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From Wikipedia:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Two_Guns,_Arizona
Two Guns is a ghost town in Coconino County, Arizona, United States.
Located on the east rim of Canyon Diablo approximately 30 mi (48 km) east of Flagstaff, Two Guns prospered as a tourist stop along Route 66.
Early history
Native artifacts found at Two Guns have been dated to between 1050 and 1600 AD.
As white settlers began to populate the area in the mid-19th century, Two Guns was recognized as an ideal place to cross Canyon Diablo, first by wagon, then later by vehicle.
Two Guns was the site of a mass murder of Apaches by their Navajo enemies in 1878. A group of Apaches had hid in a cave at Two Guns to avoid detection, but were discovered by the Navajos, who lit sagebrush fires at the cave's exit and shot any Apaches trying to escape. The fire asphyxiated 42 Apaches, after which they were stripped of their valuables. The murder site is referred to as the "death cave".
During the winter of 1879-80, Billy the Kid and his outlaw gang hid in the ruins of a stone house and corral on the west rim of Canyon Diablo, across from Two Guns.
In 1880, long before Two Guns was established as a settlement, the construction of the Santa Fe Railway was progressing across northern Arizona. At the location where the rail line crossed Canyon Diablo, about 3 mi (4.8 km) north of Two Guns, construction was delayed while a trestle was built. A settlement populated by male work crews was established near the construction site and was named Canyon Diablo, after the nearby canyon. The settlement "quickly became a wild and lawless place as drifters, gamblers, and outlaws made their way to town", Four men employed by the Hashknife Ranch robbed the train at Canyon Diablo in 1889, then fled on horseback with $100,000 in currency, 2,500 new silver dollars, $40,000 in gold coins, as well as silver watches, jewelry, and diamonds. A posse led by sheriff Buckey O'Neill pursued the bandits, but recovered less than $100 when the men were captured. Years later, after release from prison, one of the thieves disclosed that the stolen goods, along with their rifles, had been buried in the canyon rim near Two Guns. The location remains popular with treasure hunters.
The National Old Trails Highway (called the "Santa Fe Highway" in Arizona) was built in 1907 in Arizona, and loosely followed the railway, The highway crossed the dry river bed of Canyon Diablo at the Two Guns location, and zig-zagged up and down each embankment. In 1915, Canyon Diablo Bridge opened at the Two Guns crossing, and was used until 1938 when a new bridge was built nearby.
Settlement
The first settler at Two Guns was Ed Randolph, who built a store next to the death cave.
In 1922, Earle and Louise Cundiff purchased 320 acres (130 ha) of land from Randolph at this location for $1,000, and built a store, restaurant, and gasoline pumps.
Harry E. Miller leased a property from the Cundiffs in 1925 and began extensive construction. Calling himself "Chief Crazy Thunder", Miller wanted to capitalize on the beauty of Canyon Diablo and the flow of passing tourists. Along the canyon rim Miller erected a zoo with cages made of brick, mortar and chicken wire; his zoo animals included mountain lions, cougars, gila monsters, coral snakes, birds and a lynx. A restaurant and Indian gift shop were opened, and Miller cleaned out the death cave, selling any Apache skulls found inside as souvenirs.For a fee, visitors were led on a tour which began at a Hopi house Miller had built, where rolls of colored piki bread was made and sold. They then followed a paved path down the side of the canyon to a soft drink stand at the bottom. Next was a tour of the death cave, where Miller had installed electric lights, and fake ruins of cliff dwellers. Flamboyant signs were placed along the highway, and Miller named his establishment "Fort Two Guns" as an homage to silent movie actor William S. "Two Guns" Hart, with whom Miller claimed to have previously worked.
The Cundiffs applied for a post office under the name "Two Guns" in 1924, but it was refused. The post office was renamed "Canyon Lodge".
In 1925, "Rimmy" Jim Giddings opened a gas station and cafe at Two Guns called Rimmy Jim's. Another location burned down in 1969.
In 1926, the highway designation was changed to U.S. Route 66. That same year, Cundiff and Miller had a disagreement about the details of their lease, and Miller shot the unarmed Cundiff to death. He was later acquitted of the killing.
The interior of Miller's store burned in 1929, and soon after, Louise Cundiff built her own tourist store. The following year, Miller left the state. Cundiff remarried, and in 1934 opened the Two Guns Texaco service station along a new alignment of Route 66. Behind it they relocated the zoo (which closed prior to 1950).
