seconds between each burst, occasional with a fifteen to thirty seconds break between each set of notes. Once or twice, it made a more rounded fluting and musical variation of the same four notes. Most of the time, the call was echoed, almost synchronously, by a four-note squeaking call, much more shrill and softer, sometimes in a lower key (Sreedharan 2005).
It usually calls from the tops of tall trees or when flying from tree to tree (Jerdon 1862), and much more persistently during breeding season, often calling all night long (Smythies 1968). The call is uttered intermittently for hours on end, for more than five minutes at a stretch, at about 23 calls per minute, and, while courting a nearby female, the wings are dropped, the tail spread wide and erected, the bird pivoting from side to side (Ali & Ripley 1969).
Breeding: Very little is known of the breeding of this Cuckoo. It is brood parasitic and, instead of building its own nest, it surreptitiously lays eggs in the nests of several host species, its choice of victim varying from location to location. The nominate form, C. m. micropterus, does not breed in our area. The local form, C. m. concretus breeds in peninsular Malaysia.
The breeding season varies from May to July in northern China, March to August in India, January to June in Burma and January to August in the Malay Peninsula.
In India, the host species are said to be Streaked Laughing-Thrush Garrulax lineatus, White-bellied Redstart Hodgsonius phoenicuroides, Indian Bush-Chat Saxicola torquata and Indian Blue Robin Luscinia brunnea, all of which lay blue or bluish eggs, similar to those of this Cuckoo (Baker 1927).
Additionally, it is said to victimise species such as Fork-tailed Drongo Dicrurus adsimilis, Ashy Drongo Dicrurus leucophaeus but other species, "in whose nests putative eggs of this cuckoo are claimed to have been found, or have been observed feeding its young", include the Asian Paradise-flycatcher Terpsiphone paradisi, the Streaked Spiderhunter Arachnothera magna and, in Sri Lanka, the Black-hooded Oriole Oriolus xanthornus (Ali & Ripley 1969).
Given the difficulty in determining the identity of young cuckoos, it is hardly surprising that these two authors have included a caveat, stating that the available data on the breeding biology of this bird, indeed, of all parasitic cuckoos are, "by and large, meagre, and of dubious authenticity. Most accounts are vague, largely conjectural and often contradictory. The whole subject calls for a more methodical de novo re-investigation".
Currently, this picture (Ong 2008), of a juvenile Indian Cuckoo fostered by a Black-and-yellow Broadbill Eurylaimus ochromalus provides the only incontrovertible evidence of a confirmed host in Malaysia. In Amurland, Siberia, its main host is the Brown Shrike Lanius cristatus, the cuckoo's eggs hatching in about 12 days, two to three days sooner than that of the shrike (Ali & Ripley 1969).
Oviduct eggs from females are said to be of two types: whitish with small reddish-brown dots, closely matching drongo eggs, or pale greyish-blue, like those of the Turdinae, the eggs c. 25 x 19 mm in size (Ali & Ripley 1969).
Migration: Seventeen night-flying migrants, attributed to C. m. micropterus, were caught at Fraser's Hill from 10th October to 27th November and 7th to 14th April between 1966 and 1969. Birds on passage were also collected in November at One Fathom Bank Lighthouse and on Rembia and Pisang islands. None of these belonged to the resident races have been handled (Medway & Wells 1976).
Moult: In the Family Cuculidae, moult strategy is quite complex, occasionally suspended. The primaries moult from two centres, P1 to P4 descendantly, P5 to P10 ascendantly. The secondaries, too, have two centres, S1 to S5 centripetally, S6 to S9 ascendant and alternate. Tail moult is irregular. They moult twice annually, undergoing a partial summer moult and a complete winter moult which finishes in early spring (Baker 1993).
None of the migrant birds from the off-shore sources were in moult. The migrants caught at Fraser's Hill in autumn were all in post-juvenile or adult plumage, indicating that the annual moult is completed in the breeding grounds, before they reach winter quarters (Medway & Wells 1976).
