House snowed
759 creative works found
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I took this when I was walking on the beach with my girlfriend. 6 shots vertical. Stitched together with The Panorama Factory
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digital collage
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A Winters Day by RD Riccoboni™. A quiet holiday season morning. Acrylic on canvas of a grand old victorian home. Beacon Artworks Gallery, shows the San Diego paintings by California artist RD Riccoboni. These art pieces tell the story of San Diego from Old Town to today, created in bold color. The birthplace of California – Old Town, San Diego is featured at the gallery, as well as the first mission and colonial building in the western United States, Mission San Diego De Alcala. Visit the Spanish Colonial fantasy of Balboa Park, the historic Gaslamp district, Little Italy, Point Loma, La Jolla and Coronado Island. The gallery takes you on a colorful tour through art of America’s finest city, San Diego, with paintings by one of America’s favorite artists, RD Riccoboni. Beacon Artworks Gallery is located at 2754 Calhoun Street in Old Town San Diego State Historic Park.
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This is the VERY LAST illustration from “Snow Man is My Friend” and, as luck would have it, it’s also the very last illustration in the book. Finally…I’ve posted them all…a sense of accomplishment runs through me like a winding stream at the base of a soft grassy hill – warm, and pleasant, and fulfilling. Then a meteor smashes into it or something, burning everything, and destroying life for miles upon miles in every direction, as I realize that I’ve got a lot a lot of other work to do. Aint’ it always the case? I actually don’t hate this illustration. It comes alongside one of the happier endings to something that I’ve ever written. Hopefully everyone who looked at this series liked it. I appreciated all of your comments greatly.
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First snow did come last night (19.11.2008), so thats all for climatic change so far. :)
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When I was heading to this abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, it did start snowing very heavy. By taking this photo, it did have alraedy almost passed away, but slight snowing there still were, light was soft.
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Taken this morning. It is my house and my birches :)
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When my father was a little boy, he lived in a small charming house in a beautiful neighborhood of large, exquisite old Victorian homes. So stately, so handsome, with incredible craftsmanship and detail, they seemed to be lounging back with their impeccable lawns spread out before them. Except for one, of course. There is always one, isn’t there? The Pickel house gave new meaning to the word “eyesore”. Ramshackle and rundown (and not in a charming way), its shutters drooped, its paint peeled, its porch sagged and Mr. Karbuncle Pickel could not have cared less. The lawn was overgrown with poison ivy and weeds and strewn with trash, a family of skunks had taken up residence under the front stairs and the whole place gave off a disturbing and mysterious vinegar stench. To make matters worse, Mr. Pickel was just plain mean. He chased cats off his lawn with a BB gun, glared out his window at kids playing in the street and slammed his door in the faces of nice old ladies soliciting for the Orphaned Children’s Fund. / As bad as he was all year, Christmas made him a hundred times worse. People came from all over to see the beautiful houses dressed up in their glittering holiday finery, and there was Karbuncle Pickel crouching in his house and glowering darkly, demanding that the constable disperse the crowds. He complained that the lights were too bright, the traffic too dense and when carolers came, well, he reached for his hose. He hated Christmas more than anyone has ever hated Christmas, before or since. Well, good things come to an end all too soon, but even bad things do too, eventually. Mr. Pickel expired, possibly from terminal Unpleasantness, and irony of ironies, on Christmas Eve morning. People felt bad that they didn’t feel worse, and then rushed about their holiday business. / My father snuck out late that night to leave a dish of potato chips for the skunks – he was like that even as a kid, my dad – and what he saw that night he would never forget. By the light of a full Christmas moon, he saw that the Pickel house was entirely transformed. Completely restored to its original splendor, the paint was fresh, the windows were clean and unbroken, beautiful golden trim sparkled, resplendent, in the moonlight and a Christmas tree – a Christmas tree! – with a shimmering star on top, had planted itself in front of the porch. Although he was a bit frightened, my father could not help but move a bit closer, and when he did, he heard, coming from inside the house, Christmas music! So beautiful! And one by one, the lights in the house began to come on, and in each window he could glimpse ghosts of festive Christmases past, Christmases long before old Mr. Pickel darkened this lovely house’s door. Beautiful ladies in antique furs, excited children trimming a tree inside, and up on the roof good ol’ St. Nick was wrestling a giant candy cane down the chimney! Oh it was something else, it was! And as my father stood rooted to the spot, potato chips gently falling from his hand, it began to snow. Now you may think that, compared with everything else that happened, the snow was barely worth mentioning until you consider that my father grew up in Monterrey, California. As he gazed up at the first snowflakes he’d ever seen heading for his nose, a snowman with a pipe and a jaunty hat materialized beside the front steps. / He had no idea how long he stood there, but as he made his way home to go to bed, he did so with the full knowledge that he would wake up in the morning having dreamt the whole thing, so he resolved to tell no one. But my father didn’t have to tell anyone because everyone could see the house. It stayed that way for years, Christmas everyday, snow, Santa, the whole bit. It was as if the ghosts of that beautiful house had been kept from their festivities for so long that they resolved to have Christmas, non-stop, until they tired of it, and that is exactly what they did. This original artwork and story are copyright Ramona Szczerba 2008. Copyright to this material is in no way transferable with the sale of this item. The buyer is not entitled to any reproduction rights – neither image nor story can be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks!
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watercolor
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These look like alien brain suckers to me or something… haha… No, but they are dead daisy stems that are still in my garden covered in snow.
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Houses at the Inn river in Innsbruck, Austria. In the background the alpine mountains of the Nordkette.
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Taken in Northampton yesterday / nikon D90
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Historic home of Confederate Colonel Charles Lynch. / Located in Altavista Virginia, pop. 2400.
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This image was made at Pemaquid lighthouse. The lighthouse stands on a high rocky promontory. These wonderful snow patents, are created by the wind blowing across the point. The image was made just after sunrise, a low angle of the sun created strong shadows to emphasize the Patton. Nikon 200 f-stop 22 shutter speed 1/4 focal length 15 ISO 100 / Tripod Polarizer Pemaquid Lighthouse, State of Maine 1/15/09
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This lovely house belongs to my dearest friends Vickie and Fred. I think it’s beautiful in any season. / Located in Anola, Manitoba, Canada.
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It was a dreary and grey day today. The fog was so thick so I decided to go for a drive to one of the lighthouses. This is an old outhouse hanging over the edge of the cliff next to the lighthouse. This is what the lighthouse keeper would use to scratch that itch… lol. It’s probably about 100 feet to the ocean straight below. / / Visit my website On The Rock Photography
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Winter view of the Salem Commons in Salem, MA. Orton effect used. Nikon D200 PSE7 /
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Warwick, New York / December 2009 Nikon D300 / Manual / 18-200 mm / Raw
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Applied layers and Topaz filter in PS. Taken at Ft. DeFiance State Park in Estherville, IA. Sepia with added layers in PS. Featured in Sepia Only group – December 2009 / Featured in The Woman Photographer group – January 2010
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Taken with my Nikon Coolpix, as is. Another part of the village green.
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