Today's theme is Wood. I took a some fantastic pictures of sheep before I realised my mistake. In a mad panic I jogged through the woods in search of a decent shot, but it escaped me.

Oddly enough I spotted a little beaver on a journey. He said something odd, like he was carrying a ring, and he was worried about Nazgûl, or something. That got me worried, so took him home to keep him safe.

This morning, when I came down stairs, the little chap had taken a vintage Port out of the cellar and looked suspiciously close to opening it. 

This is an entry for the 'Mega-Extreme' 30 Days of Photographs, hosted by Michael and Ziva. Click on the image to view a larger version. You can view all photos from the series Here.The participants are myself, 00dozo, Bryan, aka Unfinished Person, Cheryl, Elizabeth A., John, a.k.a. nonamedufus, Katherine, Kristen, LaughingMom, Malisa, Mariann, Meleah, Michael, Nicky and Mike, Nora, Pam, Tanya, Ziva.

Comments

I woulda dropped him off at the side of the road by now. No one messes with my wine, dammit.

Don't worry, he was too pathetically weak to uncork it.

He was carrying a ring and was worried about Nazgûl? Oh wow, that beaver is in so much trouble, no wonder it's driven him to drink.

Yeah to be fair on him, he did have a lot on his mind.

There's nothing worse than a thirsty beaver. Well, except, perhaps, useless pictures of sheep.

If you have a need for useless pictures of sheep, let me know, I'd be happy to send you a selection.

I think I see where this is heading...Mount Doom.

Yeah, but I'm looking forward to the battle at the Black Gate of Mordor.

I've just concluded that the poor little guy has been driven to madness from being stalked in this life and the afterlife by a deranged paparazzi. He needs a stiff drink and a table leg or two to gnaw on.

I may just let him drink the port. Then at least he'll learn a valuable lesson.

Sheep? Seriously? You ARE getting tired, aren't you?

Did you rescue him for HIS sake, or yours? Seems to me he was doing just fine heading into a whole new chapter of his life.

I think I was mainly concerned that the vintage wouldn't be appreciated.

You would think that a beaver would have been an expert on this topic.

Hmm, I wish I had thought of that.

With today's theme I'm surprised that you didn't get a pic of the little guy gnawing a tree!

Actually I did have a few tree shots, but I took them a while back and couldn't find one I was happy with. Today's was cheap I'm afraid, I should have been better prepared.

I think your wine is safe. I imagine he was just snacking on the wooden frame around it. I think Beavers are more fond of a good Cabernet Sauvignon. They like the nice oak flavors in the wine. Look at that precious little face on the beaver. Give me a thimble full of a nice Cabernet. Maybe he will remember you on his journey.

I suppose he does have a precious little face. I hadn't noticed that before. And I did find some teeth marks in the frame.

I love this one! The reflection just adds to the coolness factor.

I'm glad you liked it. I was never entirely happy with any of the 'wood' shots.

Well, I'm kind of looking at it this way: You were late to the breakfast table and, rather than waking you on a non-work day (everyone knows that sleeping in is becoming a rarity these days), the industrious beaver was just preparing his own morning meal, with the wood being his "cereal" and the port his "milk".

(Nice shot, by the way - I like the reflections.)

;-)

I listen to everything you say. So if you're looking at it that way, then so will I.

I'm very impressed that you have a bottle of port that's so nice it requires a wood-and-glass box. Not to mention a beaver that not only seems to rule your household, but apparently is also the king of Finland's forests. You're an impressive man, Mo.

Being ruled by a beaver is hardly fun though, especially as I have to keep a constant watch over my wines.

Ah, Norwegian wood.

:)

Oh my god, I love what you're doing with this challenge. Too charming for words.

Welcome, my most charming comentator. Glad you love it!

Oh - that pesky beaver. Always messing with your stuff. You are going to have to put him in a time out.

Or maybe just kill him again.

Ha ha! It's a mirror pool! Oh, and the line, "I took a some fantastic pictures of sheep before I realised my mistake" - made me laugh outloud!