Number 17, a red 1964 Mercedes-Benz 220SE - AMO 735B - entered by John Moodie (driver) and Mark Haddon (navigator) is seen here competing in the HERO's (Historic Endurance Rallying Organisation's) Land’s End to John O’Groats Reliability Trial and Classic Car Tour (LE JOG) Scotland December 2018.
Any additional information clarifying the vehicle's make, model, modifications made and its specific history will be welcomed.
Press "L" to view large.
Rarely do I make specific plans on one of my photographic excursions, but this time I did. No, it was not for this picture! I had checked the moon rise to coincide with the opposing sunset overlooking the Western face of the Tetons. Everything was planned perfectly... except, the moon reared it's head right on queue, but some distance North of the Tetons and outside my planned shot.
So, I turned my camera towards the sunset and shot Fall River without the Tetons in the background and without the moon. I guess it just goes to show that "The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men" are filled with the planning of man and full of flaws. Guess I'll just go on being a photographer of the opportunities that are presented to me and somehow... I'm just fine with that.
3 in a series of 3.
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Photographs taken on Saturday, November 17, 2012 at the Tommy Tant Memorial Surf Classic. Click to view large.
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More surfing action in my Tommy Tant Surf Classic set:
www.flickr.com/photos/motorpsiclist/sets/72157631887399861/
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Tommy Tant web site:
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Copyright © notice: My photographs and videos and any of my derivative works are my private property and are copyright © by me, John Russell (aka "Zoom Lens") and ALL my rights, including my exclusive rights, are reserved and protected by United States Copyright Laws and by the Berne Convention and the Universal Copyright Convention.
Do not rip these photos off; they do not belong to you!
ANY use without my permission in writing is forbidden by law, including use on blogs; pin boards such as Pinterest; Tumblr; Facebook; or any other use without my specific written permission.
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Midnight Shadows
Part 1
Maybe is because of the specific role-play games my twin and I grew up playing. Maybe it’s also because of My love of dressing up in elegant attire and the wearing of jewellery. Or just maybe I am one of those mystic magnets of a soul that attracts this sort of thing to happen?
I had actually written this one out a year after it happened because someone suggested to me to do so, but wish now I had done so right after it happened so I would have a more descriptive memory of it.
It’s brief because the actual incident as it played out, happened so fast that it all was such a blur, there are no real recollections as far as detailed descriptions go.
Not even sure if it fits in with this collection of stories based on role play and similar games from youth and young adulthood.
For it may have been a game, but it certainly was not one of ours.
££££££££££
This rather harrowing experience occurred on the evening of a fancy dress Girl’s only party I attended some years ago.
My twin brother I were 22 years old at the time, as was my best friend Ginny.
The party mentioned was a BAFTA themed get together held in the nearby city.
Ginny and I were both attired for the party as though we were attending the real thing, which was the idea. And we were not alone in dressing up like that.
For at this annual party held by a university chum’s older sister, everyone attending was mandated to dress up like an actress attending the awards ceremony.
Ginny, as always when she does fancy proper, was drop-dead gorgeous.
She looked smashing, poured into her shimmering, off one shoulder gown of thin silk, silver with copper threads woven in. The gown really had a nice sexy fluid flow as she moved. Long elbow-length gloves of a dark copper satin, finished the effect.
She was wearing her good earrings. A pierced ear style set with real diamonds(1/2 Carat diamond with a dangling a pear-shaped 1 1/2 carat diamond), a diamond rhinestone choker, a matching rhinestone bracelet, and two cocktail rings. The 2 carat earrings and one of her rings were real, the rest good quality antique rhinestones.
Her silky hair, a darker natural red than mine, was worn up with an elegant bun held with a long silver clip on one side. Several strands purposely fell alongside her freckled face, adding a rather far too cute effect.
Myself, I was wearing a pretty party dress of Mum’s. One that I (and Papa) felt she looked breathtakingly beautiful wearing it on a night out.
