Filed under: people,signs — WmX @ 19:17


her strange beauty

Filed under: dolls — WmX @ 09:35

seasonal attire v summer


message in a bottle

Filed under: Charlottesville — WmX @ 10:41

Municipal Band plays to crowd assembled at the Albemarle Charlottesville Historical Society to celebrate the “birthday” of CHO 250 years ago, 12/23/1762

A time capsule was gathered up, a box to be opened in 2062. Citizens were encouraged to leave a note for the future.

Photographer Ed Roseberry, a man whose images comprise a powerful record of more than the past fifty years, was on the job. Shooting with his trusty twin lens Rollieflex.


color vision

Filed under: dogs — WmX @ 00:49

I found comfort thinking my dog saw only in black and white.

Begin civil twilight 6:57 a.m.
Sunrise 7:27 a.m.
Sun transit 12:12 p.m.
Sunset 4:58 p.m.
End civil twilight 5:28 p.m.


empty highway

Filed under: heart,road — WmX @ 19:39

the day after we buried my sister my mom and I drove back down the road


Landon White Trigg

Filed under: family,riverine — WmX @ 10:02

Scanned a negative this morning. Didn’t have to spend any time removing color, adjusting contrast. The year, 1978…

Photographic film is a sheet of plastic (polyester, PET, nitrocellulose or cellulose acetate) coated with an emulsion containing light-sensitive silver halide salts (bonded by gelatin) with variable crystal sizes that determine the sensitivity, contrast and resolution of the film. When the emulsion is sufficiently exposed to light (or other forms of electromagnetic radiation such as X-rays), it forms a latent (invisible) image. Chemical processes can then be applied to the film to create a visible image, in a process called film developing.–Wikipedia


clean birds?

Filed under: fauna,fishbones — WmX @ 15:55

After reading Deuteronomy, seems safer being a vulture.


Mrs. Walker’s cold-frame

Filed under: architecture — WmX @ 14:23

I heard that she loved roses, long long ago.


still point

Filed under: dogs,heart — WmX @ 12:28

Sophia is fine.
But there is a sadness as we approach the still point. Pack members gone. Life changing. Loss of familiar voices. Old ones going going. Dance and sing. Pause, remember, mourn.

At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.–T.S.Eliot



Filed under: flora — WmX @ 08:38

leaving, one limb at a time. Route 20 north between Charlottesville and Orange. Same tree in 2006

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