#Highland Springs

[libraryofva]

Recent Acquisitions - Ephemera Collection

Hot Tamale Land, A Topical, Tropical, Musical Comedy. Dark-eyed Senoritas! Intrepid Torreadors! American Millionaires! Love Songs! Rollicking Choruses! Bull Fight !! To be presented by the Highland Springs High School at Sandston School, Friday, April 24th, 8:15 P.M. Willie Frances Edwards Scrapbook

[scotland]

It may have just begun, but soon, spring in Scotland will be in full bloom 🌺

scotland.co

[photocyclelog]

How to tell that it's raining, exercise 4…

(They did not choose a very picturesque background. Sorry!)

Photo: Easter Monday, 21st April 2025

[cpahlow]

[jagalart]

Lemko

A very special picture for the great @ YachtRockDragon matching with one I've done a while ago. This time featuring a nb take on a traditional Lemko clothing and Spring in Ukrainian/Polish/Slovakian mountainside. I grew up surrounded by their culture and language so it was really cool to make this ❤️

[adventuresofalgy]

Little You-I could not yet either walk or fly well enough for Algy to take his baby dragon friend to see the beach and the sea, and Algy was finding it increasingly difficult to keep the young creature amused.

But the weather in the wild west Highlands of Scotland was fine and warm for a change, which helped to some extent, for Algy was sure that Little You-I – like most dragons – would become far more fractious if it turned cold and wet again.

Deciding that perhaps some bright colours might cheer his young friend up, Algy helped Little You-I to fly over to a large azalea bush, which was in full flower in the warm May sunshine, and they settled down together in an exceptionally fragrant sea of pink.

Little You-I was evidently intrigued by the azalea, and as it gazed at the magnificent flowers it suddenly squeaked:

Frequently the woods are pink — Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town. Oft a head is crested I was wont to see — And as oft a cranny Where it used to be — And the Earth — they tell me — On its Axis turned! Wonderful Rotation! By but twelve performed!

[Little You-I is reciting the poem Frequently the woods are pink by the 19th century American poet Emily Dickinson.]

[yiqi-fr]

A WIP of Manju, the founder of my clan's village!

[shutterandsentence]

Fairy tales are real...

Photo: Blair Castle, Scotland, UK

[volosdarling]

I WAS SENT A BLANK FOR THIS AND DECIDED TO GO ON A PINTEREST ADVENTURE :3 EXPLANATION IN TAGS!

TEMPLATE CREDIT: @fictoroses

[feral-violet]

[novelties-and-notions]

Spring had finally arrived in the tiny Scottish hamlet of Sunnyville (more properly known as Achmothogair), and although the air still felt cold, the garden at Sunnyside was flooded with March sunlight.

Throwing open their windows with an unusual lack of Scottish reserve, the residents hurried outside to admire the sudden explosion of glowing colours, for all their spring bulbs were flowering at once, including their prize bed of tulips, which had come into bloom exceptionally early this year.

[thingsdavidlikes]

Passing place by images@twiston

[scotland]

Sunny day adventures ☀️

scotland.co

[photocyclelog]

Weather not so good looking…

Photo: 22nd March 2025

[honoryourinnerchild]

Out for a walk.

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy had never seen a bicycle before, so he was naturally intrigued when his assistant obtained one and started cycling around the local landscape.

A fluffy bird, of course, does not need a machine to get from one place to another, so when his assistant next set out on her bike, Algy flew along above her, to keep an eye, and to try to observe how the strange contraption worked.

Algy had had no intention of being involved with any kind of machine, but when his assistant paused at a passing place on the road, in order to take some photos, he found that in fact he was consumed with a longing to try it for himself, and so he asked whether he could please try riding the bicycle, believing, like Mulga Bill, that he would "ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight". Posing proudly for the obligatory "first time on a bicycle" photograph, Algy then commenced to set off along the road…

But, just like Mulga Bill, he found that when:

He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray, But ere he'd gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away. It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver streak, It whistled down the awful slope towards the Dead Man's Creek.

However, Mulga Bill was of course not a fluffy bird, and there Algy had the advantage, because when the bike ran away with him he simply leaped into the air and flew back to his assistant to apologise.

Retrieving the bike from the bushes, she recited the whole poem for Algy's benefit, and advised him to stick to flying in the future 😀

'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze; He turned away the good old horse that served him many days; He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendent to be seen; He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine; And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride, The grinning shop assistant said, "Excuse me, can you ride?" "See here, young man," said Mulga Bill, "from Walgett to the sea, From Conroy's Gap to Castlereagh, there's none can ride like me. I'm good all round at everything, as everybody knows, Although I'm not the one to talk - I hate a man that blows. But riding is my special gift, my chiefest, sole delight; Just ask a wild duck can it swim, a wildcat can it fight. There's nothing clothed in hair or hide, or built of flesh or steel, There's nothing walks or jumps, or runs, on axle, hoof, or wheel, But what I'll sit, while hide will hold and girths and straps are tight: I'll ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight." 'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that sought his own abode, That perched above the Dead Man's Creek, beside the mountain road. He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray, But ere he'd gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away. It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver streak, It whistled down the awful slope towards the Dead Man's Creek. It shaved a stump by half an inch, it dodged a big white-box: The very wallaroos in fright went scrambling up the rocks, The wombats hiding in their caves dug deeper underground, As Mulga Bill, as white as chalk, sat tight to every bound. It struck a stone and gave a spring that cleared a fallen tree, It raced beside a precipice as close as close could be; And then as Mulga Bill let out one last despairing shriek It made a leap of twenty feet into the Dead Man's Creek. 'Twas Mulga Bill from Eaglehawk, that slowly swam ashore: He said, "I've had some narrer shaves and lively rides before; I've rode a wild bull round a yard to win a five-pound bet, But this was the most awful ride that I've encountered yet. I'll give that two-wheeled outlaw best; It's shaken all my nerve To feel it whistle through the air and plunge and buck and swerve. It's safe at rest in Dead Man's Creek, we'll leave it lying still; A horse's back is good enough henceforth for Mulga Bill."

[Algy's assistant is reciting the poem Mulga Bill's Bicycle by the late 19th/early 20th century Australian bush poet Andrew Barton "Banjo" Paterson.]

If you would like to see more photos (without Algy) from Algy's assistant's cycling adventures, please visit her sideblog @photocyclelog