It was a solid coloured sky blue taffeta dress that shone with a tight sleekness down along my figure. Maybe a bit too tight for it outlined my every curve, making me look sexier than I knew I was. The skirt was higher in front( touching just below my knees) than in the back where it swished a few inches above my ankles and my deep blue silk stiletto heels. The neckline of the dress was of a long open scoop and had wavy ruffles running along with its opening, the sleeves went to my elbows, ending in ruffles. With it, I was also wearing deep blue 3/4 length satin gloves.
For jewellery, I wore mum’s full set of enticingly sparkling rhinestones. The pricey imitation diamonds that Papa teased he needed sunglasses to look at her whenever Mum wore them out, which was a lot.
The centerpiece of the set was undoubtedly the long glittery necklace that looked like an upside-down,loosely attached, elongated pyramid filled with blazing diamond-like stones.
This eye-catcher hung down low along the open neck of the dress, swaying a few inches up from my (small)cleavage.
The set also had a matching bracelet, long earrings, and a ring. I added two more of my real gemstone rings for effect.
My own freshly washed long, naturally red hair was pulled back in a plait and I had a thin diamond chip encrusted silver Tiara to hold it all in place.
Please get a good mental picture of how Ginny and I were dressed up for the affair before reading on( and I hope you will read on) it should add a little clarity to the story.
Midnight Shadows
Part 2
To fit in with the party theme my twin brother actually was able to again borrow papa’s friend’s elegant antique car. An old dark purple Rolls Royce.
My brother dressed the part as a chauffeur( at Ginny and my puppy-eyed request), wearing a suit, formal shirt, and bow tie. He refused to wear the white gloves or hat though.
He thoroughly was into playing his role, opening the door for each of us as we were helped into the back, with him sitting alone upfront.
The party was at a house 30 minutes away in the city, with about 25 guests expected to attend.
All of whom had gone wild with their fancy dress ideas.
Gowns and formal dresses, many of which were old bridesmaids affairs, flowed, shined, and shimmered along with our fellow guest's youthful female figures.
Copious amounts of Gemstones, mostly rhinestone with more than a few real ones, were glittering with amazing brilliance from their mistresses.
As you can imagine, I was really into that atmosphere and it was really for me, a quite enjoyable and engaging experience.
The party itself was a lot of fun and very enjoyable for all in attendance. This was the pre-cell phone era, so we all were quite focused on the party.
On and off we watched the awards show, but the main attraction was the drinking and guessing games we played.
We also had a fashion show with a makeshift red carpet that everyone did a catwalk along.
My mum’s rhinestone attracted a lot of notice, they sparkled so much.
And yes, once when mum was wearing them out a lady actually asked if they were real. We all had a good laugh over that.
My brother and even Ginny commented on how they would sparkle in the city street lamps as we drove under them on the way in.
By the time the party was winding down we all
were feeling pretty well lit, and very huggy.
All too soon it was time to go.
After my twin brother had dropped us off, he waiting for us at the riverside pub named Poet and the Peasant.
He told us to call at the pub and then wait inside the house for him to arrive. The neighborhood was nice enough, but still, it was the city, so he felt more comfortable if we were to not be out wandering.
He would honk the Roll’s horn at the curb to let us know when he was there.
We called from the house after midnight when ready and he told us he’d be there in about 15 minutes after leaving the pub where he was playing darts with a few lads.
We had told others about the Rolls Royce, and some had asked to see it. So, ignoring my brother’s request, we all gathered outside to wait.
Twenty minutes later my brother drove up, spying our group he honked the horn as he pulled up curbside.
Playing the part in front of so many well-dressed ladies, my brother was in his glory as helped each of us slip into the back seat of the rolls Royce, closing our doors like a gentleman, before hopping back in the driver's seat to take us home. Honking the horn again to the few remaining jealous admirers who waved us on.
We felt like real movie stars at that.
And like real movie stars, we soon had a following.
Midnight Shadows
Part 3
It was after my brother turned off the street where the party house was located, that he first noticed the red auto behind us.
