#charcas

[labrecha]

La Presa Los Chorros se Desbordó, en Charcas

La Presa Los Chorros se Desbordó, en el Ejido Alvaro Obregón, en Charcas

** Se informa que el Cañón de Lajas también acarrea fuertes cantidades de agua. Habitantes afectados solicitan víveres. Charcas, S.L.P. / Julio 25 de 2024.- La presa Los Charcos, en el ejido Alvaro Obregón, se desbordó esta mañana de jueves e inundó comunidades aledañas, están incomunicadas. Habitantes piden la intervención de las autoridades municipales y estatales y solicitan víveres, pero no…

[welele]

Es increíble como toda la charcada nacional siempre acaba confluyendo en el mismo sitio. pic.twitter.com/BGN63fqt2S

— Dioni, vuestro amigo. (@CeodeDionis) September 9, 2024

Más misterioso que eso, pocas cosas.

[carabanchelnet]

AGUIRRE SEÑALADA ¡BOOM! El vicepresidente del Gobierno, consejero de Justicia e Interior de Madrid en el mandato de Esperanza Aguirre, Alfredo Prada, señala en juicio #CasoCampus directamente a la rana lideresa. Quebranto público de 40 millones €, más 350 millones "dilapidados" en el proyecto. Video publicado por Juan Miguel Garrido @JuanmiGG_News

[asfosoforestal]

Buenos días!!! Estamos haciendo una charca de #agua para que puedan beber el ganado y los animales. Hoy hemos contado con conocimientos ancestrales....un #zahorí nos ha ayudado a encontrar el #agua

Que maravilla!!! Es algo que siempre sorprende

[sagitariusmen]

FAMILIA PATA. #patos #anades #charca #moraira #castillomoraira #turismomoraira #fotoconmimovil (en Moraira, Costa Blanca) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp8CPh-oJSzfoUK3n_6bGlp5M0mlvaJ_x3LeKA0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[agustinisrael]

Hoy traigo este detalle del #jardindelasdelicias de #elbosco con sus correspondientes #capirotes en su #charca #fresquita #acrilico sobre #portada de #elcultural 20x18 cm de la serie #sevillaenfiestas #art #arte #artecontempiraneo #diseño #design #lunaresycapirotes #agustinisrael. #jardin #delicias #bosco #interiorismo #available (en Estudio De arte y Diseño De Agustin Israel) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck9L6hkjuPm/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[theoldbone]

Looking at calcite and got completely distracted by the glow

Calcite, Huanggang Fe-Sn Deposit, China, photo by Rob Lavinsky

Aragonite, Calcite, Willemite, Tsumeb Mine, Nambia, photo by Rob Lavinsky

Pyrite, Sphalerite, Galena, Calcite, Casapalca Mine, Peru, photo by Rob Lavinsky

Calcite, Charcas, Mexico, photo by Rob Lavinsky

Calcite, El Hammam Mine, Morocco, photo by Rob Lavinsky

Calcite, Daye Co, China, photo by Rob Lavinsky

Calcite, Fuzichong Pb-Zn-Ag Deposit, China, photo by Rob Lavinsky

Picked these from Mindat, and they all ended up being by Rob Lavinsky by random chance :D

[mapsontheweb]

The historical revisionists of Argentina believe that Argentina should be bigger and use other colors in the flag, this map shows this but adding Chile, an extra piece of Antarctica based on the meridian of Rapa Nui, the South of Brazil and the territory called "Litoral" which had to be from Charcas

[pursimuove]

E começar assim?

(A Charca de Manuel Bivar, edição Língua Morta)

Era um jardinzinho de carvalho negral, giesta amarela e cebola-albarrã, com granitos, onde as vacas morriam envenenadas com cicuta que comiam na ribeira e onde eram inevitáveis os pensamentos sobre morte e vida, a cada momento, e também sobre a desgraça inequívoca da condição veada neste mundo. O próprio portão de entrada tinha a ofensa gravada e lançava a suspeita, embora todos soubessem que era nome de erva doce e boa para o gado.

Na ribeira havia cágados e ratos de água, rosas-caninas e pereiras que davam umas pêras muito duras sempre devoradas pelas pegas azuis e pelos estorninhos.

Era a época em que os veados berravam e ele andava pelos matos com medo de ser morto por um veado, de ser confundido com um macho e acabar com um chifre enterrado na barriga.

Deitado em cima duma pedra, um ramo de piorno aguçado a raspar-lhe as mamas, e o jacto minguado, nem uma décima parte dos trezentos mililitros que os veados libertavam depois de se montarem uns aos outros, tolhia-lhe a euforia e deixava-o entregue a um vandalismo moral que durava horas. Então, sabia que a condição veada não era nada senão o medo de acabar como um coelho, com a cabeça batida na pedra.

