View allAll Photos Tagged two
I keep forgetting to post stuff at the moment! Will try and catch up on a few in the next while. Here's one from a fabulous misty morning in Tuscany back in May, the first of two successive stunning mornings we got.
Sometimes I have to dig into the archives for stuff to post - life has just been very hectic of late.
This shot may seem familiar. It was part of the article I wrote about Through the Viewfinder photography for JPG Magazine in their Embrace the Blur issue.
New neighbors sifting through stuff they decided they didn't want, placed side by side in front of the house out on the street. The chairs were gone in a couple of hours.
I didn't even notice these guys up in the tree over my head until my friend, Jim pointed them out. They seemed to be enjoying the sunshine.
Reed Canal Park is very large. On one side, there is a lake, with a bridge that goes over it on the south side, and on the other side of the park is a woodsy area that has a playground, walking trails, and loads of trees. That is the squirrels' domain, and they wait patiently for people to bring them treats like peanuts! They are pretty fearless, coming right up to you for handouts, but quickly running away if you don't have any. This tree is right on the border between the woods and the open lake area, and is a very pretty spot in the afternoon when the sun is setting, although the light can be a real challenge because it's pretty blazing.
A high key shot of two Mallard drakes (Anas platyrhychos) having a nap , one legged, on a tree in the water.
On 3rd October 2018, Prussian 'T16.1' Class 0-10-0 tank 94 1538 runs through the closed Schmiedefeld station with a special public holiday working between Schleusingerneundorf and Rennsteig. Two decades of tree growth since its closure by DB have left it looking in a very sorry state. The railway first came to Schmiedefeld in 1904 after which it grew as a popular spa resort for convalescing, hiking and cross-country skiing. Post-war during the GDR-era, Schmiedefeld, being located high in the Thuringian Forest, was a popular holiday destination, and it was served by through holiday trains from Berlin. Even in 1990/1991 it as still served by a return through train service from Magdeburg. During the communist era, East German holidaymakers would flock to Schmiedefeld to rented accommodation and holiday homes, many unable to travel further afield from the GDR. After the end of communism, express trains still ran along this secondary railway through Schmiedefeld between Themar and Erfurt, although freight traffic on this route ceased at the end of 1993. Scheduled DB passenger services ended on the line in May 1998. The line, still connected to the DB national network, is now owned by the private Rennsteigbahn freight operating company, which commenced operating services around the DB network from 2003. As well as providing the safety case for the tourist operations with private historic locomotives and carriages, it has also recently operated timber trains along sections of the Rennsteigbahn, and there's clearly no shortage of that commodity!
© Gordon Edgar - All rights reserved. Please do not use my images without my explicit permission
For Karen and Keith
Two hearts...one spirit
This quote from Christopher Logue is about risk and trust - taking that 'leap of faith'
Two Trees
Two Trees
Sending out shoots
Commingling underground
In flourishing existence
When purchasing the land
With its contracts and deeds
Preserves value
As growth, uninclined, continues
.
.
©Christine A. Owens 1.16.18
.
I really appreciate your comments and faves. I'm not a hoarder of contacts, but enjoy real-life, honest people. You are much more likely to get my comments and faves in return if you fit the latter description. Just sayin. :oD
.
If you like b/w photography and/or poetry check out my page at:
expressionsbychristine.blogspot.com/</a
The one on the right is a Boreal Chickadee that I have seen it for the first time (Life Bird# 451). The one on the left is a friendly Black-capped Chickadee that is abundant in our area. Because of large color variation the Boreal Chickadee was very easy to pick up from a large group of Black-capped Chickadee that it was hanging out with. Note how the white patch on its cheek is so much smaller than the Black-capped. Darlington Provincial Park, Durham, Ontario
Found these two sitting in the Great Falls yard this evening. I've shot and posted pics of 12066 before, but this was the first time I've seen the other one.
This shot gets me to thinking, what does one call multiple cars of this sort? Caboosi? Cabeese?
