last week my eyes were drawn to a beam of unusually coloured light in the local golf course as I was hoofing cheerily by along the road—

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—and alert to the possibility that the flying sorcerer people may be visiting, or perhaps Big G had finally had enough of us and was lining up to sink the pink I scored the shot myself. And from the road, boom boom!


and deeper into the evening when ploughmen homeward wend their weary ways etc etc, this—

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—which was beginning to really intrigue. I ambled on, as ever alert to the possibility that celestial trumpets may blast (or old dogs are going colour-challenged in their dotage) …

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… as I almost cleared the native flax bushes I scored the above. Those poddy looking things are pods. For seeds. I think … moving more further along down there


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AND after a couple more k‘s of dedicated hoofing I decided that enough was enough and it was about time to about turn; and there in a field a cattle was making the most of his now waning munching hours; and a truck lay basking in the rays of the setting sun.

Still pink, I noted, and no—I haven’t tweaked these images, much.

After which the fading sun sank below his ordained horizons, but not before I scored this using the Executive Make-’em-bigger attachment—

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—but I must admit I’ve edited out the farmhouse and power poles. (Most of ’em, that is …)

It was a fun walk and when I got home The Spouse was watching some Spousian rubbish on TV and hadn’t noticed the quality of the outside illuminations at all (she loves that UK show set in London where everyone is shrieking and yelling and screaming at each other all the time) (it takes all sorts).

Me? I’d watch ‘Peter Rabbit’ 24/7 if I had to* —what the animators have achieved there goes waaaay beyond any story line. (And nary a naughty word in sight nowhere,)


* —if I could ...



by knaves, to make a trap for fools? No, not this time …

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The gods twisted the elements into a combination to challenge the credibility of the perceptive—but I assure you, this is an unfondled shot exactly as it was taken. Nothing twisted in the pursuance of falsehoods here~!

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The gods aren’t the only ones with power. But we mere mortals need twist cables to dispense the power and hope for no losses … (I’ve often pitied the lost volts, they have no ohms to go to) …


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Go on, admit it … you haven’t a clue what could possibly be twisted in this shot of a bending winding convoluted wee stream … possibly the course of those schloggs of foam on the surface …

… or the wind and water stripey patterns in the sands of Orepuki beach. This beach has many faces and much character—not for nothing is it called ‘Gemstone Beach’. It sometimes has large patches of black surface sands which contain gold. I know an old Maori guy who used to gather that sand and process it  at home, the final stages involving a blow-torch, mercury and a potato (don’t ask). He never got rich doing it but made back his expenses and some beer money.

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And speaking of Maoris, I shot this exhibit (below) at the Southland Museum in Invercargill. When it was still open, that is. It’s been declared ‘earthquake prone’ by the Council and closed tight, no access—although you can still view the tuataras if you squelch off round the sides to the back (not a salubrious trip, I tell ya) and peer in through the windows. Don’t try it when raining though, the slope of the pyramid roof funnels water from a vast gathering surface area down to your neck …

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… it’s a drill, in action boring a hole through a greenstone (nephrite jade) patu. Patu looks like a bonce-bopper but was more often used as a jabbing weapon (I didn’t know that either until I read the label).

Before you ask, flax fibres twisted into strings … sheesh!

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Time now to twist my course and bid you a temporary farewell





or man-made (oops, silly old dog—that’s a ‘sexist’ thing to say; bad dog. Sit! Try again—)

Natural, or per-made?

Both …

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This construction was on the paving in front of the Invercargill museum. I like it, the advertiser gets his message across and no damage is done to the environment or the budget, or either gender of the race of huperbeings (used to be hu-man beings, but ‘man’ is a sexist non-gender-neutral term, gradually being replaced everywhere except in proper context by the gender neutral syllable ‘per’. (Per was short for person, but person too is sexist so will be replaced in the language by perper and God is in His their heaven and all is right with the Snowflake world) (perper can be abbreviated to simply ‘per’).


I was brought up to the King’s English (oops) the Ruling Per’s English—  bugger, enough of that. On with the Challenge~!

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A wee thing constructed in Don Street. All the nice folks who contributed have an individual brick beneath with their name on it as an enduring symbol of the Council’s eternal everlasting gratitude.

This used to be a normal 2-way street but The Council in its wisdom elected to make it one way only. As a street it then died. Cause and effect? Don’t ask … but:


are now debating opening it up again to two-way traffic. What will happen to the above whimsy I have no idea, possibly they’ll relocate it to somewhere inspirational (and the bricks may end up as landfill) …

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whimsy. This thing above rotates on its base and when the light is right can fair dazzle the unwary (but for a while kept someone in a job somewhere so ‘redistribution of the wealth’ is still alive and kicking).

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This appeared recently. I think they call it ‘usable art’ … it was on display out front of the park for a while then disappeared for many months.

