#Little Langdale

[ancientsstudies]

Little Langdale by wordyelaine.

[dopescissorscashwagon]

Blea Tarn, Little Langdale.

📸 by @MaureenPlatts /via X

[crimsonscloud]

KILLJOYS 3.08

[delicatuscii-wasbella102]

Slater's Bridge is a traditional packhorse bridge in Little Langdale in the English Lake District

[everylittlethingshedoesismagic]

Little Langdale

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Little Langdale Hamlet

@happiness_behind_the_lens

[milksockets]

‘slate stack cracking and shifting as it became heavier’ little langdale, cumbria 1986 in a collaboration with nature - andy goldsworthy (1990)

[handeaux]

Cincinnatians Gobbled Up Tales Of Barnyard Freaks And Vegetable Monstrosities

As autumn leaves littered the increasingly wintry ground it was, in days gone by, the signal for newspapers to trumpet the latest freak of nature emerging from the local barnyards. Cincinnati editors gleefully pounced on any monstrosity – animal or vegetable – that wandered in from the hinterlands.

The Cincinnati Post [28 July 1897] published a drawing of an ear of corn shaped like a human arm. The bizarre cob had been discovered by Albert Sturm, a traveling salesman who lived at 2331 Grandview Avenue in East Walnut Hills. Mr. Sturm’s office was on Pearl Street in the Bottoms, so it is likely he purchased the errant ear at the Pearl Street Market. He placed his remarkable discovery on display at a saloon in the West End.

Intriguingly, a similar chiroform cob had been discovered precisely three years prior and highlighted with a detailed analysis by the Cincinnati Enquirer [28 July 1894]. The newspaper argued against a supernatural interpretation of the phenomenon:

“The peculiar formation of the ear is due to the production of doubled celled blossoms, such as occur in almost every form of plant life. Pumpkins and squashes have been known to take on the likeness of the human face and the root of the mandrake assumes the form of a man with startling fidelity. This is the first time on record that the useful and nourishing corn plant ever tried anything in that direction. It was the general impression among the ignorant when the freak appeared, that it signified that the arm of the Lord had been stretched forth to destroy the world. This, of course, was based upon immature study of the Bible.”

Curious shapes afflicted all sorts of vegetables. W.G. Langdale, of Milford, Ohio, borrowed a most peculiar potato from a baker located in Lawrenceburg, Indiana, according to the Cincinnati Post [16 December 1903]. The spud was not only generally canine-shaped, but specifically resembled a popular cartoon dog at the time, known as Doc. Mr. Langdale allowed the Post to photograph the poochified potato, but insisted his ownership was temporary and that it would shortly be returned to its rightful owner.

Another animal-shaped potato was dug up a year earlier in Dayton, Kentucky, the Enquirer [26 November 1902] reported. This tuber was shaped like an almost perfect imitation of a frog and weighed three pounds. As was often the disposition of such curiosities back then, the weird vegetable was placed on display at Joe Walpert’s saloon.

The Cincinnati Post [24 November 1892] carried news of a Kentucky farmer who planned to send to the Chicago World’s Fair a potato he grew shaped very much like a fist:

“It is an exact counterpart of a clinched fist. The fingers, knuckles, joints and nails are distinctly defined, and where it connects with the vine it has widened out, resembling a human wrist.”

Such oddball entities were not confined to the vegetable kingdom. Cincinnatians gobbled up any reports of animals exhibiting any features out of the ordinary, including some truly suspicious yarns.

Take the dubious tale spun by the Enquirer [22 February 1870] about a little girl, who found a little turtle down by a little creek. Unlike most similar stories, in which the little girl raises her cute shellback hostage as a pet, this minion of the netherworld decided she wanted only the pretty shell, so she gave the turtle to her mother, who promptly decapitated the thing and began eviscerating it.

“After a while the heart was taken out, and excited no little curiosity from the fact that it was beating still, although some time had elapsed since the turtle’s life was supposed to be ended by taking off its head.”

Mom, possessed of the same morbid curiosity as her demonic offspring, stuck the beating turtle heart on a needle and watched it continue to throb for the next four and a half days! Tiring of this macabre entertainment, the mother tossed the still-beating turtle heart into the back yard, where it was promptly devoured by an old grey hen.

End of story? Of course not! Several days later, the family chicken laid an egg, which was gathered up for the family’s breakfast.

“The mother took ‘Biddy’s’ egg, opened it, and in the very center of it found the identical heart which had been thrown away previously, and in as perfect a condition as ever. She could hardly believe her eyes, and so she called her husband and children, all of whom were satisfied that it was the same heart, as the needle punctures were still plainly visible.”