He was not sure where it had come from, but, something he could never put a finger on, made him think that it was a deliberate appearance
The red auto, keeping about two car lengths behind, began to match my brother’s turns as he began to take his usual way home. The car never signaled its turns he noticed.
Not saying anything to us chattering away in the back leather seats, he turned off into a side street at random to see what would happen. The auto turned down the same street following, again no turn signal.
My brother then turned down another street and pulled the Rolls over midway along it, stopping at the curb directly in front of a house, so the auto could pass if he also turned In behind.
It did come around the same corner, but instead of passing the parked Rolls, the red auto ominously pulled to the curb about three houses behind us, leaving its lights on.
Ginny and I had been chatting happily in the back seat, my brother stopping the Rolls Royce first drew our attention that something was up.
When asked what’s going on, he said that he thinks someone in an automobile is following us.
We laughed at him, thinking he was trying to play games with us.
On the way to the party, he kept teasing us on how sparkly our jewels were in the rearview mirror when illuminated by street lights.
I had snickered saying
“it’s a good thing your here to protect us then Luv.”
He had looked back at me with a wicked smile in his eyes. “Ah, true lass, but what if I was a thief in disguise?”
So now we both thought he was just trying to put a scare into us playing off on those remarks.
Not smiling at our taunts, he sternly told us to just turn around and watch the auto parked down the road with the headlights on.
Midnight Shadows
Part 4
We both turned in our seats, surprised to see that he was right.
“Who do you think it is?” Ginny asked reasonably.
“Really don’t know, Luv?” He answered putting the Rolls in gear.
He pulled away, and after a few seconds so did the auto with the headlights on.
My brother then took two more random turns down roads and we realized he was really telling the bloody truth.
We knew then it wasn’t something my brother had dreamed up as role-play with his lads. He would not stoop this low and besides, to tell the truth, he was not all that good of an actor to pull it off.
The auto kept pace, matching
us turn for turn.
I would think by then whoever was in the red Auto knew that we realized they were tailing us. But they still kept following.
I remember as we watched from the back, Ginny and I turning to look at each other, both of us not really knowing what to do if even there was anything we could have done?
I can also clearly recollect how Ginny’s diamond earrings were glimmering as I looked into her concerned face. But bit my tongue.
I did not want to alarm her with my thoughts. Knowing how expensive her earrings were. That, plus the fact most of the jewellery I was wearing belonged to Mum, really gave me worries. Still, I knew Ginny was also harboring similar unsaid concerns.
Neither of us daring to give voice to those worries, lest it became a reality.
But two elegantly clad young ladies being driven around inside a Rolls Royce with a chauffeur at the wheel could say the least, easily attract notice. Something we had not given any thought to as we planned out this evening.
Inviting attention, both when arriving in the city, and as well as when they were leaving it.
Both of us turned back to look out the window.
Again watching the bright headlights, I shuddered at another thought that popped into my head.
What if the occupants of the red auto had followed us in, and while we were enjoying the party, had been waiting patiently for us to leave it?
That really creeped me out and I shivered.
My brother, silent with unspoken worries of his own, was keeping to the well lit, residential streets while trying to think of how to get out of this if he needed to.
It could be just two joyriders doing this on a lark after all.
A second issue was that the big Rolls Royce was a lumbering beast not made to outspeed pursuit.
Then there was a third issue: He also did not want to lead our shadowers near to where Ginny or we both lived.
We still lived in a rambling country cottage with my parents. Ginny lived a few houses over in the old stone house that had once been a summer home for a large, prewar, estate owner.
Not voicing any of these concerns to his passengers, my brother stayed in the city, which he knew quite well.
Turning up a boulevard he saw a traffic light ahead.
We pulled up to it and the Red Auto stopped about a car length back.
We could make out the shadowy figures of two unmistakable males, talking to each other as they were pointing fingers.
They were not just pointing at us, but past us. That gave me the creeps as I told my brother what the occupants were doing.
The light turned green, and without signaling, he turned the Rolls to the right, entering a Main Street.