I have yet to see any kids using it, although one tourist did plop his little girl down on top for a photo; she promptly burst into tears. Cause and effect? She was too young to know the words …


classes as construction, I still love (nay, adore) this wee paterless familia—

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—I imagine that the pater of the family was away herding barbarians or recruiting for The Coliseum at the time the statue was taken. Here they are, then, all togged up and no Daddy present. Portent of things to come? Naaaaa …


out of the home environs I’ll see if I can’t score a more traditional construction for you. Don’t wait up …





DRIP~! Troller

And good ones.

Here goes the last of my spare time, but it has to be said—


from an excellent article—click image for link

—for myself I don’t bother with ‘watermarks’—and mostly for the reasons this guy gives. I understand the feelings of folks who sell their work (and their needs) but copying my stuff just adds lustre to my cluster in so much as



so there.

If you click on the image above it will take you to his article. Thinking about it, invisibly changing just a few pixels in the images your post might be enough to prove your ownership if ever you feel the need.

Here, have a nice mushie—

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—one of the last of a very prolific season. (And top marks will be awarded to anyone spotting my unique identifier~!)






(Sounds like something that goes plop-plop! into a glass of water, with following fizzy sound effects afterwards …)

Anyway, onwards and downwards—


Screen Shot 2017-04-21 at 08.16.10No, not mine I’m afraid. I got it from Wiki but it’s just too suiting to our topic. It is, of course, a map.

But it’s a highly contentious map—being the worldview of one Admiral Piri Re’is of old Turkey. If evanescence means transient in time this one fits the bill. If you want to see why it is contentious you’ll have to go there—or read Hapgood’s book “Maps of the Ancient Sea Kings*

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And what can be more evanescent than shame, fame, silly old poops in graveyards with cameras, or even life itself?

I took this (above) with a view to sending it to a Scottish magazine, perhaps it might pique an evanescent interest over there?


more from ol’ Piri. This time snup from his map of Europe, do you see it—?


—if not, look at southern Ireland and track across to the west. I think that’s possibly an interpretation of Brasil Island, aka Hi Brasil … which these days shows up only on nautical charts and things that plumb the depths. How ’bout dat? But then again, in recent wars British MGBs battled it out with German E-boats a hundred feet and more over the heads of the Doggerland farmers tending their fields (but you have to superimpose two evanescent time periods to see it).

Given that the seas rose by 300-400 feet and drowned a lot of islands** that appear/ed on ancient maps, one has to wonder how those clever ancients ‘plumbed the depths’ as it were? Or were they compiling such maps at times contemporary with those islands as islands?

Naaaaah … any scholar worth his stipend and prestige*** would hoot you out of town if you came up with that one!

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Web Troll

* Contention? Antarctica wasn’t discovered until 1818. (Ol’ Piri drew his map “compiled from many sources, some of them ancient” in 1513 …)

** End of the last ice ages

***  And sinecure …

WPC: Security


Security means which side of the fence you’re on. Or whether you’re within the perimeter, or without.

What on Earth could be more secure, say, than the grave—does any incumbent thereof fear death, doom, defeat, despair, destruction or disaster? So … be careful what you look for, you may just find it. Brrrrr.

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Here, have a nice tree I came across in Queens Park. Autumn here now, and it was shedding some bark. No labels, but if I were a bark right now I’d be feeling a bit less secure.


What is safer than money in the bank? Not much today—banks, I mean.

These redundant buildings have been recycled into new incarnations far removed from their original purposes, sitting as they do on three sides of a traffic roundabout in Invercargill where the statue of a long dead warrior perches quite secure atop his column in the centre—

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—with once-were-banks to the left of him, banks to the right of him …


—banks before him, banks behind him—

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—banks ahead and astern in fact—

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—converting swords into shares. Big bucks, Gods, and mammon ever make a timeless team.

Sometimes the quest for other people’s mammon can lead to a government-funded Security much better than most—

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—but the question is, does the wall and wire provide better security for the guys within than without?


Are all the nuts securely inside or are some about to split and fall? Where is Security—is there such a beast? Ot is it true that the only place you cannot be hurt is when snug in your grave~? Brrrrr.

Not yet, thanks! I’m not quite ready for that challenge





it IS easy being greenArgus.png

Ye gods … and here I am, still waiting for my one-word suggestion (whimsy) to be accepted.

So, first up let’s be a bit utterly conventional—
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—and here’s our green. There, honour satisfied …


that my older camera is a wee Canon. No longer state-of-the-art, it still has an impressive zoom (and let’s face it, with these shaky old paws, a brilliant stabiliser). I was sitting in Mooch café with The Spouse and thought I’d stop blathering on about the zoom and actually show her. I took two shots, one at each end of the zoomal range.

Mooch has big glassy windows that look right out onto the street which is four lanes wide with a centre strip where generations ago trams used to beetle along. I lined up on a poster, and—

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—got this. Just to the left of that tree, a young lassie with a half-greenish face peering back.

Then I zoomed as far as it would zoom, and same target got this—


—and of course, entirely as expected, my beloved Spouse was not at all impressed. But she doesn’t have to be, I can do all the “Oooooohs” and “Aaaaaaahs” for both of us.

Lucky for me that she has green eyes (poster girl)(sort of) … so I’m still legal for this week’s challenge. (And before you bleat accusingly; no—I didn’t cheat.)