Spur
97 creative works found
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the leadbeater,s possum is a rare possum that lives in hollows in old trees like the mountain ash the trees take more than 150 years for suitable hollows to develop if fire or LOGGING are too frequent the old trees are killed .the young trees in this photo are stunning but offer no suitable habitat for hollow dependent species. tha black spur.
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This is not all of me…..................but it is a large part of who I am
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I love music, but I guess I’m a country girl at heart….. Created on brown kraft paper / lashings of gesso, pastels, ink, acrylic, charcoal and coloured pencil applied / and a little bit of photoshop for dessert :) / Kids and Babies tshirts available @ my zazzle store /
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the blacks spur .some say the name came from the pack horse teamsters in 1862 meeting long lines or aboriginals on the rige between healesville and narbethong . the upper goulburn natives or taungurong were pushed ot of the central highlands and moved to coranderrk near healesville leaving litile evidence of ther existence..
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STUDIO SHOOT COMMISUIONED BY COUPLE IN SHOT,
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Image by photographer Glennis Siverson, www.glennisphotos.com.
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Black Spur, Yarra Ranges, Victoria. Taken 1995, before the fires of Feb 2009. © Ern Mainka The Black Spur is Heritage listed on the Register of the National Estate.
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The mist lingers in the deep vallys of this special place .
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1 sale of this tee so far I love music, but I guess I’m a country girl at heart….. Created on brown kraft paper / lashings of gesso, pastels, ink, acrylic, charcoal and coloured pencil applied / and a little bit of photoshop for dessert :) the design, deliberately placed to one side, creates the additional benefit of a slim look
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Featured in The Wild West Show 29 June 2009 / Featured in Rural Around The Globe June 2009 years ago after a long season on the trail, cowboys would head to town with their paycheck and enjoy socializing and sometimes have their portrait taken. this is my graphites pencil drawing of a cowboy sitting for his portrait. wearing his tools of the trade, leather/felt hat, brightly coloured bandana, chemise shirt, pants, buffalo hide chaps, lariat, leather gloves and boots, spurs and of course his quirt and six-shooter handgun original graphites pencils drawing 1989
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Ronald dug deep into his pocket for change. He needed 45 cents more to buy a pack of cigarettes. His fingers pulled out only lint. He gave the clerk a dirty look, as if it were her fault, and turned toward the door. The daylight hurt his eyes and he squinted, scouring the street for a solution to his problem. Surely in this enormous world he could come up with money from somewhere. Lately his paycheck was gone the day after pay day. He hadn’t paid his rent for over a month. He stared at the ground as he hiked back up the hill toward his apartment. He strained to see a discarded cigarette butt or a coin. He punched the elevator button and fled back home to the darkness to the silence to the stale, smoky air, to the unwashed clothing, to the filthy carpet. / It seemed such a short time ago that this had been a pleasant, though never fancy atmosphere, where neighbors and friends had stopped by to chat and enjoy cocktails. A place of laughter. Then Francisco had died. / Ronald stared briefly in the mirror as he passed to take a leak. His face was sunken, and bruised. / There was still a half a bottle of scotch in the kitchen. Not nearly enough, he thought. What could he sell. He had pawned everything. Then his eyes flashed onto a photo of he and Francisco that had been taken on a trip to Mexico City. There was a sparkle at the bottom of the picture. The spurs. He had forgotten about them. / He remembered that Francisco used to wear them when they would go out to parties as an accessory. Then he would throw them into the corner of the closet behind all the cowboy boots. / Ronald dug under a pile of dirty clothes and reached into the dusty corner. His hands felt the sharp metal and he pulled them out. He thought how it had always seemed to him to be such a stupid affectation to wear them as an ornament when there was no chance of doing any riding. Francisco had said they were once his grandfathers. Probably a good grade of silver. Probably worth something. / He raced to the elevator to the parking lot and, after popping a lifesaver in his mouth to cover the scotch odor, he took off toward the pawn shop. He passed the corner where an abandoned hotel sat silently waiting to be torn down and developed. He thought of the dark corridors where he stood with groups of glassy-eyed strangers passing a pipe back and forth. Trying to get one more hit. The orange sun rising through gray windows casting shadows of purple light onto old wood floors strewn with bottles. He thought of himself the night before searching on his hands and knees for a piece of crack that someone said they had dropped. At first he had thought the others desperate and sad for doing it. Then his eyes began to search as if they had a mind of their own and before long the was with them, lifting pieces of dirt to inspect them. / Would he end up there again if he got some money? No, this time he would be sensible. This time he would buy groceries and put something away for the rent. He wasn’t like the others. But, what if he did? It wasn’t his fault. It was Francisco’s fault. Francisco and his spurs. Abstract acrylic 18”x24” on bristol board. The story really has nothing to do with the painting. It just popped into my head. From memories of long long ago. Thank God there is no relation to today.
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The Black Spur, Healesville, Victoria, Australia. A popular tourist route, this time shown during a summer fog.
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Tools and equipment of a working cowboy, his spurs – photographed on a wildlife ranch in Montana while on a Mentor Series photo trek
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This is part of the Yarra ranges national park. Linking the Yarra Valley with the mountain areas around Marysville is the road known as the Black Spur Drive, Famous for its heady scenery of spectacular tall forests, the Black Spur winds its way up the Great Dividing Range. Wind down the windows and savour the fragrance of the Australian bush as you pass through the forest. The drive is bordered by immense mountain ash trees that allow dappled sunlight to make its way down to the cool, lush understorey of green ferns.
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2008 Acrylic on Canvas 48X60” From the Charro Series….The Stallion dances down the street with his head taking bows, and shaking from side to side as to say thank you. The Mexican Charro dressed to the hilt with gold spurs and silver saddle with ivory handled revolver, in beautifully tooled closed holster. A brightly decorated sombrero. Dark suit with circles of silver with chains along the outside of the pant legs. The bridal and reins embedded with gold and silver dots that sparkle in the sun. It’s all for show now. The present day Charro.
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after a long day of work…
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Echidnas are toothless and feed almost exclusively on ants and termites. They are equipped with a long sticky tongue that extends perhaps 17 centimeters beyond the end of the snout. Long spines cover the body and fur is present between them. About two weeks after mating occurs, a single soft-shelled egg is deposited directly into the pouch and hatches after 10 days. Because the echidna does not have teats, the baby clings to specialized hairs within the pouch, where it suckles milk oozing from the mother’s mammary glands. When disturbed, the echidna either curls into a spiny ball to protect its soft underside, or digs its belly into the soil, so that only the spines are exposed. Males have a spur on the ankle of the hind leg but, unlike that of the platypus, it is not venomous Note the Spur in this photo
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This photograph was taken at the annual open house on the Empire Ranch, Sonoita, Arizona. Photographed with a Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ 50. / Featured in: / THE WILD WEST SHOW/June, 2009 / LIVE, LOVE, DREAM/July, 2009 / /
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Wyatt Earp Days in Tombstone, Arizona is a great place to photograph many characters in period costume. I tore myself away from portraits to take a few other things. Photographed with a Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ 28.
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