The red auto did the same, not signaling either.
Approaching another light as it was turning red, my brother ran it, cutting off a lurching double-decker just coming into the intersection.
As we received a blast of horns for our transgression, my brother shifted into a higher gear and forced the whining old Rolls into its top speed.
All I remember at that point, was thinking we were not going fast enough at all.
But this maneuver held up the red auto only long enough for us to turn down an alley between two businesses about 3/4 of a block past the red light. I was watching our rear and I knew the red auto, just leaving the intersection, had seen us turn.
My brother knew that the alleys on this street all let out onto a road that ran along the grounds of a rugby stadium.
There were street lamps on the opposite side of the road from the stadium. There were no lights on at all on the stadium side, making the area darker at night than India ink.
We pulled out of the alleyway without seeing any following headlights yet coming in behind us.
“There is usually a patrol car parked along the stadium at night, “my brother said.
“Keep an eye out”
But of course, tonight was the exception, no cars were parked there.
I was looking back at the alleyway we had left and I saw headlights casting along the brick walls.
I gave warning, but it came out as a girlish shriek.
“I see it.” My brother said, he had killed the headlights and was already turning into the exit end of the stadium’s long parking lot
My twin pulled the Rolls under the shadows of some trees that lined the inner side of the parking lot, facing the way we had come.
We all scrunched down and waited.
Midnight Shadows
Part 5
A few very long seconds later, the red auto, driving slowly, appeared at the end of the alley and stopped.
Then, without signal,
it slowly turned off onto the street and started going in the opposite direction, at a crawl.
Looking For our Rolls Royce we probably rightly suspected.
Our hearts were pounding and I believe we were all holding our breaths with disquieting
trepidation.
The red auto went down past that end of the stadium.
My heart leaped into my throat as I put a hand to my beating breasts, watching it turn up the next street leading back to the intersection with the red light we had blown through.
My brother put in the clutch, keeping the headlamps off, he slowly turned the auto around.
Ginny and I sat up and watched behind us.
We turned off the parking lot went back the opposite of where our pursuers had gone.
Once in the street my brother turned on the headlamps and gave the old engine some gas. We turned up the next street and then some side streets.
Nervously we watched the streets behind us. But only saw a few headlights coming on the road, and they were all false alarms.
Finally circling around we made it back to the Main Street that led to the highway turnoff.
Nervously all three of us scanned the cars parked along both sides of the streets. But no one pulled out behind us that seemingly going on forever stretch of road.
Apparently we had lost our shadowers in the red auto.
We made it to the turnoff without further mischief befalling us and went onto the highway and headed back home.
We never saw the red auto again.
Ginny and I were spending the rest of the weekend in her basemen bedroom at her house, her parents bring out of town.
Neither of us was ashamed to admit we accepted my brother’s offer to spend the night upstairs.
When we got to her place, Ginny helped us raid Uncle’s small bar in the basement. We sat up for the rest of the early morning, still fully dressed, talking it over.
We all believed was no lark, hoax, or a joke being played on us. The occupants of that red auto seemed all too intent on something.
To this very day, none of us have any real idea of what that intent may have been, just only our speculation.
I do remember that we had come up with a whole gauntlet of theories before turning in.
But we are all quite ok with not finding out which theory was the correct one that night.
And Like me, I’m sure we all finally drifted off to sleep considering what may have played out if...?
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Would love to hear thoughts on this in the comments below. Especially if anyone has ever had a similar experience.
La reproducción de orquídeas por semilla, requiere de un ambiente aséptico con nutrientes específicos. En la naturaleza millones de semillas se esparcen con el viento y solo menos del 2 por mil que encuentran un hongo especifico prosperan: por eso se cultivan invitro.
Orchid Vermehrung durch Samen erfordert eine sterile Umgebung mit bestimmten Nährstoffen. In der Natur Millionen von Samen werden durch den Wind verbreitet und knapp 2 Promille, die eine bestimmte Pilz gedeihen zu finden: deshalb werden in Flaschen wachsen.