I think I may have heard your laughter across the pond...

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Wood

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  • PDOException: SQLSTATE[22001]: String data, right truncated: 1406 Data too long for column 'title' at row 1: INSERT INTO {aggregator_item} (title, link, author, description, guid, timestamp, fid) VALUES (:db_insert_placeholder_0, :db_insert_placeholder_1, :db_insert_placeholder_2, :db_insert_placeholder_3, :db_insert_placeholder_4, :db_insert_placeholder_5, :db_insert_placeholder_6); Array ( [:db_insert_placeholder_0] => In Which, Not Having Posted For A While, Our Hero Grabs Whatever Odd Crap He Can Off Of His Phone And Adds Some Words In The Vague Hope That Something Profound Or At Least Moderately Entertaining Will Emerge, As Will The Inspiration For A Pithy And Succinct Title To Encapsulate it. [:db_insert_placeholder_1] => http://gravelfarm.blogspot.com/2012/07/in-which-not-having-posted-for-while.html [:db_insert_placeholder_2] => [:db_insert_placeholder_3] => <br /><div style="color: black;">My 2 year-old daughter, Bonobo, enjoys colouring in.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">Well, I say colouring in, but really it's scrawling random marks across any flat surface with anything that might feasibly make a mark. Crayon, ink, paint, snot, poo, blood, you name it, she seems to be able to incorporate it into her art, and will brook no criticisms,&nbsp;constructive&nbsp;or otherwise, about whether it is "good" or "insightful" or "talented" or "naughty".&nbsp; Just this morning, I found her outside making a delightful print on the patio with the juice from a disgruntled snail.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: black; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dkwNRpAx8VI/T_wNLDIiGYI/AAAAAAAABCU/-W1n9rbbJqM/s1600/banksy+wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dkwNRpAx8VI/T_wNLDIiGYI/AAAAAAAABCU/-W1n9rbbJqM/s320/banksy+wall.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dear Jebus let that be chocolate spread.</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">She's like Gilbert &amp; George only, you know, she occasionally does stuff I like.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">Obviously, I want to encourage the artistic&nbsp;aspects of her character, but preferably whilst discouraging the&nbsp;accompanying&nbsp;random acts of vandalism to the sofa or fridge door. This involves the purchase of vast reams of paper and imperial gallons of colouring books for her to <s>waste</s>&nbsp;utilise.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">I don't normally bother looking at them, other than giving the occasional finished piece a quick glance, saying "well done Sweetheart, I shall treasure it forever" before placing it carefully out of view in the recycling box, but I did flick through this cheap one she got as a gift in a party bag:</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: black;"></div><div style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: black; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XuI7ztZplfU/T_S59DE1dwI/AAAAAAAABBM/G_xOtKOw458/s1600/cullrin+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XuI7ztZplfU/T_S59DE1dwI/AAAAAAAABBM/G_xOtKOw458/s320/cullrin+3.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This will end in tears. </td></tr></tbody></table><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">It's pretty standard fare, really. A selection of motifs and tableaux of no particular ilk or order, ready for children to completely not keep within the lines on. It got me wondering how much thought and endeavour go into the creation of such tomes.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">They're basically doodles, which are then printed out in book form and sold. A starving artist whacks out a toad underneath a toadstool whilst some sort of large insect, possibly of the order Odonata wearing a bowler hat, sits on top trying to remember where it lost it's other pair of legs:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: black; text-align: center;"></div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: black; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hpUH3tXyuPc/T_S75KnQeFI/AAAAAAAABB0/ptHfBJM7_Rk/s1600/cullrin+1a.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hpUH3tXyuPc/T_S75KnQeFI/AAAAAAAABB0/ptHfBJM7_Rk/s400/cullrin+1a.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smuggest toad in Amphibiville.</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">Opposite, a fairy shows an old sock to a deer with oddly long front legs, perhaps hoping the fawn will be able to track the owner, lost in the woods these past forty-eight hours and causing concern as temperatures are dropping, what with the sun playing hide and seek behind the cloud there. </div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">Sticking with the toadstool theme, the next page had turned the whole concept on it's head by having the toad <i>on top</i> of the fungus, literally as a stool for the toad. Madness. It appears to be being addressed by a bizarre anthropomorphic rodent which sends chills through my spine in a way that Mickey never did:</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: black; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WvRoUwsKImo/T_S6O67sWOI/AAAAAAAABBU/TCp-728ntG4/s1600/cullrin+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WvRoUwsKImo/T_S6O67sWOI/AAAAAAAABBU/TCp-728ntG4/s320/cullrin+4.