In 1938, a new bridge across Canyon Diablo was built, and Route 66 began following Interstate 40 at the Two Guns location.
A more modern service station was built at Two Guns in 1963, and in the late 1960s a motel, western tavern, reptile exhibit, and new zoo were added. Later, a Shell service station was built and a KOA campground opened.
Decline
The service station burned in 1971, and Two Guns began to decline.
The ruins of many former structures remain, including the trading post, campground, old cottages, zoo, and burned-out service station.
In 1988, Canyon Diablo Bridge was added to the National Register of Historic Places.
Photo by Eric Friedebach
U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry and Indian Minister of External Affairs Sushma Swaraj address reporters during a news conference that followed the plenary session of a Strategic Dialogue between the two countries in New Delhi, India, on July 31, 2014. [State Department photo/ Public Domain]
The two beers are poured. Le Clairon des Chasseurs, Montmartre.
Wednesday, 8th April 2009, Paris, France.
Two girls. Juan Mendez' daughter on left in dark sweater. Village Fuerte Quemado, Santa Maria, Catamarca. 1926.
Name of Expedition: 2nd Captain Marshall Field Paleontological Expedition
Participants: Elmer S. Riggs (Leader and Photographer),Robert C. Thorne (Collector), Rudolf Stahlecker (Collector), Felipe Mendez
Expedition Start Date: April 1926
Expedition End Date: November 1926
Purpose or Aims: Geology Fossil Collecting
Location: South America, Argentina, Catamarca, Santa Maria, Village Fuerte Quemado
Original material: album print
Digital Identifier: CSGEO69348
Jofra Archer bowling to Aussie batsman Marnus Labuschagne at Headingley in Australia's 2nd innings. England's bowlers could not compensate for their team-mates total incompetence with the bat on Day Two of the 3rd Ashes Test at Headingley.
Seen from the portico of the Edwardian palm house, now a butterfly house, the glow from the Memorial's corresponding eastern portico beautifully illuminated the terrace between the Park's two main buildings. On a normal night, this photo wouldn't be practical, but tonight's fog softened the light wonderfully and introduced a subtle backlighting from floodlit sports pitches nearby.
The Grade I Listed Memorial was designed by John Belcher, with sculpted detailing by John James Joass (apart from allegorical figures by Herbert Hampton), and built between 1906-9 for Lord Ashton (James Williamson Jr., the linoleum magnate and Member of Parliament), ostensibly as a monument to his late second wlfe, Jessie, though the grand gesture tends to commemorate Williamson himself.
Though Williamson Park is a remodeling of the quarry which supplied the 'honey'-coloured sandstone of many civic buildings in Lancaster, the Memorial is Portland stone (over brick) with a copper dome.
The arms over this, the main entrance are those of Lancaster Corporation; Ashton's own appear over the western doors.
In the foreground is a cobble mosaic depicting the Lancashire rose, created for the City Council in 1987 by local (Wennington, ~16 km away) artist Maggy Howarth. Assembled off-site, it was delivered to the Park as a 288-piece jigsaw!
My girl is home for break. My plan for this portrait was different, but with wiggly dog, you take what you can get. I still think they look wonderful. My two strong-willed children.
excerpts taken from www.catholicauthors.com/greene.html
Graham Greene is perhaps the most perplexing of all the literary converts whose works animated the Catholic literary revival in the 20th century. His visions of angst and guilt, informed and sometimes deformed by a deeply felt religious sensibility, make his novels, and the characters that adorn them, both fascinating and unforgettable.
His fiction is gripping because it grapples with faith and disillusionment on the shifting sands of uncertainty in a relativistic age. His tormented characters are the products of Greene's own tortured soul, and one suspects that he was more baffled than anyone else at the contradictions at the core of his own character and, in consequence, at the heart of the characters that his fertile and fetid imagination had created.
From his earliest childhood Greene exhibited a world-weariness that at times reached the brink of despair. In large part this bleak approach may have been due to a wretched childhood and to the traumatic time spent at Berkhhamsted School where his father was headmaster. His writing is full of the bitter scars of his school days. In his autobiographical A Sort of Life, Greene described the panic in his family after he had been finally driven in desperation to run away from the horrors of the school: "My father found the situation beyond him . . . My brother suggested psychoanalysis as a possible solution, and my father - an astonishing thing in 1920 - agreed."
