Cyanobacteria.. Sounds interesting right? Better known as blue-green algae, blue-green bacteria or Cyanophyta.
I also didn’t know that algae simply refers to any aquatic organism capable of photosynthesis. So now ya know.
cyanobacteria spirulina
There are pills, concoctions, I shouldn’t be surprised
It gets stranger, or more interesting as you read.
cyanobacteria spirulina
1 comment May 21st, 2008
Some photos of the abbey and grounds
The Cistercian Abbey of Stanlow Cheshire was moved to Whalley in 1296.
The church was built between 1330 and 1380.
Click picture to see album.
Add comment May 21st, 2008
Orrery from Charles Boyle, 4th Earl of Orrery, for whom the first modern orrery was built, commission to George Graham.
So I have my subscription after buying the first issue in the shops. Issue 4 and 5 arrived before issue two and three which arrived yesterday.
Let the construction commence.
Bizarrely the tools, including allen keys arrive with the third delivery, which will for me be issues six and seven.
Managed to make a start, but fell away when I required a 1.5mm key and my smallest only 2mm. Will grab one tomorrow and continue with the alignment of the celestial spheres at that time. Till then.
1 comment April 27th, 2008
It being opposite in nature, or in organic life. I like the way in before organic made you think of inorganic.
Anyway, If it didn’t. See ya, one of my many 0 second visitors. WTF is that kind of quantifiable statistic anyway.
They focused, didn’t blink, for that would have run into one point one seconds. And time becomes a topic of conversation.
Ah harr, where did she go the muse.
Always reluctant to go without a pic.
Add comment April 25th, 2008
Add comment April 21st, 2008
Check this out.
Beneath you birch with silver bark
And boughs so pendulous and fair,
The brook falls scattered down the rock:
and all is mossy there.Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Still experimenting with the d40, should have used a tripod, as image is obviously blurred. Taken with aperture mode priority, to try and catch the sunlight reflection naturally.
Read more Trees for life
I wonder if I have any Forest Devils’ or ‘Genii of the Forest’ over from Russia to enjoy our more temperate climate. Check Mystical trees for more.
1 comment March 24th, 2008
Physicists tell us that time is, contrary to perceived wisdom, not an everyday forward motion in a three dimensional space, but an encompassing medium in which we reside. Time has no direction, or every direction in the mathematics that explore the realms beyond our current understanding. The tiny sub atomic stuff that violates the laws of classical physics. Yet forward like a stream to the sea we move.
Moments behind us.
Atoms are our core, they whizz randomly, they vibrate, they change, interchange, they are here.. and there, in fact we are told our atoms have counterparts- an opposite value charge, characteristic, but linked via cosmic strings.
Parallel, an interesting geometric concept, two lines travel forever, and never shall meet.
In the catastrophic last moments approaching the event horizon of a black hole, do these pathways stay illusive to contact. Is this gravitational force powerless to interact on theoretical mathematical geometric states.
Do we have a real world paradigm, that would allow the crazed proponents of ‘mine is an interesting idea_Please publish’ to vindicate in some real sense the complexities that stir the imagination of the average, (in perpetual flux) person.
Was just getting confused.
It is not for me to say about the validity of this, but the animation is nice.
The Sun Solar Glow
The Sun is:
- about 4.5 billion years old now.
- Presently somewhere in between an 8 and a 14 year sun spot cycle. (giggle)
What is a billion anyway, is that 100 million, or more?..
It is more, many more, a thousand million, or 109
lots of zeros 1,000,000,000 in truth a very old celestial being, although not that old in comparison with neighbors of similar cosmic origins. The point in all this being that the dynamics of the sun are now increasingly thought to be of influence in the atmosphere and subsequent temperature of this planet.
You know, I was just reading about this possible effect, and that some are beginning to think that ‘it’ might have an influence. Shit me, for not thinking of that.
Now before you get your lawn mowers out, or switch to 4 wheel drive and cruise the sand-dunes, we do have a responsibility.
‘And balanced on the biggest wave…’
Add comment January 25th, 2008
Check this out..
Nestling in the foothills of the Alps in northern Italy, 30 miles from the ancient city of Turin, lies the valley of Valchiusella. Peppered with medieval villages, the hillside scenery is certainly picturesque.
But it is deep underground, buried into the ancient rock, that the region’s greatest wonders are concealed.
Original article by Hazel Courteney
The creator of the temples says..
They are to remind people that we are all capable of much more than we realise and that hidden treasures can be found within every one of us once you know how to access them,’ says Falco
Check out the above link for the full story.
Add comment December 3rd, 2007
We just arrived back last week from a city break in Palma Mallorca, and as well as enjoying the many and varied restaurants and bars the city has a rich historical side. One of the many attractions for visitors is the castle situated at the top of mount Bellver.
The castle unique throughout spain due to it’s circular structure, has three towers integrated into the main structure, and a forth one called the Homenaje, or Homage tower.
The Homage tower separated from the castle by seven meters is now connected by a bridge which was built at a later date.
On the inside the castle has a circular parade ground surrounded by rooms over two levels. On the second floor structured around a gallery with 42 octagonal columns which support ogival arches is the chapel dedicated to Sant Marc.
King Jaume ll of Mallorca ordered the construction in the 14th century. The work was commissioned to Pere Salva.
Looking out now across the harbour at the bustling city it is only a small shift in perception to cast your imagination back into older more turbulent times.
Soon to come: Pictures of Palma Cathedral.
Info:Palma a walker’s guide book. Tomas Vibot
Add comment November 18th, 2007
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.’
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,’
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.’
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of “Never-nevermore.”‘
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’
`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore -
Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’
`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!
How you got there
Funny how you travel in cyberville, with a search to find above poem I found myself doing another search on “Quoth” and ended up here Navigated to here via random connectedness, and ultimately to here where I spent a good time listing to scientific tunes. Very entertaining.
I should be doing anything else really, but was caught, hooked and thought any that pass this way might like to share the experience.
Add comment November 4th, 2007