Em volta, os sobreiros morriam, os carvalhos morriam, as raizes atacadas pela fitóftora, a árvore sufocada e o tronco seco, as pernadas que caíam, as bolotas germinadas entre os sargaços e as giestas pisoteadas por vacas enormes.

Agora vacas, como antes o trigo e os porcos, as ovelhas e o girassol. Rolas que bebiam nas barragens, pousadas nos pivots, com o papo cheio de girassol e que levavam chumbadas nas manhãs de verão. O pointer sem nariz que não parava ou comia as codornizes ou que corria espantado dos tiros e que acabava normalmente enforcado num arame pelo vizinho que raspava a erva do pátio e regava a hortelã durante a tarde.

O pátio destruído pela piscina, os canteiros de cal com gladíolos, as alamedas de lírios, o lago dos peixes onde nasciam jarros e donde se regavam os canteiros de tuberosas, zínias e rosas bravas, tudo destruído pela piscina pintada de azul, de água tratada com cloro que quando era despejada matava os favais dos vizinhos e as acelgas. Nada tinha sobrado senão o caramanchão de flores laranja e a grande melia azedarach da porta da cozinha que afastava os mosquitos e resistia às maiores barbaridades e dava umas bagas que tingiam o chão da tijoleira de preto.

Os carvalhos também morriam de cancro, um buraco na base do tronco de um preto brilhante como carvão.

As negaças que não faziam barulho ao levantar voo eram mortas com a cabeça batida no chão, os galgos que não tocavam as lebres eram mortos às dezenas. As azinheiras não eram mais podadas como árvores de fruto e não davam bolota e os porcos que as comiam há muito tinham sido mortos em valas comuns, a tiro e queimados com gasóleo, pilhas de carne gorda a rechinar ao lado das malhadas, à sombra da mata de eucaliptos, os pavões e as fracas a gritar e o fumo da carniça no ar.

Nos pegos matavam-se os peixes com papa de embude e ficavam a boiar com as tripas cheias de veneno e as vacas escavavam em busca da raiz doce e acabavam nos lameiros inchadas de barriga para cima, pejadas de varejeiras, rodeadas de flores brancas de camomila.

Os javalis que não fugiam do cabelo e da naftalina eram mortos em noites de lua cheia, e as abelhas devoradas pelas vespas-asiáticas, comidas por abelharucos, envenenadas com glifosato.

Eram jardins de morte e vida.

[themagicalkidproject]

One of the funnest parts of The Magical Kid Project is creating civilian forms of Magical Kids!

I have a lot of free time to draw in class, but as soon as I open my Procreate I get unworkable. So I started designing civillian Magical Kids, to determine how Kids change from their Civilian Forms! These also have a lot of notes about their civilian identities and through what method they became Magical Kids!

It’s worth noting here that ‘Magical Kid’ and the shortening ‘Kid’ are both applicable no matter your actual age. Doesn’t matter if you’re 69, you’re a Magical Kid. The difference is that Kid, capitalized, is a title while kid, lowercase, is indicative of age!

This is of Cirrus the Trans Flag Kid, Angel the Birose Flag Kid, Atlantis the AroAce Flag Kid, Soleil the Lesbian Flag Kid and Audie the Autigender Flag Kid!

These are Licorice the Catgender Flag Kid, Kit the Katsunegender Flag Kid, Nepeta the Catnipgender Flag Kid and Tutti the Trans Barbie Flag Kid!

These are of Thistle the Rowanian Flag Kid, Acherontia the Ambiguish Flag Kid, Charca the Sharkgender Flag Kid, and Colman the Fairadornix Flag Kid!

Last but not least we have Meltzer the Intersex Flag Kid and Eira the SicklySister Flag Kid! It’s unnoted here, but Meltzer is about 17-18 and was Saved, while Eira is just barely 30 and performed an Act of Courage!

[aschenblumen]

El agua de tu rostro en un rincón del jardín, el más oscuro del verano, canta como la luna. Fantasma. Terrible a mediodía. A la altura de los lirios la muerte sonríe. Sobre una pequeñísima charca, ojo de dios, un insecto flota bocarriba. La miel silva en su vientre abierto al dedo del estío. Todo canta a la altura de tu rostro Suspendido como una luz eterna entre la noche y la noche, Canta el pantano, arden los árboles, no hay distancia, no hay tiempo. El verano trae lo perdido, el mundo es esta calle de fuego donde todas las rosas caen y vuelven a nacer, donde dos cuerpos se consumen enlazados para siempre en lo más negro del verano. En un rincón del jardín bajo una piedra canta el verano. En lo más negro, en lo más ciego y blanco, donde todas las rosas caen, allí flota tu rostro, fantasma, terrible a mediodía.

