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A few images from a wander around central Edinburgh this week. A bit of architecture and some Mono as the light was terrible to start with. Got brighter but still very flat light.
WEEK 15
Theme: "Wander aimlessly most of the time" - Melanie Einzig
For: Street Photography Now 52 week Project
PLEASE READ i couldnt get this sense of 'wandering' in my photos. I took this in the car. asked my mum to drive around, wandering aimlessly in it, hopefully taking a photo of a man who is also wandering aimlessly. But then again, who really does wonder aimlessly? surely we all subconsciously know roughly where we are going to not get lost..
Had a wander down to Bristol's Burwalls cave today, various shots.
Various access routes:
1: jump over the Leigh Woods abutment of the suspension bridge right next to the wood clad visitor musuem, or 2) wander in through Burwalls Lodge (...), and 3:
Enter the Leigh Woods area by the National Trust sign - there's a fence/plaque/bench just down Burwalls Road from the back entrance to Burwalls Lodge. Turn left, and stay about 10m down the slope from the edge of Burwall's grounds - seems to be a rough path here used by others, and bits of an old access route.
Leigh Woods entrance:
Burwalls Cave is here:
and more info here:
Wanderung zur Niederelbehütte (im Hintergund) – eingebettet in die wunderschöne Bergwelt der Verwallgruppe.
IN THIS SUMMARY
Modern, high-achieving women are more confident than their predecessors, but they also feel more stress about their futures. Their passion to succeed is overshadowed by the uncertainty of what they are trying to accomplish. These women want to establish careers where they feel their efforts and contributions are meaningful on a grand scale. For many women, this does not include ambitions of corporate leadership. High-achieving women frequently change jobs and companies without a strategic plan, hoping to discover their path. In Wander Woman, Marcia Reynolds applies the knowledge she has acquired through extensive coaching to assist ambitious women in discovering their true purpose.
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I met my fiance in the spring of 2006. I met him online, on a forum for Stephen King's Dark Tower series. I was supposed to be with someone else at the time, a relationship my heart wasn't in at all, and from his very first post to our little community, I was smitten. I broke up with the guy I was with and pined after "wander." (For the record, I was maeralyn.)
After several slow days with the two of us talking in the forums, and one eventful anniversary on the site, I sent him a private message. It was almost two in the morning, and extremely short, consisting basically of "Thanks for being on here, I think you're delightful." I stayed up for almost an hour more, agonizing, waiting for a reply. Then, he signed off the boards. I was upset, worried that it hadn't sent, that it had gone through and he ignored it, that I had made a mistake by trying to move this friendship into the "something more" territory.
I finally gave up and got ready for bed.
Just before I shut off my computer, it appeared. A reply. I was horribly nervous and thrilled.
Many more messages back of forth. Twenty or more a day, all very well thought out, each on responding to every little comment, basking as we told one another our life stories, our secrets, invited the other probe our inner workings. We eventually moved our conversations from the forums and forum mailboxes to instant messenger. Somewhere along the way, I moved from Missouri (he was, and is, in Florida) to Oregon. I had been thrilled about the move before I met Wesley, but began to have doubts. I nearly had a breakdown halfway through the move. In Nevada I realized I was relegating myself to a relationship with a man as far away from me as he could be in the continental U.S.
But I went, because it was what was best for my future, because my family was there, because my school was there.
In Oregon, I got my first cell phone. The winter of 2006, I called Wesley for the first time, and for the first time we heard the other person with whom we were so in love with. The first several minutes of conversations consisted of me verifying that we were still connected while he hyperventilated. Once he found his tongue, I was thrilled. His voice was wonderful and deep, lacking the accent I had expected. We talked for hours that first day, until both batteries had died and we were unable to move more than five feet from the plug. Our nights and weekends became veritable utopia. I told him everything, complained about my freshman college classes, described the changing seasons, listed my family problems. He told me about his frustration with his senior year in high school, told me about his cousins, how they were growing as he baby sat them, raged about the distance between us.
We were mad about each other.
In the winter of 2007, after a year and a half of being in a relationship with someone I had never physically met, I grew restless. I flirted with, and eventually dated, a different boy I'd met at work. I still talked to Wesley every night, every minute I wasn't in class, working, or with the other guy. I grew deeply depressed, I left school, and dumped the other guy.
The spring of 2008, we officially re-began a relationship that felt like it had never ended. That summer, I scrapped, and saved, and managed to buy a plane ticket. He flew out for four and a half days over Thanksgiving.
We met at the Medford airport, very late at night. His was the last plane in, and I had spent the entire day worrying over whether he would be able to land in the dense fog that covered the mountains.
When he got off the plane, I was overwhelmed. I couldn't believe it was him. All I could do was cling to him, completely ignoring everything else. His hair was long, and my face was buried in it as I fought tears. He was hyperventilating again, and I couldn't stand on my own.