Orchid propagation by seed requires a sterile environment with specific nutrients. In nature millions of seeds are spread by wind and just under 2 per thousand who find a specific fungus thrive; therefore grown invitro.
Specific goals thwarted by the winds.
Out to la Pointe the other morning with a specific goal of photographing the cliffs before the bird migration and nesting begins on the west facing cliffs which by then will be a strict "No-go".
However the winds prevented me to continue including reduced visibility, I'm hoping for another crack at it BUT I did come away with what I think is a rather stunning image worth sharing.
For those who may not be aware, much of what you see is now private property (it's been sold), though the new owner has been gracious enough to still allow walkers along the walking trail following the perimeter to continue enjoying the majestic views from this spot. There are few things they ask/expect... they include no vehicular traffic (including ATV'S etc), no overnight camping, don't litter amongst a few other simple requests which are posted on signs as one approaches the property. All that is asked is that the few requests be respected.
*I'm grateful to have had permission* to have access for this project before the nesting begins, the seabirds will soon be arriving as the weather warms, it'll be critical to avoid disturbing them and other wildlife that is common here.
I hope you enjoy this photo.
© Michel JS Soucy
More of Nature’s beauty in my set: Flowers 2014:
www.flickr.com/photos/motorpsiclist/sets/72157642782367544/
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Copyright © notice: My photographs and videos and any of my derivative works are my private property and are copyright © by me, John Russell (aka "Zoom Lens") and ALL my rights, including my exclusive rights, are reserved and protected by United States Copyright Laws and by the Berne Convention and the Universal Copyright Convention.
Do not rip these photos off; they do not belong to you!
ANY use without my permission in writing is forbidden by law, including use on blogs; pin boards such as Pinterest; Tumblr; Facebook; or any other use without my specific written permission.
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“Seven Magic Mountains is an artwork of thresholds and crossings, of balanced marvels and excessive colors, of casting and gathering and the contrary air between the desert and the city lights.” — Ugo Rondinone, artist
Seven Magic Mountains is a large-scale, site-specific public artwork by artist Ugo Rondinone, located south of Las Vegas. The installation opened in 2016 on a portion of the Mojave Desert managed by the Bureau of Land Management. Each totem is 30-35 feet high and contains 3-6 locally-sourced limestone boulders.
From a sign at the site:
“The artwork extends Rondinone’s long-running interest in natural phenomena and their reformulation in art. Inspired by naturally occurring Hoodoos and balancing rock formations, the stacks also evoke the art of meditative rock balancing. The works appear poised between monumentality and collapse—seeming to defy gravity in their teetering formations, but equally to depend on it.”
SN/NC: Caryota Urens, Arecaceae Family
Caryota speciesare the only palms with bipinnate leaves (meaning they are divided into leaflets that divide a second time). The ultimate leaflets have a characteristic shape, somewhat like the tail of a fish, leading to the popular English name of fishtail palm. The specific epithet urens is Latin for'stinging’ or ‘burning', alluding to the oxalic acid crystals in the fruits, which are skin and membrane irritants. Solitary fishtail palm is used in several ways: the sap is fermented into an alcoholic drink or boiled down to make syrup or sugar, the inner tissue is used as sago (food starch), and the leaves produce strong fibres that are made into ropes, brushes and baskets. This specimen was found in the Oxygen Resort in Paramaribo, Suriname.
Caryota-soorten zijn de enige palmen met geveerde bladeren (wat betekent dat ze zijn verdeeld in folders die een tweede keer delen). De ultieme blaadjes hebben een karakteristieke vorm, een beetje zoals de staart van een vis, wat leidt tot de populaire Engelse naam fishtail palm. De specifieke benaming urens is Latijn voor 'prikken' of 'branden', verwijzend naar de oxaalzuurkristallen in de vruchten, die huid- en membraanirriterende stoffen zijn. Solitaire vissenstaartpalm wordt op verschillende manieren gebruikt: het sap wordt gefermenteerd tot een alcoholische drank of ingekookt om siroop of suiker te maken, het binnenste weefsel wordt gebruikt als sago (voedselzetmeel) en de bladeren produceren sterke vezels die worden verwerkt tot touwen, borstels en manden.