For six months the young, and no doubt impressionable, Greene lived at the house of the analyst to whom he had been referred. This episode would be described by him as "perhaps the happiest six months of my life," but it is possible that the seeds of his almost obsessive self-analysis were sown at this time. Significantly, he chose the following words of Sir Thomas Browne as an epigraph to his first novel, The Man Within: "There's another man within me that's angry with me."
In later years, the genuine groping for religious truth in Greene's fiction would often be thwarted by his obsession with the darker recesses of his own character. This darker side is invariably transposed onto all his fictional characters, so that even their goodness is warped. Greene saw human nature as "not black and white" but "black and grey," and he referred to his need to write as "a neurosis . . . an irresistible urge to pinch the abscess which grows periodically in order to squeeze out all the pus." Such a tortured outlook may have produced entertaining novels but could not produce any true sense of reality. Greene's novels were Frankenstein monsters that were not so much in need of Freudian analysis as the products of it.
Greene's conversion in 1926, when he was still only 21 years old, was described in A Sort of Life, in which he contrasted his own agnosticism as an undergraduate, when "to me religion went no deeper than the sentimental hymns in the school chapel," with the fact that his future wife was a Roman Catholic:
I met the girl I was to marry after finding a note from her at the porter's lodge in Balliol protesting against my inaccuracy in writing, during the course of a film review, of the "worship" Roman Catholics gave to the Virgin Mary, when I should have used the term "hyperdulia." I was interested that anyone took these subtle distinctions of an unbelievable theology seriously, and we became acquainted.
The girl was Vivien Dayrell-Browning, then 20 years old, who, five years earlier, had shocked her family by being received into the Catholic Church. Concerning Greene's conversion, Vivien recalled that "he was mentally converted; logically, it seemed to him . . . It was all rather private and quiet. I don't think there was any emotion involved." This was corroborated by Greene himself when he stated in an interview that "my conversion was not in the least an emotional affair. It was purely intellectual."
A more detailed, though hardly a more emotional, description of the process of his conversion was given in his autobiography. "Now it occurred to me . . . that if I were to marry a Catholic I ought at least to learn the nature and limits of the beliefs she held." He walked to the local "sooty neo-Gothic Cathedral" which "possessed for me a certain gloomy power because it represented the inconceivable and the incredible" and dropped a note requesting instruction into a wooden box for enquiries. His motivation was one of morbid curiosity and had precious little to do with a genuine desire for conversion. "I had no intention of being received into the Church. For such a thing to happen I would need to be convinced of its truth and that was not even a remote possibility."
His first impressions of Fr. Trollope, the priest to whom he would go for instruction, had reinforced his prejudiced view of Catholicism: "At the first sight he was all I detested most in my private image of the Church." Soon, however, he was forced to modify his view, coming to realize that his initial impressions of the priest were not only erroneous but that he was "facing the challenge of an inexplicable goodness." From the outset he had "cheated" Fr. Trollope by failing to disclose his irreligious motive in seeking instruction, nor did he tell the priest of his engagement to a Catholic. "I began to fear that he would distrust the genuineness of my conversion if it so happened that I chose to be received, for after a few weeks of serious argument the 'if' was becoming less and less improbable."
The "if" revolved primarily on the primary "if" surrounding God's existence. The center of the argument was the center itself or, more precisely, whether there was any center:
My primary difficulty was to believe in a God at all . . . I didn't disbelieve in Christ - I disbelieved in God. If I were ever to be convinced in even the remote possibility of a supreme, omnipotent and omniscient power I realized that nothing afterwards could seem impossible. It was on the ground of dogmatic atheism that I fought and fought hard. It was like a fight for personal survival.
The fight for personal survival was lost and Greene, in losing himself, had gained the faith. Yet the dogmatic atheist was only overpowered; he was not utterly vanquished. He would reemerge continually as the devil, or at least as the devil's advocate, in the murkier moments in his novels.
The literary critic, J.C. Whitehouse, has compared Greene to Thomas Hardy, rightly asserting that Greene's gloomy vision at least allows for a light beyond the darkness, whereas Hardy allows for darkness only. Chesterton said of Hardy that he was like the village atheist brooding over the village idiot. Greene is often like a self-loathing skeptic brooding over himself. As such the vision of the divine in his fiction is often thwarted by the self-erected barriers of his own ego. Only rarely does the glimmer of God's light penetrate the chinks in the armour, entering like a vertical shaft of hope to exorcise the simmering despair.