Canon EOS 350D Digital Rebel XT
Tamron AF 75-300mm lens
“You never know beforehand what people are capable of, you have to wait, give it time, it’s time that rules, time is our gambling partner on the other side of the table and it holds all the cards of the deck in its hand, we have to guess the winning cards of life, our lives.” ~ José Saramago
Here we have the front of the pocket watch open showing you all its glory.
So happy together. Two lambs overlooking the landscape of the Isle of Terschelling (NL) View Awards Count
Two girls sit on a bench by a small lake, waiting for their boyfriends. The girls are 12. The boyfriends are the first they’ve really had.
Like the girls, the boys are friends. They’ve become a foursome. And today they’re all skipping school together.
It’s November. The wind off the lake is chilly, the grass around it brown and matted, clumped with goose poop and dotted here and there with bits of garbage. Fast food wrappers, empty cigarette packs, old Kleenexes, beer cans – glisten dully around the bench in the weak winter light.
One of the girls lights a cigarette, inhales extravagantly… waves a hand in front of her face to dissipate the smoke from her match. Tosses the match on the ground by the bench. Stares at the lake.
She’s the older-looking one. The more mature one. She has breasts and hips and long shiny hair.
The other girl is still awkward, skinny, flat chested, hipless. Worried that her curvy friend – who she has known since kindergarten – will one day abandon her.
They’ve been friends forever, it seems. And they were always equals. But now, time is taking them in different directions. The skinny girl doesn't like it. Not one bit. But what can she do? She is trapped... helpless. She cannot stop puberty.
“Give me a cigarette,” the skinny girl says.
The curvy girl makes a face like “What? Are you serious?” Turns to the skinny girl, blinks a few times rapidly and blows out a long blue plume into the damp air.
“But you don’t smoke,” says the curvy girl.
“Maybe I want to start,” says the skinny girl, wondering… even as she says this… what the hell she’s thinking. She’s repulsed by cigarettes. Has tried them a few times and ended up sick. Still.
She feels that smoking is a visible sign of aging; of sophistication. It’s one of the few things that sets her apart from the curvy girl – and is within her control. She cannot make her breasts grow or her hair shine or her pimples disappear (although she does her best to cover them). But, if she smokes, she figures, she will look more mature.
So she takes a cigarette. Holds it in her mouth while the curvy girl strikes a match and lights it. Even before she inhales, the skinny girl has a mouthful of awful.
The cigarette has a rank, dirty chemical taste. Like insecticide. The girl tries not to breathe through her nose as she sucks in the smallest possible amount of hot, acrid smoke.
The girls make small talk. They’ve known each other so long they’re able to communicate in something like a code. It consists of single syllables, of grunts, of gestures… any one of which can send them into fits of doubled-over, can't-breathe laughter.
There on the bench… just the two of them… it’s almost as though they’re still little girls. And the skinny one almost wishes they were… that they weren’t growing up; that their bodies weren’t changing; that they didn’t have boyfriends now.
In truth, she doesn’t like her boyfriend. Never would have chosen him; is really only seeing him because her friend and his friend are boyfriend-girlfriend.
In truth, some part of her is not-so-secretly in love with her curvy, mature-looking friend.
She’s been reading up on adolescence in the library. She has read that girl-girl crushes are common at this age; that they don’t mean anything; that, given time, her interest in boys will develop.
She wishes it would hurry up. She’s tired of pretending to like the boyfriend’s sloppy wet attempts at passion. She goes along with it only because, this way, she gets more time with her friend. And when she is alone at night, remembering their double dates, it’s not the boyfriend she thinks about.
“Where the hell are those guys?” the curvy girl asks, looking at the time on her cell phone. The boyfriends are late. The four of them were meant to meet here half an hour ago.
It’s cold by the lake. The girls huddle in their coats, hands in pockets, breath making clouds.
By the time the man approaches them, they have almost given up on the boyfriends arriving at all.
(to be continued)