Blanca Varela, «En lo más negro del verano» en Luz de día (1960-1963), poemario compilado en Canto villano: poesía reunida, 1949-1994.

[manessha545]

Sucre

Capital of Bolivia

Sucre is a city in the southern highlands of Bolivia. The whitewashed Casa de la Libertad, where Bolivia’s Declaration of Independence was signed, houses galleries related to the city's past as the national capital. Also on Plaza 25 de Mayo, the main square, is the Catedral Metropolitana, an ornate colonial church. Nearby is the Museo Universitario Charcas USFXCH, featuring religious artifacts and contemporary art. 

Tiled Roofs and Colonial Architecture - Sucre - Bolivia

The state government building (Sucre is the capital of Chuquisaca Department) was originally the Palace of Government of Bolivia when it was completed in 1896, but then the government moved to La Paz in 1898. On the roof flies the Bolivian flag of red, yellow, and green stripes which are repeated (except for blue instead of green) in the colored-glass window surrounding the Bolivian coat of arms at the top of the entrance arch. The flags flanking the entrance are the Wiphala flag of multi-colored squares representing native peoples of the Andes and the Chuquisaca Department flag of a Cross of Burgundy with a golden crown in the center. Sucre (elev. 2,810m/9,214ft) was founded by the Spanish in 1538 as Ciudad de la Plata de la Nueva Toledo (Silver City of New Toledo). It became the judicial, religious, and cultural center of the region. Bolivia achieved independence from Spain on 6 August 1825, the last country in Latin America to do so. In 1839 the city was declared the capital of Bolivia and renamed in honor of Antonio José de Sucre (1795-1830), a leader of the fight for independence who was a close friend of Simón Bolívar and served as the second president of Bolivia from the end of 1825 to 1828. (The administrative capital of Bolivia shifted to La Paz in 1898.) The Historic City of Sucre was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1991. On Google Earth: Prefectura de Chuquisaca 19° 2'53.52"S, 65°15'37.22"W

Sucre, Bolivia

Elevation: 2,790 m

Area code: (+591) 4

Climate: Cwb

Demonym(s): Capitalino (a); Sucrense

Department: Chuquisaca Department

Founded by: Pedro Anzures as "La Plata" in 1538

Sucre is divided into eight numbered districts: the first five of these are urban districts, while Districts 6, 7, and 8 are rural districts. Each is administered by a Sub-Mayor (Spanish: Subalcalde), appointed by the Mayor of Sucre. The rural districts include numerous rural communities outside the urban area.

Sucre - Wikipedia

[welele]

Aifon financiao y viviendo en una cochiquera. 100% charca, como dicen ahora.

[la-semillera]

