8 PERSON DINING ROOM TABLE http://blog.dnevnik.hr/8-person-dining-room-table

srijeda, 19.10.2011.

BLACK DROP LEAF KITCHEN TABLE : BLACK DROP LEAF


BLACK DROP LEAF KITCHEN TABLE : IRON AND WOOD COFFEE TABLE



Black Drop Leaf Kitchen Table





black drop leaf kitchen table






    kitchen table
  • a table in the kitchen

  • A kitchen is a room or part of a room used for cooking and food preparation.





    black drop
  • Black Drop is the extended black border above the viewing area used to position the viewing area at a the appropriate height.





    leaf
  • Turn over (the pages of a book or the papers in a pile), reading them quickly or casually

  • the main organ of photosynthesis and transpiration in higher plants

  • flick: look through a book or other written material; "He thumbed through the report"; "She leafed through the volume"

  • (of a plant, esp. a deciduous one in spring) Put out new leaves

  • a sheet of any written or printed material (especially in a manuscript or book)











black drop leaf kitchen table - The Adventure




The Adventure of Black Drop


The Adventure of Black Drop



A gunshot leaves a dead man in an East End alley. A beautiful woman lies dead on the lawns of Windsor Castle. The only certain aspect of a beadle's death is its precipitation by gravity. A mere bump into a gentleman sends an old man to his death amidst Piccadilly's evening throngs. Did the gunshot echo through time and claim the three other souls or had their time simply run out? One man's calibre matches these crimes'. A mathematician's ingenious deviance compounds London's smog as he surpasses his past transgressions and discovers the means to control the future. But his plan is plagued by one man brave enough to play in the web in his criminal parlour. Coerced to alter his modus operandi, this man works on more than one case simultaneously, navigating smoke and mirrors, while trying to earn back a trusted friend, trusting reluctantly in a mysterious Indian and evading death at every corner of London. Can this man emerge a victor in a fight to save something as whimsical as the future of the world? But above all else, will he emerge alive - body, mind and soul? Who is this man? He is. . . Sherlock Holmes!










75% (19)





gentle filling




gentle filling





It is impossible this morning merely to sit at the kitchen table and watch the gentle play of low morning light spotlighting the ballet of breeze and green in the backyard. In fact, the play of light is not readily apparent. It is diffuse through thick, stationary rain clouds. One has actually to sit still in the midst of the morning for quite some time to acquaint his skin with the temperature and humidity even to perceive the ever-so-gentle stir of the air. He must become acclimated to the stillness to detect the stir.
The rain is falling steadily, but so gently that it can’t be seen by looking through the air at the deep, damp green canopy and walls of the yard. It can be heard though, and of course felt. Heard to play its under melody, not a counterpoint exactly, but more like the chant tune above which the birds and tree frogs have added their vernacular text in florid lines to create this morning motet of supported stillness. The stir of atmosphere against my skin is so slight that it doesn’t move the leaves – they only jitter at the gentle drops falling from the higher leaves.

I think it is profound that midst a barrage of beauty, it is easy to completely miss it, or at least miss most of it. Storms are quite common here this time of year. One moment, the sky is blue and suddenly, over the trees roll dark, strangely lit greys that roar and shoot bolts of bright white among themselves and toward the earth. They don’t open valves, but rather burst a main and pummel trees, break branches, and wash lawns and gardens into the streets to overflow the storm gutters and leave patterned lines of debris scattered on pavement.
Just as suddenly, this outburst of emotion seems to abate, and for a moment the sky seems to go about the process of pulling itself together, sobbing and wiping away the final tears. It’s as if the blue has come to calm the grey and wraps its arms around the angered clouds and presently around us all.
It is difficult to see the beauty in the purging of meteorological emotion. Perhaps it is as difficult as it is to see the beauty in the deep blue of joyful skies. It all comes so fast and furious that one can’t perceive it. It is almost as if the elements must be separated and experienced one at a time in order to appreciate truly their beauty and power.
This summer, while riding across utterly flat, vast Colorado wilderness, I saw a storm an hour ahead of me. During that hour, I rode in still, dry desert air while watching black clouds hang wispy sheets of smoky mist against the ground. I watched bright, undefined flashes illuminate the blackness from the inside, I saw sharply defined, jagged bolts of brilliant neon white reach across the sky, flashing. I saw thick, heavy electric spears flung to the ground as if they would stab the earth and stand there lighted, smoking, and consuming the desert sage and blackening the loose, rocky soil.
As I approached the blackness, the air cooled by 20 degrees, and the wind pushed my bike sideways. Huge drops of water pelted my faceshield and pricked my arms and legs. The bolts were landed in the soil so close to me that I imagined I could feel their heat. I saw space behind the bolts and experienced the storm in three dimensions rather than against a two-dimensional backdrop of dark, cloudy sky. Unfathomable power unleashed at once in a display of overwhelmingly terrible beauty.
I rode another hour in the midst of this awesome anger before reaching the breaks of dusky blue on the other side at the edge of the Rocky Mountains. I stopped my bike to breathe and realized that the storm hadn’t stopped, or moved on, I’d simply come through it and out of it and left it there, still kicking and screaming and pouring out its wrath on the desert landscape. Days passed before that storm ceased to be a part of my current experience, and became instead a powerful memory of fear, power, respect and submission.


Rarer though, are these slow, long lasting drizzles. A couple weeks after the Colorado storm, I rode nearly 700 miles northward along the Pacific ocean in a three-day, chilly, foggy drizzle. A slow ride in slow rain allowed the beauty to be slowly absorbed through my layers and trapped inside where my capacity for beauty was stretched.
Such is the rain of this rare morning. Evening’s gentle thunder and occasional flashings subsided, but without the blue to come from behind and hug away the anger, the sky remained melancholy through the night. I woke at intervals to hear the gentle, constant patter of rain in the leaves outside the window, and at first light, I was past being satisfied with only sound. I made my way to the covered front porch and stepped out into the drizzle, just long enough to prime my skin to feel the practically imperceptible stir of rain-breath, and perched myself in a rocking chair to watch, feel, listen and absorb.

These are the gentle, washing mercies, new this morning. They are slow, c











03.06.2011 - Black and White




03.06.2011 - Black and White





© by Jan Thatner (jan.is.joying.junkfood)
All rights reserved. Use without permission is illegal.

Oh its so hot outside :O
Patricia and I had a good day, relaxing in our garden.
We turned on the sprinklers and took some photos :)

In Flames - Black and White

I am one with the world tonight
I am proud to be this far from you
You say that you have no regrets
But I know that you do
You told me someone stole the eye
I know him too

I’ve come to the conclusion -
Yes, I know That between black and white,
There is no room for two
The scale might be wide,
But there is no need to be blind
Between black and white,
There is no room for two

I leave all of the grey behind I see clear,
I know that I’ll find
You claim that you are innocent
But tell me who aint
You think that you’re going to be saved
There’s no such thing as a saint

I’ve come to the conclusion -
Yes, I know That between black and white,
There is no room for two
The scale might be wide,
But there is no need to be blind
Between black and white,
There is no room for two
No!

Black and white theres nothing in between
Black and white theres nothing what it seems









black drop leaf kitchen table







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19.10.2011. u 15:20 • 0 KomentaraPrint#^

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8 PERSON DINING ROOM TABLE

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