Few have understood Greene better than his friend Malcolm Muggeridge, who described him as "a Jekyll and Hyde character, who has not succeeded in fusing the two sides of himself into any kind of harmony." There is more true depth and perception in this one succinct observation by Muggeridge than in all the pages of psycho-babble that have been written about Greene's work by lesser critics. The paradoxical union of Catholicism and skepticism, incarnated in Greene and his work, had created a hybrid, a metaphysical mutant, as fascinating as Jekyll and Hyde and perhaps as futile. The resulting contortions and contradictions of both his own character and those of the characters he created give the impression of depth; but the depth was often only that of ditch water, perceived as bottomless because the bottom could not be seen. Greene's genius was rooted in the ingenuity with which he muddied the waters.
It was both apt and prophetic that Greene should have taken the name of St. Thomas the Doubter at his reception into the Church in February 1926. Whatever else he was or wasn't, he was always a doubter par excellence. He doubted others; he doubted himself; he doubted God. Ironically, it was this very doubt that so often provided the creative force for his fiction. Perhaps the secret of his enduring popularity lies in his being a doubting Thomas in an age of doubt. As such, Greene's Catholicism becomes an enigma, a conversation piece - even a gimmick. Yet if his novels owe a debt to doubt, their profundity lies in the ultimate doubt about the doubt. In the end this ultimate doubt about doubt kept Graham Greene clinging doggedly, desperately - and doubtfully - to his faith.
Twin puncture points lead to two points of bleeding - the bandage covering my biopsy holes in my chest. Yes I threw the bandage away after the photo
Two Siberian tigers
© naturepl.com / Edwin Giesbers / WWF-Canon
Take 5 minutes to join the WWF Action Center. wwf.panda.org/actioncenter
The flags are a bit random in their inaccuracies, but let's not get picky. At least he made an effort, which is more than the others have ...
Paine Falls, Lake County, within Paine Falls Park.
Midsummer shot, taken during a prolonged dry spell, here.
Two Carolina wrens were flitting about the dead tree, foraging, exploring and being wrens: totally wonderful
Yes "Stares" not Stairs - pun intended
Two views of the same fold - one very long rectangle - blue on front, white on the back
Two Tupperware food storage containers.
These were produced in the 1980's and are quite rare I believe.
Check out my Etsy shop: etsy.me/20HZEMW in my Etsy shop - etsy.me/20HZEMW "Retroplastics"
My daughter Kirsty lives in a lovely Victorian house up in Holmfirth, Yorkshire called Claremont. But the pictures in this album are not of her house but a lovely garden that I'm sure the people of Surrey (England) go to see pretty often! We chose a quiet day when the children were in school, which meant that only more senior citizens and mum's with younger children were there, hence why it was so quiet.
Those here in the UK know that our weather can be fickle. We often say that we get four seasons in a day, or one season totally out of season.
The day I took the photographs in this album was such a day. The week before we had weather that would have been cold for winter all over the British Isles; then a few days later we now have have weather that's going to make the south of France look cold!
Silly weather, but it what makes us a set of islands that makes us talk about the weather a lot of the time!
On our way back from looking after our two granddaughters down in Eastleigh we thought we'd take advantage of our National Trust Life membership and take a short detour to a garden we know of but have never been to. Now we've been there it's going to be a regular place we go to.
It sits just inside the M25 motorway on close to the A3 near to Esher. The gardens go by the name of Claremont Landscape Gardens. At one time it housed a mausoleum to Princess Charlotte, a much loved lady, who sadly died in child birth at the very young age of twenty-one. Incredibly the mausoleum was demolished when the land that surrounds it was seeking planning permission for a housing development just after the end of the First World War! Thankfully it was never allowed to happen and this delightful garden is now one of our national treasures.
These photographs of the gardens and other things were taken on my iPhone. I will be taking my Canon 5D to the gardens sometime so see what I can capture there, but for now, these pictures will show the viewer just how lovely the gardens are.
A tranquil oasis just inside one of the busiest motorways in the world!
You can find out more here… www.nationaltrust.org.uk/claremont-landscape-garden
If you ever get a chance try and get there. You won't be disappointed!
Two beautiful horses at Old Sturbridge Village in Sturbridge, MA, taking a break between giving sleigh rides ("dashing through the snow, in a two horse open sleigh...").
Another shot from a great photowalk with Larry White, Dennis Wilkinson, Katie Marino and Eric Ouellette.