Caryota urens é uma palmeira ornamental, da família das arecaceaes, nativa da Índia, Malásia, Sri Lanca e arredores, conhecida pelo nome popular de palmeira-rabo-de-peixe. Ela constitui papel importante na dieta do povo do arquipélago leste da Índia é a única palmeira cujas folhas são bipinadas, característica que a torna inconfundível. A etimologia de "urens" é do latim e significa picante, ardente, que queima, em alusão à irritação nas mucosas e na pele causada pelos cristais de ácidos de oxalato presentes nas suas frutas. A espécie foi descrita pela primeira vez pelo botânico sueco Carl Nilsson Linnæus no ano de 1753. A árvore é comumente utilizada como planta ornamental. As fibras de suas folhas são utilizadas na confecção de cordas, cestos, pinceis e outros artefatos. Na alimentação ela é quase base alimentar do povo no arquipélago leste e é a principal fonte de matéria prima para a produção de sagu da Índia. Esse sagu é feito a partir do seu tecido interno. O ápice do caule (seu palmito) pode ser comido quando cozido. A semente pode ser mastigada como as nozes de areca (Areca catechu). Ela é utilizada no preparo de uma bebida alcoólica, fermentada, típica da Índia. Essa bebida é feita a partir da seiva extraída de sua inflorescência. Também dessa seiva se faz xarope e açúcar.
Caryota urens llamada vulgarmente cola de pescado por la forma de sus hojas es una palmera con tronco rectilíneo con anillos muy marcados de 15 a 20 m de altura y en torno a 40 cm de diámetro. Hojas de color verde brillante bipinnadas, con folíolos en forma de cuña,rasgados en su borde, lo que les da el aspecto de colas de pescado. Inflorescencias largas, pendientes y muy ramificadas. Frutos globulares primero verdes y luego amarillos, rojos y negros. Caryota urens fue descrito por Carlos Linneo y publicado en Species Plantarum 2: 1189. 1753.2 3. Etimología -- Caryota: nombre genérico que deriva de la palabra griega: karyon que significa nuez. Urens: epíteto latino que significa "urticante" por causar irritación en contacto con la piel.
Les espèces de Caryota sont les seuls palmiers à feuilles bipennées (ce qui signifie qu'ils sont divisés en folioles qui se divisent une seconde fois). Les feuillets ultimes ont une forme caractéristique, un peu comme la queue d'un poisson, conduisant au nom anglais populaire de palmier à queue de poisson. L'épithète spécifique urens est le latin pour «piquer» ou «brûler», faisant allusion aux cristaux d'acide oxalique dans les fruits, qui sont des irritants pour la peau et les membranes. Le palmier à queue de poisson solitaire est utilisé de plusieurs façons: la sève est fermentée en une boisson alcoolisée ou bouillie pour faire du sirop ou du sucre, le tissu interne est utilisé comme sagou (amidon alimentaire) et les feuilles produisent des fibres solides qui sont transformées en cordes, brosses et paniers.
Le specie Caryota sono le uniche palme con foglie bipennate (nel senso che sono divise in foglioline che si dividono una seconda volta). Gli ultimi volantini hanno una forma caratteristica, un po 'come la coda di un pesce, che porta al popolare nome inglese di palma a coda di pesce. L'epiteto specifico urens è latino per "pungente" o "bruciore", alludendo ai cristalli di acido ossalico nei frutti, che sono irritanti per la pelle e le membrane. La palma solitaria a coda di pesce viene utilizzata in diversi modi: la linfa viene fermentata in una bevanda alcolica o bollita per produrre sciroppo o zucchero, il tessuto interno viene utilizzato come sago (amido alimentare) e le foglie producono fibre forti che vengono trasformate in corde, spazzole e cestini.