SARAH MOON & HERTA MÜLLER

"En cada rincón hay cajones y cajas con clavos y martillos. Cuando el abuelo martillea, se oyen dos ruidos simultáneamente: uno es el del martillo y el otro proviene del pueblo. El patio entero resuena con su piso de piedra. A las flores de manzanilla se les caen los finos dientecillos blancos. Siento el peso del patio sobre los dedos del pie, el patio me oprime los pies, el patio me golpea las rodillas cuando camino. El patio es duro y grande y está cubierto de malezas. Elevo el tono de voz lo más que puedo, y el martilleo me arranca las frases de la cara. Al abuelo le gusta hablar de sus martillos y sus clavos, y tilda a muchas personas de «maderos». Los clavos del abuelo son nuevos, puntiagudos y brillantes. Y sus martillos son macizos, pesados y herrumbrosos, y tienen mangos demasiado gruesos. A veces el pueblo es una gigantesca caja de vallas y paredes. En ellas clava el abuelo sus clavos. Al ir por la calle se oye el martilleo, que recuerda el de los pájaros carpinteros. Cada valla envía el eco a la siguiente. Uno deambula entre las vallas. El aire tiembla, la hierba tiembla, las ciruelas azules susurran entre los árboles. Estamos en pleno verano, y los picamaderos revolotean por el pueblo. Y a mamá, aún le quedan manos para trabajar como una negra, y la abuela tiene su amapola y apenas si se mueve por la casa, y el abuelo se encarga de la vaca y tiene sus clavos, y papá aún está con la resaca de ayer y hoy vuelve a beber. Y Wendel todavía no ha aprendido a hablar y por las calles le tiran tierra y piedras, y lo arrojan a las charcas y a la acequia, donde el fango apesta, y los niños de la escuela le pintan la espalda con tiza y él tiene que ir por la calle cubierto de rayas de tiza. Y le salpican la cara con tinta, y sólo cuando rompe a llorar lo dejan ir a casa. Sólo cuando el rostro se le desencaja de miedo lo dejan en paz, sólo cuando tiene la nuca llena de orugas y lombrices y pulgones. Wendel habla fluidamente cuando está solo y conversa consigo mismo. A veces lo oigo en el patio interior. Ambos nos sentamos junto a la misma valla, Wendel en su patio y yo en el mío. Yo como frutos de malva, que vuelven tonta a la gente, y Wendel come albaricoques verdes, que a veces le producen fiebre alta. Y cuando sana, vuelve a comer albaricoques verdes y a conversar consigo mismo. Un día pregunté a mamá si la valla que separa nuestros dos patios era mía o de Wendel. Quería oír que era mía, quería poder ahuyentar a Wendel cuando se apoyase en ella. Pero mamá me dijo que la valla era mía y de Wendel, y en ese momento sentí ganas de maldecir el lado de la valla que daba a su patio para que no creciera ni una sola malva. Sólo le deseé hierba tiesa y áspera. Los médicos de la ciudad dicen que el miedo es la causa de la tartamudez de Wendel. El miedo creció un día dentro de él y nunca más se fue. Wendel teme ahora tener muy pocos albaricoques verdes. Está en la era de nuestra granja. Jugamos a marido y mujer. Yo me meto los dos ovillos de lana verde bajo la blusa, y Wendel se pega su bigote de lana de oveja verde. Jugamos. Yo lo riño porque está borracho, porque no trae dinero a casa, porque la vaca no tiene pienso, y le digo que es un gandul y un cerdo y un vagabundo y un borracho y un inútil y un granuja y un putañero y un cabrón. Así es el juego. Me divierte y es fácil de jugar. Wendel se queda sentado en silencio. "

_ Herta Müller, En tierras bajas

[celestelunisea16]

Welp, I finally thought out a Ceroba team for Pokétale Yellow!

------

Chujin was a Zoura, but it was at Chujin's grave a few days after Chujin had passed away. When she had went to pay respects to her husband, it followed her home and wouldn't leave. She named it after her deceased husband for that reason.

Deterrence was an Eevee along with Kanako. (the other Eevee) She'd gotten both of the Eevees after her daughter had fallen. Originally, Deterrence was going to evolve into a Espeon, but after it accidentally touched a fire stone, it became a Flareon, earning its name, Deterrence.

Kanako earned her name after she had given the choice to choose what ribbon she wanted to wear from a ribbon box. It had picked a ribbon that her daughter wore a lot before she was sent to the lab after falling.

Blossom and Charca had been with Ceroba ever since she was a little girl. When she was at least 9 or 10 years old, a Fenniken and a Vulpix were found around her home, and she took care of them. When she was old enough to keep them in a Pokéball, she finally gathered the courage to ask if they would like to have her as a trainer, to which they agreed and picked out their Pokéballs to stay in.

Remembrance was caught after the unfortunate events that Ceroba had been put through. It was lingering around the Wild East, following her where ever she went. After she found out it was following her around, it decided to stay by her side and bowed to her, telling her that it would like to stay by her side, while also handing her a Mega Stone. She calls Remembrance's Mega evolution "Misery."

----

(I went based on the game and her background-

I made it to where she calls her Absol's mega evo Misery as a run on to Misery loves their company.)

[the-spam-specialist]

"Charca-oh! Their infant form! Yes, it makes sense that their plume would be an indication of overall health. Possibly even an indication of their status too! The one with the brighter, healthier fire plume being the leader of their family group or something". Ryder commented while catching sight of Tublades's knowing smirk.

"well he's certainly not gonna let you go now that you've given him the idea" he chuckled while crossing his arms.

And Ryder was right. Tublades gave a purr from the chin scritches. But the moment he heard what Harper had asked, he looked up at them and gave a faint, devious grin. Taking in a deep breath, Tublades wrapped his arms around Harper and trapped them within his embrace.

Only Notch would be able to free them now.

Skylertheminish.

Harper continued to gently brush Tublades's plume...until he suddenly whipped around and trapped them in a hug, making them let out a loud squeak.

"Excuse me, sir! I'm trying to brush you!" Harper said with a huff.

When Tublades didn't let go, they wriggled until they managed to free one of their arms. Then they reached up and scratched behind Tublades's ear, hoping it would get him to let go.