Cincinnati was a key market town for farmers throughout the Tri-State region, not only because of our various street markets, but due to a thriving wholesale business. Often, commission merchants found some marvel among their shipments and took it “on ‘Change” the next day – in other words, to the Merchants Exchange at the Chamber of Commerce. Such was the case with a chicken displayed on ‘Change and reported to the Cincinnati Gazette [22 April 1895]. This hen’s special trait was undiscovered until it had been plucked.

“In addition to having a naturally formed head, with two perfect eyes, the fowl was found after being dressed to have two more perfectly formed eyes, with perfect eyelids, one on either side of the oil sack above the tail.”

After entertaining the commission agents for a couple of days, the bird was donated to the Society of Natural History for preservation.

Fred Beineke raised goats at his place on Berlin Street (now Woodrow Street) in Lower Price Hill. One day, according to the Enquirer [28 August 1890] two normal kids and a caprine monstrosity were born in his shed. The poor thing sported two conjoined heads.

“It has four eyes, two mouths, two tongues! Its ears are set back further than usual. While all regularly formed goats have no upper teeth – only a hard gum – this one has a set in the upper jaw of each head, making it have four sets of teeth. In the middle of the two heads there is one eye-socket, with two eye-balls.”

Almost every day, the local papers published items about animals born with extraneous limbs or appendages, so six-legged horses, five-legged cows, four legged-ducks and pigs with four ears were almost a normal occurrence in the annual autumnal freak show.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Three Gables pt 2

A little late, because life and Christmas are just... it's a lot.

Last time we had a lady who wanted to sell her house and someone who really wanted to buy it and everything in it. Including the remaining possessions of her dead son. Who had died of pneumonia? I think, but also been involved with some sort of woman his mother did not approve of.

And a servant was fired after everyone was kind of terrible to her, even if she was spying for some bad guys.

And there was a lot of racism, which I expect will increase.

Anyway

"Now, Watson, this is a case for Langdale Pike, and I am going to see him now."

Ah, it's another randomly referenced character that it sounds like we should know and yet we do not. Unless I have forgotten him. I don't think I've forgotten him.

Langdale Pike was his human book of reference upon all matters of social scandal. This strange, languid creature spent his waking hours in the bow window of a St. James's Street club and was the receiving-station as well as the transmitter for all the gossip of the metropolis. He made, it was said, a four-figure income by the paragraphs which he contributed every week to the garbage papers which cater to an inquisitive public.

OMG, he's the paparazzi!

Well, the Edwardian equivalent of it.

Holmes, I thought better of you than this. You're really feeding this guy information. Ugh.

'Please come out at once. Client's house burgled in the night. Police in possession. — Sutro.' Holmes whistled. “The drama has come to a crisis, and quicker than I had expected."

Really? You must have known you sped up their timetable a little. They knew you'd gone to see the place and they were worried enough about you they tried to warn you off. It makes sense that seeing you there would move up their plans.

“Well, they don't seem to have got much. Mrs. Maberley was chloroformed and the house was— Ah! here is the lady herself.”

She was chloroformed and it's just an ordinary burglary? I hate to see what you call an odd burglary.

Just going to skip over the extra racism.

“Well, I don't think there is anything of value missing. I am sure there was nothing in my son's trunks.”

You hadn't even looked in them and Holmes told you that he thought there was something in them. Why are you so confident in this, lady?

"It is in my son's handwriting.” “Which means that it is not of much use,” said the inspector. “Now if it had been in the burglar's—” “Exactly,” said Holmes. “What rugged common sense!"

Please allow me to use my Holmes-English dictionary. I'll just check... yeah... Mmhm.

“I never pass anything, however trifling,” said he with some pomposity. “That is my advice to you, Mr. Holmes."

Oh, oh no. Oh poor boy. You are being set up for the biggest of falls. You have no genre savvy. I'm sorry. This will hurt.

“Seems to be the end of some queer novel, so far as I can see.”

Please, tell me more.

“Why should they go to my son's things?” asked Mrs. Maberley.

Clearly they wanted the manuscript of his magnum opus of homoerotic literature, Mrs Maberley. I can see no other possible reason.

And honestly, relatable.

"Man must live for something. If it is not for your embrace, my lady, then it shall surely be for your undoing and my complete revenge.”

🔥VENGEANCE!🔥

So it's not a homoerotic bodice ripper, at all. It's a tell-all memoir.

"I hear that she is about to marry the young Duke of Lomond, who might almost be her son."

Refreshing to see an older woman-younger man romance portrayed for once. Usually it's the older man preying on the sweet young ingenue. This time the sexual predator is the woman. Although... honestly, nothing that's been said so far makes me think she's doing anything but having a good time.

“Not at home means not at home to you,” said the footman.

RUDE!