Caryota-Arten sind die einzigen Palmen mit doppelt gefiederten Blättern (dh sie sind in Blättchen unterteilt, die sich ein zweites Mal teilen). Die ultimativen Blättchen haben eine charakteristische Form, ähnlich dem Schwanz eines Fisches, was zum beliebten englischen Namen Fischschwanzpalme führt. Das spezifische Epitheton urens ist lateinisch für "Stechen" oder "Brennen" und spielt auf die Oxalsäurekristalle in den Früchten an, die Haut- und Membranreizstoffe sind. Einzelne Fischschwanzpalmen werden auf verschiedene Arten verwendet: Der Saft wird zu einem alkoholischen Getränk fermentiert oder zu Sirup oder Zucker eingekocht, das innere Gewebe wird als Sago (Lebensmittelstärke) verwendet und die Blätter produzieren starke Fasern, die zu Seilen verarbeitet werden. Bürsten und Körbe.
Caryota 属のヤシは、二回羽状の葉（つまり、二度目に分裂する小葉に分かれている）を持つ唯一のヤシです。最後の小葉は特徴的な形をしており、魚の尾に少し似ていることから、英語ではフィッシュテール パームと呼ばれています。種小名の urens はラテン語で「刺すような」または「燃えるような」という意味で、果実に含まれるシュウ酸結晶が皮膚や粘膜を刺激することをほのめかしています。単独のフィッシュテール パームは、いくつかの方法で使用されます。樹液は発酵させてアルコール飲料にしたり、煮詰めてシロップや砂糖を作ったりします。内部組織はサゴ（食品用デンプン）として使用され、葉からはロープ、ブラシ、バスケットに加工される強力な繊維が作られます。
أنواع Caryota هي أشجار النخيل الوحيدة ذات الأوراق ثنائية الطور (بمعنى أنها مقسمة إلى منشورات تقسم مرة ثانية). المنشورات النهائية لها شكل مميز ، يشبه إلى حد ما ذيل السمكة ، مما يؤدي إلى الاسم الإنجليزي الشهير لنخيل ذيل السمكة. والسمات النوعية للبول هي كلمة لاتينية تعني "اللدغة" أو "الحرق" ، في إشارة إلى بلورات حمض الأكساليك في الثمار ، وهي مهيجات للجلد والأغشية. يتم استخدام نخيل ذيل السمكة المنفرد بعدة طرق: يتم تخمير العصارة في مشروب كحولي أو غليها لصنع شراب أو سكر ، ويتم استخدام النسيج الداخلي كساغو (نشا غذائي) ، وتنتج الأوراق أليافًا قوية يتم تصنيعها في الحبال ، فرش وسلال.
I have no specific information about Atkinson Borders with Andrew Wishart & Sons but the type was widely used by Scottish hauliers. Introduced in 1958, the Borderer sold well until its demise in the early 1970s, by which time its fibreglass cab with cramped interior and tiny doors inconveniently positioned over the rear wheels did not endear itself to drivers (21-Apr-23).
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ESA revealed the first stunning images from its groundbreaking Biomass satellite mission – marking a major leap forward in our ability to understand how Earth’s forests are changing and exactly how they contribute to the global carbon cycle.
Biomass captured this image over Gabon in Africa. The Ivindo River, which is vital to the health of the rainforest, is clear to see in this striking image. Other than the river and tributaries, the image is predominantly green, representing dense forest. The visibility of topographical features in this image further underscores the radar’s capability to image through forest canopies to the terrain underneath.
The image spans approximately 100 km along the Biomass satellite's flight path (length) and 60 km across in width, with north oriented to the top.
The Biomass synthetic aperture operates continuously in fully polarimetric imaging mode, capturing all four linear polarisation combination: HH, HV, VH, and VV. The resulting images are displayed using a Pauli decomposition in RGB format, where different scattering mechanisms are represented by specific colours: blue corresponds to single-bounce surface scattering, red to double-bounce scattering, and green to multiple-bounce interactions, which are indicative of volume scattering within the forest canopy.
Credits: ESA