Showing posts with label sunrise. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sunrise. Show all posts

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Sunrise and sunset on October 17, 2012

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Looking east on SE Hawthorne Blvd., near the intersection with SE Grand Avenue. I took this photo at 7:29 a.m.
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Looking west from the top floor balcony at the Rose Garden Arena. I took this photo at 6:22 p.m. Notice the bit of blue to the left of the tallest antenna, down in the hillside?
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Hiding in the sunset photo, it's Union Station. I cropped and altered the photo at PicMonkey so that you could see it, sort of.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Continuing the break from fun with Milton and Kay, quirky seen on the way to work

Monday through Friday for several months now I've been walking part way to work, about a mile. Sometimes I listen to the oldies on a Sansa player that Milton had his son-in-law load with 493 songs from 229 artists, from a total of 99 albums. Sometimes I listen to my iPhone. Sometimes I stop and get it out of my backpack so that I can take a photo. Sometimes I take a photo with my iPhone. Like these three I took on Sept. 7. IMG_0451p First, the wide-eyed, cross-eyed look, up close and personal. Had me grinning from the moment I spied it. Notice that faint light shining on the white square to the left of the eyes? IMG_0452p-p Next, a wide-shot that I like a whole lot. I think it's the various rectangles combined with the eyes and the mouth and the tongue that made me want to take the photo. IMG_0453p As I stood in the street taking the previous photo, my peripheral vision picked up the rapidly increasing sunshine, so I had to take this one, too. Certainly matches the lyric, "Here comes the sun."

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Variations of violet, a secondary color

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Starship 2000 spins a violet ring on a cloudy evening at the WaMu Waterfront Village, Rose Festival 2008.

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On Saturday, May 8, as I stood waiting for the 15 home, I saw a few vintage vehicles cruising by me. This violet vision same first.

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Lavender clouds top the sunrise over NW Everett.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Vacation, Day 4, 10/24/2009, Part 1

Sunrise, Saturday morning, from our living area window. It's nice to be back home in Mississippi.
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See what I mean?
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My complimentary breakfast, courtesy of the Embassy Suites, orange juice, biscuits, grits and a made-to-order omlette. Yummy!
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The Chapel of the Cross was one sight I truly wanted to see again. This photo gives all the reasons why, at least the exterior ones.
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From the church's Web site, its history:

The Chapel of the Cross started as the vision of John Johnstone, a man who would never see it built.

Originally conceived as a house of worship for one family and its servants, it was left to Margaret Johnstone to transform her late husband's dream into reality upon his death.

This she did in 1848 - with slave labor, hired artisans, grim determination and three thousand dollars. The bricks, which would ultimately make the Chapel's walls two feet thick, were "river bottom" brick, cast on-site from area clay.

The Chapel of the Cross was consecrated in 1852. Its original parishioners were Margaret Johnstone, her younger daughter Helen, the family of her elder daughter Frances Britton and the servants of the two plantations which housed both families, Annandale and Ingleside - both long-faded in the mists of history.

One particular episode in the earliest years of the chapel was as colorful as its times, and as classically Southern Gothic as any moonlight-and-magnolia novel of romance.

The households of the Johnstone family resounded with joy when Henry Grey Vick, son of the founder of Vicksburg, proposed marriage to Helen. A lavish celebration was planned for the wedding date, which was to fall on Helen's birthday.

The affront that caused the demand for ultimate satisfaction has faded into the mists of history, leaving behind a brutal fact and the birth of a legend. Four days before the wedding, the headstrong Vick met his death on the traditional field of honor, the dueling ground.

Griefstricken beyond consolation, Helen lead a torchlit procession - on the day her wedding was to have taken place - from Annandale Plantation to the chapel in the glade where Vick was laid to rest in the family graveyard.

While Helen would later wed George Harris, who ultimately served as rector of the church on three different occasions, there remain those who say her heart never totally mended from the shock of her fiancée's sudden death.

The historians, as historians are wont to do, claim this happened, and whether it did or not, the legend of "The Bride of Annandale" will remain part of the church for generations to come.

The golden age of plantation life vanished in the volley of cannonfire that launched the War Between the States in 1861. If the ancient aphorism of war being the ultimate irony of peace-loving people is true, perhaps one of the great paradoxes in the church's history is to be found in the fact the original bell, the bell which tolled the death knell for the fallen Henry Vick, was melted down for Confederate ammunition.

The antebellum style of living wasn't the only casualty of the rages of war. The vengeful nature of Reconstruction and widespread post-war poverty took its toll on The Chapel of the Cross as well.

For the next 40 years, The Chapel of the Cross would alternate between being an active church and an abandoned, neglected house of worship until the church was declared extinct by the Diocese of Mississippi shortly after the turn of the century.

The church found new life in 1911, when Margaret Britton Parsons, a granddaughter of John and Margaret Johnstone, persuaded the Episcopal Diocese of Mississippi to reactivate the Chapel as an active house of worship. Since the Chapel's re-consecration, priests have taken charge of the operations of the church.