The days went far too quickly, and abruptly we were back at the airport. I begged him not to leave, and, even though he's younger than me, he is the grown-up. He reminded me that he had responsibilities he had to face. He had classes and his family that deserved completion and closure, respectively. I sobbed, but he had to go. Still, I had his word that he would be back, and I had a ring. It was small, sterling silver and hand crafted with a tiny amethyst stone, not an engagement ring, but a promise one.
By now, we had a cellphone plan that allowed us to talk anytime, day or night, without costing us a fortune. So, we talked. We planned. We saved. By spring of 2009, he'd saved enough money to buy me a plane ticket.
In September of 2009, I flew to Pensacola. I was there for two of the best weeks of my life. He proposed to me--twice. I said yes. I now had a different ring, white gold, with a lovely little topaz. When it came time for me to leave, I once again, begged him. This time I begged him not to make me go. Once again, he was the adult. He reminded me that I too had a family. I had a job. I had responsibilities.
So I came back. I was miserable to be back to the grind knowing the best thing that had ever happened to me was across the country.
Then, I got a rash. It started as a tiny scratch, and grew until my entire ring finger was consumed. It turned out that I'm extremely allergic to gold. Gone then, was my ability to wear my precious ring, my promise, my visual proof of love from a man none of my friends has met. I switched back to my promise ring, and carried on.
One of the conditions of my returning to Oregon was the plan we had set, for him to get a scholarship at the university here, and to move out during the summer of 2010. We would live to together while he finished school. We would get married during the summer of 2011.
And now, and now.
He's been unable to find a job. He owes his school money, and I'm living pay-check to pay-check.
And today, it hit me.
In all likelihood, we won't be together this summer. We will probably not be able to be together until 2011.
My heart is broken.
But this letter, my love, is proof. Proof that I love you when I cannot wear your ring. Proof that even though I cannot stop crying yet, I know we'll make it through this too. Proof that I remember everything about us, that I know what we are and how worth it we are. After, what difference is half a year or a year and half when true love is what's at stake.
This is my love letter to you, Wesley.
Some ditches were never trenched. Instead, they were left flow if they meandered to a useful place. Maybe a crew came through haphazardly with picks and shovels much like King Vidor did in his Hollywood classic, "Our Daily Bread." Perhaps the orchestration was a lot rougher than that Vidor used?
This was probably productive at one time but now it flows toward a mosquito-breeding pond that may only have dug for the removal of gravel. The gravel operators have pot-holed the terrain where they found the most susceptible rights to exploit.
In any case, this stream cuts a peaceful swath through the meadow and provides for the continuation of some wetlands. Perhaps the owner has stocked fish for private use.
Beyond the curve lie some cottonwood stumps that have been cut but still lie there unused. Such is the value of cottonwood for materials or heating.
在麥森遇見貓。為了讓車票盡其用，又跑到離Dresden HBF 30分鐘的瓷器故鄉麥森。
亞伯列茲城堡 (Albrechtsburg) 與邁森大教堂（Dom）自車站出來後便在易北河對岸招手，於是在石板路上隨著中世紀的屋房，享受薩克森搖籃的搖擺。到處亂走，買冰淇淋吃，爬上爬下拍照，跟著貓咪一起在教堂頂上打了個盹。
I played hooky for a mid-week sojourn to view the California Super Bloom without the overwhelming crowds. There were still a LOT of people, but the flowers were beautiful! I started out with a scenic drive to Carrizo Plain National Monument, wandered over to the Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve State Natural Reserve, and wrapped up the day with a hike in Vasquez Rocks Natural Area Park.
The Carrizo Plain is a large enclosed grassland plain, approximately 50 miles (80 km) long and up to 15 miles (24 km) across, in southeastern San Luis Obispo County, California, about 100 miles (160 km) northwest of Los Angeles. It contains the 246,812-acre (99,881 ha) Carrizo Plain National Monument, and it is the largest single native grassland remaining in California. It includes Painted Rock in the Carrizo Plain Rock Art Discontiguous District, which is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. In 2012 it was further designated a National Historic Landmark due to its archeological value. The San Andreas Fault cuts across the plain.
Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve is a state-protected reserve of California, USA, harboring the most consistent blooms of California poppies, the state flower. The reserve is located in the rural west side of Antelope Valley in northern Los Angeles County, 15 miles (24 km) west of Lancaster. The reserve is at an elevation ranging from 2,600 to 3,000 feet (790 to 910 m) above sea level, in the Mojave Desert climate zone. The reserve is administered by the California Department of Parks and Recreation. Other wildflowers within the reserve include the owl's clover, lupine, goldfields, cream cups and coreopsis.
Vasquez Rocks Natural Area Park is a 932-acre (377-hectare) park located in the Sierra Pelona Mountains in northern Los Angeles County, California. It is located in the town of Agua Dulce, between the suburbs of Santa Clarita and Palmdale. The area is also visible from the Antelope Valley Freeway (State Route 14).
Wander- Chalk pastel and charcoal on paper 25X19'' © 2012 Shayla Tansey - www.etsy.com/shop/VividEarthArtwork