Janet Brien's photos with the keyword: metal

(+1 inset) (view large for frosty goodness!) Such a murky, frostless day...blustery, cold, foggy, and then storm clouds moving in and rain coming down. NOT a day to be outside I've decided. My resolve to deal with frozen feet and hands has waned and since there was no frost to drag me outside, I am foregoing my exercise today. Sometimes I just don't feel like it and that's ok. I used to beat myself up when I didn't do my usual exercise but I've finally allowed that it's ok from time to time. Every weekend when I visit contacts to appreciate their photos and leave comments, I find many pictures for the group, "Saturday Self Challenge." Each week I think to myself, "OH THAT LOOKS LIKE FUN!" However, I am already in two groups that require my attention and input—Macro Monday 2.0 and Happy Fence Friday. (And of course the whole reason I got back into photography...my daily Pictures for Pam!) I have watched and considered and have decided that this commitment should be fine, so I applied and was accepted to the group today, hooray!! :) The week's challenge is "Sharp Focus" and funny enough, I've got perhaps 2 billion pictures that fall under that category! Specifically though, the rules request a new picture taken in the past week, posted today (my time zone's Saturday). Well, that takes the number down to a very scant 500-1000 pictures, heh. LOL, I don't usually take so many pictures per week but I was out twice for frosty pictures and my Macro Monday mishap meant that I did that project twice. So I did take a LOT of pictures this week. Today's image is one of the stars from my super frosty outing a couple of days ago. I almost added it as an inset for yesterday's post but it deserves the center stage, so here you go! Crazy frost crystals in sharp focus! I've also included a very frosty bolt that's bristling with crystals! Pam, I thought it would be fun to find a picture in your photo stream that would be a good entry for "Sharp Focus" and I found this glowing, fiery red and green macro of Autumn-Hued Grape Leaves that I loved. The first one has incredible crispness that show fine vein detail which is like a stained glass window. Absolutely beautiful. The other picture, Autumn-Hued Grape Leaves, Part 2 shows the whole leaf and is brimming with lovely, sharp detail and stunning light. They are both outstanding pictures which make me swoon in delight! Sending another virtual cup of warm soup your way! *BIG HUGGGGZZZZ*!!! Explored on 2/24/19, highest placement, #1.

Summer has ended and the mornings are starting to get chilly. It won't be too long before we begin to get frost again, and I can't wait! This is what a pine needle looks like when it has frost on it! I captured this unusual frost formation back in 2013 when I was working on my 356 Project! :)

Frost on barbed wire is such fun to photograph! The sparkling frost dissolves into starry bokeh, the crisp frost crystals are so sharp and yet "furry" looking, and if you should get lucky, the colorful rust on the barbed wire makes a perfect contrast! And of course, you have a natural leading line of the wire to guide the eye. What's not to love?! :) Explored on 5/25/16. Highest placement #24.

It's the third week of February and this morning we woke up to a world of frost! What a perfect opportunity to share a frosty image from my archives! On this extremely cold December morning in 2013, the frost formed wonderful crystals, and this rusty screw was positively covered with it!

One of the wonderful things about living in southern Oregon is experiencing four distinct seasons. I was born and raised in San Francisco, and it's about the same temperature year-round. So for me, frost and snow are amazing to see and naturally, frost is a favorite subject to photograph. This is a close-up of the tines on a strand of rusted barbed wire that I captured in November 2013.

3 more pictures in notes above ! :) The forecast last night said it would be cold this morning...they weren't kidding! When I went down to the gate at 7am to open and close the gate for Steve as he left for work, it was 27°F (-2.8°C)!! We stepped outside and the cold just hit me in the face. WOW, take a step back, Jack Frost, you're freezing my face with that frosty breath of yours!! I was bristling with sweaters and a coat, warm socks, hat, boots, gloves, and I had my camera with me too as I waved goodbye to Steve. I wanted to get some images of frost while I was down by the fence that borders the main road. However, I also knew I didn't have much time, because no matter how bundled up I was, that cold would find its way in through my worst defenses: my gloves and rubber boots. Knowing the clock was ticking, I quickly went to the fence and started snapping away, admiring the amazing crystals on the barbed wire along the top of the fence as I moved this way and that. Soon, my fingers started to tell me they were cold. Then I noticed the frosty pine needles on the Ponderosa Pine tree nearby and challenged myself to try for some good dof images. (Fail!) Looking down I saw pine cones with frosty edges and managed to get some nice pictures (I'll share that picture in the next few days!). At that point, my fingers were really beginning to hurt and my toes were beginning to yell. Making my way back up the drive way I stopped to take pictures of frosted gravel (I got a really great picture but...the gravel looks too much like...frosted doggy doo...*cackle*...so I can't use it! :D), and on the way I couldn't resist a few more pictures of frosted barbed wire, and then I couldn't stand it anymore and rushed up the hill and into the house, and got my hands under hot water to warm them up again...I can't believe it. I was out there for TEN MINUTES and my body was screaming from the cold!! Unbelievable!! It took a long, hot shower to completely warm up again. Totally crazy cold out there!!! Robert William Service (January 16, 1874 – September 11, 1958) was a poet and writer who has often been called "the Bard of the Yukon". Service is best known for his poems "The Shooting of Dan McGrew" and "The Cremation of Sam McGee", from his first book, Songs of a Sourdough (1907; also published as The Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses). "These humorous tales in verse were considered doggerel by the literary set, yet remain extremely popular to this day." Wikipedia: Robert Service Explored on November 25, 2013. Highest placement, page 2 (#41).

Originally painted green, this fence post is slowly rusting all the paint off of it! I love the texture and adding frost makes it even prettier! This is the first stanza from my favorite poem, The Cremation of Sam McGee" by Robert W. Service : The Cremation of Sam McGee There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee. The rest of the poem is on the next picture!

This was a long piece of smooth wire, covered in frost! I hope you'll take a few moments to read this poem, it's fantastic and so visual, you'll need to put on a coat by the time you're done! :D My 9th grade English teacher introduced poetry to me and this was the one that made me love poetry! :) The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert W. Service There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee. Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows. Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows. He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell; Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell." On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail. Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail. If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see; It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee. And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow, And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe, He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess; And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request." Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan: "It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold, till I'm chilled clean through to the bone. Yet 'tain't being dead — it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains; So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains." A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail; And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale. He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee; And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee. There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven, With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given; It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains, But you promised true, and it's up to you, to cremate those last remains." Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code. In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load. In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring, Howled out their woes to the homeless snows — Oh God! how I loathed the thing. And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow; And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low; The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in; And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin. Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay; It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May." And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum; Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum." Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire; Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher; The flames just soared, and the furnace roared — such a blaze you seldom see; And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee. Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so; And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow. It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why; And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky. I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear; But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near; I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside. I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide. And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar; And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and said: "Please close that door. It's fine in here, but I greatly fear, you'll let in the cold and storm — Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm." There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge I cremated Sam McGee.

This is a very tight crop but I wanted to include it because the frosted barb looks so much like a dagger covered in crystals!