By the middle 1950s, The Chapel of the Cross was falling prey to the natural ravages of a century, despite its original solid construction. An accurate restoration of this historically significant house of worship was begun in 1956.

In 1979, the United States Department of the Interior awarded the chapel a $50,000 matching grant to finish the restoration the church to its original antebellum appearance.

It was in that same year the church's congregation initiated its annual fundraiser, "A Day in the Country." Traditionally held on the first Saturday of October, the event is evocative of both church "sociables" and rural country fairs from gentler, unruffled times. All proceeds are applied toward the continuing restoration and maintenance of the Chapel and its grounds and for other parish needs.

Today, many people come to The Chapel of the Cross for many different reasons.

Some come to see the building itself due to its wide recognition as one of the two finest examples of Nineteenth Century Gothic Revival church architecture in the United States.

Some come to simply touch history, examine the stone markers in the church's historic graveyard, or ponder the possibility of an appearance by a spectral bride.

And, as it should be, many gather to worship in this special, working church in a glade surrounded by both hardwoods and history.

No matter what your reason to visit may be, welcome.
- By Steven Hicks

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

A closer look at the sunrise reflected on the buildings on Jan. 21, 2009

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I am pleased that I was able to get this shot that realistically portrays the sunrise colors reflected on the buildings.

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Looking across the river from the sunrise, Jan. 21, 2009

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After taking Monday's posted photo, I turned back to the west and took several photos. In today's you can see a car approaching from the west. Looking past the back of the car, you can see a portion of the Hawthorne Bridge as well as both tiers of the Marquam Brige, the top is I-5 northbound, the bottom is I-5 southbound.

I like the reflection of the colorful sunrise on the buildings.

Monday, February 02, 2009

It's not always foggy. See this evidence, a sunrise photo taken on Jan. 21, 2009

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I took this standing at the bus stop east of the Hawthorne Bridge itself, although I was still on the part of it that continues from the bridge to the surface streets. When I saw the sunrise as the bus approached the bridge from the west, I decided to I get off to take photos and then get on the next bus to ride the rest of the way to work. I like the power poles and that other thing, that basket-looking thing, black against the vivid sunrise.

Sunday, January 04, 2009

Mt. Hood, in the distant sunrise, peeks between two nearby buildings

7:49 a.m., Jan. 4, 2009
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I took six photos, deleted a fuzzy one. I put the fourth one first, out of sequence. Here they are in sequence, in a smaller size. This sunshine won't last all day, but while it's here, it's glorious!
7:44 a.m., Jan. 4, 2009
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7:45 a.m., Jan. 4, 2009
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7:49 a.m., Jan. 4, 2009
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7:50.36, Jan. 4, 2009
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7:50.53 a.m., Jan. 4, 2009
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Which time do you like the best? I'm curious.

In case you want to read it, here's a sunrise poem I found online.

Sunrise

O rising Sun, so fair and gay,
What are you bringing me, I pray,
Of sorrow or of joy to-day?

You look as if you meant to please,
Reclining in your gorgeous ease
Behind the bare-branched apple-trees.

The world is rich and bright, as though
The pillows where your head is low
Had lit the fields of driven snow.

The hoar-frost on the window turns
Into a wood of giant ferns
Where some great conflagration burns.

And all my children comes again
As lightsome and as free from stain
As those frost-pictures on the pane.

I would that I could mount on high
And meet you, Sun--that you and I
Had to ourselves the whole wide sky.

But here my poor soul has to stay,
So tell me, rising Sun, I pray,
What are you bringing me to-day?

What shall this busy brain have thought,
What shall these hands and feet have wrought,
What sorrows shall the hours have brought,

Before thy brilliant course is run,
Before this new-born day is done,
Before you set, O rising Sun?

Frederick George Scott
(1861 - 1944)

I found this about Mr. Scott online, at various sites:

Notes on Life and Works

Frederick George Scott, known as "the poet of the Laurentians," was born in Montreal in 1861 and educated at Bishop's College, Lennoxville (B.A., 1881), and King's College, London (M.A., 1884). Made an Anglican priest in 1886, he become rector of St. Matthew's Church in Quebec city. He published 13 books of poetry in his lifetime. During the first world war Scott served as chaplain to the Canadian First Division and published his experiences in The Great War as I Saw It (1922). He died in 1944, leaving a daughter and four sons, one of whom, F. R. Scott, was a poet like his father.

And...
Canon Frederick George Scott was the padre of the 1st Division of the Canadian Corps and the confidant, friend and spiritual guide to many generals, officers and enlisted men during the war. When he returned from the war he continued to be revered by thousands. In 1934 he published The Great War as I Saw It, a memoir of his experiences. He is also known as a poet of religious, inspirational and patriotic poetry. During the Quebec Conference, held in the summer of 1943, Canon Scott was invited by Churchill and Roosevelt to a private meeting where he read some of this poetry.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Sunrise

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To paraphrase, "Yes, Virginia, there is life after Red Bull Flugtag." Let's get it on, starting with this recent sunrise as seen from our kitchen window.