Tag: landscapes
Weathered
I wonder how long these pieces of wood posts have been submerged in the water and if they are originally like that or parts of something much bigger, and what is their purpose, why they are there… They look like broken teeth of an old person. Weathered and decaying.
Delta
In this series of photographs I’ve taken of the raging sea battering against the edge of a cliff, you will not only witness the transitions, change, and the passing of time but the effect of it.
Cherry On Top
After a long day walking, swimming and discovering yet another amazing new horizon, it’s a wonderful idea to just sit by the water watching the sun goes down. What a fitting way to end a fruitful adventurous day. I feel privileged.





Opposites
The contrast between the roughness of the stones and the smooth surface of water in this photo cannot be more pronounced. It’s so striking one can’t help but notice the difference.

The play of colors and texture in these two pictures is remarkable.


And this one…

Shadows and highlights… magnificent.

Opposite contrasting elements do make dramatic images. Don’t you think so?
Transition
For this week’s challenge, share an image that depicts transition. Let life itself be your muse.
My garden in all seasons…
My Suburban Garden
I have a love hate relationship with landscaped garden. I find it lacking of imagination and freedom to be creative. Though the plants within the boundaries might varied, the overall picture and design look the same year after year. In other word: boring.
On the other hand, it is easy to maintain and economically wise. Looks clean and neat and easy on the eye.
Spring And Summer
Autumn
Winter
Golden Hour
The sunset faded and blended from pink to peach to mango in a smoothie in the sky. Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.
A large drop of sun lingered on the horizon and then dripped over and was gone, and the sky was brilliant over the spot where it had gone, and a torn cloud, like a bloody rag, hung over the spot of its going. And dusk crept over the sky from the eastern horizon, and darkness crept over the land from the east.
The pale stars were sliding into their places. The whispering of the leaves was almost hushed. All about them it was still and shadowy and sweet. It was that wonderful moment when, for lack of a visible horizon, the not yet darkened world seems infinitely greater—a moment when anything can happen, anything be believed in.
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