#glanmore

[victorianhouses]

Belleville Ontario ~ Canada ~ Glanmore Mansion ~ Heritage Site ~ Rear View by Onasill ~ Bill Badzo - NO MULTI FAVES Via Flickr: Glanmore was completed in 1883 for John Philpot Curran Phillips. The building was designed by Thomas Hanley, a Belleville architect who was born in Read. This impressive yellow brick house reflects the architectural style of the eclectic Second Empire. It features an irregular shape, with bay windows and projections; iron cresting outlining the main roof; a coloured, fish-scale pattern of slates on the concave mansard roof; wide eaves supported on carved brackets, and the original wooden eavest roughs. Stone trimmed windows and doorways have semi-circular and elliptical heads, and wood trim ornaments the semi circular heads of the dormers windows 712

[devilsbastion]

Glanmore Lake and Caha Mountains, Co. Kerry

[catharinphilocaly-blog]

Instagram- CatharinPhilocaly

[clever-margaery]

So i keep seeing gifsets of the trailer for the new Carmilla movie and I keep seeing my old work 😆

The exterior of house clip is Glanmore House in Belleville, Ontario and I got to work there this summer! The crew filmed mostly just exterior stuff there, but it was super exciting for me and other staff members!

[14-lines-blog]

Glanmore Sonnet III . This evening the cuckoo and the corncrake (So much, too much) consorted at twilight. It was all crepuscular and iambic. Out on the field a baby rabbit Took his bearings, and I knew the deer (I’ve seen them too from the window of the house, Like connoisseurs, inquisitive of air) Were careful under larch and May-green spruce. I had said earlier, ‘I won’t relapse From this strange loneliness I’ve brought us to. Dorothy and William—’ She interrupts: ‘You’re not going to compare us two...?’ Outside a rustling and twig-combing breeze Refreshes and relents. Is cadences.

Seamus Heaney (1939-2013)

from Opened Ground

[14-lines-blog]

Glanmore Sonnet II . Sensings, mountings from the hiding places, Words entering almost the sense of touch Ferreting themselves out of their dark hutch— ‘These things are not secrets but mysteries,’ Oisin Kelly told me years ago In Belfast, hankering after stone That connived with the chisel, as if the grain Remembered what the mallet tapped to know. Then I landed in the hedge-school of Glanmore And from the backs of ditches hoped to raise A voice caught back off slug-horn and slow chanter That might continue, hold, dispel, appease: Vowels ploughed into other, opened ground, Each verse returning like the plough turned round.

Seamus Heaney (1939-2013)

from Opened Ground

[14-lines-blog]

Glanmore Sonnet I . Vowels ploughed into other: opened ground. The mildest February for twenty years Is mist bands over furrows, a deep no sound Vulnerable to distant gargling tractors. Our road is steaming, the turned-up acres breathe. Now the good life could be to cross a field And art a paradigm of earth new from the lathe Of ploughs. My lea is deeply tilled. Old ploughsocks gorge the subsoil of each sense And I am quickened with a redolence Of farmland as a dark unblown rose. Wait then...Breasting the mist, in sowers’ aprons, My ghosts come striding into their spring stations. The dream grain whirls like freakish Easter snows.

Seamus Heaney (1939-2013)

from Opened Ground