The lady had come, I felt, to that time of life when even the proudest beauty finds the half light more welcome.

Also rude!

Come on, Watson. You're not exactly young yourself at this point. And you're still apparently marrying people left right and centre. Do you hide in the shadows?

Pah.

...two wonderful Spanish eyes which looked murder at us both.

I know what he means by this, but also I am imagining her irises being the Spanish flag.

Beautiful.

“I need not explain, madame. I have too much respect for your intelligence to do so—though I confess that intelligence has been surprisingly at fault of late.”

Holmes is in such a bitchy mood in this one. He's just insulting everyone as much as he can. I kind of love it.

"I feel that I may be frank with you, Mr. Holmes. You have the feelings of a gentleman. How quick a woman's instinct is to find it out. I will treat you as a friend.”

Wow...the bullshit is strong with this one.

“No doubt it was foolish of me to threaten a brave man like yourself.”

You should totally stroke his bicep and ask if he works out. That's clearly where this is heading. Lolol!

“No, no, you would not. You are a gentleman. It is a woman's secret.”

Wow. Just... wow. Weaponising femininity indeed.

✨ Gaslight. ✨ Gatekeep. ✨ Girlboss. ✨

So roguish and exquisite did she look as she stood before us with a challenging smile that I felt of all Holmes's criminals this was the one whom he would find it hardest to face. However, he was immune from sentiment.

That's because unlike you, he is not ruled by his horny brain, Watson. Please, take some deep breaths, drink a glass of cold water and come back when you've calmed down. You were literally just saying you thought she was too old to stand in proper lighting, my dude. Down boy!

"Because I had given he seemed to think that I still must give, and to him only. It was intolerable."

OK, fine. I'm on her side now. She's still the most ridiculous person ever, but this is a valid and correct point. Douglas needed to take no as an answer.

Barney and the boys drove him away, and were, I admit, a little rough in doing so.

I'm torn. On the one hand, Douglas needed to understand that just because his sense of entitlement told him she owed him something, he really didn't. On the other hand, don't hire people to beat people up. Maybe just hire bodyguards to keep turning him away and save the beating for if he escalates?

I feel like everyone sucks in this story.

This... this is the same story from Charles Augustus Milverton except the female character is rich and has agency. And yet we're supposed to not side with the people who stole back the blackmail material that would ruin her? Because she's promiscuous?

Yeah, she's kind of terrible, but her crime was getting people to beat him up. The theft seems fair, honestly.

“Very good. I think you will sign me a check for that, and I will see that it comes to Mrs. Maberley. You owe her a little change of air."

Yeah, she was chloroformed and it's possible that the beating led to her son's death. She definitely deserves something for all of this.

"Have a care! You can't play with edged tools forever without cutting those dainty hands.”

Weird line to end on, but okay. Basically 'fuck around and find out' in Holmes speak, I guess.

But yeah, this is just a different version of Charles Augustus Milverton and A Scandal in Bohemia only this time the lady is the bad guy. And she actually has done some horrible things. But if she'd come to you and said 'Mr Holmes, I had an ill advised dalliance with a young man and I need the evidence before it ruins my upcoming wedding!' Holmes might have done the burglary himself.

Well, probably not if he found out about her having Douglas beaten up.

But it's a weird change of perspective.

[scrapblring]

Daniel Casson 

[primordialsoundmeditation]

The little chapel emerges from the morning mist at Great Langdale in the Lake District.

The beautiful Lake District: BritainAndBritishness.com/LakeDistrict/

Bob Radlinski.

Cottages and Villages

[dopescissorscashwagon]

Morning everyone, hope you are well. On these dank grey days in the Lake District, even I find it hard to get an epic vista. So I just get closer to my subject. The 17th century packhorse bridge, Slater's Bridge, in Little Langdale still looks beautiful. Have a great day.

📸 by Rod Hutchinson @lakesrhino

Click on photo

[softemerald]

Little Langdale

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Slater's Bridge, Little Langdale

a.tt_photography

[quillofspirit]

Moria Terrain Inspo

Here is the promised Moria inspo!

I am quite happy with how this turned out, just creepy enough to make you wonder what lurks in the shadows...

And how perfect is that red glow??

From Top to Bottom, Left to Right

Rockside by Peng Yang

Aerial Mount Batur, Indonesia by Jaanus Jagomägi

Little Langdale, UK by Jonny Gios

Sunlight by Ivana Cajina

Cave entrance by Bradley Dunn

Basalt columns, Iceland by Jonathan Larson

Museum of Susch, Switzerland by Ricardo Gomez Angel

I may or may not have also finished the Mithlond Terrain Inspo 😁😁

[crimsonscloud]

#they are siblings your honor