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Go on, let me lick you."</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">The chameleon on the opposing page was relatively lifelike, if one discounts the expression on it's face which suggests it has narrowly missed being caught doing something both immoral and illegal. Presumably with it's tongue.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">After expending vast amounts of efforts on the previous mouse, not only giving it a face but a set of clothes as well, the artist then runs out of time and, almost certainly, inclination for the next mouse-based piece. Here, they are sadly two-dimensional and lacking even a rudimentary&nbsp;mandible, sailing forlornly in some sort of leaf-boat 'neath a bright, croissant-lit sky:</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: black; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ml9ou9aQTSw/T_S_L5GKeSI/AAAAAAAABCI/tiqdwJygIMk/s1600/cullrin+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ml9ou9aQTSw/T_S_L5GKeSI/AAAAAAAABCI/tiqdwJygIMk/s320/cullrin+5.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the kingdom of the deaf, the one-eared mice are kings.</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">As if realising the obvious lack of talent demonstrated by the boat-mice, the artist ups his or her game and does a reasonable job on the flowers and butterfly opposite.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">On a roll now, the artist illustrates a good facsimile of a gnu, looking as if it is about to charge any child considering colouring it in pink. Other than that, though, things take a downward turn. The artist has now run out of animals to draw, and is reduced to portraying some sort of wallaby/teddy/dog hybrid about to be grabbed by a six-fingered, thumbless hand, presumably for the crime of simply existing.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: black; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--kstZBfzVns/T_S6biL8-II/AAAAAAAABBk/7Drr_TXSO4M/s1600/cullrin+6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--kstZBfzVns/T_S6biL8-II/AAAAAAAABBk/7Drr_TXSO4M/s320/cullrin+6.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What am I? WHAT AM I?"</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">Towards the end of the book, impetus seems to be dwindling, and rather than draw another toad or existing creature, the artists wazzes off another example of whatever the hell that thing is, only this time the freak is attempting to hide it's shame behind an oversize flower. Good thing too:</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: black; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mTDIO0bnls0/T_wOqDKVzDI/AAAAAAAABCk/cDOHcNs8QbQ/s1600/freek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mTDIO0bnls0/T_wOqDKVzDI/AAAAAAAABCk/cDOHcNs8QbQ/s320/freek.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't look at me, I beg of you. Look at the whale. </td></tr></tbody></table><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">The finale of the book, which in my opinion you might expect to be one of the better pieces of work to leave the audience with, is of a stunted whale, gaping mouth half full of vomit, spurting juice out of it's head-hole like some sort of cetacean money-shot.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">Sadly, I do not foresee see many worthwhile accolades coming to this artist. Tracey Emin could have done it. </div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">From today's reading, many lessons emerge. I have learnt that I know two more animals than the artist responsible for this colouring book (camel and dog. I'm not showing off, just saying).</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">I have learnt that&nbsp; it doesn't really matter what you put on a page as long as children get to destroy it in the name of creativity.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">Most importantly of all I have learnt that a snail can indeed look disgruntled.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">Sometimes, the level of profundity I achieve through writing this blog staggers even me.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">Ooh, snail!</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;">That's three.</div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><div style="color: black;"><br /></div><br /> [:db_insert_placeholder_4] => tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-917676458656665193.post-1618795888336161232 [:db_insert_placeholder_5] => 1341921120 [:db_insert_placeholder_6] => 10 ) in aggregator_save_item() (line 150 of /home/stoneskin/madd0g.org/modules/aggregator/aggregator.processor.inc).

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