Showing posts with label rust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rust. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

Leftovers

At the side of the logging road, there was one of those cement blocks with an iron loop in the top that I've seen in several places and never understood the use of. They sit there for years, developing rust and a thick moss coating. I went over to look at the rust.

Slab cemented to a sloped base, about waist height. (Cropped from the corner of large photo.)

Rusty handle. The moss is a couple of inches deep.

Moving around the slab, looking for an angle on the moss, I noticed a few ends of bones sticking out.

Four bones, buried in the moss.

One is a piece of spine.
The others look like ribs. The longest was eight inches long.

It looks to me like the bones of a small deer, carried up to the slab by an eagle, maybe. I looked around; a few metres away, on the ground, I found a half a leg bone, badly gnawed. It looks like several predators or scavengers had a feast, one on the slab, others dragging their find off to eat in bits.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Rust

Doing a bit of housekeeping in the hard drive, I found this forgotten photo.

Abandoned can, New Westminster Railroad tracks, 2009.

I've been examining the tinies in the tank again. I think maybe yesterday's mysterious bubble beasties could be hydroids. I'll try to capture some where I can get a better look.


Monday, December 10, 2012

Rain and dry rust

So it rained. All day. A nasty, cold rain, half-way between a friendly Scotch mist that freshens the skin but doesn't call attention to itself, and a decent downpour calling for rain gear; an adventure to go out in, pleasant to sit inside and watch. Nah. Just drizzle, drizzle, drizzle. We skipped the beach and went shopping instead.

All is well, though; I've got what promises to be a great video in the works for tomorrow or Wednesday.

Meanwhile, the rain reminded me of these old photos of rust, totally dry rust:

Summer. 2009. Railroad bridge crossing the Little Campbell River, where it joins the beach at Semiahmoo.

Four rows of iron pimples.

Crumbling away.

Back to trimming video segments. Nose to the grindstone.

(Blogger says it's showing the Tweet button, but I can't see. I added another. If anything else is missing, I'll appreciate it if you tell me. Thanks!)
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